San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-03-23

"Marie," he said, as they hurried
home, "the pretty lady said she would
give a hundred dollars for my eye
lashes!"
"Did shep" cried Marie, her eyes
growing large. "0h, what a pile on
pile of money! We could live on IL
forever, couldn't weG"
81 think so; and poor mamma
wouldn't cry SO much. l mean to 10 It,
Marie"
"Mamma won't let you, Victor"
/" 1t is best not to tell her,"
So the two babies plotted together.
Poor innocents! They had been bred
in so hard school that they could not
understand a jest. Smiles had come
but rarely to their sad little faces. From
their birth, almost, misfortune had fol-
lowed their parents. Two years before,
their father had been drowned in that
beautiful sea and since then the moth
er had tried, with failing health, to pro-
vide for them. Seven months passed;
a terrible storm had swept over the is
land, and then their little home had
foated out to sea, they barely escaping
with their lives. The mother was
French woman of good birth and edu-
cation; but no way to earn money
seemed to open to her but washing and
mending delicate laces, or doing fine
needlework that tried her eyes, and for
which she was but poorly paid. She
was too proud to appeal to the town Tor
help; but now for weeks she had been
too ill to work regularly, and little by
little her money had melted away. She
looked up as the children entered the
wretched home, like some wild creature
brought to bay. They kindled a fire
with their bits of wood, and she toasted
them Johnny-cake. 1t was the last
cup of corn-meal in the house. With
despairing thoughts whirling through
her poor distracted brain, she sat the
evening through in q heavy silence,
while the children whispered in the cor
ner.
"Mamma," said little Victor once,
timidly, "would you give your eyelashePs
for hundred dollarsP" ....-
"Ay, child" said she, bitterly, 81
would give my eyes!"
The children looked meaningly at
each other. And in the night, while her
babies slept, the mothers heart relieved
itself in wild tears and prayers. Stand
ing above them, her hands outstretched,
her broken voice faltered its appeal to
the all-pitying Father above. God Him.
self may have listened, for over her worn
soul there stole deep languor, through
which voice seemed to reach her soul
with touch of peace-"And it shall
come to pass that the Lord shall give
thee rest from thy sorrow, and from tiny
fear, and from the hard bondage where
in thou vast made long to serve"
She threw herself on the bed and
slept; slept so soundly that she
did not know when her children
rose and stole softly out of the room.
Both little faces were bright. Marie
had her mammals scissors in her hand.
They spread an old French newspaper
on the ground, and Victor lay down and
closed his eyes. The morning sun crept
up and turned his curious face full upon
them. Then, clip, clip, clip, went
through the long, dark, curled lashes
that the mother had kissed so many
times. Any mother must have scream
ed to see Marie cutting so recklessly.
If her hand had slipped, or Victor had
moved, never again might those deep,
dark eyes have looked on the worlds
beauty. But the little hand was guided,
it may be, by One who takes heed OF the
sparrows as they fall. Now it was done!
Sleeps angel pressed the mother close
in his arms, that she might not know
when, hand in hand, her children ran
off to the great house near the beach.
Lefty and Mr.. Kimball were at break
fast in cool, latticed room. Lefty was
dainty and fresh as the morning, in a
cool white wrapper, all rutfles and blue
ribbons. The table glittered with her
wedding-gifts of china and silver. Her
husband was glancing over the paper,
Venus, the dusky maid, entered with
hot wailles.
"Dere's two funny little French chill,
dern akin for you, Miss Lefty" she
said. ''One of ems got sompen wrap
ped up in a passed., dat he says he's
brung Ia YOU. Dunno what 1t is,