Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1884-08-16

my memory. lnOSe tender eyes al
ways watched me and those loving
hands never could do too much for
me. Mother was there too. | won
dered If she still lived; If she ever
thought of her once petted boy now
an old, ragged beggar, and my heart
almost burst within my bosom. I
had never heard from her since that
night my father drove me from my
home. But, oh, stranger, often when
my bed was but mere board and
the stars were my only light, that
| kind, tender face has come to me
and / have talked with her in my
dreams. AS / walked along the
track the world was lost to me. l
slipped my hand In the inside pocket
OF my old coat and drew forth the
picture of my mother. That picture
had made an honest beggar OF me.
It had melted my heart time and
again into sadness and / kept it as 4
gift from heaven. I say was look
ing at my mothers picture. Yes,
those were the same pitiful eyes I
loved to look into rs she rocked me
to sleep on her breast when child !;
the pretty little mouth--so much like
Maud's--was as looking as
when 1t first pressed my infant
lips. but the more looked at the
picture the more my heart ached.
Then my thoughts flew miles and
miles away, to that lone western
grave and to the dear little woman
sleeping there. Stranger, I was SO
touched that just cried out. my
God, take me to ler!n Was 1t an
answer to my prayerp know not
but suddenly there was confueed
rushing and rumbling, u sharp pain,
and the iron wheels had rushed over
me and lay slowly growing uncon-
scious and dying on the track. The
rest has been a blank. But last night
my mother came to me IN the form
Of an angel, and by her side was
Maud. They beckoned to me to come
and when stretched forth my arms
they vanished and l still lay on this
hard couch. But, I'm dying now,
stranger. / will last but a short
time longer, for my strength is fail
ing-I'm going home.''
His head slowly sank back upon
the pillow, his eyes closed, his face
become pale and ashy. It was q
sudden change from bad to worse
and no one who watched his vast
ing breath and glazing eyes, could
fail to notice that death was swiftly
claiming its victim.
Suddenly he started up: Mother,
have you no words of cheer for me
Call Maud Father, forgive your
wandering boy,-I have comeback
home-to-d-!n
The head dropped heavily, the
eyes closed, and all was over with
the poor old beggar. The cruel iron
wheels had done their work well and
the weary pilgrimage had ended at
last. The home in the sunny south
land had faded into the beautiful
heavenly home. Pains might do
their worst, but the poor, wasted
body would not feel them. A cs,nk
father might repent and write and
search for his long absent boy; that
cold, silent heart would never again
beat to the thoughts of home, or
mothers face and love animate it.
He was only poor old, gray-haired
beggar that lay there, but his life
had been pure, and his lips closed for
ever while he was murmuring words
of home and loved ones. Oh, Death,
thou dost not always come amiss
and horrible; sometimes the shadow
of thy wing is refreshing, and the
touch Of thy leaden scepter touch
of blessednessl
The old southern home no doubt
presents a scene Of beauty. II the
family circle has not been broken by
death it still is place of happiness.
The old father has, perhaps, long ago
gone to his God but the body ofthe
old beggar--the discarded son and
brother-lies sleeping in a cold,
strange cline, and the stranger who
relates this story alone may honor
him and weap over his sad life and
neglected grave. Roll on, o years
bear with you the changing events
of life! We cannot complain, for
aeon slime and death shall STAY the