Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1886-03-11

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evening he took his fax to the mill.
As he logged along the limestone road
in his cart he was suddenly aware of
figure seated beside him on the bum
die of fax. How had she got therea
He thrilled with terror, and it was all
he could do to look around and see
who was his companion. An old wo-
man? Yes; and her red shawl, the
gray hair the features of the blue eyes
which had never lost their brightness,
all reminded him of Mary. He look
ed closer. It was Mary certainly, and
ne must conquer his fear and speak to
her for the sake of their lifelong
friendship. Must Mary be a restless
wanderer because her old comrade
failed her. No-a thousand times no |
So, with a tremendous effort, he con-
quered his dread.
Mary, darlin', is it you9" he falter-
ed.
sit is, league, dear it is"
Gan. what is it, Mary. that's keepln'
you frae your rest? Sure you had
the priest, an he gave you the Watt
cum?"
The voice he knew SO we'll answered
in accents that pierced his heart.
'There's nae rest for me. [ flew up
to the gate of heaven, but wouldna'
be let in, an I'm flynn about the world
in the cold and in the rain. or lynn
aback thon thornbush. Think on me,
league, in night time when you ones
is comfortable by the freside, an pity
me an help me for the sake of 'oor old
friendship"
"Help your cried the poor man
'tsure I'd gle my hearts blood to help
! you; but how is it to be done? An
why wad you no. be let into heaven,
a good livin' woman like you?"
"I'll tell you, league" replied the
specter, ''that's what I'm here to tell
you. It's true that I went about my
duty regular, al knelt WI the congre-
cation in the chapel Sunday after
Sunday, an was respectit for good
Twin woman, but in all my lifetime I
never prayed. Ny lips would be NOV
in but my thoughts would be away.
When was a young girl I'd be think
in of my sweetheart or my dress or
the dance at the fair; when [ was a
married woman I'd be frettin' about
the childer, thinkin' ane o. thin would
fall into the fire or another would be
drowned ia the well when I was out :;
an when I was old there was frets an
anxieties still; but, anyway, in all
these years I never prayed SO 7 Gamma
be let in"
MARY, poor soul! What is it 7 can
do for yea"
Listen, league. 60 to his rever-
ence, Father Dan, an pay him to of
fer up two masses for my sinful soul;
but the money"
"The money, Mary? It's here, .
touching his pocket; faye, if it was
tWic9t as much, it's here. But how
will I know that the masses is &C
cepted, an that yell be let into heav-
en?"
The figure began to fade away, and
the voice was fainter.
eff I am forgiven, the night after
the second mass is said for me I'll
come to you in the form of white
bird, an III stand in the windw, at
the foot of your bed, an sing you
beautiful hymn before fly away to
heaven"
The voice died away softly, and
just as they reached the fax mill the
figure disappeared. Weary though
league was that night, he went to
the priest after supper and told him
the strange tale. Father Dan took
the money and promised to say the
masses, encouraging league 10 hope
that all would be well with Mary.
''Come back and tell me if she ap-
pears to you again." said he.
Some days later he had second Wis
it from league.
"Well, my good man." ne begun,
did you get any word from that poor
"oul?'
II did, your reverence did"
can how is it wi her now?"
''Thaaks be to your reverence and
the Lord, she's got to her rest now It
was IN the night time, and / was lynn
on nay bed wi the blessed rosary in
my hands. prayin' constant, when I
heard the futtering o'wings at the
window, an then beautiful hymn,
like one o. them hymns that is sung
in the chapel on Easter Day. was sung
an SO I knowed Mary was going to
heaven"
did she speak?"
''Feen word. Tha hymn sounded
fainter an fainter, till it was like a
wee gentle sough O. wind off the
Tough, an was content in my mind
to think that Mary was at her quiet
rest"
The fax mill on the Mulroy road
was the scene of another ghostly ap-
pearance. The reader must transport
himself in imagination across the fer
ry opposite the mill to the farms lying
beneath the hills, from whence there
was a good view of league and Mary's
house and the wild rangs of mountains
behind iE.
Rose Dillon was the prettiest girl
IN the whole country, and she had
many admirers among the rich farm
ers-any one of whom would have
pleased her parents better than the
sutton she had chosen. James Mail
ton was handsome young man, but
he was not richie had only the fax
mill and a poor small farm and three
COWS. How vexatious it was that
Rose should set her affections unon