The Russellville Democrat., 1881-01-13

--." Here the speaker referred to a let 1 ter which he took from his pocket "Seventy-five dollars. 1 think l have the amount with me, and if you will give me receipt, l will make it square with 1 you now"
 It was long time since Mir. Irwin had had sum like this at his disposal, and he could hardly realize his good fortune, even when the roll of bills was in his hand.
 His first collected thought was of his dear, patient wife. Poor Mary! how glad she will be to know this!" he said to himself as he went down the steps in- to the street, putting his hand in his breast-pocket to make sure that it was not myth, the money he had placed there, as well as the bright prospects that had so suddenly opened before him. 1 As he hurried along, eager to tell her the good news, and impatient at every obstacle in his way, he saw dense cloud of smoke in the quarter where he lived As he drew nearer he saw crowd | of people following some ghastly thing that was being borne past him to the station.
 "What is it?" heinquired of bystand- | CT.
 l A Nofildli dliu CluiQ DuIfied tO desttii | in tenament house on Front street." Front street! There was where he l lived and with quickened step and sink ing heart he pushed on. His worst fears were realized. The building he had left a few hours before was mass of smoking ruins, whose numerous tenants were huddled out upon the sidewalk before | the few things they were able to snatch l a hIf VI eyes sought yainly for those that he most l wished to see.
 | Rushing up to one of the women, he seized her almost rudely by the arm.
 Mrs. Allen, where is my wife?" | Putting down the child she was hold ing, the woman arose and stared wildly around.
 'I haven't seen her. The Lord be good to us! it couldn't be her they took away so burned and blackened that her own mother wouldn't know her.' | For moment Mir. Irwin stood motion. less, struggling with the sickening horror that palsied limb and brain. Then, as he remembered the ghastly spectacle he had met, pushing through the crowd, he | turned his tottering steps in the direction in which he had seen 1t borne. l In the shadow of such terrible be. reavement, how light seemed every other trial, how black the ingratitude that had | made him so thankful for the rich treas. ure of love that had been hisl What cared he now for the opportunities thrown open to him! How poor and empty seemed all that he had hoped to do and | win now she was gone whose presence had made his lowly abode such haven | of peace and rest
 "Merciful Fatherl take all else, but | spare my wife and child" was the cry that went up from his tortured soul, as i the officer in charge turned the key oi the room where the dead lay. 1 Upon rude table, their faces charred | and blackened beyond all recognition were the unfortunate mother and child awaiting identification.
 "Oh Maryl--ohl my boy!-can this be | youP" groaned tie wretched man, as he turned his shuddering gaze upon them. Here Mir. Irwin felt light touch on | his arm, ----
 "Richard!'
 Turning he saw his wife, with their child in her arms, standing just back oi him.
 The revulsion, from the extremes ot | grief and despair to this blessed reality was too strong, and had it not been for the officer who was standing by, he would have fallen to the floor.
 | It seems that Mrs. Irwin, who had barely time to escape with her life, had taken refuge at a house opposite. She had seen her husband rush past on his way to the station, and divining his er- rand, followed as quickly as possible. The following day was truly Thanks giving day" to both; and not only for the material blessings that surrounded them. And through all the prosperous years that followed, years that whitened their hair and knit their hearts more closely | together, never did Mir. Irwin omit on | that day, to refer to this eventul season of his life, or fail to render most hearty | thanks to the Giver of all good for this crowning proof of His goodness, that they were spared to each other"