The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1885-07-10
now ye couldn,t take one sorrow from

now We cOuIun take one SOTTOW ITOlu
Him even if He sent it ye!''
s.Only not this one?' sobbed Annie,
her face hidden in the old woman's
dress. .'Only not thisi / could bear
anything else; but only not this''
20, Annie! it's no for us to say
what shall be of the Lords sending.
| What He sends. good or bad, that must
we take; and it's no for US to choose
the what or the when. Ii one poor soul
lies dead yonder, then there's sorrow
come into the world somewhere by rea-
son of it. It's so that some one must
bear the grief ye say ye can not, nor
| will not, bear. Is others stronger than
We, then, that We should be spared. and
your pain put on them? What right
have We, Annie, to claim to be spared,
and take no part in the world troubles
| The very trees has storms sent them,
and stands up against them whilst they
can. So them that God sends this sor-
row to the day, whoever they chance to
be, must cen submit their wills to it,
and, as my Jcm would say, may the
gracious Lord tighten it to the heart He
likes it upon. ?
AG OAu NOLIdu DO0Cu ACl HOhA lCf-
erently as she spoke, and Annie looked
/ up at her. half awed, though with
| cheeks still wet with rebellious tears.
| And Just there, some one stopped over
them and lifted the young girl to her
| feet, softly saying her name. All what
voice of all living could SO say it save
one? 1t was as if her lover had been
| given back to her from the very regions
of the dead, and, after an almost fright
ened glance at him, Annie threw herself
upon his breast, with an inarticulate cry
of relief and rapture. Perhaps when
| souls first meet in Heaven they feel
somewhat as she felt in that moment.
But the young man gently unclasped
| her clinging arms, and, holding her
hands in one of his, went nearer the old
nurse, and stood looking down at her
without speaking.
| ''Oh, Mr.. Fred!' the old woman
cried, catching his hand, while a look
of such unselhsh delight irradiated her
wrinkled face as absolutely TRANSPORTED
it. 1.-THE Lord be thanked that it is not
we who have been takenr'
mo, not l." Fred said slowly, while
| cIlC, Ill tllO ICllCl SCCIlO0 W SCb fbiI
her senses free again, heard the cricket
chirp, and saw how the golden needle
of light had slipped away from her lap,
and felt it where it lay bright and warm
across her foot. '.Not I, The said, "but
| another" And there he paused again,
finding speech difficult, and laid his
hand on her shoulder as if to steady
her; and then. in despair at his own
cowardice in breaking the news to her,
he turned abruptly to Annie. ''Help
her if you can, Annie" he said. 'Tell
her. Jem was on the train, too. 1t is
| her Jem who was killed. "
The old nurse spoke never a word.
Did she understands She felt trem-
bling; but she did not weep or moan or
move by hairs breadth; only sat with
her hands dropped helplessly in herlap,
looking unseeingly up at him who had
brought the news. 1t seemed as if the
silence could be felt. Annie had flung
herself on her knees by the old wom-
ans side again, and was covering the
poor old hand with vain kisses and
vainer tears. Her heart was full of an
| intolerable pity, that took almost the
shape of self-reproach. What words of
comfort could she dare to speak to one
who was old, and weak, and poor, and
| helpless, and who had lost, not one gift
out of many, but the one only blessing
she had?
For few moments the stricken
woman sat there speeches., aging visi-
bly, before their eyes in the first awful
shock of the bereavement. She was as
if she had gone deaf and dumb and
| blind in an instant, or rather, as if,
with faculties all overstralned and
tense, she had been suddenly plunged
| into sphere with which theirs had no
communication. But after time she
reused herself with an effort drawing
a long breath, and moistening her dry
lips
Don't fret for me, children" she
said, brokenly, with a wan smile, NOV
| ing her hand, tremblinglv, to Annie's
hair. 'Some one had to be taken, We
see, and some one has to suffer, and it S
better than another; for I've not so
long as some to wait. It's near the
closing of the day with me; the night
will be upon me soon; and | don't need
the strength to bear it, as them as has
but begun the day. Don't We fret,
Annie; don't we fret, dear. The Lord
has laid His burden upon me; but His
| hand will be under when my old feet
| fail"
She got up unsteadily, still smiling
that faint, wan smile, and stood a mo-
ment looking uncertainty about her, as
| if trying to find herself in this strange
world she was lost in, and, suddenly,
the chirp of the cricket smote her ear,
like familiar sound from the friendly
and the now together The conscious
ness came slowly back into her eyes as
her look wandered out over the lawn
and the trees beyond, and then seemed
to pass on to some point further still,
| perhaps beyond earth altogether, be
yond death, beyond space and beyond
time. She seemed quite to have forgot
ten the presence of the others.
cay, ay!" she mumured, softly. 1--WE
not so long to wait as some. The Lord
is full of love and mercy. It's better I
than another. And better Jem than
one, may he. less ready
And with that she turned and went
into her little, desolate home, and closed
the door; and the two left outside
looked at each other silently, and then
went mutely away together, saddened
through all the happiness of their re-
union. BY what inscrutable justice had
this sorrow passed them by to fall on
her? What is the mystic sign that so
often turns aside the angel of woe from
the abode of the happy, to sheathe his
sword afresh in hearts that have already
bledp Is it because they who have suf-
fered most are stronger to endure again,
being the quickest to discern the hidden
blessing in the sting, and the surest of
making it their ownP
Who can tell? Life is full of prob
lens more unanswerable than this
Grace Deraio Litchfe'd, IN N. Y. hide
pendent.
Watering Horses.
I II ~ = ,