Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1883-12-27
FROM CHRIsTM AS TO NEW YEAR.

MONDs"
II was a wild, wild Christmas Eve.
The snow lay already foot deep, and
was still falling fast. Yet Il mother
and little girl with faces bent to the
tempest, were struggling against the
drifts. They had been walking since
before noon, and were yet far from
their journeys end.
Their last act had been to visit the
churchyard, where was the grave of an
infant daughter and sister; after that,
they had set forth. AS they crossed
the little bridge, and left the old
square-towered church behind them,
the child asked: as it far, mammal"
And her mother had replied; Alas, it
is many weary mile; but our last cent
has been spent; the landlord has seized
our furniture and turned us out of
doors; we have no money to pay our
fare on the railroad; we must walk to
your grandmother's; though God only
knows, my darling, il she will receive
us. If she will not,' with sob, "we
must lie down and die at her door"
1t was the old, old story, that one
hears so often of an attachment OPP
posed by the family, runaway mar
riage; and then years of poverty, strug-
gle, and physical suffering. But this
was all. Through the pain, the priva'
ton, the misery, Bertha Kavanagh had
clung faithfully to her love. Even
now, with the wintry landscape wind
ing before her tired feet, and the
storm driving overhead, and her little
fatherlcss girl tottering feobly at her
side, she would have declined to blot
out her past The pain had been keen
but the pleasure had also been sweet.
She had loved the man for whose
sake, in the romantic devotion of her
girlhood, she had counted the world
we'll lost; and this love had not
changed through long years of poverty
and heartache. She loved him still,
and cherished his memory; though for
months he had been lost to her,
drowned, as she knew only too well,
in the distant Chinese seas. His ship
had been spoken just as typhoon was
setting in-the most terrible that had
ragged in The Indian seas for years
The ship had never reached port; and
even the insurance companies had long
given it up for lost, and had paid the
Insurance. Yes! ho was dead-dead.
Now, like the Prodigal Son-for no
other resource was open TO her--she
was going home to The mother whom
she had disobeyed and forsaken. 1t
was a bitter draught to drink: nor,
would she have drunk it except for the
sake of her child; for, after all, she had
not done wrong, unless loving truly
and righteously is wrong. Yet now, a
brok hearted widow, she was going
home, "For my child's sake" she
said. "Poor darling. Oh! if my
mother ever loved me as | love you,"
she murmured, clasping the little hand
more closely, "she will surely pity and
forgive me; and then shall die in
peace"
The gray light of the wintry after
noon was fast deepening into twilight;
the circling snowflakes thickoned into a
white, whirling shower: and the winds
walled drearily amid the leafless trees.
A terrible night was at hand. But the
poor foot-sore wanderer pushed reso-
lutely on. Sometimes the little one
got so tired that the mother was forced
to lift her in her aching arms. Then,
as she grew rested, she said: "Put
me down, dear mamma: | can walk
now." So they went steadily on, fac
ing the icy blast.
Oh! how her heart ached. With
what a dull, ceaseless pain she strug-
gled on. Bitter tears of anguish
trickled down her pale cheeks. Her
limbs trembled; her feet grew sore.
Already the twilight had come, had
gone, and was now swallowed up in
darkness.
She thought of the old, old time when
she had been happy child, surrounded
with every luxury, sheltered by love
from every care; OF going off to school;
of the walk home through the fields,
chasing butterflies; and Of a thousand
other innocent pastimes. She recalled
he days when she grew older, and
when, at Christmas-time, she and her
sisters went forth to gather greens
to decorate the church. She re.
membered the roaring fires, the
overno d ing table, the merry dance
In the evening. All, all were gone,
and gone forever. Her youth was
dead. She was starving. But oh! this
was nothing, or comparatively nothing
1t was OF her child she thought, aud Of
its sufferings. But for 1t she would
have died then and there, and thanked
God for the release,
The little child was afraid, and cried
aloud, ollnging to her mothers arms.
lShe soothed and caressed It, and went
y =