Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1884-04-06

a man reels to the door, and looks
out; nothing but rain and black mud,
and horrible stencil from the rushing
cutters. He shuts the door with an
oath and goes in again.
take care, missusm
A faint glimmer from lantern shows
me two figures picking their way
through-mud and filth-a rough-look-
ing man, whose old fur cap is drawn
low over his brow, and behind him q
woman, dressed in the coarse gown and
white cap of an English Sister Of Mercy;
q little black wooden cross on her breast
and long cloak round her. The face,
on which the yellow light shines, is
homely, with slightly worn express
sion, and eyes full of kindly sweet
ness.
II am very glad to have arrived"
she says cheerfully, shutting her cotton
umbrella, and about to step into the
house. A man from within pushes her
back roughly but not unkindly.
"Do you know what you undertake,
nissus %' he says. Give of 'em-two
brothers, wives and q child. And it's
black smallpox"
IL know; let me pass! Thank you
for your warning" she answered,
gently.
The man mutters something and
draws back.
She goes in.
/ suppose some days, even weeks,
must have passed in my dreams, for
woke to find my little circular picture
full Of daylight.
1t is the same alley, but narrow
pathway along it Is swept clean and dry
and here and there strewn with straw.
At the door of the public house stands q
little group Of people surrounding the
Sister of Mercy. Two Of them seem as
if their hearts were too full of speech;
on the arm Of one hangs q weakly
woman, the other stands alone Tney
press her hands; one man raises the
rough sleeve of her gown and kisses its
hem, with tears raining down his
cheeks.
Kindly words she says to all, little
practical advice, little exhortation.
They listen as If she were saint from
heaven, and then she goes her way.
One old man exclaims as she disap.
pears: "Well, if there is God, He
will hear our blessings au that there
Sister"
The shadows gathered so quickly
over my picture that / hardly saw her
TO the end of the street. l leant my
head on my hand and tried to make
out these visions, but / seemed strangely
unable to fix my thoughts.
Exceptional cases, nothing but ex-
cep;ionai cases,n / heard myself mutter,
and the words half aroused me. l felt
for my pencil to make another memoir
andum, when my attention was again
arrested.
Shadows rose up one after another
ike thin curtains from my magic cir
Gle, and new scene presented itself TO
NY gaze. n
4 charming bOuloir, furnished with
every luxury, the walls hung with GRIM
son silk, full of rare pictures and caoi'
uets of precious china. A white bear
kin rug before the fire, on which was
seated q young lady, who leaned her
arms on the lap of an older woman re-
posing in an arm chair.
They were very like each othor, but
il was doubtful whether the elder lady
could ever have been as lovely as her
golden-haired child.
The girl held out to her mother q
elosely-written letter, sayingin q broken
voice:
Mother, want you to see what L
have written to him."
Her / Us smiled bravely, while the
tears " err streaming UNDECIDED down her
-Eeeks. -,
The mother took her letter. seemed
10 he reading with her eyes, for heard
TO voice, yet knew what that letter
contained.
HMY DEAREST HARRY Your letter
came to me this morning, and 1t IS so
riifficult to answer that l hope you will
be patient with me. We have known
Zach other so long, and loved each
other so dearly, that it grieves me bit
ierly to refuse to marry you. Yes,
dearest, it is indeed to refuse you that
write, and perhaps you will think me
hard and pedantie for my reasons, anu
perhaps unfeeling and unkind. oh, do
DOT think so, for have been crying all
the time that l have been writing this,
and can scarcely see TO write 1t now.
1t goes to my very heart to grieve you
30. And must /, need /, tell you why "
Harry, if you do not grow more steady,
YOU viii break my heart. l have tried
10 believe what you say, that / could
save you. am only a girl, and very
full of faults. / could not hear of my
husband gambling, or see him helpless
from drink without terror, disgust, hor-
ror. dare not, Harry; your salvation
is I'D higher hands than mine. Do not
lean on broken reed. We have no
strength in ourselves. am doing this
Il am sending you away from me
but il is breaking my heart. For love
Won, my darling-I love you as l know
that YOU love me. Do not try to see me,
or TO alter my determination, for 1t can
not be altered. Goodbye, my darling.
| will pray for all Gods blessings on
your head. Goodbye, goodbye.
: "MAUDE."
Then the shadows stole lingeringly
over the circle, folding it softly out OF
sight. ,..,
Again must suppose lapse of time,
perbaps wears. IT is war time; anxiety
and trouble are brOoding over the land.
The shadows fit past. 1t Is the same
room, with the same figures, but differ
entity occupied. Dressed In deep mourn
ing, mother and daughter have been
picking lint. A little packet OF letters
lies on the table, and low means burst
now and then from Msude.
There lies her own letter, worn and
yellow and old. It was found 10 his
breast, and sent home with lock OF
his chestnut hair, accompanied by let.
ter from his Colonel-full OF bitter grief
for the young officer whom everybody
had loyed-the steadiest, the best, the
brayest, the most Jealous, whose inhu-
ence had raised the whole tone OF his
command.
"Maude Tell Msu1e / owe all to her
under God"
Those were the last words he u tered
before he was laid in a soldiers grave.
See, the shadows are stirring again,
moving to and fro in an agitsted way
What Is coming now?
II was dark st first; then slowly, as
NV eyes got accustomed to the gloom;
/ saw before me q death-bed. upralsed
on white pillows / saw an aged womsn'
her face beamiug with light more ui-
II. D