The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1886-06-17

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went out.
! The girl liked babies. She did not
weary of making doll clothes, inpro-
vising theatricals, holding concerts.
having picnics out in the orchard.
playing camp-life in the woods by the
house, and reading stories and explain
ing PICTURES. She was help to me,
but after awhile she forgot and used
marvellous explosives before the chill
dren, and she told stories that found
no parallel in history. profane or mod
ern.
We ventured to talk softly to the girl,
when no one heard us. generally after
She had retired at night She heard US
peacefully, and we extorted no promis-
es, but always said ''Good night as
though we trusted and had faith in
her.
But the wine. kept among the medi-
cines, disappeared from the upper
shelf, and the berries for tea fell
wonderfully short, and the jam and
jelly and preserved fruits strangely
went away, aud tho candy was lost.
and finally bits of silk and ribbons and
lace could not be found.
But Annis loved the babies and thew
loved her, and our burden of toll was
so heavy that we could not spare the
little maid.
One Saturday she was to start home
at four in the afternoon. We had said
We could not spare her any sooner?
She was FESTIVE and uneasy. The hour
came round very soon, we thought.
and the girl kissed the babies good-by
and ran across the meadow and down
the green lane, waving her hand to
them We had supper on the table at
SIX O'Clock that evening, ready to sit
down to as soon as the whistle sound
ed. But no whistle cut the air at the
time, and impatiently we waited an
extra hour for it, and not till then did
we dream that Annis in her eager
haste to be away. had turned the
hands of the clock on an hour. We
were angry, downright angry, and we
told Tom so, and said we would settle
with the little deceiyer when she came
back.
took up the July number of Arthur's
magazine. l pressed it between my
tired hands, smellcd of it's clean,
fresh, friendly pages as l cut them,
and felt rejoiced to see it's honest,
friendly face. {" 1t always brings me a
blessing 1 said, and then my heart
ached that the dear old nobleman, its
founder and head, had laid down his
beautiful earthly work to labor in the
heavenly kingdom evermore.
cannot tell how glad was when l
| cut its pages to find "Tidings from
Heaven "a message as it were, to me,
and to women of households, who
worn and weary, bear the blessed
crown OF motherhood. And then, with
strained eyes and enlightened soul,
read and re-read his precious 'Power
| of Patience The sentences meant
for me read over and over. I saw
myself in new light.
arraigned myself. l questioned
and cross-questioned. | weighed N.Y.
self in the balance and was found
wanting. ! saw my duty even as the
unprecedented eyes of another would see
it.
Annis told me she would come back
Sunday evening, Wnen her family rode
down to church, but she had told the
babies she would not return until Mon
day, and she did not.
In the afternoon of that dav l sat
sewing, and she was ripping garment
ready to have it made over into a new
one. said:
"Annis, hope we will get along to-
gether, you and l, but for some time l
have not quite liked the way you are
doing. Sometimes you do wrong, and
deny it, and sometimes you tell things
that are not true, aud that makes me
very sorry; for if you persist in such
conduct. and it gets to be an old story,
when you are woman you will not be
lovable and respectable and honest.
''YOu turned the hands of the clock
forward an hour last Saturday. and de-
ceived me about it; and you ate nearly
all the fine Strawberries that day that
were meant for nice, outdoor tea:
and you did not mean to come back till
to-day, when you went away last Satur-
day. love you, poor, little, fatherless
girl, who will always be obliged to
earn your own living here and there
among all sorts of people, ard l so
want you to grow up to beautiful
womanhood.
81 never saw your dear papa, but
people praised him for his sincerity
and honesty and goodness, and he
numbered Ibis friends by the score.
You must remember the message he
gave his children while he was on his
death-bed. Those precious words
ought to be lamp to your feet and a
guide to your life. His example was a
rich legacy that you should prize more
and more every day of your life.
NOW. if you ever feel tempted to
tell an untruth, stop short and think
what it leads to, and if you do tell one,
face about that minute and own up.
Root the inclination out of your heart.
Let it not take root and grow. You
are young, and life is all before YOU,
and will be whatever you make it.
''Let us be good friends Let us love
one another, and deal honestly and
fairly. Remember all the time, when
you are inclined to do wrong. God
sees me- That will help you greatly.
Remember your dear papa's legacy,
the best gift he could have left you
with the example of an upright, Chris
tian life.''
Her head leaned on her arm. and she
was softly sobbing. Poor, little Annis!
MY own heart was lighter. l was in
the right path now, felt like strong,
brave, clear-seeing woman, whose duty
lay plain before her, She was a child,
unframed, not taught, not knowing
the value of things which work out our
veal and woe.
l understood the import of Gains
cry. There was more than missionary
work lying here at my own threshold
work ripe for willing hands to take up
and do: "For ye have need of pa
tience.' And to patience goodness,
and to goodness brotherly kindness and
charity"
The sobbing broke into long, quiv-
ering cry. The dwarfed little frame
shook like leaf in the wind, and bro
ken words were unintalligible and ran
into a piteous wall. We smoothed
the rings of curly hair, and said:
Poor Annis, we will be friends