Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1880-03-20
CLEAN WASHED.

siue, tne ricn glow deepening on ner
fair cheek, and sudden excitement
lsaping into the dark gray eyes.
Nonsense, DEAR" answered the
mother, after moments silence. at
was your imagination. Ny little girl
is fsnciful tonight" and she bent to
stroke back the thiekly-clustering
curls from the low, white brow, as she
pressed fond, fsrvsnt kiss upon it.
1t was a pretty picture on which
the frs-light danced and Aickered-
the warm, luxurious room, with the
tall, elegant woman in its midst, and
the little, daintliy-dressed child by
her side.
Without. the wind swept by, hurl-
ing great masses of snow on its wings,
and dashing through the bare, leaf
less branches of the trees.
The child shuddersd as she listened
to its moan.
II am quite sure I heard it, NAM
ma. Suppose anyone were out on
such a night. It would be dreadful.
Let me open the door a moment
just moment"
And, without waiting for the re-
fusal trembling on her mothers lips,
she darted forward and threw open
the great outside door.
In another instant, the bell sent a
sharp peal through the house, for on
the very threshold lay a PROSTATE
body, already half buried in the
shrouding snow.
Five minutes later, and the lad
had been carried to a sofa, and res
toratives and stimulants passed down
his throat.
"Will he live, mammal Do you
think he will live?"
But, in answer to her question, the
lids slowly lifted themselves, and the
great black eyes rested wonderingly
on tho child's face, bending so anxi-
ously over him.
Had the death he thought so near
indeed overtaken him, and was this
heaven he had reached2 He feared
to waken from his dream, and find
himself homeless and starving and
cold.
With long-drawn sigh, he clo.ed
his eyes, only to find the fascination
of the present overcome him, and I'M
pei him to again gaze upon his mar
vslous surroundings.
But hiswonder only despsned when
the reality was brought home to him
when he discovered that it was life,
not death, and earth, not heaven, and
that he was not to be driven out
again into the cold and bitter night.
Through his long, silent hours he
lay motionlsss in this warm resting
place, picturing, in the darkness, the
child's face, until it became stereo-
typed both on heart and brain.
The next day he told his story. He
was poor lad, orphaned and friend
less.
"They discharged me from my last
place." he said, "because I carried a
book about with nae, and the boss said
it would teach me to dream instead
of work. I was only trying to learn
something in my idle minutes, though
couldn't find much time, and I
didn't take my employers. However,
he was hard man, and had to 20.
started West. The little money l
had gave out. The storm overlook
me, and I struggled as best I could.
until grew faint and sick. Some
where in the distance I saw q light.
I struggled toward it. You know the
rest. Now I am strong and we'll
again, the storm is over, and I can
only thank you in a few poor words
for your generous kindness, and go
my way"
"Papa will DO home this afternoon"
answered the child. HE is the own
er of all the mills about here. Ifyou
would like, Twill ask him to give you
a place; and there is school at night
for the hands, 80 you can study, too"
"If I would liksl'
1t was all he said, but little Helen
Hawthorne needed no other words.
She knew that great lump in his
throat had choked his further utter
ance, and that he had turned away
ashamed, to hide the tears.
The next week saw her promise full
filed, and Alex Vernon stood once
more man among men. He found