The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1882-02-23

her post; so leave her watchlng, ana
retire to my solitary chamber.
When we meet in the morning I find
that the little woman has spoken few
words, and seems stronger.
"Come in with me, now" says my
wife, "and let us try to find out who she
is" We find her propped into reclin-
ing posture with pillows, and Mary be-
side her, feeding her.
"How are you now?" asks Jessie,
bending over her.
Better, much better; thank you, good
lady," she says in voice which from
bles from age as we'll as weakness.
"And very grateful to you for your
goodness"
hear at once, by the accent, that she
is English.
"Are you strong enough to tell me
how you got lost on the moor land where
you came from, and where you are
going?" continued my wife.
"Ah! was going to my lad, my poor
lad, and now doubt shall never see
him MORE" says the poor soul, with
long sigh of WEAKNESS.
"Where is your lad, and how far have
you Gomez"
'My lad is a soldier at Fort George;
and have come all the way from Liver
pool to see him, and give him his old
mothers blessing before he goes to the
Indies" And then, brokenly, with
long pause of WEAKNESS, the old woman
tells her pitiful story.
Her lad, she tells us, is her only re-
naming child. She had six, and this,
the youngest,is the only one who did not
die of want during the Lancashire cotton
famine. He grew up fine, likely boy,
the comfort and pride of his mothers
heart, and the stay of her declining
years. But "strike" threw him out of
work, and, unable to endure the priva-
ton and misery, in fit of desperation
ne ''listed." His regiment wat quartered
at Fort George, and he wrote regularly
to his mother, his letters getting more
cheerful and hopeful every day; until
suddenly he wrote to say that his regi-
ment was ordered to India, and begging
her to serd him her blessing, as he had
not enough money to carry him to Liver
pool to see her. The aged mother, wild
owed and childless, save for this one re-
naming boy, felt that she must look on
his face once more before she died. She
begged from few ladies, whose kind
ness had kept her from the workhouse,
sufficient money to carry her by train to
Glasgow; and from thence she had made
her way, now on foot, now begging lift
in passing cart or wagon, to within
few miles of Fort George, when she was
caught in the snow storm; and, wander
ing from the road, would have persisted
in the snow-but for Laddie.
NV wife is in tears and Mary is
sobbing audibly as the little old woman
concludes her touching and simple
story, and walk to the widow and look
out for moment before am able to
ask her what her sons name is. As l
tell her we are from Fort George. and
that I will send over for him, smile
Eliminates the wiptered face.
"His name is John Slater" she says,
she is a tall, handsome lad; they will
know him by that"
hasten down stairs and write short
note to Col. Freeman, whom know in
timately, informing him of the circum-
stances, and begging that no may bring
him back without loss Of time.
As I return to the house after seeing
him start, met DR.. Bruce leaving the
house.
Poor old SOUL" he says, "her
troubles are nearly over; she is sinking
fast. almost doubt whether she will
live till her son comes"
"How she could have accomplished
such a journey at her age, / cannot un-
derstand,.' observe"
Nothing is impossible to mother
answers DR.. Bruce; but it has killed
her."
go in; but I find cannot settle to
my usual occupations. My thoughts are
with the aged heroine who is dying up.
stairs, and presently yield to the fas-
cination that draws me back to her
presence.
As DIR. Bruce says, she is sinking fast.
She lies back on the pillows, her cheeks
as ashy gray as her hair. She clasps my
wife's hand in hers, but her eyes are
wide open, and have an eager expectant
look in them.
cat what time may we expect them?"
whispered my wife TO me.
mot before four" I answer in the same
tone.
HE will be too late, fear" she says;
"she is getting rapidly weaker"
But love is stronger than death, and
she will not 60 until her son comes. All
through the winters day she lies dying,
obediently taking what nourishment is
given her, but never speaking. except to
my lad, my lad God is good; he will
not let me die until he comes"
I last hear the dog cart. lay my