Frostburg mining journal., 1882-12-23
that term by his attempt to evade the

| tHeln, Melullle liluleu, anu Ine SuSpl-
cions of the father were reused anew.
That night the poor old man and woman
were left desolate. Melanie Waldron
and her lover were far from her native
home.
A son in prison, daughter absent,
perhaps disgraced, age and poverty ap-
proaching-nay, already ut hand-what
wonder, as year went on after year, that
the old couple settled down into COM
plete and voluntary seclusion from the
world? What wonder that the pleasant
house and its once cheerful surroundings
became neglected and desolated, and
that shadow, dark and gloomy, rested
upon it?
It was few days before Christmas,
ten years ago, that Richard Waldron
lost his children. During that time the
two old people had often dreamed of the
past, and brought up the happy images
of childhood that had once frightened
their home. But latterly no word had
been spoken between them to remind
them of by-past time. 1t was as If each
heart had said to itself:
II may not muse-I must not dream;
Too beautiful these visions seem
For earth and mortal man--for when
Can by-past time come back again p
So, gradually it became as if those
visions had never been. Inwardly, how
ever, the conviction of each was that
they should never behold them-that
Stephens pride would never permit him
to revisit place so fraught with men,
ories of his disgrace, and that Melaine,
believing that she had forfeited their
affection, would die sooner than return.
In view of these things, we may be-
lieve that the morning of Christmas Day,
1860, brought no comfort to the desolate
old people in the decayed house. Yet
God can in his own good time lift up the
heads that hang down. Lift up your
heads, then, ye who have been so long
hopeless ! The good God iveth for
others, and He wills not that any shall
despair who will turn to Him. Nearer,
nearer come the footsteps of those who
will bring a ray of comfort to your hearts
and, first of all, even as the overpow-
ering Joy of the first Christmas was
brought to the world by little child, so
shall it be brought to you.
Sadly indeed sat the two old people by
their scanty fire ON that morning. Upon
the table before them was spread the
poor fare which was all they could now af-
ford. A look, interchanged now and
then, told each of what the other was
mournfully thinking, and sometimes
tear would fall upon the food now liter
ally salted with tears.
"Did you hear knock, Martha?"
asked the old man, whose sense of hear
ing was growing dull.
His wife, whom he always addressed
by her Christian name, had already
risen, obeying her quicker sense, and
little child warmly clad in furs came
up to the door she had opened,
and pressed in beside her to the room.
The child had a face almost too grave and
earnest for one young; yet there was
also something i'll it inexpressibly sweet
and tender. There was wonder and even
awe, in the countenance that lookedupon
her. The sweet face was partially
shaded by golden locks such as their Me-
lanie had worn when child; and to their
newly-awakened perceptions, the tide of
time seemed rolling back, and giving
them their own beloved girl, as she stood
before them twenty Christmases ago.
The childs first words dispelled that i'm
preston, but brought another.
Grandfather, grandmother, will you
love me? am little Martha-your own
name, grandmama !"
The grandmother looked at her hus.
band, as if to ask what she should say or
do; but even as she looked, one withered
hand found its way round the little girls
waist.
"Whose child are you?" asked she, her
lips quivering with emotion.
81 am my dear mothers child"
The ld'lady could ask no more, but
her husband took up the catechizing.
"Who is your mother, dear?'
"Mrs. Austin. My papa is dead, and
my mother sent me here"
"And where is she?" asked he, pressing
the child to his breast.
All this time Il pale face, shaded by the
deepest widows weeds, was looking in mt
the dim and cracked window; and when
the child received its first caress from
the cid people, it disappeared. A step
was at the door, and then they knew no
more. 1t was like those bright and
mocking visions that had so long baffled
them. Would it disappear like them?
Father, mother, 1 am your own
Melanie guilty OF but one crime, that
of forsaking you y
"Om child was lost" murmured the
old man, absently. "She died ten years
ago. Your face is not like hers, bright
and rosy"
"But it is hers" she answered i'm
patiently. "Oh, my God, they have for
gotten me Father, dear father, look at
my arm-srlrely you know this" And
she turned back her sleeve, and showed
a bright crimson stain around her wrist.
The old man took up the hand eagerly,
and imprinted kiss there, as he had
often done in her childish days. Gradually
they both came to the full sense of what