Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-12-23

ly, Oh, so slowly, a dark and heavy
burden with them. Up from the black
shadows into the fair moonlight,
through the wide, open cabin door,
and into the light of his own hearth
FIRE they carried the cold senseless
form OF the blacksmith, and his little
daughter gathered his head in her
arms. and rocked backwards and for
wards in grief too deep for words or
tears. Many time pale little July
had looked On death, and she thought
it had come again to their humble
home, but she was wrong.
Not this time, July, said Mr. Cross,
cheerfully. He amt off the handle
yet, child. Here's his heart beatin'
under my hand like sledge-hammer
Already. Not so close to the fire, boys,
though / believe he amt so much
frozen as dead beat and stunned, with
long tramp and fall somehow
And so it proved. At the end of
an hour the blacksmith sat in his arm
chair by the FIRE, very feeble and dig
zy, but happy as king, with July
sitting at his feet, and the two curly
headed cherubs sleeping on a bear
skin beside him, while he ate his sup
per and told his adventures. The
snow had detained him at his fathers
until he became so uneasy about the
children at the cabin that he set out,
in spite of entreaties and warnings, to
come to them. Taking a short cut
through wood roads we'll known to
him, he came into the main road near
his house. but seeing no light from
the windows (poor July had put up
the wooden shutters when night came
on) he had wandered out Of the path,
missed his footing, fallen over the edge
of the precipice, and only been saved
from death by the vast drift of snow
into lich he sank. Here, stunned,
chilled, and bewildered by the storm
and darkness, he had CROPPED about
vainly trying to find his way cut Of
the ravine, and conscious that his
shouts could not be heard above the
roar of the storm, and at last he sank
down to die, utterly unable to move
another step. But when he had lain
little while with his eyes closed and
his heart beating slower aud slower,
! suddenly he heard music in the air above
! him. Yes, you may believe me or not, just
as you please said Jim, sturdly, but
heard the angels singing. II was like the
music in church, only sweeter than any
| they make there, and the clouds were roll
ling away from before it, and the moon
shining like silver in the sky. Then gath
cred up strength 10 call my little July here
i called her three times, and when had
| done il l was sorry, for was afraid she
would tEy 10 come down 10 me, and be lost
in the snow. Then tried TO raise myself
| up again. and in i minute the world seemed
| 10 spin round and round, and just didn't
know any more till heard Dan Cross say,
| He's all right now boys, and so am all
right
And it was Miss Margie and all of them
YOU heard singing said laughing, crying
! July, looking up at Margie with face Of
half alteration. But | reckon the angels
don't sing any sweeter than she does adj
ded July, softly.
Anyhow, it was the singing that saved
my life said Jim, with tremble in his
rough voice; 4 was falling asleep in the
snow when | heard il, and when a man
falls asleep there, il is apt 10 be- long sleep
"A long sleep, little July And Jim >troked
the child's hair, and gaZed musingly into
the fire, while July bent forward and tim
idly touched Margie's hand with touch
that was a blessing.
There amt only angels in heaven. |
reckon there's some of EN- on the earth,
too said Dan Cross, nodding sagclv. and
pointing his speech with SO direct look at
Margie, that she and every one else laughed
outright Butthere was no one to contra
dict Mr.. Cross, for somehow the girls sweet
ways and sunny temper, and patience and
gentleneSs had won every heart there
Orphan Margie, who was So lonely this
morning. had many warm friends now
As she lay down at last 10 sleep, on the bed
Of cushions and shawls, and piles Of clean
hay, which had been spread for the girls in
one rOom of the cabin. she thanked Hea-
Ven for the friends she had found, and for a
happy Christmas eve And the last sound
She heard was Emmie saying, in sleepy
voice How funny things are, know YOU
50 we'll now, Margie, that can hardly be-
lieve that | never saw or spoke IL YOU in
my life till Mr.. Winston said, this morning,
Miss Emmie. will You carry cup of coffee
for me Ia that little girl over there? She
has such a sweet, tired face She looks
Xix snow maiden and if go near her |
shall expect e. see her vanish away in a
wreath OF snow
And Margie's dreams were none the less
fair and pleasant for hearing this.
There was merry breakfast in the morn
ing, and safe and pleasant Journey 10
Clifton, in the stage which the ihdefatiga-
bic Mr.. Cross had mounted on runners.
and a joyful welcome from Col Elliott, his
handsome stately wife, pretty Sue the bride
elect, ana host Ofrpsy checked little broth
ers and sisters. Sue was an older edition
Of Emmie. \ little taller. little graver.
but just as pretty and warm-h hearted. They
would not let Margie speak Of going to
willie. Emmie and Alice hung round
her and entreated, and Sue urged her to
stay, and finally Mrs. Elliott put an end to
, the controversy, by sending of an express
10 inform Mrs. Delaney that her niece was
! ut Clifton, but she would not he given up
till after the welding, when Mrs Delaney.
who was expected 10 be present, might car
~ her home with her
so Margie was one ofthe wedding guests,
and not only that, but one Of the bride
F., maids having been prevented from coming.
Margie was seized upon 10 nil her place
| Her plea that she had no white dress was
laughed at-a vapory 'tulle' Of Sues was
7 taken in little here and there, and found
/ a. lit her admirably, and Emmie clapped
| her hands with delight SIS she saw how love
| ~ the little snow maiden looked with her
/ white robes and a silver arrow in her curls
When the wedding ceremony was over,
! Mrs. Delaney raised her eveglasS, and said
I graciously, Mrs. Elliott may ask the name
OF the hridemaid with the remarkably beau
" Il katr I'D FL = :.