The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1880-04-17

miserable wardrobe she carried in bum
die on her arm, and sometimes she hau
number of parcels of old rags, dried
herbs, etc.
In the season of flowers her tattered
bonnet was profusely decorated with
those which she gathered in the WOODS
or by the wayside. Her love for these
and her sweet voice were all that were
left her of the bloom and music of exist
ence. Yet no; her meek and childllke
piety still fingered. Her God had not
forsaken her; down in the dim chaos OF
her spirit the smile of His love yet
cleaned faintly-in the waste garden OF
her heart she still heard His voice at
eventide, and she was not afraid. Her
Bible went with her everywhere-a torn
and soiled volume, but as holy still; ana
it may be as dearly cherished, my dear
reader, as the gorgeous copy now lying
on your table bound in "purple and
gold" and with the gliding untarnished
upon its delicate leaves.
Thirty years from the time of the
commencement of this painful history,
on bleak autumnal evening, rough
country wagon drove into the town OF
Cazenovia. 1t stopped at the aims
house, an attenuated form was lifted up
and carried in, and the wagon rumbled
away. Thus was Lucy Dutton brought
to her native town to die.
She had been in decline for some
months, and the miraculous strength
which had so long sustained her in her
weary wanderings, at last forsook her
utterly. Her sister had died some time
before, and the widowed husband had
soon after removed with his family to
the far West. So Lucy had no friends,
no home, but the aims house.
One day about a week from the time
of her arrival Lucy appeared to suffer
greatly, and those about her looked for
her release almost impatiently; but at
night she was evidently better, and for
the first time she slept TRANQUILITY till
morning. The matron, who was by her
bedside when she awoke, was startled
by the earnest gaze which met her own,
but she smiled and bid the invalid " Good
Morning. Lucy looked bewildered,
but the voice seemed to re-assure her,
and she exclaimed:
where am L; and who are you?
do not know you"
A wild surmise flashed across the mind
of the matron; the lost reason of the
wanderer had returned. But the good
matron replied calmly and soothingly:
g Why, you are among your friends,
and you will know me presently"
"Then may be you know Edwin and
Ellen" rejoined the invalid; "have they
come? O., | had such terrible dream!
L dreamed that they were married! Only
think, Ellen married to Edwin! Strange
It's that should dream that"
my poor Lucy" said the matron,
with a gush of tears, "that was not
dream; twas all true"
"All true!'' cried the invalid; "then
Edwin must be untrue, and that cannot
be, for he loves me, we loved each other
well, and Ellen is my sister. Let me see
them-I will go to Them
She endeavored to raise herself, but
fell back fainting on the pillow.
''What does this mean-what makes
me so weak?" said she'''
Just then her eye fell on her own hand
that old and withered hand. She
gazed on it in blank amazement.
Something is the matter with my
sight" she said, smiling family, for
my hand looks like an old woman's.''
"And so it isl said the matron gent
ly, land so is mine; yet we had fair,
plump hands when we were young. Dear
Lucy, do you know me? | am Marian
Alien was to have been your brides
maidn
l cannot say more-I will not make the
vain attempt to give in detail all that
mournful revealing-to reduce to ex-
pressive words the dread sublimity of
that hopeless sorrow.
To the wretched Lucy, the last thirty
years were as though they had never
been. OF not an incident not scene,
had she the slightest remembrance,
since the recreant lover and traiterous
sister stood before her, and made that ter
rible announcement.
The kind matron paused frequently in
the sad narrative of her poor friend S
madness and wanderings, but the invalid
would say with fearful calmness, go
on, go on, though the drops of agony
stood thick upon her forehead.
When she asked for her sister. the
matron replied:
''She has gone before you, and your
father also.o
"And my mother?' said Lucy, her
face lit up with sickly ray of hope.
"Your mother has been dead for twen-
ty years.
dead! All gone! Alone, old, dying!
o, God, my cup of bitterness is fullr'
and she wept aloud
Her friend bent over her, and, min
Cling her tears with her, said affection
ately:
"But you know who drank that cup
before you?'
Lucy looked up with bewildered ex-
preston, and the matron added" The
Lord Jesus; you remember Him."
A look like sunlight breaking through
cloud, look which only saints may
wear, irradiated the fearful face of the
dying woman, as she replied:
go, yes, knew Him and loved Him
before / fell asleep"
The man of God was called. A few
who had known Lucy in her early days
came also. There was much reverential
feeling, and some weeping around her
death bed. Then rose the voice of
prayer. At first her lips moved as her
s,..A