Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1888-05-12

| lHC0 HA up Win an tNilfecSlOn khe Atk&
eff which had never seen beam on me
before. He touched the ladv's arm
lightly. and whispered u few words.
"WhereP"
ITO my left" And he motioned. 1
thought toward mo.
''How lOvelyl How perfectly love-
lyr' was the answer ia bated breath.
| My heart sank then, for / knew 1t
could not be If me they spoke. No
one had ever called me anything but
naughty Edna ST. Clair"
.'Come here. child" said tho lady,
after conversing eagerly with her hus.
band. in hurried tones. thought she
spoke to me. and vet / doubted the
fact of my being singled out from the
hundreds there. Not until Sister
Ligouri had echoed the words aud
called me by name did / venture for
ward. Two soft lips touched mine,
in the first embrace had ever
know.
How would you like to live with me,
and be my little girp
could not speak; emotion choked
me. Had the good God sent a mother
to me Mt lastp A mother? Blessed
n anne that natures self implants in the
hearts of lisping babes; name that
grows dearer with each added year.
The first to leave the lips; the last to
be found written upon the heart when
death calls hence.
You know where / liyep" continued
the same sweet voice.
in heavenP" l falteringly repli-
ed
20. dear, no; what made you think
thatP" she answered, laughingly II
noticed that your husband, and sister,
smiled too)"You are so beautful-not
like anyone here in the asylum. And
and Won asked me to be your little
girl thought perhaps you were my
dear mother. That--that-G God felt
sorry for me and had sent you back
mo, dear, have no claim like this;
but will be your second mother and
love you as my own child. Will you
come, little Ednap"
Yes! yes! Take me with you," L
cried. conyulsively, take me far away
from here, where there are no long
sermons no seedlings, no cross, hate.
full"
| stopped abruptly, for the nuns
eyes We're opened wide in amazement at
my audacity; and there was warming
light in them that filed my soul with
terror. grew afraid lest she would
keep me in the asylum for punishment.
But later on in life. | found how
groundless were my fears; that orphans
were but a drug in the market and bid
ders rare 1t was settled then, that on
the following morning the good lady
was to come for me. She would bring,
she said. hit apparel. for mine would
not do at ALL What heroine Of ro-
nance | seemed to my companions for
the rest of the evening rs they crowded
around me. | did not need to be told
to thank God for having brought me
such kind friends as Mr.. aud Mrs
Leroy, for did thank Him again aud
again.
Need contrast nv new life with the
old one? Am equal to the task? Go
ask the pardOned convict to speak the
ecstasy lie feels when the prison gates
hY open and once more he breathes
The blessed air Of freedom. Go ask tine
mend cant whom some freak OF fortune
transports from perjury to wealth, ask
him, l sav, If mere words can adequate
ly express his rapture. Let these give
voice TO their joy; then, and not till
then, can T.
True. | was only child at the time;
but what life mine had been, shut up
in those gloomy walls. with every nat
ural impulse of childhood stifled BIZ set
rules against which there was no APP
peal. Housed, it is true. fed. clothed.
But housed BY strangers; fed BY chart
tY, clothed in uniform like the wicked
conv cts, and our orphan badges pro
claiming us to all; outcasts whom the
world were better without.
The years rolled on. learned to
love my foster-parents with a love
akin to that the Brahmin lavishes on
his gods. And was all in all to them.
M luxurious surroundings were in nc
cord with the wealth of my patrons
who were acknowledged leaders in the
select coterie to which they introduced
me as their daughter, Edna LEROY. l |
was courted and caressed by all, for
the opulence of my putative father shed
a halo Of worth upon me. Suitors there
were in numbers, who poured forth |
imprisoned VOWS of fidelity, and weps |
that they sued in vain. At first such !
scenes were painful to me; but they |
soon grew monotonous. And when [ |
learned what an elastic affair a mans !
heart is, at best, / wasted no more |
time in regret. II was as well, for each
disconsolate swain consoIed himself
elsewhere.
After long years Of waiting, there
came at length, to bless my kind |
friends home, windsome baby boy;
and as saw the tiny little one nest
ling on his mothers breast, and read |
the fond look of pride in her lustrous
eyes, | knew her brightest hopes were
fulfilled. In vain / looked for some
token of welcome in her fathers face;
there was. but as they always had
been, shadow as of some nameless
grief, he groaned aloud, and his face
became ashen pale.
''Earnestw cried his wife, in re-
proachful tones, 'fs it thus you greet
our babeP You do not love me, know
it now. You have been for years sad
and absent thought it because of
our childless lot You know that our
son has come, you turn away from
him. Oh, Ernest, Ernest, how can /
live, hereft of your lover
Hush, nv darling IneZ. do not