The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1883-02-14

his scanty earnings were barely sufficient
to give us a shelter for our heads, and
to provide the poorest food for US.
Such we're our circumstances when
there arose the cry of Gold in Califor-
MA and party of adventures, among
whom was my father, started for the
far-off EldoradO. We had still harder
times after he was gone, but my mother
bore up bravely, toiling all through the
long days and often the greater part OF
the nights for sustenance for herself
and child, until the news came that he
had died with fever in the land of prom
ise. Then she sank beneath the blow
and fell sick. 1t was many months after
the day on which the dreadful letter
came ere she was able to sit up again.
During these long months know that
we should have suffered from want of
food, fire and clothing, had it not been
for the kindness of a gentleman, stran-
ger, who was recruiting his health at our
little village. Indeed, so kind was he
that, when after a time he asked for my
mothers hand in marriage, she could
not find it in her heart to refuse it to him.
They were married at the little church
in Alton, and soon after their marriage
they purchased the house known as the
Maynard place, and removed to that
town, where, in accordance with my
step-father's wishes, l passed for his
child.
"But my own father was not dead,
though he had stood upon the bounda-
ries of the other world; and after
months of hard labor he returned to find
the ones for whom he had toiled claimed
by another.
"'At first said this dear father to
me, on the night when he met me by
appointment at the masquerade, 1
thought that should geaway, and none
would know that was still alive; but
my love for my child overcame my reso-
luton, and ] resolved to see her at all
risks
"After that I met him oftentimes in
my own room, sometimes in the woods /;
for it always gave me joy to live even a
moment in his presence.
II have heard it said that am too UNI
stable in mind to be good Christian
PERHAPS it is so; still have been strong
enough to endure everything for my
mothers sake. To keep the bitter truth
from her, saw myself an outcast from
society, and the object of the jeers Of
even those who had professed to love me
the best.
ut was only in the closing hours Of
my mothers life that she knew all; and
when those unearthly bright eyes gazed
fondly upon me, and the dying lips MUIR
INJURED family, God bless you, my darl-
ingP the suffering of years was amply
repaid.
''This is the confession you wished me
to make-this is the dreadful thing for
which you took away my good name,
} and had me expelled from the church !!
| Well, those bitter days are over, and
thank God, they can never return! The
J last sod has been placed upon my
mothers coffin-lid, and | 90 away with
my only remaining early friend, never to
be parted from him until God shall call
one or the other to the eternal rest. And
now, Deacon Mar, entreat you by the
love You once bore me to clear my name
Of the blackness with which YOU have
surrounded it. Do this, and you will
ever have the prayers Of
BERTHA ALLEN"
This letter | read aloud in church, "a
it was right that Ishould do; and when
had finished, there was not dry eye
in that room, for all had loved blithe-
some Bertha Maynard, who signed her
self Bertha Allen now.
And | think that one and all Of us
went home that day wiser and better for
the lessons which we had learned. Even
stern Brother Gregg wiped his eyes and
hoped that God would forgive him for
! the part he had in the matter, and not
lay it up against him at the last day,
when the books shall be opened, and all,
both great and small, shall be Judged
, therefrom.