The New Bloomfield, Pa. times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1877-188?, 1879-05-27

catch them, so / went into the room
and went to sleep till they came again.
Was your mother In the traln-in
the cars g'
"No nobody but just me. Pm GO
ing TO Australia"
"Going to Australia 7"
" Yes. Ellen's there. They have roses
there at Christmas, and we wanted some
for our tree"
"But, my child, you did not leave
home alone ?"
Yes did. aim afraid. Pm going
back right away, as soon as l find Ellen,
and get the roses"
"But, don't you know you will have
to sail in great ship for months to get
to Australia"
"Fllen went in the cars. We saw her
go, mamma and 1. We went in the car
riage and said good-by, and she got in
the cars with Mr.. Williams
"Who is Mr.. Williams Y'' L said, eag-
erly catching at q name.
" "Ellen's husband. Our milkman he
was, before he went off to Australia.
He's jolly always filled my cup for
nothing, when was up"
"And who was Ellen Y''
"My nurse"
What's your fathers namep"
"Papa ~
" But his other nameY"
{" Harry, dear Mamma always call
ed him so.''
Where does he live?"
"He's Dead" said the child in whis-
per. Mamma cries all the time, most,
and wears an ugly black gown every
day."
"Well, where does mamma liver"
AT grandma's, with Aunt Daisy,
and Walter, and Sue, and baby, and
amt 1t funny-baby's my uncle, and he
Is so little he has to be carried about,
and Walters littler than me, and he's
my uncle, too and Sues only six, and
she's my aunt"
"Where does grandma live ?"
Why, home in her own house."
"Well, what is her name"
Grandmal'' in very positive tone,
and becoming restive under so much
questioning.
took him from the bed and began to
dress him, and explain his position; but
even when he understood that he must
give up the Australian journey, and was
made to feel something of his mothers
despair at losing him, he could give me
no clue by which to find his home.
Grandpa, grandpa, mamma, who was
called Mary by the rest, Aunt Daisy and
the three children, were all mentioned,
and persistent questioning revealed that
he lived in large house in the country,
but that was all.
My heart grew fairly sick as l. looked
in his beautiful face and pictured the
grief of his widowed mother over the
loss of her only child. In vain search
ed his clothing for the mysterious
"locket containing the miniature of
beautiful female,'' always found on the
stray children in novels; no straw
berry or raspberry mark" disfigured 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 cottage, the very
darling of Mrs. Watson's motherly
heart. / advertised him in all the large
cities, hoping some paper would reach
his country home; yet, as the days wore
away, and he became reconciled to his
new home, and ceased to grieve for his
family, began to dread the hour when
he should be claimed. His frank, bright
joyousness, his merry prattle, his loving
carresses, began to fill an unsuspected
void in my beart, and Mrs. Watson was
perfect slave to his loving tyranny.
She made him pretty garments to re-
place the rich velvet suit which we
put carefully aside, in case they were
ever required to prove his identity. She
furnished for his bedroom small apart
ment leading from her own sleeping
room. She made the day one long act
of service for his comfort, and as weeks
glided into months, and there was no
clue found to guide us to his home, she
taught him to call her grandma, while
Uncle Charlie became my new acquired
title. To tell how he was petted in the
village would be vain task to at
tempt. TO say that he was the hero and