Woman's chronicle. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1888-1???, 1889-07-20

When entered, she opened her eyes, which
had been closed, and | noticed the great change
which had come in the hours of night. Her face
was white and drawn, though the eyes were still
bright and quite clear; her hands moved rest
lessly, and she spoke almost Immediately, first
falteringy, then nervously, and almost as rapidly
as ever.
II am glad to see you, Ma am; | have had a
hard hard fight; life has been hard, and yet |
don't won't to die. Can't they save me, don't
you think? The children, whatever will they do?
Willie was always croupy, and Bessie q most care
less child; then Tommy burns are still tender,
and little Emmy great one to fret pray to the
dear Lord to let me live till Christmas Poor as
[ was, allus had little tree for them, and if |
go, they won't have any Christmas, cause Luke
thinks Christmas is all nonsense. Yes, Ma am"
IN response to my question, if she would like me
to read, ''please read me the twenty-thrd Psalm"
AS | read; "The Lord is my shepherd, 3" she joined
in with me, "The Lord is my shepherd-but what
botherlng old sheep have been '
II shall not want, read. "No, Ihaye never
really wanted-that is for q long time-sometimes
we've been hungry, butbread always came Trhe
green PASTURE ah!-that sounds good-to think
of me, poor me, lying down and no one coming
after me to wake me! Why, at home couldn't
rest a moment but some little one would cry for
man, '-ah! whatever will they do? They willcall
me, and will be resting, and they won't make me
hear; Oh, oh!'
sYea, though | walk through the valley of the
shadow of death, will fear no evil, for Thou art
with me; Thyroid and Thy staff they comfort me,
| read on softly, hoping to calm her, and for a
little while there was that sad silence that the
presence of death brings
She had become exhausted, and lay quite STILL
Occasionally tear would steal down her check
and evidently her thoughts wandered. sWhy,
Jem, is that you?" she murmured, and then
softly, "Shool Bessie don't be afraid hold on
to mothers hand; the way is getting dark"
The clock on the mantel seemed to tick loudly,
and up the stairs came the black cooks voice.
chanting in sad monotone: go Lord the trouble
I've SEEM" Emma Mary turned at the sound
"That's it, Mrs. H, the trouble I've seen; even
when was a girl | never had no fun. Won't you
please light the lamp, nurse? it's getting dark,
can't see who it isl Why, it's feythur and mother
All, me! forty-seven and tired. | amt worth
much having, Lord"
had began the hymn, 'Just as am" think
ing to quiet her.
80, I'd like to wash me clean! Take my hand
somebody, pleased What is it that about holding
the hand? my teacher used to read it,"
l repeated, "For will hold thy right hand"
eyes, that's it is my right hand clean? I'd like
to wash me clean, butts the Lord Jesus!"
The story is told; a few of us followed to the
grave the heroic little soul, who had bottled so
hard for dear life. When | saw the stolid Luke
and heard his matter-of-fact arrangement with the
undertaken, for the cheapest possible colin to be
paid for out of the burial fund, to which she had
always subscribed, felt how much lay in her oft
repeated plant:
''Forty-seyen and tiredH'
FELICIA Holt.
(The foregoing sketch comes to The Home
Maker with private letter, from which the follow
ing extract is taken;
~ ni,.n tLn .tnr.. il,ct ~ W.,