Iron County register., 1885-12-03

did not at all comprehend what he was
saying. She had no thought but that
her dear ones were better off Her
husband, she knew, had been an upright
man, and had followed Christ's teach
ings in that he always preferred to suf-
fer rather than do wrong to another;
and Johnny surely could have done no
| grlevous wrong.
| No, she was not fearful of their con-
dition il the life upon which they had
entered but now that the hour was ap-
| preaching in which she could do no
| more, even for their dead bodies, she
felt her strength giving way. and when
they had been laid side by side in their
one grave, and the words ''dust to
dust and ashes to ashes had been
spoken and the few neighbors present
turned away, they saw her falling to
the earth unconscious, and kindly and
lovingly they carried her In their arms
/ to the nearest house.
Before reaching there she had re-
viyed, and insisted on being carried
back to the cottage whence her beloved
ones had been taken, and only the late
/ ness of the hour, and the dangerous
| condition of the roads after nioht-fall,
| induced her to relinquish her design.
Even this would not have deferred her
| had they not made her feel that she
would risk other lives than her own
since they would not permit her to 90
alone if nothing could induce her to re-
main. Thus urged, she consented to
| remain until morning, but nothing that
could be said could induce her to stay
longer. No offer of any one to make
| their house her home until she heard
| from Erastus and Lucy would she ac-
cept
| Erasr1s would come as soon as they
| got her letter, she knew, and she would
wait for him at the old place on the
mountain side. So they took her there,
and two of the neighbors remained
| through the first day and night, and
when they went away. they sent an
elderly woman of the neighborhood.
noted for her kindness in sickness and
/ in death, to remain with her until
| Erastus should come. This, she told
them, was unnecessary; she did notfear
| being alone, and was quite able to do
what little there was to be done in TAX
ing care of the stock and poultry.
| But they would not listen to it, and
so the woman staid. and every day 9th
ers came to see if there was anything
| that the two needed. but there was sell
dom ANYTHING that they could do.
Mrs. Parsons had learned from others
the full extent of the misfortune regard
| ing the mortgage, and knew that the
place must go, but this did not worry
| her. If she still possessed it, Erastus
and Lucy could have come and lived
with her, but since she did not, she
would 90 to them, that was all the diff
ference. And if they were forced to
leave their own ranch, why, they would
| find shelter somewhere else; it did not
greatly matter where. A part had gone
on ahead to the country beyond the
/ grave, and the rest would follow before
| very long. All her thoughts were cen
tered there now, and it mattered little
what became of earthly interests.
| 1t was full week before Erastus
! came. The letter had been delayed few
| davs on account of the flood, and then
had remained another day uncalled
| for in the office. for while the dead were
being laid away upon the mountain
side, a new life was being ushered in at
the Slough.
The same day on which the letter
was received saw Erastus start; Lucy
and the baby, both of whom were doing
well, being left in the care of Mrs. John
son and another neighboring woman.
He reached Phippsburg by the morning
boat and had no difficulty in finding
means of getting out to the cottage, for
the calamity which had befallen the
Parsons family was in every mouth,
and there were numbers who were
ready to offer assistance to one who
came to care for the lonely woman who
had endured such suffering.
Mrs. Parsons saw him coming up the
lane and met him in the yard in front OF
the cottage. Up to this moment she
had not shed tear, and not sob had
choked her utterance, but great black
rings about the sunken eyes, and
STOPPING of the form as she went about
the house and yard, told palmer than
tears could do how heavy was the grief
at her heart. She had herself won
dered that she could not cry. but she
could not; and when she would have
done so, her eyes grew hot, but no
tears ever came to quench the flames
that seemed to consume them. But
when Erastus came, and, putting his
arms about her, kissed her cheek and
brow, and smoothed her hair. in which
the gray had grown suddenly promi-
der and wept as if she never would
cease.
And so, with his arm about her, and
his own tears falling fast, he led her
gently into the cottage, and when she
grew calm, told her of the birth of her
grandchild. Then they talked of what
| it was best to do, and as Erastus was
determined not to yield up his place at
the SlouOh without first exhauStiDcr
every effort in defense of his rights. it
was decided to leave everything which
Mrs. Parsons did not wish to take with
while she returned with Erastus to the
Slough. and to Lucy and the baby.
Accordingly, the wearing apparel and
a few household goods. including the
little wheeled cot in which Johnny had
lain so long, and which Mrs. Parsons
could not bear to have 90 iato other.
hands. was packed and loaded, and the
next afternoon a neighbor drove them
to the Landing, ard the cottage upon
the m ountain side was left desolate.
CHAPTER XVII.
CoNsUMMATE vILLAINY.
When Erastus and Mrs. Parsons
reached the Slough, they found Lucy
very sick; the shock received at learn
ing of the death of her father and
Johnny, while in her feeble condition.
having still further Frustrated her and
brought on low fever, from which
her recovery was slow.
From the hour of her arrival, Lucy's
mother became her nurse, waiting upon
and watching her with all mothers
Solicitude and the new demands thus