Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1886-02-17

the money in his hand and grinning.
He replenlshed his basket; he came
again, day after day; he brought a
larger basket and a cleaner face; he was
! getting on. In spite of the rain which
battered down ''no friend, not one" in
spite of the bells that clamored out
rags and dirt, rags and dirt" he was
getting on. Out of the pocket of his
ragged jacket peered ragged spelling
book; at corners of streets, on steps, at
crossings, he studied it. He was get
ting on.
For while we will leave John March
with his basket and the ragged books
in his cherries lodging. We will 60
back little and enter very different
scene; light and warmth meet us, COM
fort and luxury have made their abode
here, In this room where man in the
prime Of his life sits, dressing-gowned
and slippered, before his desk. But no
pleasant thoughts are passing through
his mind, and it Is with her he is angry
Why, to him she IS a child still. a mere
infant, how dare she t Ink of such
things as falling in love and marriage?
How dare she suffer the young spend
thrift vagabOld to speak to.him on the
subject?
"When, after all these years of care, :"
goes on the father, his tone deepening,
''all this palnstaking, toiling early and
late, with the happiness of my child
near to my beart, hoping for it, yearn-
ing after it, this beardleSs rake comes
forward to demand my purse, and am
to say calmly, Take it, with my bles-
! singh When / have listened to the
voices of my mills, and thought how
pleasantly they sang, hoping always
she bids me give them up, and what
they have brought me, for this spend
thrift suitor to make ducks and brakes
OF. Never, never never. Listen to me,
and understand. You see this man
no more; you never take SO much as his
name upon your lips.
There came faint cry from the pale
girls lips as she stood there moment
uncertain. Bending before HIM till
her hair touched the hand wandering
so reStlessly amongst the papers, she
strove to take it in her own and plead
| with him; but he drew it back coldly
and hastily.
"Once MORE" sobbed the girl; "only
let me see him once more to say good
bye"
"Still for him!" called out the mill
owner, bitterly. ''Pleading for him
am nothing; this IS gratitude and duty.
l say to you see him no more
So he turns to his desk again, know
ing net III It trial and temptation are
about his daughter, that the voice of
her lover is in her ear, pleading with
her, urging her to fly with him.
How can she liStenp Oh, but she
loves him. she loves himl and it so hard
to think of never seeing him again,
never hearing his voice. 1t is so hard
to have no one TO lovel
And lie tells her that when they are
married they will come back, and be SO
submissive that he cannot fail to for
give. The old tale, the old music, and
she loves him.
Think OF it now, old man, sitting
alone in the midst of riches; think of it
as you consult the watch and look
around you. Yes, you are right; 1t
grows late, bedtime; but there IS no
gentle good night for you, no kiss for
you tonight, but that sorrowful one
which trembled on the hand which
holds the watch-key. Oh, put it to
your lips for the memory of that kiss,
for those pleading tears, for the wIstful
eyesl Think of 1t now!
in his old lodging, retained perhaps
from the force of habit, perhaps be
I 1, Ill Is G,--N
days of struggle and failure, hope and
fear. John March sat with his Tampa
twisted wick of paper floating on oil in
a cracked teacup-and his books. This
lodging is room, with five so-called
beds and accommodations for ten lodg-
ers; but he had portioned off his own
particular corner with tattered sheets,
paying double for it; and keeping it to
himself. study and Sleeping room in
one.
Sitting there however tonight over
worn history-for the spelling-book had
been superseded long ago-John March
grew restless. In the bed nearest his
corner there was moaning sound,
coming at intervals, feeble and despair
ing. John couldn't stand this; he
drew aside his curtain and looked out.
Scantily clothed, but yet in remnants
of a richer time, pale, hollow-eyed, there
sat woman, who looked at him even
as he looked at her, but there was only
misery in her eye.
John came out from his retreat.
WAS she ill?" She shook her head
dearly. Gould he do anything for
her, get anything?"
NO"
There is plenty of misery here"
said John, "but yours seems bad case.
Can't you trust me?"
The woman turned her large eyes up
ness" she said, turning down the cor
ner of a ragged cloak of fine cloth which
she had taken from her own shoulders.
Under it, gathered close to her heart,
lay a sleeping child some six or seven
years old.
John touched the warm. rosy cheek
compassionately, and put off brown
curl that was straying across it.
1t is all over with me-" said the
woman. 81 am dying-but this is worse
than death"
81 am but a poor lad," said John.
strangely touched by the soft tones and
gentle speech SO new to him, ''but l
am honest, indeed. Tell me about it,
and see if l can't do something"
The woman put out her left hand,
where glittered in the rays of his lamp
the wedding-ring. Cautiously she put
it out aud then covered it up again.
''It is the only thing 1 have left; l
couldn't pawn that. Yes, L will tell
you all, for am dying. have known
that long; but tonight it is near-near.
Listen. thenin
Tie wick floats on its oil and grows
dim, but dawn is breaking for the hol-
low eyed woman whose head falls back
on Johns arm, whose fading sense re-
ceives his promise to care for the little
one sleeping on quiet and unconscious
while her mother dies.
Think of it, now. oh, man of mills
and ledgerS. think of i'll