Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-11-17

nome ana nave long lie together, as lar
as we could tell. But they ordered me
from the house as though / was thief,
and babe Kitty to know me no more.
"But when old Donald McGreggor, with
more money than good looks, asked for
Kitty's hand, and the old man gave his
we took things into our own
hands and ran away. Her folks never for
gave her and never spoke to her again.
We went to Stornoway, where we rented
little cottage, and for while all went
well. Then / could get no work in the
ter But at last l got berth as ships
carpenter on a merchant ship. 1t was
the best could do, though it nearly broke
our hearts to be parted. The rent was
paid for six months, and / made all ar
rangements for Kitty's comfort during my
absence.
"Poor little girl, it was a dreary pros
pect for her. She had never been alone
before in all her short life, and the coming
months looked long and dark to her. But
good wife next door promised to care for
her and help the best she could to cheer
her up bit.
CAT last came the hour when we must
part All hands had been ordered below
by 9 o'clock, so as to be ready for an early
start long before daybreak. l fingered
with Kitty till the last moment, but at
last, with long, farewell kiss, l put her
arms from my neck and left her sobbing in
the good wife's care.
at was few minutes later when /
reached the quay. l had kept the boat
waiting, and the first mate cursed me
roundly for my delay. saw then for the
first time that my wife's brother was my
superior officer. 1t chafed my pride some
what to be so far the inferior of my brother
in-law in position but he seemed to enjoy
it, and in hundred ways made my life a
hell for the next few menths. Time passed
slowly, and not word from Kitty, of
course.
'The lover or husband separated from
his dear ones by land has the consolation
of written message, but the sailor in mid
ocean has nothing to comfort him but
memory and hope.
"But at last we were bound for home
Did ever ship sail so slowly as this one,
which was taking me home to Kitty? ]
counted off the long, slow, dragging days,
and blessed each setting of the sun that
was so many hours nearer to my little
wife. AT last the day came which brought
us to Stornoway once more. AS the houses
of the little town grew more distinct with
the lessening distance, my impotence was
like child's.
"'Kitty is there I thought. Soon
shall see Kitty and the thought sent the
blood tingling through my veins.
"At last | was free. and hurrying
through the streets, soon reached my
own door, to be met by the good wife from
the next cottage.
"She greeted me with warm words Of
welcome, as grasped her trembling hands
but needed her manner not at all.
"'Where is Kitty p were my first words
for Kitty was my only thought. Without
replying she threw open the door of our
little living-room, and led me to little
wooden cradle, from which she lifted a
rosy month-old baby. Placing it in my
arms she said, Wilma, yer kiss yer ain
bairnie, George?
"Joyfully l kissed my boy; Kitty's boy
and mine; but quickly giving him back to
the good-wife l said, is Kitty not al
home?
"Then suddenly remembering that she
would know our ship was due, l exclaimed
She has gone to meet me, and l have
missed her. will 60 and bring her back.
mae, nae, George; We maun go meet
Kitty! She didna ken We war coomin'
She's ae sleepin' secondly i'tha kirk-yard'
Here McAlpine bent his head over Ted's
sunny curls, while the baby hand caressed
the cheek of his friend in mute sympathy
In moment McAlpine continued
"For year | remained in Stornoway and
then | left my boy in the good wife's care,
and came to America, and finally to this
valley. As soon as my boy is old enough
l shall bring him here. IT'S for his sake
1 love little children. What l would do
for mine, and cannot, do for others.
"By the time he is six or seven years old
L shall go home for him; | can manage
with him by that time, don't you think so,
Mrs. Mason?"
Hastily wiping away my tears, | replied
drifted from Kitty's death to the boys
future.
In August Ted was taken i'll with a
fever. Little by little he grew worse, till
we almost lost hope. 1t was impossible to
get doctor. l knew of none nearer than
Edmonton, and nothing short of fortune
could bring him to US, SO many miles
away. How awful was the thought
that 1 might have to lay that baby form
away in this lonely spot, where the silence
was unbroken, save by the voice of bird,
the moaning of wind, or the ripple of the
Saskatchewan.
But McAlpine's simple remedies and
knowledge of "home-doctoring" were do
ing marvels for Ted. l did not wonder,
when | saw how well he did for my boy,
that the settlers depended so much on Nc
Alpine and his little chest of medicines.
His anxiety during Ted's illness was great
Still l thought, as he sat nursing the fever
ish child one evening, that his manner
seemed sad and troubled; more so than
Ted's condition or place in his affections
warranted.
Thinking that his mind was engaged
with thoughts of his own boy, spoke to
him of plan John and l had talked over
in private.
dYou have done so much for John and
Ted" 1 said, 81 wish you would go home
and bring your boy to US. We will care
for him till you prepare home and can
look after him yourself. He will be a great
comfort to you and company for Ted"
at can never be" he replied brokenly.
"To-day letter came from Stornoway.
My boy is lying-by Kitty-in the little
kirk yard"
My poor, weak words of sympathy
sounded SO cold in comparison with what
my heart felt, that will not repeat them.
'Pm alone in the world, now y he con-
tinued. "Pve never done much in the
way of psalm-singing and praying, but
do hope merciful God will give man a
chance in another world and restore his
dead alive again"
This conversation had taken place about
fortnight before the stormy night on
which my story opens.
1t was now September, and the days
though short were very warm, the nights
long and cold. A "neighbor" some four
miles back from the river had for some
time been confined to the house with
rheumatism, for which neither he nor Nc
Alpine had any remedy.
The day before McAlpine had come in
about l O'Clock, saying: Poor Calhoun's
wild over his lameness, because he can't
get to work on his place. His potatoes are
to be dug and hundred things to be done
to prepare for winter. He wants some
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