Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1888-07-20

days; to help a neighbOr in trouble; TO sit IL
the village church regularly on Sundays, and
TO be sure that the grass grew green and the
white viOlets iOurished over a certain small
mound IN the graveyard; these were the ut
most limits of her hopes.
Her one great grief had grown TO be Il ten
der memory, and all the days since had been
prosperous and serene unclOuded by one
harsh look or word.
Now. suddenly she was young again,
young wife in her new home, with all her
humble household treasury new about her
and this thrill Of expectation IN her breast.
where's the baby? Why don't they bring
the baby to me2" she repeated eagerly.
Her husband leaned forward, pressing he=
hand in both of his
''Fhe baby?'' he said; what baby?" For
him the sad present had swallowed up the
past
Our baby" she whispered, with a look of
rapture in her faded eyes.
ooh, LOisl'
He bent his head still lower. That shadowy
child Of theirs seemed hardly more than a
dream to him. He had never held it, or
played with it, or talked to it inimaginatiOn,
as she had.
"His name is Josiah, for you" continued
the dying woman, trying to tighten her clasp
Of the hand holding hers, and looking earnest
/ " up at him.
she will be little JO Perhaps his eyes are
| like yours; and he viii be a good man like
| you, hope. We will teach him TO be good,
won't We
/ - eBs yes LOIS.
"But why don't they bring him to me? I
want so much to hold him, only once, for a
| little while. / won't keep him long. 1 want to
| feel his little hand on my face and kiss his lit
! tie cheek. Please tell them to bring him.
"Hush, hush Lois, dear"
! perhaps they don't know where his clothes
are. ] laid them all ready in the top
| drawer Of the bureau in the spare room, his
! little blue socks, and his shirt, and the white
/ sip-they said he must wear slips at first,
| not dresses. Everything's ready. A boy,
l you said. Oh, do let me hold him now.
The old man grOaned aloud and tried to
quiet her, but without success. Out doors a
| wind was rising. a soft wind, fragrant with
! trees. 1t sighed at the open window, and
| swept a branch Of the birch tree against the
/ upper panes.
! The deacon tried to rise to close the glass
| but she moved uneasily as if to sit up in bed.
| He put mis- arms out to support her. She
! hardly seemed to see or feel them. Slowly
/ her face grew radiant with surprise and de-
/ light.
''Ah, you have brought him to me at last. 81
she cried, with hands Outstretched. "Quick
/ give him to me here, close to my heart. Oh
/ how dear, how beautiful he is. had not
| thought he would be half 30 beautiful
/ She held her arms as if they encircled q
! little form, and bent her face over them il
tenderest mother fashion.
/ my babyl my babyl'' she whispered. Then
| with sigh of utter content, sank back upOI
1 her pillows.
The women downstairs listened for tn,
sound of voices to begin again. expecting tC
be summoned, but no such summons came
Night and darkness fell in the garden anC
| closed about the house. Fidelia put a lamI
outside the chamber door and shut the dOOl
quietly. She glanced toward the bed Wher
Mrs. True seemed to be asleep, her husband
| with his face buried in the pillow, near her
She left all the necessary articles for tn
night and moved away with noiseless step
The hours went OnslOWly and silently. TIL
stars shone out in the sky at last, while tn
flowers slept down in the shadows, and tn
little bird was gently rocked IN his soft cradle
All was still in the house where children
feet had never pattered up and down, no
children voices echoed.
When morning, calm and sunny, brightenet
the quiet room it showed the WOman's fac
glOriAed with a smile of absolute peace. VIII,
knORs2 Perhaps, indeed, her baby had beel
| brought to her.
Beside her, white and wan in the sunshine
lay her faithful companion. Whether heart
| do break or not, l cannot tell Heaven, a
least, had mercifully let them die together
quietly, as they ived.-Grace Winthrop, i
New York News.