Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-03-15


had heard that silly wish of mine.
Half mile from the house | met
him and the men coming home to din.
ner. He started forward the moment
he caught sight of me.
"Oh, Bell! what's the matter? l.
Little Pearl sick ?"
One glance at his white, startled
face, convinced me that my hope was
vain; yet | cried out angerly," Y ou'ye
got the child, Ned, you know you
have don't torture me any longer"
"Bell, what do you mean
"She's gone = Little Pearl. You
stole her, Ned, to frighten me-"
No, on nay soul, Bell
Chen she's gone God has granted
me my wish. Oh! my baby my
baby =
Il was rushing past him, but he
caught me and held me fast, com
manding me to tell him all = and |
did. And then his after-words thrill
ed my soul with horror.
'The Indians ! the Indians, boys !
he cried they passed us, you know
They must have stolen her. Come.
They followed him without word
- and So did |. Over the spongy
prairie mud the chill wind and drlv-
ing rain beating in our faces, through
dense, dripping woods, down to the
shore of the river. But we were too
late. The last canoe was moored on
the opposite shore. God had granted
nae my wish. ! had no baby
Little Pearl could not be found, al
though our efforts were ceaselss Her
crib remained in its corner, but the
little, laughing face, that had looked
up ataus from the depths of the cover
lids, was gone forever. | had ample
time to perform all my household Ia
Dor then. No little, quivering cry to
detain me when | was busy; no cling.
ing hands holding mine, and keep
ing them idle. Ny wish was granted
me | had no baby!
The desolate, inconsolable days
that followed, no tongue can portray;
the tender longing, the sharp, singing
remorse. But we lived and worked,
for life and labor must go on, no mat
ter how sore ard weary our hearts
may be. AT the end of five years, Ned
looked round him on the ripe fruition
of his most sanguine hopes He had
built him up not only home, but a
name, in this new country. We had
pleasant rooms, and luxurious furnit-
ure, and birds, and flowers and all the
attributes that go to make up happy
home. All did | say? Not alive
were childIess. Little Pearl had new
err come back, and God had given us
no other child to fill her place but we
desired no other, our grief for her loss
being dearer and more sacred than
any new love that could ever have
been.
Poor Ned, that unforgotten sorrow,
together with his arduous duties, made
him an old man before his time the
silver threads were thick on his tenn
pies, and the burrows on his forehead
deeply cut; when we went back on a
visit to our Old home, the friends of
his youth did not recognize him. His
life had lost its impellng aim and mo
tive.
One night, in the great city, we
were returning from the opera, when
voice startled US.
please, SIR it said, "a penny to buy
loaf
1t was mid-winter the pavements
were glazed with ice and countless
stars overhead gllttered in the cold,
blue sky like so many points Of steel.
| was dreaming of my home in the far
West, and longing for the hour OF my
return to come. A strange feeling of
tenderness bound me to the spot
where | lost my little pearl. could
not bear to be away from it, because
of foolish fear that she might come
back. and | not be there to welcome
her.
The slender, pleading voice broke
in upon my reverle ; and giancing
out at the carriage window, | saw a
small, childish figure, and tiny hand,
blue and stiff with cold.
"Stop the carriage, Ned; | shan't
close my eyes to-night,if we pass that
child"
NV husband started up from his
half doze and obeyed me.
"What do you want p be asked,
kindly bending over and taking the
child,s hand in his.
"A penny, please, to buy a l}af for
granny she's sick,
Ned took silver piece from his
pocket, but / caught his arm before
he had dropped it into the little wait
ing hand. Something in the soft blue
ewes, looking up so pleadingly in the
winter starlight, thrilled my heart to
its inmost core. yearned to clasp
the little, shivering form to my breast,
to stroke back the tangled golden
hair from the pallid, want plnched
| face.
"Take her up, Ned" | entreated;
"she'll freeze if we leave her here. We
can put her out wherever she lives"
And good natured Ned, who ney er
denied me thing in his life, complied
Dawn dark unfrequented streets into
one of the lowest haunts OF vice and
poverty; then she guided us up long
flight of stairs into a cherries attic.
An old woman lay upon q heap OF
straw, her face wearing that grayish
hue which is the unmistakeable pre-
cursor of death.
Have YOU Gomez she questioned
eagerly; 'gi' me the loaf ?
The child ran to her side, and be-
gan to stroke back her gray hair.
"A good lady and gentleman has
come, she lisped, softly.
I'm glad yev come, she said, adj
dressiuc Ned 'i'm goin', you see:
! and some one oughter look arter her,
pointing to the child. Shes good
little thing; I've had her wi me SIX
years coming next winter She amt
mine, though. | got her from squad