Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-05-15

the brave boy grappled with him, and
had pinned him to the ground by the
time the men came up and gave the fin.
ishing stroke.
"Now, mother dear, he cried in glee,
"the COWS are safe Another minute
and the brute would have been into
them |"
But the poor mother wasn't needing
the COWS, when her darling son, for
whom she'd have given all she was worth
in the wide world, was there before her
eyes all bloody and covered with foam
from the beasts mouth. She washed
and bathed the bites, the boy laughing
at her the while, and saying they were
nothing. And nothing there was for a
time. But what all dreaded and were
looking for in trembling came at last.
He knew it himself, the poor fellow! It
was pitiful to see how he strove and
fought manful against it ard forced
himself to drink. when even the sight of
water or any liquid was unbearable.
He'd try and try to swallow, though it
strangled him. No use he couldn't get
down a drop and the commissions were
dreadful. At length he grew violent,
and went raving mad altogether; and
hand and foot they had to tie him, to
prevent his doing himself or others a
mischief.
The doctor came, but what could he
do? He was good-natured man, and
gave many sixpence and shilling to
those he knew needed nourishmentmore
than drugs; but no one thought much
of his physicking. People said he had
but the one medicine, and that he gave
it to all alike, no matter what allied
them. Not that there was any harm in
that, for it stands to reason that what
would do good to one Christian couldn't
be bad for another. When any of the
quality were sick. they sent right away
off to the city for the grand doctor
there, but the parish man was good
enough for the poor.
Anyhow, not all the doctors in crea-
ton could be of any use to the dear
young master. There was but the one
thing for hin-his doom was sealed.
And now the question was how it was to
be done. Three ways were spoken of.
To smother him between two feather
beds, or else carry him down to the river
and drown him, or to open vein and
let him bleed away to death. The
mother wouldn't hear of the smothering.
When it was proposed to her, you'd think
she'd go out of her senses. Indeed, for
the matter of that, it was much the same
whatever plan was talked of they
couldn't drag consent out of her to any
of them. God help her twas a cruel
strait to be in. At long last and after
much debate, it was settled that vein
should be opened and, when it was
done, the poor fellow-laid upon a bed
of straw in an clubhouse in the yard
was left to die.
Oh, but that was the day of woe The
misery of it, and the despair of the dis
tracted mother, if I was talking till
doomsday I couldn't describe. Her
neighbors and cousins and the lads
uncles focked in, and were all gathered
round her in the best parlor, striving to
comfort her. They made strong tea, in
hopes to get her to swallow some. They
tried to raise her heart, telling her of
the grand funeral he'd have-hundreds
and hundreds coming to it from far and
near-the handsomest coffin money
could buy, real oak, with brass orna-
ments, and such wake as was never
seen in the country before no expense
spared! But you might as we'll talk to
the dead in the clay. She didn't hear a
word, but sat there without tear or
moan-only her mouth working with
the agony within-just a froze-up, stony
image of despair! And you'd hardly
know her, she was so changed. The
bright, smooth, comedy face all drawn
and wrinkled like an old crone's, and
CHASTITY pale. Sure it was no wonder,
when all she loved upon earth was drip
ping out his young life within a stones
throw of her.
When they saw it was of no use, they
let the poor woman alone. A gloomy
silence fell upon the sorrowful company
as they sat there waiting waiting for
the end. The minutes seemed like
hours. There was no stir, except when
now and then some one would whisper
under his breath about the dying boy
how pleasant he was, and gay! How
generous and open-handed he'd been.
But no matter how sorrowful the
house, or what woe and misery are with
in the walls, the business of life outside
must go on. SO, when milking-time
came, Kitty Meade, the dairy woman
though the heart in her body was
breaking slipped out to call the milk
girls and see the COWS. Coming back
through the yard when the milking was
done, she had to pass by the clubhouse
where they had laia the boy and for the
life of her she couldn't help stopping to
try and listen how it was with him, and
whether he was in heaven yet. There
was no sound. Strict orders had been
given that no one was to go in but the
door was not locked, and she thought
she'd just give it small shove and take
one look. 1t was an old crazy door, con-
trary and ill-ftting and at the first
push it gave great skriek and made
so sharp a noise that she was frightened,
and tried to pull it back again. The
sight, too, of the blood trickling upon
the floor made her giddy and sick.
''Is that you, Kitty M'Cabe? ?" came
in weak, faint whisper from the far
end.
Her heart leaped up at the voice she
never thought of hearing again. "Ayis
it, my life my darlin'l jewel O the
- L