Huntsville gazette., 1885-08-29

up little. Then there is my daughter.
away out in California; she is married
now, and just getting q nice little
home, she wrote me. So some day,
though can barely pay my way just
now, hope, by saving all can, to see
her again.
As Carroll looked at the frail form.
he wondered how she could hope even
to pay her way much longer.
s'Pardon me, he said after thinking
a moment. "May I ask if you have
much laid by for such purpose?"
"Oh. not much; don't know exactly
how much. You see, am unable ia
work long at time. hoped to have
twenty dollars left when I got back,
but let me see; the fare was little
more than I expected, and then the
coffee. did not intend to get that,
but somehow as / got nearer l felt
faint-like-and-well, that cost me a
quarter Still it helped me-helped me
a good deal. Well, let me see," she
said again, and pulling out the old silk
handkerchief she united from one cor
ner a few small bills and some change.
Slowly she counted each piece, and laid
it carefully by itself
''Yes, that's all. l did think it was
a dollar or so more, but that certainly
is all-twelve dollars and sixty-fve
cents. Well, l don't know; p'r'aps l
never shall 60, but it helps me to think
/ may, some time"
''How much do you think it would
cost you?" asked Carroll.
| L, 7 Il
to ask for fear twas a good deal
Sometimes l have thought, F'r'aps sixty
dollars. Do you think 'twould cost
much morep"
| Carroll asked her the exact station
she would leave, and the one to which
she would go. Then he thought little,
and looked up. The faded eyes were
so expectant, SO mixed with far Oft
hoped-for happiness, that he could not
find courage to say one hundred dol
lars. She watched him closely for a
few seconds; then, as though half
afraid to speak, asked if it would be
vesy much more.
"Well, will tell you," said Carroll,
reluctantly. II find first-class fare
with good meals all the way-that
makes it little larger, Of course-will
cost you about one hundred dollars"
The fiat bosom raised quickly, as he
spoke, and as it sank slowly back, a
resigned but inexpressible sad look
took the place of the hopeful one.
Before she could speak, Carroll went
on:
"Now, I will run it up again on the
cheaper plan"
He turned around little, and again
opened his book. Two bills were there,
his last months pay, just one hundred
and fifty dollars.
| Why shouldn't he He had never
given much to anything. Many man
gave that amount to church or mini
ster, and thought little of it. He hesi-
tated but an instant, then, tearing a
leaf from the book, wrote
This money shall never miss. Take it
| and go to your daughter. Please do not ask
can car $ sympathize with You, for l. too too, have
| watched by the dying. The very morning
your husband fell at Shiloh, my only brother
| was shot there under the other flag. Yours
in sympathy, JAMES CARROLL"
Into this he put the money, and
rolled it carefully
Here are the figures" he said turn
ing to her, "all down plain, so you can
make no mistake. 1t will cost you
much less, 1 find, than we first sup
posed. Please do not take time to
look them over till you are on the
train"
"Thank you, sir Twill be sort of
comfort to know just what it will cost,
though since you spoke, fear l shall
never 60.
| But perhaps you may. Sometimes
things are in store for us that we least
expect. / shall have to 90 now. Good
by, and may God bless you"
AS he passed the edge of the trees,
Carroll could not resist the temptation
to look back.
She stood as he left her looking down
at the smallest grave. After that she
| put the paper away carefully and
walked slowly around the graves, one
after the other; then for moment
leaned on the solitary stone. He saw
her take out the old handkerchief and
pass it over her eyes for moment.
| Then she turned away, and her totter-
ing steps disappeared among the pines.
| Some six weeks after this. as Carroll
glanced over the file of mail left at his
tent, small white envelope, post
marked at a town in Southern Cali
| fornia, took his attention.
AS he eagerly opened it, he noticed
the writing inside was less cramped
and uneven than that on the wrapper
"Dear unknown friend" it began,
''can ever thank you enough for your
kindness to my poor old mother? Four
short weeks ago she came here, with a
heart overfiowing with gratitude to
you for helping her to come. Though
we then fondly hoped she might be
with us for years. to-day she is gone.
One joyous week of seeming health,
and then almost before we knew it she
began to fail rapidly. We did all that
could be done. but nothing would help
her, and yesterday, with her head rest
ing in my arms, talking of you and my
father, she quietly breathed her last
"You will never know how badly we
felt when we found she had to go, nor
vet how thankful we are that she came