The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1886-03-03

huhptF ntlt ttleN " lAuSlt uVHeNsff -
as not 70 alarm -her boy;T asked qiieS-
tions about tie evening. recalled gester-
days triunplL and, recollection once
more rUnsiDs her enthitiasn, she lost
sight 81 the burning sensation she e1pe-
rienced about tie chest; but q dry,
husky cough repeatedly interrupted her
speech, without however, once noting
out Tive good hnmoF Of tIlat adorable old
woman.
On tie following dry the doctor de-
clared she lad an inflammation d the
lungs Eight days after, as he came
from behind tie scenes, Martin caught
sight Of one Of his mothers next door
neigbbors, A cold slludler ran through
all his frame as soon rs be saw tho
woman.
-tome quick, II. Chariot, your
mother Is very III. She wants 70 see
you"
He wasolf ina .winkling. Running
at full speed, he jogtlcd tile paSpns-by,
whom he would have knocked down,
my, killed, II they hal attempted 70 in.
tercept his way1 What was that to
him? His mother sqs illi very III
Thiswqs thesole thought that engrossed
bis mind as he run along; his mother
was very, very III!
He rushed up the staircase; hut, on
reaching the landing, he stopped short,
not daring 70 enter, suffocatetl, stupe-
fed, without an idea. A tremulsus
voice, from the inside Of the lodgings,
reused him from his torpor:
-1sthat you, Charlot?'
Eyes, m'ma!n said he, quite softly,
scarce daingto open his mouth, lest
the tears allOuld well from his eyes.
Mother Martin, pale as q sheet,
had raised herself IN her bed; she
took her sons heal in her two
wasted arms, drew lin toward her,
kissed his forehead, md, with deaths
rattle in her throat, heayed q groan
full OF the deepest anguish.
Chariot! My Chariot! Ny own dear
boyl
After which, as Il, by q supreme
effort, she lind chung to life until her son
came home, her head fellback heavily
on the pillow, and she breathed her last
still holding in n convllsive grasp the
head Of her darling child.
Sad, detected. with lowering brow and
f,verish eye, Martin, without uttering a
Sord or shedding tear, followed his
mothers funeral all the way to the
cemetery Of Saint-0uen. Not until the
sable-coated men, surrounding the coffin
with ropes roughly lowered 1t into the
grave, bringing down a quantity Of
loose stones upan the lid, did he make q
movement! He stepped forward, but
paused, liyid, his eye, fixed on the
yawning hole, his hands contracted, the
nnAs Of his fingers entering his flesh
then, without saying a word, automati.
cally lie allowed himself to be led away
by his friends, who, startled ut his calm
delneanOr, stayed by him until tile hour
he entered tie theatre.
For he had to play that evening!
Already, the previous night, no one he.
ing able to assume his part, the house
had to put Oft the performance, and his
stage friends had been SO kind to him!
Although far from rich, they had sent
lovely wreath for mother Martins
funeral! He could not really place
them in u dillemma-so, play he must.
He did play, and played admirably,
discovering effects which surprised
everybody, andbringing down the house
with rohr Of laughter; an artist this
time he proved himself 10 be- in every
sense of tho term! The spectacle made
him quite an ovation, and some, to
whom he was u stranger, Eaid with en-
tluSiasm:
~EEow side.splitting he is, to be sure!
Only look, he laughs so heartily that the
tears ARE in his eyes,
1t was the truth. All the muscles Of
Ills face were puckered up; his mouth,
wide open, was distorted; his laugh
broke into hiccoughs, and with nervous
twitchings small round tears flowed
from his eyes, adding white streaks to
the red paint on his cheeks; his whole
head, in fact, was so comical in its ex.
preston, that the good public were con-
wlsel with laughing.
At last the performance came to m
end!
Martin went up to his dressing.room,
rapidly Changcd his dress, and went out
without even washing the paint of his
face. His friends tried to drtain him,
and get him to go along with them; but,
in spite Of their enleavors he would
give them no answer, and seemed to
have grown dcaf and dumb; lie but half
opened his mouth, and, softly, with his
usual good-natured smile, whispered:
4Well, and mama that waits for me!r
And all, deeply moved, made way for
him, evincing the greatest respect for
his unbounded grief.
The snow fell thick in small round
fakes. Martin turned up the collar Of
his oveNoat, put his hands deep into hi'
pockets, and mechanically, as was his
wont. took the road which led to the
Rue deS Martyrs.
On reaching the house where he had
so long lived, he stopped and looked up,
but there was no bright light up stairs
to welcome him home! Choking and
nervously trembling, a sudden fright
came over him; he ran away with all
his night, straight before him, like one
suddenly seized with a fit Of madness.
Unwittinsly, he took the deserted
road along which the funeral procession
hal wound in the morning. lie passed
the city gates and soon reached the
walls Of the cemetery, over which he
scrambled with the nimbleness Of cat,
leapinS frOln the top of the wall inside.
Quite beyond himself, he threaded the
tombstoncs, jumping over the slabs in
his way without once tripping; his tall,
thin body gave him a weird aspect, and
he like a ghost issuing from one Of tho
thousand tUnbs which surrounded him.
Suddenly he stopped. There, before
him, in the newly turned clay, uprose a
little black cross, on which, in the light
Of the lnoOn, the name Of Martin was