The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1878-05-15
A CuHLD.~ Death BED
A Pathetic story Of the Dying
Vision of a Little Deaf mute.
s.. LOUIS journal


reporter yesterday by lady whose YER
acity is undoubted: Some four weeks ago
Carrie Wilson, an interesting little girl.
aged about 10 years, after protracted
| illness, died al the residence o. her pa
rents, No 1921 North Fourth street
| From the day she entered this careladen
world her troubles began, for she was born
4 deaf mute. Her parents were very
poor people, able only by the strictest
economy TO shift through from one year
| TO another, and the little one, whose or
yans of both hearing and speech had been
stricken BY the Divine hand, was looked
upon as a something human, of course,
| but nothing more than little bit of bod
| ily ills, who would always in her bel pl' S.
ness have to be provided for. \ few
years ago her father died, and her moth
er found ii doubly hard to support large
family OF small children. About this
time Mrs. Ann Bailey, a great hearted
Christian woman, residing at No. 21Oo
Choutaau Avenue, became acquainted
with Mrs. Wilson's circumstances, and
having tender spot in her heart for the
little unfortunate, for she also had a deaf
daughter, concluded to adopt little Car
t. =
after few weeks soiourn in Mrs. Baleys
family Carrie was sent to Fulton, Mo, TO
be educated under the supervision of Mr..
and Mrs futile. She spent two years
there, acquiring knowledge with degree
of rapidity astonishing for one of her ten
der years, bat her health, always poor,
failed entirely, and she was brought back
to st. Louis to die.
Mrs. Wilson had in the meanwhile
married again, and being in better cir
cumstances than when Mrs Bailey adop-
ted Carrie, requested that she should be
once more placed under her care. The
days went by, and the innocent little
creature grew weaker and weaker, for
consumption never relaxes its grasp from
king or clod, princess or peasant. One
afternoon Mrs. Bailey and her daughter
Matte received a message that Carrie
was dying, and that she asked for them
continually, and half an hour later they
were at the bedside where the large,
speaking eyes were taking on happier
expression.
Through her feeble signs she commu-
nicated the wish to be left alone with her
benefactor, and when her relatives had
left the chamber she related the following
story through her own peculiar language:
At s o'clock that morning she was all
alone in the little room, her mother hav
ing readjusted the pillows and gone into
another part of the building to attend to
her household duties, and on looking up
she saw.her dead father bending over her.
She was not frightened, tor he seemed SO
kind and good, and his face was like the
portrait she had 50 often looked at, for
hours at a time in Mrs. Bailey's drawing
room-the portrait of Christ at the well
in Samaria. Gle seemed pleased and
happy" her little fingers said, ''and ben
ding his head down by the side of my ear
he whispered, and | heard just as plain
as any person could near, Carrie, any
poor little afflicted lamb. you will soon
have no more trouble, for | will take you
to Jesus in exactly four hours. Even as
he said that, Mrs. Bailey, our clock in the
other room that | can see when the door
is open, and it was open then, for mann
ma had left it that way so if wanted any
thing | could tap on the head-board and |
she would hear it, indicated just eight |
Only four hours more, Carrie he said, |
and | heard it 50 plain, too, and then, tax |
ing my face between his hands, that were
so light and soft, and not bit like they |
use to be when he was on earth before,
he kissed me such long kiss, and left
me-"
The little hands lay quite still for
minute or more, apparently tired out,
said Mrs. Bailey, and then they signaled.
!" began to feel easier then This
pain in here (pointed to her hearD left
me alone at once, and l thought | could
get up and play like | use to do before |
got sick. Oh know papa will come, for
he was so earnest, and he never told me
but one story, and that was about Santa
Claus, and it wasn't a very big story.
Don't you think he will, Mrs. Bailey?
Ob-W
The little hands ceased their rapid
said Mrs. Bailey, with
voice choking with emotion, the eyes left
mine and turned up quickly, with a half
smile, and the feeble hands were raised
half above her head, she gave faint fut-
ter like that Of a wounded bird, and then
nestled down quite still
The tired, tortured spirit, that had
never had known one moment of unal-
Logged happiness on this earth, had gone
out and on its way to the better land l
left the bedside, walked to the door,
opened it, and lifted my eyes to the clock.
The minute hand was just passing over
the ur-hand that told II o'clock.