The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1885-04-25

hand is firmly clasped in the grasp Of a
trembling old man, who Is STOPPING over her,
and smoothing back the thick masses of hair
from her pale forehead.
A hush falls upon them all Tenderly
they take her up, and, with her hand still
clasped in his, sadly wind their way to the
little cottage where she had waited for him
so long.
1t all happened only last night. The
storm had gone down soon after they had
carried her home, and the sun is shining
brightly, lovingly as though there is no sor-
row, and never storm or wreck
They had laid her ON the little white bed
in her chamber, from which the harbor
could be plainly SEEM and, save for one or
two kind neighbors, had gone away and left
them together; she, lying so STILL with closed
eyes-he, bending over her, silent and I'M
mindful of the presence of Others
just before noon she slowly opens her eyes
and gazes at him in silence Then, with a
little sigh, she says feebly: a knew you'd
come, Dad; knew you'd come. Twas a
hard voyage you had, Dad, and a pretty
rough landing; but you didn't mind it,
cause your little gal was there"
She is silent for few moments, and then
| raising her head, she asks
"The white dressa You didn't forget itl
The white dress with the gold stars on the
corners that you were going to get for your
| little gal2'
"Oh, Jol' The tears are streaming down
the old mans cheeks al bought the purtiest
one for ye; all soft and white, with stars
ont, and a great long sash; but I-lost-it--
in the wreck-Jol"
"And a great, long SASH" This is very
slowly. "Oh, Dad, if l only could see it.
But don't cry; / guess l won't want it; I'm
going to leave you little while, just little
while. I'm going up there, where they have
| lots and lots of white dresses, all shining
and pretty; and soon you'll come, too,
won't you, Dada rll watch for you just as
| did here, and there won't be-any storms
| Dad-the vessel will sail-right in on the
blue water-an' I'll be looking for you. IN
have 'em give me-a dress-with big,
shining star on tan you'll know me sure
| i knew you'd Gomez
| One last feeble pressure of his hand, one
| little smile, and 10 waits and watches no
| more on earth.
| A strange calm falls upon the old man.
They cannot persuade him to leave her for
an instant He Is utterly deaf to their en-
treaties, and, kneeling by the bed, he presses
from time to time her ice-cold hand to his
lips. All through the long night he keeps
his silent watch, and when another morning
breaks they find him still there
| Mechanically he watches them robe her
for the last resting place, in pure, white
garments that kind hearted neighbor has
brought; unmoved he sees them place few
snowy buds in her hands.
Presently the door open suddenly. a rough
| looking fisherman comes in, and, bending
over the coffin, his tears fall like rain upon
| the face within.
1.-THE little gal was so happy, yesterday
he says, turning to the old man, who, even
now, will not remove his gaze from her "rll
never forget her standin' there an sayin' as
how she wished she could do something big
for Dad; an she has, she has, poor little
girl"
Covering his face with his horny hands,
he breaks into bitter weeping, and, turning
leaves the room.
The old man leaves the room. His whole
face changes. The terrible calm has broken
up, but no tears come Only look of IN
utterable gladness and joy.
q knowd it, 10; know'd it. Somethin'
big for Dad Dear, little gal! Wait just q
minute, 10; Pm comm"
His head falls forward upon the coffin.
Some one comes in presently and finds him
there. He is quite dead.
They bury them side by side, in one grave,
close by the murmuring sea; and at Che head
they place a simple, white wooden shaft,
with just these two words roughly inscribed
upon it-"Dad's Jo!n