Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1888-03-15

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est. most reckless and foOlhardy conrad
among them. lavish with money, ant
willing to take even more than his Shar
of hard work. He was a general favor
ite, and even the loud-voiced, care-worI
women. whose company he stunned, haC
good word for him, for they saw how
kind and good he was to their poor chill
dren. whose lives were so hard. whoSt
aching limbs SO often Smarted from tht
effects of rough blows, and upon whose
ears kind words so rarely fell.
And vet this man lived a bad. reckless
life, drowning any vain regrets or yearn.
ings for the past in widest dissipation
doing such daring, foolhardy feats that
i was not unlikely would one day launch
him, unprepared as he was, into eternity
His love for children led him to notice
Fairy Brenham, or as she was described
on the gaily-colored posters, 1.-The fairy
rider. the wonder of the world" He
saved her one day from a bad fall from
/ her horse by skillfuily catching her in
his strong arms: and from that day he
| had won her childish love, and in spite
of his hard, reckless life. this pure child's
affection had touched one soft place in
his heart.
As Fairy, in her childish voice, said a
simple grace he felt a curious choking
sensation-it was so long since he had
heard such words, and they brought back
to his memory vision of a pretty break
fast-roOm, the table bright with flowers,
and he could almost hear his mother
uttering the words in her soft, gentle
voice. His mother! If she could but
see him now! 1t was only for moment
that the memory of the past overcame
him, then he was living in the present
again, trying to harden his heart, striv-
ing to forget.
He looked at Fairy's lovely face and
listened to her merry chatter and laugh
ter; then he glanced at the pale woman
whose careworn features were lighted
up with a mothers love. and, in spite of
his efforts, his heart softened again.
'Fairy and l are going to be fast
friends always: are we not?" he asked.
Fairy nodded her head and laughed
in answer, and her mother looked eager
Iy, searchingly into Dicks handsome
face.
a want my little girl to grow up
good help me to teach her." she said
impulsively; and as she spoke vivid
flush of color rushed into her thin cheeks
and she put out her wasted hands with
pleading gesture.
Il should be sorry teacher" he an
swered bitterly. ''DO you not yet know
the sort of man l am? They call me
Wild Dick because they say l stop at
nothing that is reckless or wicked; and
when they say that they say right"
"But I see something good in your face;
/ trust YOU" was her quick reply.
He laughed a low but strangely forced |
laugh that was almost pathetic.
You trust me! All, but 1 am not to
be trusted. You must know what my |
character is. l am bad man-disso- |
lutte, drunkard - and you say you
trust me. l am not fit even to touch
that pure little child of yours. Irealized
how low | had fallen-hOw bad l was
only when l felt her kiss upon my face"
His voice faltered, and with a groan of
despair he hid his face with his shaking
hands.
Dicks crying, mother; Dick must not
cry!" said Fairy; and with her small
fingers she removed his hands, then
pressed tender, childish kisses upon his
cheeks.
You see how she loves you; it is be-
cause you are always so good to her-sO
kind to all the Children. Oh, Dick, it is
not yet too late for you to turn over
new leaf-to begin life again!"
''Yes, it is too late for me nOw," he
huskily; and without another
word he went down the narrow stair
case and out into the street.
On he walked, past the old bridge and
INTO quiet wood through which stream
lanced over gray rocks, and there he
-hrew himself upon the long grass, and
with tightly clenched hands and an eX-
preston of deep anguish upon his face,
ooked back at all his past life, shudder {
ng with shame at the depth to which
le had fallen. He did not spare him
,elf-he recalled every scene, however I;
its hideous blackness made {
lin feel now. The weight of sin that I
yurdened his wasted life almost crushed [
lim, and made him feel hopeless and |
he was too full of bitterness
o try, as Mrs. Brenham had suggested,
o begin his life again.
He knew there was still some good [
less, some purity left in the World-the I
-ery thought of the poor circus rider
whom he had just left made him realize {
hat; for although placed amid trying
she was as pure and good '
Is his own mother had been-his moth {
II whom he was never to see again, rOr t
" his life he had forever shut out that |
lope-his sweet mother who had died l
With his hand clasped lovingly in hers. s
With sob of despair, he cried {
"Ah, mother, if you had lived, should I
!Ot have fallen so lOW-so lOw!" |
He lay there oblivious of the flight of i
ime, until the sound Of the distant +
hurch clock made him start up; it was
trikiDg 8, and already the bright lights '
# the circus would be burning, and the |
work Of the evening would have begun. /
lie walked back quickly, and was greet /
d with shower of abuse because Of
lis delay and Sinking Of work, and Ian '
5uage just as course was on his lips t
When the remembrance of the simple {
words, Il trust YOU" checked it, and, !
Without answering, he went into the |
ent. c
The lights flared and spluttered, the t
'and played noiSily, and round the ring i
,aced the well-trained horses, while the
eats were crowded with eager specta- '
ors. 1t was "V'ild Dicks turn, SO, q
astily changing his clothes, he rode in S
o the brightly-lighted ring. Never had a
e ridden as he rode that night, for his
anGs were steady, his head was cool. i
!he shouting and the clapping Of many
lands made him smile bitterly, for his V
sual excitement was absent that night e
nd he saw the hollow falseness of his S
ife as he had never seen it before
AS he retired from the ring he passed
'airy, who was sitting on a small stool h
ust outside, trying hard to keep her l.