The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1881-11-23

| that his regiment was ordered to India
and begging her to send him her bless
| ing, as he had not enough money to car
~ him to Liverpool to see her. The
aged mother, widowed and childless.
save for this one remaining boy, felt
that she must look on his face once more
before she died. She begged from a
| few ladies whose kindness had kent her
from the workhouse, sufficient money
to carry her by train to Glasgow; and
from thence she had made her way.
now on foot, now begging a lift in a
passing cart or wagon, to within q few
miles of Fort George, when she was
caught in the snow-storm, and wander
ing from the road, would have persisted
in the snow, but for Laddie
My wife is in tears, and Mary is sob
bing audibly as the little old woman con-
cludes her touching and simple story,
and | walk to the window and look out
for moment before | ask her what her
sons name is. As | tell her we are but
few miles from Fort George, and that
| will send over for him, smile of ex-
treme content illumines the withered
face.
His name is John Salter," she saws
she is a tall, handsome lad; they will
know him by that.
| hasten down stairs and write a short
note to Col. Freeman, whom | know in
timately, informing him of the circum-
stances, and begging that he will allow
John Salter to come over at once and |
despatch my groom in the dog-cart that
he may bring him back without loss of
time.
As return to the house after seeing
him start meet DR.. Bruce leaving the
house.
''Poor old soul, ''he says; her troubles
are nearly over; she is sinking fast
almost doubt whether the will live till
her son comes"
'.How she could have accomplished
such a journey at her age, | cannot un-
derstand, /" observe.
Nothing is impossible TO a mother"
answers DIR. Bruce 'but it has killed
her"
[ 90 in; but l find | cannot settle
to my usual occupations. My thoughts
are with the aged heroine whe is dying
upstairs, and presently | yield to the
fascinationEthat draws me to her pres
ence.
As DIR. Bruce says, she is sinking
fast. She lies back on the pillows, her
cheeks as ashy gray as her hair She
clasps my wite's hand in hers, but her
eyes are wide open, and have an eager
expectant look in them.
cat what time may we expect them?'
wispers my wife to me.
mot before four" l answered in the
same tone.
"He will be too late, l fear" she says;
''she is getting rapidly weaker"
But love is stronger than death, and
she will not go until her son comes.
All through the winters day she lies
dying, obediently taking what nourish-
ment is given her, but never speaking
except to say, my lad, my lad God is
good; He will not let me die till he
comes"
And at last | hear the dog-cart. |
lay my finger on my lip and tell Mary
to go and bring John Salter up very
quietly. But my caution is needless;
the mother has heard the sound, and
with a last effort of her remaining
strength, she raises herself and stretches
out her arms. MY lad, my lad !" she
gasps, as, with a great sob, he springs
forward, and mother and son are clasped
in each others arms once more.
For moment they remained so.
Then the little woman sinks back on
my wife's shoulder, and her spirit is
looking down from Heaven on the lad
she loved so dearly on earth.
She lies in our little churchyard under
a spreading yew tree, and on the stone
which marks her resting place are in,
scribed the words Faithful unto Death.
Our Laddie has gained-far spread renown
for his good works, and as | sit finish
ing this short record of a tale Of which
he is the hero, he lies at my feet, our
ever watchful, faithful companion and
friend. Chambers Journal.