Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1886-07-11

I tNbtlltl CONC Ill till llt lltlt an llt night
wind; an this time didn't begin worry
in about EN- until it got to be- very late
an they hadn't come back. Some
folks as was at the house walked
the beach between the inlets with me
| till late in the night; but We saw
nUthin' of them. But bless me, | didn' t
give EN- up. 1t had been a fine day, an it
was clear, bright night, an kind q
trusted the young fellcr, for he seemed
| kind - fond q Maggie, an thought he
wouldn't let no harm come To her. An,
sure as yer live next day, early in the
mornin', We spied the boat sailin' up the
inlet an began wavin' an shuutin' To
EN- for joy But some one as had a spy
| glass said they wasn't aboard-an', mister
! they wasn't The feller as was in her
came from the Jersey coast. an he said as
"A man and girl had landed there the
day before, an the man-a young, good
l"okin' chap. he said-had paid him to
bring the boat over I'd kept up pretty
well till then. but when | know'd she
wasn't come back. an felt all Of IA sudden
as she might never come back hid my
face i'll my hands an cried like II baby
Folks tell me as wasn't good one to lie
Ecttin' along with fO'' the next few days
an guess they were about right. She
was all the world 10 me, was Maggie. |
took her Ia me as child an brought her
up, an set my heat on her, and for her
Ia leave me in my old days was mighty
hard When got quieted down they be
gan Ia comfort me a-sayin' as she might
come back. All, mister. if she only had.
I'd have welcomed her. for she was still
my little Maggie, an I'd ha' loved her rs
much as ever. But it got Ia he winter
an spring an summer an on toward fail,
an ! heard not him of her
at wasn't much more than a year
after she'd left when one mornin' a fcller
came sailin' over from the shore with
what he said was telegram for me. 1t
came from the city, an it read that if |
was to 20 to one o. the hospitals there I'd
find girl as would like To see me; an it
told me to come quick. too for she was
very low, perhaps a-dyin'. Yer may
know who the girl was; an it's likely yer
know, too, As | wasn't long a-gettin to
her. But ! wasn't any too soon She
was lyin' on a cot, an when she saw NE,
il was just all she could do To stretch her
arms out To me, SO she could put 'em
around me an press her poor, pale face
against mine.
Father. she whispered, Il went back
on yer-and yer who'd been 50 good an
kind Ia me: an, father, | want Yer To say
before | die aS you've forgiven me-
II couldn't say nothin, mister, Just
held her closer, hut | guess as when she
felt my tears a-rolliu' down on her face
she knOw'd she'd got what she wanted.
held her till they told me she couldn't
speak no more, an then laid her back.
II WAS only few minutes after that she
lived. but afUre she died she opened her
eyes once more an moved her lips. |
bent down TO her an she could just
whisper:
- Father, I'm sure yer haven't gone
back on me. I'm sure yer forgive me.
But-father-I want You to forgive him,
too For-fathrr-Tve fOrgiven-'"
The old man buried his face In his
hands and sobbed. while the dog moved up
close to his master and huwled piteOusly
The piano was still jangling in the other
room and the singing was at its loudest
But he didn't seem to hear it. After
awhile, though, they got through and,
missing him, began TO call for him. But
before he went out he passed his hand
gently over the dogs back and said, turn
ing to me: Il forgive Eer, mister, an
I've tried 10 forgive him, but it's more
than a poor old man like me can do. I'll
try again, mister; I'll try hard for the lit
tie girls sake. | know as his sins aguin
tu drive him back here some time-drive
him back that he may 20 on his knees 10
me an tell ME how he wronged her an
me -
had always been fond of Uncle Jake,
but after what he had told me liked him
better than ever. / knew that his little
girls death weighed heavily on him, and
after that got up as many parties as |
could to visit the tavern 10 cheer him up.
One day toward autumn, two years after
ward, ne called me aside and said: Mis-
ter. it's gettin' kind o. lonesome for the
dog an me down here winters, an |
guess won't stay here no longer after the
fall I've got house rs | took over il
the village ashore yonder, near TO where
the little girls buried. The dog an |
wants to be near Maggie, an if yer'll
come down off an on We'll be glad to see
yer, for it amt much company well be
havin'."
Well. Uncle Jake took the house, and
did go down there rs often as could. He
made things right comfortable i'll the
little house. On the cold winter nights
he had big log fire blazing on the open
hearth, and kettle OF hot water for the
punch singing cheerily over the flames.
In front was big woody rug, on which
the dog stretched himself, rising only OC-
Casionally Ia come ofer TO his master and
lick his hands. The old dog had learned
the way to the little girls grave very
soon, and on days wnen it was too stormy
for the old man 20 90 to it himself,
would trot OF and see that all was
at rights
The blazing logs and the singing kettle
seemed particularly CHEEKY one January
night. \ fierce wind was bowling around
the house. 1t had been showing all day,
but as il grew colder the snow had
stopped. and now the gusts sent icy par
ticles rattling against the windows The
dog seemed sleeping peacefully-at least
he hadn't Stirred-when Uncle Jake went
10 the hearth to lift off the kettle. The old
man had brewed a punch, and was just
raising the glass TO his lips, when sud
denly Samson sprang toward one of the
windows with furious bark. As turned
in the direction in which he sprang, what
| saw might have been an illusion, it
vanished so quickly-a mans face, pale,
haggard and driven, pressed against the
pane. A moment later the dog was leap
ing against the poor. | sprang toward it
and threw it open. The fierce gust that
swept i'll nearly threw me back, but |
held on and saw the black figure of the
dog speeding toward the gate where he
stopped, still barking furiouSly rs he
tried in vain to oycrleap it. | called him
back, but he would not come, and there
ne remained barking and bowling for half
an hour after | had closed the door. l
told Uncle Jake that | thought man
had been out there, hut all he said was:
II guess it was one Of them tramps as
comes around. Samson amt particular
fond o. them. But if the fellow was cold