The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1886-01-08
VOICES OF THE WATER

(AIlu uuIucuS AEC uKuteSt
That many hands bear.
VOICES OF THE WATER.
BY CHARLES DICKENS.
Paul had never risen from his little
bed. He lay there, listening to the nols-
rs in the street, not TRANQUILITY, not car
ing how the time went, but watching it
and watching everything about him with
observing eyes.
When the sunbeams struck into his
room through the rustling blinds, and
Guivercd on the opposite walk like gold
en- water, he knew that evening was
coming on,and that the sky was red and
beautiful. As the reflection died away,
and gloom went creeping up the wall,
he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen in
to the night. Then he thought how the
long streets were dotted with lamps, and
how the peaceful stars were shining
overhead. His fancy had strange
tendency to wandS- to the river, which
he knew was flowing through the city;
and now he thought how black it was,
and how deep it would look, rejecting
the hosts of stars--and more than this,
how steadily it rolled away to meet the
sea.
As it grew later in the night, and
footsteps in the streets became SO rare
that he could hear them coming, count
them as they paused, and loose them in
the hollow distance, he would lie and
watch the many colorcd ring about the
candle and wait patiently for day. His
only trouble was the swift and rapid
river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try
to stop ito stem it with his childish
hands-or choke its way with sand
and when he saw it coming on, resist
less, he cried out! But word from
Florence, who was always at his side,
restored him to himself; and leaning his
poor head upon her breast, he told Floy
of his dream. and smiled.
When the day began to dawn again,
he watched for the sun, and when it's
cheerful light began to sparkle in the
room, he pictured to hlmself-pictured!
he saw-the high church towers rising
up into the morning sky, the town re-
viving. waking, starting into life once
more, the river glistcning as it rolled
(but rolling fast as ever), and the coun-
try bright with dew. Familiar sounds
and cries came by degrees into the
street below; the servants into the house
were reused and busy; faces looked in
ut the door, and voices asked his atten-
dants softly how he was. Paul always
answered for himself, 81 am better.
am a great deal better, thank you. Tell
pa So"
BY little and little he got tired of the
hustle of the day, the noise of carriages
and carts, and people passing and re-
passing; and would fall asleep or be
troubled with restless and uneasy
sense again-the child could hardly tell
whether this were in his sleeping or
waking moments-of that rushing river.
why, will it never stop, Floyp" he
would sometimes ask her. 1T is bear
ing me away, l think!''
But Floy could always soothe and re-
assure him; and it was his daily delight
to make her lay her head down on his
pillow and take some rest.
"You are always watching me, Floy.
Let me watch you, now?" They would
prop him up with cushions in q corner
of his bed, and there he would recline
the while she lay beside him; beuding
forward oftentimes to kiss her, and
whispering to those who were near that
she was tired, and how she had sat up
SO many nights beside him.
Thus the flush of the day, in its heat
and light, would gradually decline; and
again the golden water would be dane
ing on the wall.
He was visited by as many as three
grave doctors-they used to assemble
down stairs and come up together-and
the room was SO quiet, and Paul was so
obscrvant of them Though he never
asked of anybody what they said), that
he even knew the difference in the
sound of their watches. But his inter-
est conferred in Sir Parker Pops, who al
ways took his seat on the side of the bed.
For Paul had heard them say long ago,
that that gentleman had been with his
mamma when she clasped Florence in
her arms and died. And he could not
forget it now. He liked him for it. He
was not afraid.
q The people round him changed as un-
accountably as on that first night at DR..
Blimber 's-except Florence; Florence
never changed-and what had been Sir
Parker Pops, was now his father, sitting
with his head upon his hand. Old Mrs.
Pipchin doing in an easy chair, often
changed to Miss Tox, or his aunt; and
Paul was quite content to shut his eyes
again. and see what Mapped next with
out emotion. But this figure with its
head upon hand returned SO often, and
remained SO long, and sat so still and
solemn, never speaking, never being
spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face.
that Paul began to wonder languidly if
it was real; and in the nighttime saw it
sitting there, with fear.
''F1oy," he said. "What is thatp"
"Where, dearestp''
There's nothing there, except papa"
The figure lifted up its head, and rose,
and coming to the bedside, said, '.My
own boy! Don't you know mep''
Paul looked it in the face and thought,
was this his father? But the face so al
tered to his thinking, thrilled while he
gazed, rs if it were in pain; and before
he could reach out both his hands to
take it between them, and draw it to-
wards him, the figure turned away
quickly from the little bed, and went
out at the door.
Paul looked at Florence with flutter-
ing heart, but he knew what she was
going to say, and stopped her with his
face against her lips. The next time he
observed the figure sitting at the bottom
of the bed he called to it.
Don't be SO sorry for me, dear papa.
Indeed l am quite happy"
His father coming and bending down
10 him-which he did quickly, and with
out first pausing by the bedside-Paul
held him round the neck, and repeated
those words to him several times, and
very earnestly; and Paul never saw him
in his room again at any time, whether
it were day or night, but he called out,
''Don't be SO sorry for me! Indeed /
am quite happy" This was the begin
ming OF his always saying in the morn
ing that he was great deal better, and
that they were to tell his father SO.
How many times the golden water
danced upon the wall; how many nights