The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1881-09-21


she will not easily get over"
They manage, however, to force
few spoonftlls of hot brandy and water
down her throat; and presently faint
color flickers on her cheek, and the
poor old eyelids begin to tremble. My
wife raises her head and makes her
swallow some cordial which DIR. Bruce
has brought with him, and lays her
back among the soft, warm pillows.
"I think she will rally now," says
DR.. Bruce, as her breathing becomes
more regular and audible. "Nourish-
ment and warmth will do the rest, but
she has received shock from which,
fear, she will never recover" And so
saying, he takes leave.
By-and-bye I go up to the room, and
find my wife watching alone by the
aged sufferer. She looks at me with
tears in her eyes "Poor old soul, +"
she says, "I am afraid she will not rally
from the cold and exposure"
1 go round to the other side OF the
bed and look down upon her. The aged
face looks wan and pinched, and the
scanty gray locks which lie on the pill
low are still wet from the snow. She
is very little woman, as far as | can
Judge Of her in her recumbent position,
and / should think had reached her al
lotted threescore years and ten.
"Who can she be?" 1 repeat, won
deringly. "She does not belong to
any of the villages hereabouts, or we
should know her face, and l cannot
imagine what could bring stranger
to the moor on such night"
AS / speak change passes over her
face; the eyes unclose, and she looks
inquiringly about her. She tries to
speak, but is evidently too weak. My
wife raises her and gives her a spoonful
of nourishment, while she says, sooth-
ingly: "Don't try to speak. You are
among friends, and when you are
better you shall tell me all about your
self. Lie still now and try to sleep"
The gray head drops back wearily on
the pillow, and soon we have the salts
faction of hearing, by the regular res
piration, that our patient is asleep.
"You must come to bed now, Jes-
sie," 1 say. "I shall ring for Mary,
and she can sit up the remainder of
the night"
But my wife, who is tender-hearted
soul and born nurse, will not desert
her post, SO 1 leave her watching and
retire to my solitary chamber.
When we meet in the morning 1 find
hat the little woman has spoken few
words, and seems stronger. "Come In
with me now," says my wife, "and let
us try to find out who she is" We find
her propped into reclining posture
with pillows, and Mary beside her,
feeding her.
"How are you now," asks Jessie,
bending over her.
Better, much better, thank you,
good lady," she says, in voice which
trembles from age as we'll as weakness
sand very grateful to you for your good
ness"
hear at once, by the accent, that she
is English. care you strong enougl
to tell me how you got lost on the moor
and where you came from, and where
you are going ?" continued my wife.
"Ah | 1 was going to my lad, my poo
lad, and now l doubt whether 1 shal
ever see him more p says the poor soul
} with long sigh of WEAKNESS.
} "Where is your lad, and how far hav'
} you Gomez"
"My lad is a soldier at Fort George
and I have come all the way from Liver
pool to see him, and give him his ol,
mothers blessing before he goes to tn
Indies" And then, brokenly, with loni
} pauses of weariness, the little oil
woman tells us her pitiful story.
Her lad, she tells us, is her only e
naming child. She had six, and
) the Youngest, is the only one who di
{ not die of want during the Lancashir
I cotton famine. He grew up fine
likely boy, the comfort and pride of hi
, | mothers heart, and the stay of her dc
/ clining years. But "strike" thre'
r him out of work, and unable to endur
the privation and misery, in a fit of de-
D peration he "'listed." His regimen
was quartered at Fort George, and b
K wrote regularly to his mother, his le
Y ters getting more cheerful and hopefr
!, every day, until suddenly he wrote
say that his regiment was ordered
a India, and begging her to send him hC
r blessing, as he had not enough none
to carry him to Liverpool to see he
h The aged mother, widowed and chile
J. less, save for this one remaining bo.
J. felt that she must look on his face one
n moro before she died. She begged fro
few ladies, whose kindness had kel
? her from the workhouse, sutficiel
Y money to carry her by train to GlasgoN
], and from thence she had made her wa
g now on foot, now begging lift in
i passing cart or wagon, to within fe
miles Of Fort George, when she W,
j. caught in the snow-storm. and, wande
I, ing from the road, would have perishe
8 in the snow but for Laddie.
% My wife is in tears and Mary is sol
Z. bing audibly as the little old woms
concludes her touching and simple stor
and / walk to the window and look o.
J" for moment before ask her what b
er sons name is AS tell her we are b