The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1879-11-20
THE LOST CHILD.

He had looked for him all day-al
night. 1t was dawn again, and he mus,
go home without hiln-without his lit.
Tie child-his treasure-his most pre-.
cious thing on earth. He must 60 home
and tell its mother that the boy was not
found, He would never be found now.
the man felt sure of this.
All his life he had dreaded this-all
the little life of that baby boy. He had
been like Il man who wandered amongst
thieves with diamond in his posses
sion in full sight of all eyes. 1t seemed
to him that some one must rob him of
1t. All the old stories of gyrsies who
stole children had troubled him sorely;
and his heart had ached over the pitt
full tale of the little chimnev-swceper
who. more than hundred years ago.
while plying his trade, came down the
chimney of the nursery from which
he had been stolen when a TIMER
fellow still, and, recognizing it and his
mother, was restored to love and home
at last.
Often in the night had the thought so
overcome him that he had stolen from
his bed in the darkness to feel the little
head of his sleeping boy on the pillow
of his crib. Even his wife, the child
mother. who had loved him so, would
have laughed at his fancies. So he kept
them to himself. Only once-once he
was forced to tell her. That was when
he tattoocd the child's foot.
Right on the instep he had marked it
with a little blue w. 1t was painful
every prick hurt him worse than it did
the boy. And the mother, coming
home, had been angry and grieved, and
then he told her:
If the child were stolen we should
know him. though his face were altered
though he forget his name and us.
That is why did it."
And she had said:
People have children enough of
their own. Children are only valuable
to their parents. You are so romantic
SO foolish
Now it had come. The foolish fear was
realized. Lost or stolen, the boy was
gone, and that tattoo mark was the
only thing that comforted him. Alive
or dead. they should know him, now or
after long years, for those marks were
indelible, and no one else would mark
his foot with tiny w and the TIMER
cross that followed.
Alive or dead! Could the boy be
dead? He cast up his hands in his
agony and uttered a cry that rang
through the sleeping street. People
turned in their beds, and said to them
selves that there must be fight or that
some drunken man was making night
hideous. Some early-risers ended their
sleep then and there, for no one knew
why the man cried out, or who he was,
or where he went, save the solitary DO
liceman, who gave him grave salute
as he passed. Neither asked the other,
. Have you found the child?' They
knew the question was useless.
But at home, where the lights bad
burned all night, the mother, who
paced to and fro, asked it, though she
knew the answer would be mo"
You have not searched every
where" she said. "You have for
COTTON some place-some ones house
where he may have gone. Go out
again-go. l will 60 also. You told
me you would bring him back, or l
would not have been left at home.
Cor
The man turned on his very thresh-
old, II thought he might be here" he
said. land wanted to tell you-the tat
too mark-we shall be sure
Then he fell on his face. For TWENTY
four hours he had not tasted food, but
only his faintness told him that he was
hungry.
Then the mother remembered that
she was also wife. The wretched
people ate and drank-stones and sea
water, for aught they knew--but thew
looked for their child in every direc-
ton. The river was dragged, and the
hospitals, even the prisons, searched.
They spent their small means in adj
vertising. They posted notices of their
loss on the walls. All in vain.
After others knew that they had fol-
lowed forlorn hope, they still pursued
it as earnestly as ever. And so the
weeks rolled by, the months faded, the
years followed. Theirs was a hard
case. If death had taken the boy it
would have been easier to bear; but
they did not believe him dead; where
was he? In whose hands? Had he
mourned for them and for home? Had
he been ill-used-beaten? They knew
nothing, and the suspense wore their
lives away. 1t was an old story to 9th
ers very soon; it was always terribly
new to them. At any moment it seem
ed to them that the door might open
and their child enter, and the patter of
little feet upon the stones set their
hearts beating wildly. This when ten
years had passed, and the child of four
would have been a child no longer, but
a youth taller, doubtless, than his
mother.
No other children came to these peo-
pie, and they were very miserable. The
man seemed crushed-he had neither
ambition nor energy. The woman went
about her daily toll in a dull, lifeless
manner. Their hair grew gray. and
their brows wrinkIed very early
Friends were pitiful; but grief does not
invite-it rather repels.
At last they seemed to stand alone in
the world; old acquaintance and rela-
tives were gone, or had forgotten
them. They made no new ones. Poor.
lonely, sad, they chung to each other.
and shared each others sorrows and
trials. There was no joy to share.
This child would have been eighteen
years old-was, if he livedSwhen
what is called a piece of good luck
happened to them. A far-awav rela-
tive died and left them a little fortune.
He had not taken much notice of them
during lite, but he had given them :
thought on his deathbed. They were
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