The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1884-12-04
HIS INSPIRATION.
Hope Whitney laid the crisp new b

ney.
/ Her father died before her birth. and
! the pale young mother, bapti.ing the
! unconscious babv-face with bitter tears,
/ had named her Hope.
! Then she had taken up the hand-to-
hand Struggle vely-almost cheer
fully, for little Hopes sake-as women
! OF deep natures, who have loved once
| truly and well, are apt to do
! She hung out a small sign. Mrs.
/ Whitney-Dressmak Just at the
! side of the door, and above the red
| rose-tree Harry had planted the very
| day he brought her home to the "bird' s.
| nest" as he called the little one-storv
! cottage. And after that the headaches
| and the bGckaches-and,w worse still. the
/ heartaches, because there was no one
! to care-began in earnest.
| Seventeen years OF stru9 ole. OF in GEN
! iOus turnings to make the most out of
| little, and then the story of her life
! ended-aS nearly as life-stories ever end;
! for this life Of ours possesses a strange
| element, that is not only to 90 on eter-
/ nalIy into the great unseen, but is also
| to leave behind upon the earth an en-
| during influence either for GOOD or evil.
1
| tense. Mrs. Whitney had overworked,
and there had followed a few DAYS of
| quiet unalarming illness.
1t was the early evening of a sultry
| summer day. The sun had set in flood
of splendor, the birds had chirped their
| goodnight, and the MOONLIGHT flooded
the room with the halo of a pale glory.
Mother and daughter were alone,
with low heart-talks falling in between
the tender pauses that seemed filed
with nameless something that drew
! Hope closer 10 her mother.
Mrs. Whitney had been lying with
| her face turned towards the omen win
dow, where the red roses nodded their
sweet heavy heads, when suddenly she
! stretched out her thin white hands with
glad cry:
"Oh, Harry! Harryn'
| And Hope. kneelinr beside the bed,
awed into silencs by the smile as of a
great peace that lay upon the still beau
! tifui face, knew that she was mother
| less.
The three years that followed were
hard ones to Hope, bat she possessed a
| brave bright spirit, and Il courage that
! knew no Ialteriur.
| For two year, She had been teacher
OF the village school, and, by careful
! economy, had made the debit and credit
of her accounts balance ct the end of
each year.
For months she had been laying by
little, now ana -en, Tor the purchase
OF 4 winter cicah, until the dollars
counted up to twenty.
Do you think the getting of a new
! cloak an easy matter?
To her it was not. But her old one
was worn, and had a behird-the-time
look that annoyed her every time she
put it on.
1t is natural for Young girls-and old
ones toto like nice becoming cloth
| ing.
Hope, my little heroine, was only
| brave, sweet. natural Girl, and | like
! her all the better because she did care
! for the pretty effect of bow of ribbon,
a fall of lace, or a bright flower at her
throat or among the waves of her
brown hair, and because she wanted
new cloak to show OFF her trim grace
| ful figure.
just the very thing, is it not?''
asked the polite merchant, as Hope
viewed her reflection in the full-length
mirror, habited in handsome warm
| cloak.
The girl smiled softly, while a bright
rose flush touched her face.
| She was about to say, Il will take
| it, when her attention was arrested
| by the conversation of two plainly
dressed women just at her right.
Yes" one OF them was saying,
''they are going to take Grandmother
Harris to the poor-house next week.
You see. she's down with the rheuma-
It's same as last winter, and they think
that 5 the best place for her
But think of it, the other rctorted:
''there is hardly family in the village
| but at some time or other has been clad
of Grandmother Harris's help and SYM
pathy in the dark days of sickness and
| death"
II know, but it's the way of the
world. Old folks are like old horses;
when their day of usefulness is done
the quicker they're out of the way the
better
There was a strange look in Hopes
eyes as she put aside the new. cloak,
and took up the old one again. And
firm lines began to replace the smile
about the corners of her mouth.
'Shall | do up the cloak, Iniss?'
Not to-day
And. before he recovered from his
surprise, Hope was out in the midst of
fast-falling snow-tiakes, going swiftly
| in the direction of Grandmother Har-
riS's home, little, low. old-fashiOned
house, where the old woman had lived
for more than fifty years. \ simple
| motherly woman. with work-hardened
hands and a tender heart, who rejoiced
with those who were glad, and sorrow
ed with those who wept.
1t was nightfall when Hope entered
her little room.
Then the reaction came; her heroism
vanished.
Taking off her old cloak. she flung it
across a chair that stood near
Lie there, You shabby old thing: I
hate your' she exclaimed. bursting in
to perfect tempest OF tears.
But the storm soon ended, better
feelings came into her heart, and she
put away the old garment as though it
was some holy thing, then went about
the getting of her supper with song
upon her lips
The Rev. Robert Dean had been settled
over his first parish about three months.
And, though there had been me yarv
tempting bait thrown out by pions and
ambitious mammas with marriageable
daughters, and u score of bright eyes
grey, brown. black, and blue-had
looked shyly, and saucily. and hope
| fully, and tenderly into his handsome.
honest, infinitely expressive ones. he
had gone his way, modest, well-bred.
unaSsuming, and, if one judged by his
appearance, untouched.
But that IS ali you can tell by appear
ance. for Robert Dean knew that Il it
CHANGED (aS it seldom did) that 6 Shy.
sweet. appreciatlve face was missing
from lis accustomed place in his con-
greg ton, his aspiration was missing
also. and he seemed salkilg 20 empty
seats.
tie nad learned tGe story OF hope
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