Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1883-12-27


one in all the place.
"That is home" she painted, in n
husky whisper. "Father in heaven,
take pity on my anguish. Give me
strength to reach my mother's--tO sec
her face before die.h
She stumbled on once more; the keen
wind cutting to the marrow of her
bones, the binding snow beating in her
face, At last she reached her haven,
and fell tainting and exhausted at the
steps, still claSping the child, while q
wall of mortal anguish burst from her
lips.
"Mother-oh! mother" she cried,
sit is too late. | am dying; forgive
forgive"
Then consciousness deserted her, and
she sank in the snow on the lower step.
That same evening, Mrs, Kavanagh
and her daughters sat together in a
spacious, fire-lit room, surrounded by
comfort, even luxury. The apartment
was warm and bright; yet the shrill
sound of the wind, and the mulIled roar
of the driving snow, filled each heart
with anamoiess dread and unrest.
The mother, a stately old lady, gave
no utterance to her thoughts, but sat
quietly reading, her proud old face a
sure index of her heart.
"0h, what u night" cried Lottic,
the youngest of tho three sisters, leav-
ing her seat, and walking restlessly up
and down, rs a louder gust ratified the
windows; "it makes me feel dreadfully
to hear the wind rave in that way.
can't keep still. | wonder if any poor
soul is without shelter in this storm9'
God help them, if they are" said
the mother, sOlemnly.
There was silence for n minute, and
then julia, the second daughter, spoke
al dreamed of sister Bertha last
night" she said, holding n fan between
her and the fire as screen; land
/ have thought of her all day. A
widow: and poor, | fear. Oh, mother!'
she added, don't yon think we ought
to forgive her, and take her homeP"
"Hushm commanded the old lady,
severely, "hush! Haven't told YOU
never to mention your sisters name in
my presencc?'
Tho girls fell into troubled silence
Mrs. Kavanagh still read, or pretended
to read. She glanced up over her
spectacles for a moment, however, and
added, bitterly:
"What saith the LordP" Honor thy
father and thy mother AS she has
made her bed, so let her lie. "
At that moment, above the roar OF
tho winter storm, arose plaintiYe
wail-a wall ofhuman anguish-whicl
pierced even to the curtained room in
which the mother and her daughters
sat.
"0h, what was thatP" the daughters
cried, in one breath, all springing to
their feet.
Someone is at the door-someone
in misery and pain, "cried Julia.
Eyes; it was woman's voice. Ant
| thought I heard ohild's cry"
1t was Lottie who spoke.
A moment after, she flew to the door
and opened it hurriedly. On the lower
step lay woman, fainting and speech
less, with little child in her arms. One
glance at the white, sad face, anC
Lottie's cry rang ont above the storm
'It is sister-it is Bertha! Oh, mother
come--come!"
Even the stern parent was not proc
against this. She tottered to the door
and with her own hands helped to lif
the senseless mother.
They took the poor wanderer in, anC
removed her drenched garments, ant
cared tenderly for her and her littl'
child.
"Take her to her own room," com
manded the mother, with a sob in he
voice. at is the prodigal come home
God himself has sent her." And they
obeyed her.
Bertha was borne up to the swee
white chamber that had been her owl
in happier days, and her tired heat
was soothed and pillowed by hel
sisters loving hands.
"Where am Ip" she said, family, re
covering consciousness in part. "Ah
this is like home-like my own ole
room; but 1t cannot, cannot be-" Ant
she sank again into insensibility.
When the poor wanderer had beer
made comfortable, and had completed,
revived at last, the mother turned ou
Al. y 4 L 2.