Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-05-06

be ready for the days duties.
1t was nearly nine o'clock when my
housekceper reused me to say that break
fast was ready and that the child was
awake. Very wide awake found him,
his large brown eyes staring round my
room, taking in every detail of its ar
rangement.
"Who are YOU, How did get here? ?
Am nearly at California: Who's that
man in the picture:" were the questions
poured rapidly forth by the child before |
had time to frame a single inquiry. 81
want to get up! Who's got my clothes: :
came next; then: "Who put me to bed,
without my nightgown:'
Not a sign of fear, or word of home
sickness, | was puzzled.
What is Your name;' l asked, sit
ting down beside him.
"Tut; | want to get up. he cried.
You shall get up in minute, said.
But first tell me your name, and how
YOU came to be asleep in the station"
INV names Trot," he replied; land
the train started off without me when |
got out. 1t was a dark night, and |
could not catch them; so | went into the
room, and went to sleep till they came
again
"Was your mother in the train l
asked.
"No, nobody but me" he replied. Il
am going to California.
Going to California replied.
''Nes: Ellen's there" he said. They
have roses there at Christmas, and we
wanted some for our tree
but my child" said, ''you did not
leave home alone
YES l did," he replied I'm not
afraid. I'm going back as soon as | find
Ellen. and get the roses.
"But don't YOU know YOU will have to
sail in a great ship for months to get to
California;" | asked.
ELLEN went in the train, nc said.
I'VE saw her 20. mamma and |. We
went in the carriage and said good-by,
and she got into the train with Mr..
Williams"
"Who is Mr.. Williams" l said eager
", catching at a name.
"Ellen's husband, he replied. "Ot
milkman he was, before he went off to
California. He's jolly, always filled my
cup for nothing in the morning, when |
was up
And who was Elem" | asked.
MY nurse" said the child
Whats Your father name:" asked.
Papa" he replied.
But his other name:" continued.
Harry dear. Mamma always called
him SO.
"Where does he liyc;" | asked.
Hes dead, said the child in q whis
per. Mamma cries all the time, and
wears black gown every day
well, where does mamma live" |
asked
AT grandma's with Aunt Daisy, and
Walter, and Susy, and baby, and (ain't
it funny: baby's my uncle, and he's so
little he has to be carried about, and
Walters littler than me, and he's my
uncle too; and Susy's only six, and she 5
my aunt.
"Where does your grandma live l
inquired
why, at home, in her own house,
be answered.
"WeIl, what is her name:' asked.
Grandma" he said in very positive
tone, and becoming rcStiye under 50 much
questioning.
Then tried to explain his position;
but even when he understood that he
must give up the California journey, and
was made to feel something Of his moth
er's despair at loosing him, he could give
me no clue by which | could find his
home. Grandpa, grandma, mamma,
who was called Mary by the rest, Aunt
Daisy and the three children, were all
mentioned, and persistent questioning re-
vealed that he lived in large house; but
that was all. Ny heart grew fairly sick
as looked in his beautiful face, and pic
tured the grief Of his widowed mother
over the loss of this only child. In vain
| searched his clothing for the mysterious
docket, containing the miniature OF
beautiful female" always found on the
stray children in novels; no strawberry
or raspberry mark disfgured his smooth,
white skin. His clothing, of the most
dainty material and make, was marked
with the initials "A. H."
Days passed away, and still the little
Trot-for he would own no other name
was an inmate Of my home, the very
darling of Mrs. Watson motherly heart.
| advertised him, hoping some paper
would reach his friends; yet, as the days
wore away. and he became reconciled to
his new home, and ceased to grieve for
his family, l began to dread the hour
when he should be claimed. His frank,
bright joyousness, his weary prattle, his
loving careSses, began to fill an unex-
pected void in my heart, and Mrs. Wat
son was a perfect slave to his loving
tyranny. She made him pretty garments
to replace the little velvet suit, which we
put carefully aside, in case it should be
ever required to prove his identity.
She furnished for his bedroom a small
apartment leading from her own sleeping
room. She made the day one long act
of service for his comfort, and as weeks
glidcd into months, and there was no clue
found to guide us to his home, she taught
him to call her graadma. while Uncle