The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1880-08-12
SAVED By LOVE.


Reader, 1 have story to tell. Per-
haps have not the art to tell it grace
fully, but he that speaks from the heart
will ever be listened to attentivelv. and
VII! tind a ready response in every SYM
pathetic bosom.
was left an orphan at an early age.
and had to struggle hard to support
myself and sister, dainty little thing,
who called out all the love and chivalry
of my nature. I found but little time
to attend school, but that little was 80
improved that in looking back over nv
school-days I find nothing to regret save
their brevity:
Before she had completed her 10th
year, my sister died. I stood beside
her, and sow her sweet young life 20
out as gently as if she had but fallen
quietly to sleep. It was long time be-
fore could realize that she was dead.
But when, at last, the truth forced itself
upon my unwilling heart, I sat down bv
her side, took her white, cold hand in
mine, but did not weep. Ny grief was
too deep for tears. I thought of the
many times she had wound her arms
lovingly about my neck of the many
kisses she had showered upon my lips,
cheeks and brow; and, ohl how I
longed to feel the pressure of those arms
once more, to taste again the sweetness
Of those loving lips.
But why dwell upon the sweetly-sor-
rowful theme? We buried her in the
village churchyard, by the side of the
dear ones who had gone before. When
summer came, sweet flowers bloomed
upon her grave, but none so sweet as
once had been the flower that lay be-
neath
It was long ere sufficiently recovered
from the shock to again take an interest
in my work but, as time wore on. I
forgot something of my grief, thoug
1here was ever present in my heart an
eager longing for love.
At last that longing was satisfied. In
the village there lived lovely girl, the
daughter of a merchant. We had been
playmates and companions from child
hood, and our friendship had increased
with increasing years. One evening I
breathed in her ear q tale of love, and
asked her to be my wife. Her answer
flooded my heart with q peaceful happi-
ness to which it had long been a
stranger.
I approached her father upon the
subject Of our marriage, and gained his
consent, with the proviso that I should
be absent one year, to test the strength
of my love for his daughter. To this
we both objected most earnestly, but he
was ine1orable. and We submitted.
A few days later I bade adieu to all
held dear in life, and started forth to
try my fortune at the West. At Chey-
enne L halted, and, taking advantage Of
the first offer that was made, was soon
installed a "cow-boy" on one of the
largest stock ranges in the Territory. BY
strict attention to business, and a care
full regard for the interests of my en-
ployer, I soon rose to the dignity of
foreman, with salary Of 800 per
month.
The months rolled on, and nothing
transpired to give me moments un-
easiness in regard to the constancy of
my betrothed Long, loving letters
came regularly and often-bright spots
IN the lonely desert of my life.
At lastmy year was up, and lprepared
to hasten home and claim my bride. On
the day before was to start, I called at
the office for my mail. A tiny, white
envelope was handed to me, and one
glance at the superscripton told me it
was from she who was all the world to
me.
Stepping apart from the crowd, l
tore open the envelope and read these
words:
married. Oh John! know have done
wrong. Can you ever forgive mo2 BELL.
On! the agony Of that moment! AS
stood there staring vacantly at the
cruel note, it seemed that the light OF
my life had gone out for ever. All,
reader, those only who have experienced
it can realize the inexpressible grief that
sweeps across the heart at such time
The death Of loved one cuts not half
SO keenly. Here we mourn the loss of
one dcarer, perhaps, than life there to
the consciousness OF our loss is added
the conviction of guilt on the part of
one we had believed so pure, so true
Here our grief is mitigated by the
thought that We may meet again-meet
to love for ever-there no such CLEAN of
hope comes to lessen the darkness of tho
hour. Our dream Of love is oyer-for
life, for all eternity!
L know not how long I stood there in
the Office, but I at last became conscious
Of being observed. So. putting the note
in my pocket, I walked to the door.
Without, d binding snow-storm ragged.
The few who had business on the streets
hurried to and fro, eager to reach some
shelter from the storm. I got to my
room, I scarcely know how and, sink
ing into seat, + remained there for
hours, thinking, only thinking!
When night closed in took my hat
and wandered forth into the storm. The
wind tore through the streets. seemingly
with the conscious power of a fiend. But
a fiercer tempest within my breast made
me despise the warning elements, and I
wandered on and on, careless OF even
life itself.
In the days of untold anguish that
followed, what wonder if I forgot my
manhood, what wonder if I fell! Spare
me the pain of repeating the story of
the ensuing year. Let it suffice when
I tell you that all my hard-earned money
was gone ere the year was out; that 1
was q mere wreck of my former self. I
do not pretend to justify my conduct.
Call me weak if you will. Ionly know my
suffering was greater than I could bear.
At times I was painfully conscious Of
my errors, and struggled hard to break
the bonds that held mo fast. But not
until my last dollar was gone did I fully
realize the folly Of my conduct. Then,
indeed, necessity compe1ed me to
pause and consider what was to be
done. It took not long to decide. I
would go to work and earn money suff-
cient to bear my expenses to South
America. Once out Of my native coun-
try, I would never again set foot in
land where I had known only sorrow
and disappointment. 49,