The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1882-01-11

been Emma's, and there upon the cold
pillows last pressed by the head OF her
darling would she weep away the sore
ness of her heart
She hoped always that some letter or
message might come to her she would
risk the deacon's anger, and write Just
one little word OF Bve to her daughter ;
but she hoped in vain. No tidlngs
ever came.
Days and weeks and months passed
by, as (Oh Heaven, be pitiful y they
will drag by, whether we soar to heights
Of ecstasy or sink into depths OF despair
-as they have dragged on ever since
creation as they will go on forever
This beautiful Christmas morning
Mrs Haines went about her plum pud-
ding and her chicken pie and her
sponge cake and other dainties with q
heavy heart. She never dreamed of
omitting q single item in the Christmas
bill OF fare, for the deacon was me
thodical man, and if there had been so
much as a dish of preserves missing he
would have demanded the reason of it.
He would have looked upon it as crying
sin against the faith of his forefathers if
Christmas had not been kept in the way
he had kept it from his youth up.
So, though the mothers heart was
full of sorrow and heaviness, she re-
membered the exact quantity OF spice
to be put in the mince meat for the pies,
she kept in mind just how much short
ening must go into the crust for the
chicken pie, and she trussed thefat tur-
key, and filled him full with stuAing,
and watched him while he was roasting,
Just as solicitously as if she was not
ready to sink down and weep her life
away for her lost child
BY o'clock in the afternoon every
thing was ready. Dinner smoked on
the table, and filed the great kitchen,
when the table was set out with a
savory smell.
The weather had changed suddenly,
and heavy storm clouds drifted across
the sky, driven by the fierce wind, and
the distant hill-tops we're wrapped in
mists of snow. Lanbornton was near
the sea, and the low beat Of the waves
on the broken beach came ever and
anon to the ear in wall of despair.
Mrs. Haines lighted the candles in
the tall silver candlesticks,a and set them
on the table. The voice in which
she called her husband to dinner
trembled; she was wondering if Emma
had Christmas dinner that day, or if
indeed she was still alive and dweller
in q land where Christmas was remem-
bered.
The deacon sat down at the table,
put his steel-rimmed spectacles on his
nose, and opened the large Bible which
lay beside his plate. 1t was always his
custom to read the first passage on
which his eye rested, and on this occa-
sion he read aloud.
"For if ye forgive men their tres
passes, your Heavenly Father will also
forgive you; but if ye forgive not men
their trespasses, neither will your
Father forgive your tIespasses."
There was no softening of the stern
voice as he read the beautiful words; no
tenderness of feeling crept over his
face at the thought of the loving Christ
who uttered them. But Mrs. Haines'
eyes ran over, and she bowed her head
upon her hands.
"Oh, john" she cried, "think of
Emma five years ago to-day since she
went forth blighted by fathers curse
and heaven only knows if she is still
among the living Oh, my child my
child p
The deacon rose slowy from his seat,
his face pale as death, his long right arm
extended solemnly to heaven.
Martha" said he, deliberately, "ii
you were not my wife would turn you
from my door. Such passages oi
Scripture as these have no reference to
wicked and disobedient children who
persist in going to ruin in spite oL
counsel and admonition from their legal
guardians !"
There was faint moaning sound al
the door, and the quick ear of Mrs.
Haines caught it at once. So did the
old house dog, for he leaped from his
warm corner by the fire and sprang to
the door with cry of welcome.
The deacon took a step forward, but
his wife was before him. Perhaps some
subtle prescience helped to prepare hel
for what she was to see, for she did moi
cry ont or faint at the sight.
Across the doorstep lay the still fig
ure Of a woman, holding in her arms 8
! little child. The snow was drifting
\ over them both, but the light from the
5 blazing hearth shone out broad and red
, and tinged with roseate bloom the wan
white face of Emma Clayton.
Mrs. Haines was a slender little
californian, but she never felt the weight O.
ar unconscious daughter as, lifting hel
1deIto her arms, she bore her into thu
Id. rm kitchen and laid her on the lounge
referlivid with rage, the deacon strode to
Is he'd his wife and laid rough hand OF
poor shoulder of the unconscious girl
trayed for once Mrs. Haines did not shrinl
3 sudd her husband in his rage.
ling wlohn," she said, firmly, "she is m,
r child; I will do a mothers duty Il
milton