The Penn's Grove record., 1888-02-11

Hllo huOCkluS duOut, dlLlioSS, WIN
Gregory, who would cling to me, l fell
in with this surveyors clearing CON-
pany INT WI Joined 1t. That's all,
Errington. 1t brings US down to this
day"
"To this day, yes, but have you not
something to tell Of that2"
flames Wilding nodded. This after
noon, when l was at work at the lower
clearing, busy enough, and thinking Of
nothing but my duties, l heard a soft
voice close to ME. Papa" it said,
papa" 1t was the voice Of my child,
if l ever heard 1t. I heard it as clearly
and distinctly as you hear mine now.
Turning quickly around, thinking l
must have been mistaken in the sound,
1 saw no one was near me but Gregory,
and / waited in a sort of startled sur
prise. "Papa, o are coming to us;
we want you," said the voice again,
and l remember no more. Why l.
should have tainted 1 know not; Ger.
tainly not from terror-I suppose it is
all a part and portion OF that which
cannot be understood in this world.
When l came to, Gregory was support
ing my head. "Did you stumble and
hurt yourself, sirp" he asked. and l let
him think 1t. That was my summons,
Errington, and tomorrow will be New
Years Day."
"It sounded mysterious and solemn.
"Iet us hope that you may be in some
way mistaken, Wilding," l said, with
lame words.
"How can l Oe-remembering the
past2' he rejoineo. 81 am not a super
stitious man-never was that; yet ]
believe shall not see the setting of
to-morrow's sun. Possibly l may see
it in a more glorious form in the other
land. But that my brief life of sadness
and sorrow Is at its close | am as sure
Of as mortal man can be-"
"a brief life, indeed, If this be its
ending. "How old are your"
Thirty .seven," he answered. 81
ruary."
81 was some years under 80, but it
seemed too young to die"
"Wilding rose. Il think l shall turn
into my blankets he said; Pm tired
somehow; done Over.'
why have you not lighted your
piper"
"He shook his head. 81 shall never
IlSnt Lnat again., Errlngt0n."
HE disappeared within the hut. 1
began walking about in mental discom.
fort. Gregory came up to me and
spoke.
"What is it that is worrying him,
Mr.. ErringtonP What was 1t that be
heard to-day by the lower clearing?
Has he been telling your"
"He has been telling me a good deal
Of his past life. Gregory. And-yes-
he spoke of to-day"
did he hear a voice that's dead?"
she thought so. His child's voice;
she said lie was coming to Them"
Say, l feared IT., said the man, in a
tone Of despair. "To see him faint
like that, a thing he never did before,
and to hear him question me as to what
| had heard, told 1t me. The child
foretold her mothers death, Mr.. En-
rington, and fOretold her own"
"You knew that much2"
"Oh, yes. She was an angel, that
little one, II ever there was an angel
upon earth, and I've often fancied that
the angels must have whispered the
secret to her. And now it is his turn!
God bless him! God reward him for
the good man and master he has been."
"WLen the rest Of US turned in, the
lurid sky, with the rapid rising of the
wind, seemed to give near warning of
the coming storm, but we heaped high
the logs on the fires outside, and drew
the blankets close about us beneath the
snug roof OF the sleeping-huts, defying
the blast and rain. And so we got
to sleep, though the storm was soon
unNN fha fproot ln ell ffa fyrru A1ont
an hour after midnight a terrific crash
disturbed us; in an instant every man
was upon his feet, rushing out to see
the cause. A mighty pine tree had
been hurled by the gale to the earth.
1t fell athwart the largest Of the fires,
and as we went forward a torrent Of
sparks swirled upward and swept away
out into the forest. Some of US uttered
an exclamation Of thankfulness that
the tree had failed to touch the Sleep
ing-huts; but Gregory, who was the
first to advance, gave q cry of horror.
There lay Wilding by the FIRE, with the
huge trunk across his breast. Unable
to sleep, he had risen and stolen out to
sit by the large fire. Thus fate had
overtaken him.
Gregory knelt down, distressing
tears falling from his face. His mas
ter, who had not lost consciousness.
looked up at him with a faint, happy
smile.
at is all as it should be, Gregory"
he painted; II am going to them In the
better land"
81 spoke to him, but he did not seem
to hear me. He was gazing upward at
the orange sky. which almost seemed
a1ame; his eyes had a far-away look,
as if see ng beyond 1t. Thus he lay
for some minutes, his hands joined IN
the attitude Of n who prays, his lips
silently moving. Then a change passed
over his face
"Yes, yes; l see them, he whispered
IN a sort Of joyous eagerness; "a goodly
company-all angels of brightness. My
dear ones, | am coming"
Every gradually his eyes closed.
There was a long-drawn sigh, and all
Was over.
And so, through the vast and IN
known gate of death he passed into
Paradise. The storm spent its fury,
and the dawn came, gray and gloomy,
with a dreary mist and driving rain.
which shrouded forest and river and
mountain from u view. blotting from
our vision the fair face Of nature. But
James Wilding had awakened amid the
splendors Of eternal morning, there to
enter into the new year in sweet CON-
munlOn with those he loved; the new
year Of Immortality"
Kate drew "a deep breath. "Oh. Ber-
tie, what a solemn story. Can 1t be
truep"
"Undeniably true, Kate. so far as
my portion in 1t Is concerned. And l
think l can answer for the part of it
which l did not Witness"
"Well, it is very strange, very SOL
emnl"
Solemn enough, Kate, to have kept
you a silent listener" l put in.
Now, Tom, don't begin 10 lecture
me. BERTHE, what became of Gregory
I like that Gregory"
"What became Of him, Immediately
afterward, l don't know, for l left the
camp. Three or four years later,