St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-01-01
A MOTHERS STORY.
rom the Yankee Blade.


was bitterly discontinued that morn
ing, and there is no use denying it-dis-
contented with my home, my husband,
with everything, even W tn my baby. /
remember the morning well, it was gray
and cloudy, with a heavy mist that
chilled me to the bone, and hung the
trees with reeking moisture. The
black mud about the door of our West
ern home was thick and deep, and the
bare floor of our cabin room was badly
stained and sOiled by the careless feet
OF the rough-shod workingmen. l had
been cleaning all the morning, but the
more l cleaned the worse matters
seemed to grow, and when a sudden
puff of wind whirled the smoke and
ashes down the pipe of my cooking
stove, covering the books and table, L
had just cleaned off, | threw myself in
the rocking chair and burst into flood
of tears.
cottage with it's low breezy windows,
and its clean, well-Ordered rooms,
adorned with all those charming, use
less, little things that go so far toward
making home pleasant and attractive
that was our home before the Western
fever seized US. 1t was my first home
and woman always loves that home
better than any other. We were very
happy, Ned and l, as coy as two rob-
ms in summer apple tree. Ned was a
clerk, but with as good salary as any
clerk in the place, and when our baby
came, Little Sunbeam" as we called
her. our happiness was indeed COM
plete.
But after awhile this new rapture be-
gan to cool, and as Little Sunbeam's"
blue eyes deepened and expanded, Ned
began to cast about him in sage faith
erlY manner.
We must do the best we can for our
darling's sake, Lucy"
He had caught the Western fever.
"WeStWard the star of empire makes it's
way" Ned quoted, with telling en-
phasis, adding, 1--WE must follow, Lucy,
and build up name and home for
Little Sunbeam"
l assented, as always did to Ned's
plans, though in my secret heart / felt
that the movement was bad Tone.
We sold our pretty home and furni-
ture at considerable sacrifice, Ned left
his clerkship, and the winter after Little
Sunbeam'S birth found us, jim our West
ern home.
Ned had urged me to bring a maid-of-
all-wOrk with me, but in a fit of high
strung herOiSm l determined to do the
hOuSework myself, Ned would have to
sacrifice his ease and comfort, l would
not be behind him.
1t was comparatively light in the be-
ginning, when there were only Ned and
myself to provide for. But after a
while the hired men came, and baby re-
quired more attention every day. The
~
soil into black adhering mud. worked
late and early. but found it impossible
to keep our rude home in anything like
good order. l bore up as long as I
could; but at last my strength utterly
failed, and sitting down in the nearest
chair, sobbed like silly child. l
thought of my old home. of the hours of
pleasant leisure and social enjoyment to
which lad been accustomed, and then,
| with fresh burst of tears, looked
around the all untidy room in whic
was Imprisoned. 1t was wrong i'll Ned
to bring me to such a place, and against
my will, too, L thought bitterly; and a
feeling of inconsistencies took possession
of me, such WEAKNESS and loneliness as
to make me wish [ were dead.
At that moment l heard the voice of
the hir, d man calling for water.
Catching up the pitcher, l brushed
away the tears and ran to the rude loft
where lie lay. AS l reached the bed I
saw by the sun that it was almost noon.
and dinner was to cook for Ned and the
hired men. Giving the invalid his
water, l paused moment to mix por-
ton of medicine for him. My thoughts
full of the smoking stove, and diStaSte-
full duties that awaited me below. and
just then, Shrill and clear cane Little
Sunbeam'S cry. l threw down the dose
l was king, exclaiming, angrily, Its
no use, can't get along, no m tier how
hard try. What shall do! Oh, dear!
| wish had no babyr'
My very finger-tips thrilled with ter
ror the instant the terrible wish had
passed my lips, and, clearing the steps
at one bound, rushed to the corner of
the room where the crib stood, eager to
clasp her to my bosom and pour out my
remOrSe in tears and kisses. The crib
was empty, Little Sunbeam was gone.
senseless, then swift thought came to
my relief.
''Ned has stolen her to frighten me-"
cried. and, rushing out, / searched
everywhere to find him, but in vain.
The mist was thickening into rain. I
knew we'll enough that he was too care
full of our darling to expose her in such
manner, yet chung to the belief that
| he had taken her as elung to my life.
There were fresh footprints in the
black mud about the door leading out
toward the wood lot, where Ned and the
| men were at work. 1 folio ed them,
unmindful of the chill and driving rain,
plunging ankle deep into the yielding
soil at every step. About half way /
saw something in the path before me.
1t was little red stocking! My heart
leaped for joy. Ned had stolen her, and
she had kicked it from her foot on the
way. 1t was cruel in him to brighten
me so; he must have heard that sill
wish of mine.
Half mile from the house I met him
and the men coming home to dinner
He started forward the moment he
caught sight of me.
"Oh, Lucy, what's the matter, is the
baby sick?''
> One glance at his white face con-
yinced me that my hope was vain. Yet
cried out You've got the child, Ned,
any longer!''
"Lucy, in the name of heaven, what
do you mean?'
"She's gone! you stole her to brighten
me, Ned"
! "No, on my soul, Lucy!'
"Then she's gone. God has granted
me my wish. Oh, my baby, my babyr"
I was rushing past him, but he caught
and held fast, commanding me to tell
him all, and did. And then his after
words thrilled my soul with horror.
1.-THE Indians! the Indians, boysr'
he cried, ''they passed US, you know.
They must have stolen her. Come"
: They followed him without word,
and so did l. Over the spongy prairie
mud, the chill wind, and driving rain
beating in our faces, down to the shore
Of the river we followed their tracks.
But we were too late. The last canoe
wish had been granted. l had no baby.
| Little Sunbeam could not be found.