Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-11-10

| the very caves. Had she been older she
might have been frightened or lonely; but
she was neither. She was simply intent on
| seeing her dear friend. 1t was getting very
late Sary Jane would relax her interest and
| lose herself momentarily in sleep; then she
would rescue her faculties to look out most
earnestly for a few moments longer Pres.
! emily she heard a rustling among the grass,
| and leaning forward cried eagerly, '.Doni
| DONE"
''Nes, honey" answered faint voice.
Then there was the silence of expectation;
an expectation not realized; for the baby
| voice spoke again out of the deep hush of
listening "Dons. Dong
And still no answer. Sohs began to
tear their way from the long
waiting baby bosom, which swelled into a
touching cry, mingled with Nanny!
Mammy!"
The mother woke up and tried to take the
child from the door, which only increased
her screams. Then, somehow or other, she
knew that John was out there and could not
come in. She lit a candle, aroused the larger
boys and went out to where the poor fellow
was lying in pool of his own blood, riddled
with buckshot.
They got him in the house and on the bed
many wounds. He still breathed though he
was partly unconscious. In the morning
doctor came, said there was no hope and
went away. About noon John opened his
eyes and looked around The widow placed
Sary Jane close up where he could see her.
He put his arm around her with difficulty;
then he looked from face to face; many
ueighbors were there. He tried to speak; it
was evident he had something to say to
Deacon Wilson; but not until the heat Of the
day had passed and the cool twilight had
come could he muster strength.
"What's your 'pinion on the situation,
deacon!" he asked.
The deacon said he hoped he would get
well.
Mo- said John, ''this lays me out. But
from your STANDPOINT, now, what do you
'spose my chances over there is worth? I'm
not skeered, bat I'd like your idees."
"What is it about the - the stealin'.
John?n
Stealing" said John; 'I WANT stealin'.
Why, look at this farerly; not bit O. meat in
the house. l was 'bleeged to hev it. I'd a
heap ruther be where I am than i'll the tracks
of the man that shot me-heap ruthar
Think I'd kill q feler critter for takin' the
Lords substance to feed such helpless things
as thisT' He pressed the baby closer to
him. why, I'd be meaner than the devil
not to do it. S'pose 1 don't know l take my
life IN my hands when I start out after night
to get grub? Course I know the res1 But
what do you reckon the Lord I'D say to me
if neglected my duty by 'em. Feed my
lambs;' thern's His words; Feed my lambs
That's ali right, deacon; my ways the Lord
won't go agin'; but it hurts me now to think
L never was prayin' man, don't know
nothin' about savin' grace and it pears like
mought allowed the dear Radeecaer better
than did. [ can't believe as any on US is goin'
20 be everlastin ly lost. | believe even them
pore cretures that boards up meat in houses
and has more -four and pertatus than they
can eat, and more clothes than they can war
and more money than they can spend viii
hev another chance after this life and will
eventually repent and get forgiveness. But I
tell you, deacon, | want to go to heaven direct
I want to see the Lord. I want Him to
pint some one in my place TO take keer of
these helpless ones. 1 could'tdie if 1 knowed
this little child would be left in want"
''You lack savin' grace, john" said the
deacon. You must pray for forgiveness:
the Lord can pardon the vilest sinner that
ever lived, through the power OF prayer"
But, deacon, amt no sins to forgive I
amt afeard to face the Lord; why, bless His
lovin soul, He was man of sorrers, just
like me, and he's not goin to shet His heart
agin me. don't need to humble myself be-
fore Him. Him and mes had mighty Close
understandin' FOR yers and yers. Visit the
widders in their atiliction,' says He, and take
keer of the orphans Feed my lambs SEE He
and / done it"
fo,tl h.
''are barren. Saving grace comes OF prayer
and faith"
81 amt never prayed none. said John, and
it's too late now"
He turned his face away and fell asleep.
The watchers thought he would die about
midnight, but he slept quietly and painlessly.
and in the morning took some refreshment.
He fingered three days, occasionally opening
his eyes and speaking to Sary Jane, who sat
perched close up to him the greater part of
the time. She had her shoes and red stock
ings there with her. Almost the last word
he spoke was to call attention to her. ''She's
mighty pale and pae1ed lookin he said.
Bring me some grub and led me feed her."
They brought him some chicken cut in
small bits. Take bite, honey" he said.
She shook her head.
"John'n cry ef You don't" He put his
poor, bloodless hand over his eyes.
She looked at him with a show Of anxiety
and opened her mouth like a bird. But she
could not swallow the food. sit chokes me
sroat," she said. Indeed, the little throat was
swelling with long repressed sobs. Her pa
tent soul could hold out no longer against
the grief and anxiety that beset her.
Don't cry, honey" said John; ''cuddle
down to pore old John and let's both 60 to
sleep. Mebhy Wen wake up feelin' bettern
1t was late in the evening when the two
fell asleep They rested so quietly that the
watchers, worn out and tired, dropped into
easy positions and ozed. Just at the break of
day. one-a aeighbor-went to them. The
baby lay across Johns arm slantingwise, and
his hand claSped one of her slender ankles
The hand was ash-colored, and it as cold as
clay. 1t had communicated its chill and its
pallor to the little leg in its grasp.
Take her away, quick" said the widow,
reaching the bedside.
But the neighbor did not take her away.
He turned suddenly and grasped the widows
hands.
"Glory to GodI" he said praised be His
holy name, for His wisdom exceedeth the
wisdom of man. Sister, they fell asleep to-
gether; and they have walked up feeling bet