Northern tribune. [volume] (Cheboygan, Mich.) 1875-1885, 1879-02-22
THE LOST CHILD.
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.


night. 1t was dawn again and be must
60 home without him-wilhout his little
, chilti-his treasure-his most precious
thing on earth. He must go home and
tell its mother that the boy was not
found. He would never be found now;
the man felt sure of that.
All his life he had dreaded this-all
the little life of that baby boy. He had
been like a man who wandered amongst
thieves with diamond in his possession
in full sight of all eyes. 1t seemed to
him that some one must rob him of il.
All the old stories of gipsies who stole
children had troubled him sorely; and
his heart had ached over the pitiful tale
of the little chimney-sweeper who, more
than hundred years ago, while plying
his trade, came down the chimney of the
nursery from which he had been stolen
when thinner fellow still, and recogniz-
ing 1t 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's mother,
who had loved him so, would have laugh
ed at his fancies. So he kept them to
himself. Only once-once he was
forced to tell her. That was when he
tattooed the child's foot.
Right on the instep he had marked il
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 gricved, and then he
told her:
'If the child were stolen, we should
III 81 k,sC III
though he forgot 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 fool
ish I"
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 confronted him. Alive or
dead, they should know him-now, or
after long years, for those marks were
indelible, and no one else would mark
bis foot with that tiny w and the timer
cross that followed.
Alive or dead! Could the boy be dead?
He cast UP his hands i'm his agony and
uttered cry that rang through the Sleep
ing street. People turned in their beds,
and said to themselves that there must be
a fight or that some drunken man was
making night hideOus. Some early risers
ended their sleep then and there for
dawn was already breaking; but no one
knew why the man cried out, or who he
was, or where be went, save the solitary
policeman, 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 had
burned all night, the mother, who paced
to and fro. asked it though she knew the
answer would be No"
"You have not searched everywhere"
she said. "You have forgotten some
place-some ones house where he may
have gone. Go out again-go. | will 60
also. You told me you would bring him
back, or l would not have been left at
home. Col"
The man turned on his very threshold.
II thou yht he might be here" he said;
and wanted to tell you-the tattoo
mark, We shall be sure"
Then he fell 'forward on his face. For
twenty-four hours he had not tasted food
but only his faintness told him that he
was hungry.
was alsoa wife. The wretched people
ate and drank-stOnes and sea-water. for
aught they knew; but they needed
strength. For days thoy looked for their
child in every direction. The river was
dragged, the hospitals, even the prisons,
searched.
Theylspent their small means i'm adver-
Using. They posted notices of their loss
on the walls. All in vain.
After others knew that they followed a
forlOrn hope, they still pursued it as ear
nestly as ever. And so the weeks rolled
by, the months faded, the years followed.
Theirs was hard case. Ii Death had
taken the boy it would have been far
,easiea to bear; but they did not believe
him dead, and where was he? In whose
hands? Had he mourned for them and
for home? Had he been i'll used--beatell?
They knew nothing, and the suspense
wore their lives away. 1t was an old
story TO others very soon; it WAS always
terribly new to them. A. any moment it
seemed 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 child no longer, but a youth tall
er, doubtless, than his mother.
No other children came to these people,
and they were very miserable. The man
seemed crushed-he had neither ambition
nor energy. The woman went about her
daily toll in dull, listless manner. Their
hair grew gray and their brows wrinkled
very early. Friends were pitiful; but
grief does not invite-it rather repels.
At last they seemed to stand alone in
the world; old acquaintances 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
70 Joy to share. Their child would have
teen eighteen years old-was. if he lived
when what is called piece of good
luck happened to them. A far-away rel