Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-12-25

ing slowly, while the waters surge up
and touch her weary, waiting feet. We
stand silent, daring not to speak in the
presence of this fieeting spirit, with its
martyrdom. And as look downwards
into the poor brown eyes without sight
or reason in them, her parched lips
move; again catch the murmur of the
"hawthorn" and the 'juniper." And l
know that in this last solemn moment OF
all her hurt and weary soul has flown
back to her last home, and perchance is
communing with that desolate mother
in her lonely night-watch.
Suddenly her hand reaches out in a
cropping way, and her voice rings sweet
and clear:
81 am going, Fame; but I have moth
ing to fear; mother stands ready to
plead for me with her Son. She knows
how all such as I have loved and suf-
fered and lost It is Mary--Mary,
whose Child was crucifed"
One sharp, convulsive Tightening of
the frail fingers which even III death
cling to the hand that meted out to her
destruction, and the tired spirit lays
down its burden. She has gone away
away from the sin and the bondage of
life-away, without priest or prayer, but
in the dear, sacred tide of the Christ
mass" And together we stand and look
at her clay.
She was only little, nameless thing,
who had watched the sheep on her faith
er's hills, and she had been jostled hither
and yon in life, and thrust out as too I'M
clean to mingle with those who styled
themselves honest. But as look into
those sightless eyes-as my gaze dwells
upon the shapeless mass that is all that
remains Of the once winsome maiden, /
feel that would rather take her hope
of heaven than Agathe' s-Lady Vanau-
burn-whose spotless character has been
untouched by her society friendship,
wrapped as she is in the rank and pres
tige of her Norman lord. Far be it
from me to say that this poor dead one
was guileless; but what I claim for her
is this: ''Let him who is without sin
cast the first stone at her.
The Christmas bells clash out sudden
ly over the great city. The midnight is
past, and I think of Him whose birth
they ring for-that Baby who in the
infinite wisdom and mercy of after years
said to the Magdalen: "Her sins, which
are many, are forgiven, for she loved
much!" and I wonder where on earth l
may go this Christmas. morning to find
that blessed pardon and divine charity.
What is passing in the mind Of Fame
Swinton I never know, but he goes out
from that chamber Of death an altered
man; and Society, with its hollow de-
ceptions and narrow prejudices, know
him no more.
She lies there dead when the world
wakes to it's gayety and riotous mirth-
that poor little brown, wicked thing,
once bright as berry of the yew, who
had got away from the balm and the
hush of her old safe home-the sloping
hills and spreading vineyards! And far
away the cotter's wife carries 6. heavy
heart, thinking of the child who had
come to her twenty years ago that morn.
One last look I take of the dead one
and then go out from her forever, leav-
ing the man by her side. Outside the
carriages sweep in hundreds through the
streets, and the fashionable throng
rushes on with never a thought or care.
But I feel very sober as I betake myself
to my home; and as my children OF
noble birth rush to meet me with Christ
mas greetings, I think of that mother
dead in the hospital, and of her little
nameless one somewhere upon the earth,
friendless and alone.
From the morning paper Lady Agathe
reads to her husband an account of the
accident: GA drunken woman got run
over by last nights express-the one 1
told you about, you know"
That is all! but it does not matter;
she is gone where no earthly sentence
can touch her-to be judged by q judg-
ment not human and charity divine.
And if upon this morning Mary has any
favor to ask of her Son. in the name of
her dear maternity, think it is mercy
for such as she.
Thank heaven! mans laws are not
God'sl