The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1880-06-24

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her Pearl, though she was not like our
girls, but afraid. always deadly afraid
of the sea. Ihave seen her clench her
mite of q hand andsstrike at it, for she
had bit of a temper in her, though
nothing to harm. -
"W6en Hiram made his first voyage,
for they were all sea-faring men here
abouts, and there was nothing for lad
to do but ship, the Pearl was just q
little washed-out lily, affecting until he
came home again. And it was so when
ever he went, for they were sweet
hearts from the first time he nestled
her baby face on his breast, when he
picked her up from the wreck. She
was sixteen when they were married,
as near as we could guess; Hiram was a
man of twenty-four. She prayed him
stay at home then, and he stayed a
year, but he fretted for the sea, and he
went again, thinking, I s'pose, that his
wife would get used to it, as all wives
hereabouts must do. But she never
did-never. 1t was just pitiable to see
her 60 about, white as q corpse, when
Hiram went away. never looking at the
sea without tho shudder like a death
chill. All through the war it was Just
awful, for Hiram enlisted on board q
man-o' war, and Pearl was lust a
shadow when he came home the last
time"
"After the warp
eyes, sir; but he made no money OF
any account. and so he went again,
after staying home a long spell. Well,
he never came back. 'Twasn' no man.
ner Of use a telling Pearl he was lost;
she'd just shake her pretty head and
say: He'll come back Not mite OF
mourning would she wear, even after
his own mother gave him up and put
on black; for, sir, it stands to reason
he's dead years ago"
sit looks So"
"Of course it does: nobody else
doubts it but her. Old Mrs. Goldby's
last words we're I'm going to
meet Hiram and they say the dy-
ing know. But even then they didn't
make Pearl think so. She wore mourn
ing for her who had been the only
mother she knowed of, but no weeds.
Weeds was for widows, she said, and
she wasn't a widow"
But the stone"
"Well, sir, I'm coming to that. IA
year ago, sir, fine gentleman from
France came here hunting for a child
lost on this coast. He'd heard of Pearl
by happen-chances, if there is such, and
came here. When he saw the clothes,
he just tainted like woman" s.
"She was related, then?'' a..
Tho u1;oo x,,,,c hrc1~x, 1,,k
the sea air was growing chill. w
Her father, SIR
"He took her awayr'
''He tried to. He told her of a
splendid home he had in New York, for
he'd followed his wife and child, sir, to
a city they had never reached. He was
rich and lonely. He begged his child
to 60. but she would not. Hiram will
come here for me- she said, and he
will find me where he left me. >"
s'On what has she lived?"
"Sewing, sir, mostly. The cottage
was old Mrs. Goldby's, and bless you,
Pearl did not eat much more than a
bird, and her dresses cost next to moth
ing. But there's no denying, she was
very poor-very, and yet the grand
house and big fortune never tempted
her. So her father came on and on to
see her, until April. And he died, sir,
and left our Pearl all his fortune and
the grand house in New York. But
she'll not 60, sir; she'll die here, wait
ing for Hiram, who'll never come"
The stranger lifted his face that had
been half hidden in his hand and said:
''There was a shipwreck in the Pa
cific Ocean, Davy, years and years. ago,
and one man only was saved-saved,
Davy, by savages, who made him a
slave, the worst of slaves. But one day
this sailor saved the life of the chief s
daughter, who was in the coils of ahuge
snake, and the chief released him.
More than that, he gave him choice
spices and woods, and sent him aboard
the first passing ship. So the sailor
landed in great city, sold his presents
and put the gold in safe keeping. Then
he travelled until he reached the seaport
town where he was born, and coming
there at sunset, heard the story of his
life from the lips of a man cutting his
tombstone '-'@S. *
Not word spoke Dayy. Standing
CAOSos AC oCIAcu dl IIutucuSc SIcUOc
hammer, and with powerful blows from
strong, uplifted arms, dashed the mar
BILE into fragments. Then, painting
with exertion, he held out his brawnY
hand to the stranger stranger no
longer. nj. .,tiI7tf.tt
''rve done no better work in my life
than I've done in the last five minutes,
Hiram. Go home, man. and max q
Pearls heart glad She don't,Aeed it,
Hiram-she don't need it. You asked
me about the stone. The neieAbors
drove her to ordering it, twitting her
that now she was rich she grudged the
stone to her husbands memory. So she
told me to cut it. but says ,'Don't put
dead upon it, Davy-put lost at sea; for
Hiram's lost, but he'll be found and
come back to me- She never looked
at it, Hiram. never. And there's not
an hour, nor hasn't been for ten years,
that she hasn't been looking for you to
come back. Go to her, man, aud the
Lords blessing he upon both of YOU"
So grasping the hari, brown hand.
Hiram Colby took the path to the little
white cottage in which he had been
born forty-five years before. The sun
had set and the darkness was gather
ing. but little CLEAN Of light streamed
from the window of his cottage. He
drew near softly and stood on the seat
of the porch, looking over the half cur
tain into the neat but poor sitting-room.
=" 1t was not the grand house, Pearl 8
heritage in New York, but Pearl herself
was there. A slender woman, with a
pale, sweet face, and black hair
smoothly banded and gathered into
rich braids at the back of her shapely
head. Her dress was plain dark one,
with white ruff1es, cuffs aud an apron. y
She had been sewing, but her work
was put aside, and presently She came
to the open window and drew aside the