Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1881-07-07

late ana she must hurry home.
whats the need of your going?'
asked Miss Keziah. "I've got fou
pare rooms, and would be glad if the,
were all full. Suppose you stay al
night?'
Mrs. Denton hesitated. She though
of her lonely, neglected house, peopleC
with the ghosts of her dead children
and contrasted it with this bright
homelike place, where child's swee
voice made music.
"Do stay" said little IIetty, clingin,
to the visitors dress.
This decided the poor, broken-heartet
woman.
81 will and thank you for asking
me, Miss Keziah. l have not deserved
such Kindness"
That night after IIetty had gone t
bed, the two women sat and talked il
the large sitting-roOm, which an opel
wood fire made cheerful and bright
Gradually Mrs. Denton was lead t
speak of her children, all now resting
in their narrow graves in the village
cemetery. She spoke of their uniform
goodness and love for herself, but said
little of her grief at losing them. IIel
voice sounded harsh and strange tC
Miss Keziah, who understood the effort
for control the woman was making.
"Poor soul, you've seen a sight o
trouble, | know" the spinster said
softly, and she put her hands tcnderly
on those of her guest, which were
clasped hard together.
There was deep silence for few
moments, unbroken save by the ticking
of an eight-day clock in the corner
Then suddenly Mrs. Denton threw her.
self at Miss Keziah's feet, and broke
into bitter weeping. Hoarse sObs tore
their way from her breast, and her
frame shook with the violence of her
emotion. The restraint, the self-con-
troll of years, was broken down. The
heart burdened for so long, found relief
at last in passionate sobs and cries.
Miss Keziah said nothing, but ten
derly stroked away from the hot fore
head the thick hair!grown gray with
sorrow. There was sympathy in
every touch.
"G0u are so different from the rest !"
said Mrs. Denton, when at last she
had grown calm enough to speak. "The
Others who have come TO me have
driven me nearly mad with their I'M
meaning advice. Not one of them
knew what | suffered, not one could
understand my grief. When my boy,
my Edgar, the last of all my children,
was i'll, no one came near me-the
disease was contagious, they said.
nursed him alone. Alone | saw him
die, followed him alone to his grave.
Could | believe their words of SYM
pathy after that? Ah Miss Kezah
words could give you 10 idea of all
that | suffered, One by one every
joy of my life has left me- One by
one my children were taken from me
until only Edgor was left. How
loved him! Howl depended upon him
to atone for all | had suffered. How
dreamed over HIM Idle dreams, for
shadOwing happiness that was never to
he mine. Then he was taken, and
was left to sink into despair. only
wanted to die, TO join the dear ones,
where 10 suffering ever could touch
me again. My heart ycarned for SYM
pathy. would have welcomed it.
But those who came to me came be-
cause they thought it their duty, not
from love or Kindness. Not one of
them asked me TO her home, or tried to
make me forget my sorrows in other
things. No, they reminded me of
them, and preached patience and resig-
nation"
"They acted according TO the lights"
said charitable Miss Keziah. "They
have led easy, pleasant lives, and did
not know how to deal with sorrow such
as yours"
"But you knew" said Mrs. Denton,
in u low voice.
"Yes," answered Miss Keziah, 81
know, because | have suffered, too"
They sat talking by the fire until
nearly midnight, and then retired to
rest. Mrs. Denton, for the first time
since Edgar's death, offered up silent
but earnest prayer before she fell
asleep. Her heart was no longer
hardened.
She did not 60 back to her cottage
the next morning as she had expected,
for Miss Keziah's rheumatism had
been increased by her late walk of the
previous evening, and she was unable
to leave her bed. For many days she
was utterly helpless, and during that
time was tenderly nursed by Mrs.
Denton, who also made herself gener-
ally useful in the house, and directed
the work of the farm with care and de-
cisiOn, When Miss Keziah got we'll
she was so much pleased with the way
things had been managed duriup nor
enforced idleness, that she made al
proposition to Mrs. Denton.
suppose you take the place of my
sister Jane" she said, "and stay right
along with me. | need somebody as
you see; and what's the use of both of
us living lonely when we can be COM
pany for each other as well as not =?
You'd take deal of comfort in Hetty,
too. | believe you love her now most
as well as / do"
"She seems to me like my own little
Bertha come back to me-" said Mrs.
Denton. "But o, Miss Keziah, ought
not to accept your kindness, / have
been so hard, so wicked, so rebellious,
| do not deserve that such good should
come to me-"
1--WE differ about that; but we won
argue it," said Miss Keziah. 81 want
you, and you'd like to stay; so the
things settled. Your my partner from
this day on"
The next Sunday the good people of
Brierville were surprised to see Mrs.
Denton in Miss Keziah's pew at church,
and in attendance at prayers in the
evening.
"How did you manage it?" asked
Mrs. Bliss, as she stopped Miss Keziah
in the vestibule of the church.
"0h, L asked her TO tea, as | said |
was going to-" answered Miss Keziah,
land guess the preserves kinder soft
ened and sweetened her up,' and she
naccnI IN IN mbara AIro nanlan ciaol