San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1877-12-01

melody, and the words were PLAIN 10
her: ,,.,.u e,r.gf,.f ..f i5,,
"Come to me-" saith One, "and coming
=, ! BE mt rest', i,Hf'- HIN'
She went home, but the words haunt
cd heruntil she looked them up, and
then they seemed like a question OF her
own answered. -c IN l.74
"" Al, my heart is heavy laden,
lnudp Weary and oppressed; 9h
Come to me," saith One, land coming
ii,W 9il Be ut rest" N' VI '.i' '." 'f'"
There was no rest then, until she went
to hear the singer He was one of the
evangelists, and the church in which
she found him was free to all. There
were no richly cushioned pews, no grand
choir, no pealing organ, no sweet in
cense. She sat between two old women
who, sang through their noses, and
crowded her as if she was one of them
selves. Half disguised, she stayed be-
cause she could not get out, and looked
about at the great mass Of earnest faces
that were fixed upon one man. Softly
strain of music touched them, and
again that glorious voice sang--''7''
4 Ali my heart is heavy laden, ~
'"co,ne td me, saith one, land coming
Hath HE marks to lead me to Him,
t-t. IF He bemy guide!7n
In His fee. and nd hands are wound prints
Is there diadem as monarch u,D 4. q
' That His brow adOrns; '
BIZ. n Yes, a. crown inIvery surety, ,ij-g 'rlU
Miriam Arnold listened in wonder to
the women sobbing about her. They
must be weak to be thus led by the ia
natics she threaded her way to hercar-
riage, and resolved never to 60 osuch
place again, and yet the next day she
was there, and the next, and the next.
And this was the result sitting there
alone: she seemed to see all her lonely
unloved past by a new light. 81 will do
something,'' she thought, Ito make
some soul happy before I Sleep" and
she rang the bell. Tomorrow will
find Lillian if she still lives"
A confidential servant answered her
ring. "Janet," said Mrs. Arnold, edo
you know any onelwho is in want to-
nightp" ''.'' '''1''' ~
"Oh, yes'm, plenty of people who are
poor as poverty" cpl. %''' ~" .' f'
"But mean some special case of
sickness and want; there are plenty of
people who will always be poor, no
matter what is done for them, but there
are others who are deserving."Ui s3rr
swell, ma am," said Janet slowly,
I" there's a little girl-oh, such a little
mite, and as pretty as picture. that stops
sometimes to look in at the dogs play
ing in the yard; she's awful poor, but
she never begs; I gave her cake, and
she eat it as if she was starved, and one
night she was frightened, and I went
home with her-they're strangers here,
and the mother is sickly-like, and there
is a baby.'' "'a1 90 -'''' -t' 7''''
"And the fatherP' ~ '9 III. 30 '''.. j
81 didn't see him, ma'am; he's a
painter by trade, the woman said," an
swered Janet. .r'dlry Rs'H n.Ia +
After dinner Mrs. Arnold saw some
necessary food placed in a basket, and,
taking Janet for guide, she ordered
her coachman to the obscure street
where those people lived, and was soon
set down at the door of tumble-down
old house fronting the river. Janet led
the way in, for it was no common spec
tacle of want and disorder upon which
they looked. Poor and shabby, even
dirty, the room was, but there
was an unmistakable air Of re-
fnement over all, and something
more-a tranquil presence that rendered
the scene majestic. Upon the table,
propped up by pillows, a baby was ly-
ing, pure and pale as a snow-drop, and
by its side a man sat, painting its port
raft. Soft faxen hair curled and twined
about the little thin temples. There
was sweet, peaceful smile about the
delicate lips, but they were closed, and
no sign of pain would ever distort them;
the father was painting picture of his
dead child.
Miriam Arnold stood there as if turned
to stone. On bed in the corner a wom-
an lay, at times sobbing and moaning.
The other inmate of the room was a
little girl, s or 9 years old; she leaned
over the artists chair, talking to him
and asking questions.
"Was he sure God had taken the baby
to heayen?" "Would it never be sick,
or cold, or hungry" why couldn't