The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1888-06-16

them he buried his lace in the bed
clothes. He fancied himself, with the
sudden despair 80 frequent in sensi-
tive children, entirely abandoned by
his mother, who cared more for her
pleasure than for him. This dreadful
thought aroused him, impelling him
to an action, which, in his little
world, seemed like suicide. He dress
ed himself swiftly and silently, and,
opening the back stairway door, he
cautiously made his way into the
street.
1t was a dark. cold night in Febru-
airy, and the wind was pier chg.
Where should he sleep? He had no
cloak, no scarf about his neck, and
his little frock was ill-buttoned, as
would naturally be the case with a
boy not accustomed to dressing him.
self. He crept along hurredily close 70
the walls to avoid at the same time
the dreaded wind and the equally
dreaded policeman, for he had been
told that these latter carried of boys
and whipped them until the blood
came, and then locked them up in
black dungeons with horrible spiders
and rats. From certain words over
heard while his mother was dressing,
ne knew that she had gone to the Rue.
Saint-Lazare, and he set out in that
direction. Arriving there he saw 8
house brilliant with lights, q great
crowd before the door, and carriages
rolling up to the grand staircase.
That was where his mother was, he
was sure of it! Suppose he should 60
into the ball with the Others, what
would they say to him?
Emlla kept watching the crowd, the
hotel. the lustrous lights. His mind
was filled with but one idea-to find
his mother he must mount the STAIR
case before him, follow the fine gentle
men and ladies, with their masks and
gay costumes, and search for her within.
The cold was growing more and more
intense, and his purple little hands
were numb. At length ne ventured
forward and climbed step by step I'M
til he reached the vestibule. The
ment. ''Hello! younester," said one
OF them, "wnat are you looking for
here-your mother?" and ne chuckled
his own wit, not thinking to gues-
ton the little intruder so ~pertinently.
The unh Apply child dare not reply.
Besides, to speak of his mother in
such a crowd would insult her. ''Ah,"
thought he. 'if she only knew | was
waiting here in the cold how quickly
she would come and take me back to
my little room where it is so nice and
"What do you want here?" asked
the valet again. Il want to 90 in
said Emile, pointing to the
large doors.
what for?"
"To see -" he began hesitatingly,
but thu valet, suspectIng him to be a.
would listen no further, and
harshly thrust him into the street.
Again outside, he was jostled from
,roup to group receiving knocks from
every one who found him in their
He was weak and cold, and all
PROSTATE, but he was sustained
the thought that his mother
here; that he would see her.
when she came out; that he would run
o her and cling to her skirts, and
hat she would never leave him again.
The hours went by slowly, through
hat bitter night. He shrunk away
q door, until the chill air com
him to beg the coachmen to,
jhelter him in their carriages. But
hey, warmly wrapped up, nodded in
differently in their boxes; besides, it
vas of small concern to them that a.
treet urchin was freezing.
At last the guests began to depart.
posted himself at the head OF
he great staircase. and anxioUsly
a. onnal oool f,,, . Ln ,.N..ol Lr,~E.
nd denser they came, the carriages
oiled up; the coachers hailed each
'ther in d~eafening shouts, and still
mother tarried. He had hard
Y strength to withstand the strain,
nd the tears were springing up to his
yes again when his heart gave agreat
ouEd, for there she passed before him.
lie could not mistake that superb tot
IT, She was taking tie arm Of her
usband. his step father. They did
OF observe him. The carriage ad-
anced, they entered, and were driven
way.
Then EmiIe's heart was filled with
ngulsh, and he wished to die. He
In after the carriage, and before the
orses had got well started seized the
races with his little hands, neither
moving nor caring what he did, such
as the transports OF his despair, and
as dragged under thecruel wheels. He.
ttered a sharp cry OF pain and, al
eady overcome by the cold, tainted.
he carriage stopped, the occupants
and then the mother, with
ut a moments warning. found herself
t the side of her little Emile, who
as white, motionless, and may
9 dead. Divining the drama Of
ne night through which her hayward
affectionate child had passed, she
lrned to her husband, a mothers
love making hel reproachful
nd violent, and cried: 'You see, |
Did you SO. We ought never to have
ome! You insisted On it. On, God,
child" Emile heard the precious
ords. He opened his eyes, wound
is arms about his mothers neck, and
a feeble tone: "It's all right, NAM
he whispered; ~ shall get we'll.
ut you-you will never leave me
gain, will you?"
Jolly Old Won MoItke.