Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1882-01-19
New Series-Vol. %. No. 2

Susan put him gently down, and as
he tossed his arms restlessIy, and a wild.
frightened look came into his eyes, three
tender-hearted little women looked ca
gerly at one another for an answer 10
the question each face was mutely ask
ing: What shall we dO?"
As usual, Susan was first to recover.
III have old DR.. Jones here in
wink"
mo. Susan, let me CO." said Jane.
quickly. "He seems to know you bet
tey-this child does; sort of smiles now
and then. as if he knew yon. I'll 60"
Ten minutes later old Doll stood at the
gate below, and Jane was clambering
into the covered wagon, while Debby on
the porch, shouted out numberless mes
Sages.
Susan at the bedside sat quite still,
clasping one of the burning hands and
smoothing the hair from the hot fore
head. She sat there patiently through
the long hours of James absence. listen
ing to the low mutterings of the sick
boy, from which they could CLEAN moth
ing of his past; while Debby stole in and
out on tiptoe, halting at the bedside a
moment or two, then away again to the
kitchen, to look after matters there and
so, patient, faithful Susan sat on, not
only that one hour, hut many, many
hours, through long days and weary
nights, while the feeble life ebbed lower
and lower, as the fever brought on by
hunger and exhaustion seems to burn
and shrivel up the little boy to a skele-
ton.
Through the long weary nights ami
days, the three watchers themselves
growing white and anxious, listening
wOnderingly to one sentence, repeated
again and again-SometimeS gaily, then
SO sadly and wearily that the tears
would rush to the eyes of the patient
women:
THE tides out, father I'm coming to
Shore
What shore was he nearingP" Susan
wondered, one day, after SO many had
passed away anxiously and slowly
wondered, with pain at the heart, the
motherly soul, for this lonely child who
had come to them in such a prOvidential
way-Susan held to that-WaS growing
strangely dear to her, and not only to
Debby and Jane, who. perhaps, could
not have told what was stirring their
hearts, and bringing out carrsses and
tender words that the unconscious boy
neither felt nor heard.
(which shore was he approaching
again and again Susan asked herself and
the doctor; and then prayed it might be
this, if only they might be tender and
kind to him abit before his feet would
touch upon that other shore.
A III this and mora OOOd SuCan thOuUbt
and prayed on; and then there really
came day-a most wonderful day, for
they never left off going back TO it with
joy and triumph-when the brown eyes
opened and smiled right up into good
Susan's face, causing her to beam down
upon him so cheerily she really thought
at first he had gone to heaven, and that
was the face of angel who was to lead
him straight to father and mother.
To tell of the slow return to nealth
would be wearlsOme; therefore we shall
skip it. But there came day, after
weeks of nonrishing and care, when
Willie-that was his name-Wil-
lie Brent-tOld these good friends, in
cluding DIR. Jones, of his good mother
so long dead, and his father,a fisherman,
at Ellerton, on the coast ten miles away,
who had been drowned within sight of
his home-a poor old tumble down
shanty; and after that, Willie having
started out of sight of the cruel sea,
strayed across the country here, there.
and all over the country. begging his
way, but without seeming to find for
tune, and sank at last under a haystaek,
where Tower found him at once.
And now when must he he moving
on?"
This was asked one day after health
and strength had come back to the sick
boy, filling out his cheeks, and tinging
them with rich color. The bright
eyes shOne, also, so honest and clear
that Susan claSping him in the strong,
motherly arms, cried out: "DO you sup
pose we fball ever,ever let you go away?
No, not while live and breathei Lord,
pity Us all! No, neverP'
And then two young arms wound
around Susan'S neck, and the brown
head, rosy cheeks, and all, lay upon Su-
sans shoulder.
Willing hands and nimble feet Willie
Brent brought to the quiet old home
stead, and the tenderness that succOred
him in that hour of need, was the
brightest spot in Willie's life to turn to
in after years, and was always Temem-
bered by him, but most tenderly after
Susan, as he had very
early learned to call her-was carried
out from the old home to rest on the
Nicholas.