River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1889-08-29

them as they would a fetter? WeI."
and he gave a harsh, uumirthful laugh.
Il shouldn't complain. I've had my
freedom. freedom to SOW the wind and
reap the whirlwind: I've flung soul and
body TO the devil, with nobody to him
der and restrain. Good Godln and the
cry was a wall of despair. that a man
will sink himself beyond the hope of re-
and fancy he is happy in do
ing it; that he will scar conscience till
he fancies that no scenes or associa-
lions viii have power to sting"
There is mercy began, as he
paused with sobbing breath,
But he interrupted me fiercely.
what can mercy do for me? Not
even God Himself can restore my vast
ed talents, my mis-spent life," and,
whimpering pitifully. he brushed his
eyes with his threadbare sleeve.
Presently, turning TO me. he asked,
a with beggarly whine: Gould you
lend me five dollars? I'm dead broke
just now. and it's hard lines for a man
who has known different times.
Without a word handed him the
money. Poor fellow! he had spoken
the truth; his manhood was gone be-
yond recall. The spark that had flick
cred for moment had sunken out of
sight again; even remorse was power
less to arouse his vanished self-re-
spect-
A few days later an unknown man in
an advanced stage of intoxication was
picked up on the street, who, to all eff
forts TO learn his name would only an
swer that they could go and read it on
his grave-stone, for he was dead.
Dead and buried thirty years." he
would mutter. One thing, however,
soon became evident to those about
him. Dissipation had done its work,
and the end of the wasted life was
close at hand.
That evening, as. at a later hour
than usual, was leaving the still, old
cemetery, met Miss Abbie.
''Wil you go with me?" she said.
II have been sent for to see a man at
the police station. Poor Tim Riley, /
am afraid. bailed him out the last
time he was arrested for being drunk.
He promised me. for the sake of his
wife and children that he would do
better. and | think he tries, but it is
so hard.
In few moments, for it was but a
short distance. we reached the SOM
Der brick building. and were taken
into cell, where, on pallet under a
flaring gas-jet, with the Oaths and
cries Of drunken men and women
sounding from the cells around, and
the gray shadow of death resting on
his haggard and unshaven face. lay
the stranger of the cemetery.
I'VE sent foryou, Miss Pennel,m said
the sergeant. who sat beside him.
because he has mentioned your name
several times in his raving. and we
thought you might be able TO tell us
what we can not find out from him.
who he is, and where his friends may
be fOundr'
Miss Abbie shook her head sadly.
II wish | could, but never saw him
but once, and that only few days ago
He spoke of having lived here. and
that he knew friend of mine who
had been dead many years, but he did
not tell me his name, or where he was
from. No." bending over him with a
long, searching look at his FACET
am quite sure that it is no one l ever
saw till them
The sound OF her voice aroused the
dying man from the partial stupor
he had sunken into, and he opened his
eyes.
They say you have asked for me.
my poor man, she said; lis there any
thing | can do for yOu?n
He moved his lips. as though trying
to speak. But the power OF speech
was passed; the faint sound died away
in an articulate murmuE With a look
in them eager and wistful. he lifted
his eyes to the face above him, so full
of tender pity, and made an effort to
raise one of his hands, as if to touch
hers. Miss Abbie saw the motion.
slight rs it was, and took the icy
fingers in her close, warm clasp. And
so, with his hand in hers, and his last
look of earth into her true and gentle
eyes. the soul Of the nameless wan
derer passed into the presence Of the
All-Merciful as well as the Adjust.
How pitifulr exclaimed Miss Alb
bic, in broken voice, as we walked
homeward through the quiet streets.
And very likely there is some woman
somewhere who loves him. No doubt
when he tried so hard TO speak, it was
to give me a message for her, and now
she viii never know"
We were passing along the side Of
the old cemetery, and as we reached
the arched gateway, she said: Let us
60 in for moment.
How peaceful it was in the abode of
the dead. with the white marbles and
the shadows of the silver naples feck-
ing the low mounds! The still air was
heavy with fragrance, and when we
paused at young Randal's grave. the
white rose at its head was heavy with
blossoms as well as dew.
Miss Abbie stopped down and laid
her hand with caressing touch on the
thick, soft sward.
Il have always felt, she said,
TREMENDOUSLY. that my grief was a bit
ter one. and nobody knows how lonely
these long years have been, but as
stood 10y that poor man tonight, and
thought OF Malcolm as he was then
taken from me. SO pure and true and
light, how blessed my sorrow was be-
side that of women who have to see
the men they love lost to them by the
separation of wrong and shame. wild er
aud worse than that of death.
He said Malcolm knew him. she
continued. after moment: perhaps
befriended him in the days when, let
us hope. he was different from what
we saw. Because of that, and for tho
sake Of the wife or mother, who may
have loved him through it all, would
like to have him buried here, instead
of in the potters field
So it was that in that green and quiet
spot we laid the nameless dead to rest.
Aud. as through the long summer days
Miss Abbie came and went. | would
often see her pause in her ministry OF
love 10 DlaDt n flower or Law a blossom