Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-01-26
VOL. 76.-3S76. NO. 16.

to meet me. "Well2" she asks eagerly.
ave have found poor old woman."I
say "but do not know whether she is
alive or dead"
My wife throws her arms around me and
gives me good hug.
"You will find dry things in your dressing
room" she says; and this is all therevenge she
takes on me for my skepticism. The poor
woman is carried up stairs and placed in
warm bath under my wife's direction and
before the doctor arrives she has shown some
faint symptoms Of life; so my wife sends
me word. DIR, Bruce shakes his head when
he sees her. "Poor old SOUL" he says, chow
came she out on such fearful night /
doubt she has received a shock which, at
her age, she will not easily get over"
They manage, however, to force a few
spoonfuls of hot drops and water down her
throat; and presently a faint color fickers
on her cheek, and the poor old eyelids begin
to tremble. My wife raises her head, and
makes her swallow some cordial which DR..
Bruce has brought with him, and then lays
her back among the soft, warm pillows.
al think she will rally now" says DIR.
Bruce, as her breathing becomes more audi
BILE and regular "Nourshment and warmth
will do the rest but she has received shock
from which, fear, she will never recover"
By-and-by 60 up to the room, and find
my wife watching alone by the aged sufferer.
She looks up at me with tears in her eyes,
Poor old sol" she says, " am afraid she
will not rally from the cold and exposure
I 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 pillow are still wet
from the snow. She is very little woman,
as far as | can Judge of her in her recum-
bent position, and should think must have
reached her allotted threescore years and
| ten.
"Who can she be2" repeat, wonderingy.
She does not belong to any of the villages
hereabouts, or we should know her face
aud cannot imagine what should bring
stranger TO the moor on such night"
As / speak a change passes over her face;
the eyes unclose, and she looks enquiringly
about her. She tries to speak, but is evil
IDENTIFY too weak. My wife raises her. and
gives her spoonful of nourishment, while
she SAYS soothingly, "Dont try to speak.
You are among friends, and when you are
better you shall tell MS all about yourself.
Lie still now, and try to Sleep"
The gray head drops back wearily on the
pillow, and soon we have the satisfaction of
hearing, by the regular respiration, that our
patient is asleep
"You must come to bed now, JESSIE" I
say. al shall ring for Mary, and she can
sit up for the remainder of the night"
But my wife, who is tender-hearted soul
and born nurse, will not desert her post
so leave her watching, and retire to my
solitary chamber.
When we meet in the morning, find that
the little woman has spoken few words,
and seems stronger "Come in with me
now," says my wife, sand let us try to find
out who she is" We find her propped into
a reclining posture with pillows, and Mary
beside her feeding her.
How are you now ?" asks Jessie, bend
ing over her.
lady," she SAYS in voice which trembles
from age as well as weakness "And very
grateful to you for your goodness"
hear at once by the accent, that she is
English. {" Are you strong enough to tell
me how you got lost on the moor, and where
you came from, and where you are going?"
continued my wife.
"Ah was going to my lad, my poor lad,
and now doubt shall never see him more,"
says the poor soul with sigh.
"Where is your lad, and how far have you
s Gomez"
!. "My lad is soldier at Fort George, and
o l have come all the way from Liverpool to
see him, and give him his old mothers
II blessings before he goes to the Indies" and
y then, brokenly, with long pauses of weari,
= ness and weakness. the little old woman tells
us her pitful story.
{. Her lad, she tells us, is her only remain
e. ing child. She had six, and this, the
Youngest, is the only one who did not die OF
W want during the Lancashire cotton famine
IS He grew up fine, likely boy, the comfort
,r and pride of his mothers heart, and the
,e stay of her declining years. But a =" strike
threw him out of work, and unable to en-
n dure the privation and misery, in tit OF
1t desperation he listed His regiment was
a. auartered at Fort George, and he wrote
% regularly to his mother, his letters getting
more cheerful and hopeful every day, until
l. suddenly he wrote that his regiment was
4. ordered to India, and begging her to send
s. him her blessing, as he had not enough
W money to carry him to Liverpool to see her
The aged mother, widowed and childless,
save for this one remaining boy, felt that
d she must look on his face once more before
she died. She begged from few ladies,
l. whose kindness had kept her from the work
house, sufficient money to carry her by train
IS to Glasgow, and from thence she had made
e her way, now on foot, now begging lift in
passing cart or wagon, to within few
q miles of Fort George, when she was caught
+ in the snow-storm; and wandering from the
), road would have perished in the snow-but
Q for Laddie.
} NV wife is in tears and Mary is sobbing
k audibly as the little old woman concludes
g her touching and simple story, and | walk
to the window and look out for moment
l. before am able to ask her what her sons
-s name is. As | tell her we are but few
n miles from Fort George, and that will send
If over for him, a smile of extreme content IL
,s lumes the withered face.
"His name is John Slater" she says, " he
| is a tall, handsome lad they will know
r, him by that"
hasten down stairs and write short
l. note to Colonel Freeman, whom l know in
% timately, informing him Of the circum
t, stances, and begging that he will allow John
e Slater to come over at once and l dispatch
my groom in the dogcart that he may bring
d him back without loss of time.
1. As return to the house after seeing him
/, start, meet DIR. Bruce leaving the house.
4. "Poor old soul !" he says; "her troubles
N are nearly over; she is sinking fast. al
ar most doubt whether she will live till her SOL
comes"
IT "How she could have accomplished suct
1t journey at her age, | cannot understand,
If | observe.
lr "Nothing is impossible to mother" an
e. swers DR.. Bruce; but it has killed her."
/ go in but find | cannot settle to my
,r usual occupations. My thoughts are witt
h the aged heroine who is dying up stairs, anc
g, presently l yield to the fascination tha
m draws me back TO her presence.
IN AS DR.. Bruce says, she is sinking fast
,e She lies back on the pillows, her cheeks arr
N as ashy gray as her hair. She clasps m,
le wifes hand in hers, but her eyes are wid'
d. open, and have an eager, expectant look il
De them.
h. "At what time may we expect them2'
m whispers my wife to me.
At Not before four" | answer in the sam,
I'd tone.
a "Hs will be too late, l fear" she says
ID she is getting weaker rapidly"
m But love is stronger than death, and sh,
At will not go until her son comes. All through
the winters day she lies dying, obedientl,
ID taking what nourishment is given her, bu
Of never speaking except to say My lad, my
rt lad God is good he will not let me di'
II, until he comes"
And at last hear the dogcart. lay m,
r; finger on my lip, and tell Mary to go anc
Or bring John Slater up very quietly. But my
is caution is needless the mother has heart