The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1890-12-19

of her soft hand upon my aching head,
as she smoothed my heavy tresses
back from my brow in the old caressing
way and kissed my forehead. could
almost catch the gentle tones with which
l knew she would address me- were she
present now
Courage, my child; and remember
that a mothers prayers are always with
you, and that He who cares for the spar
row will also watch over you and give
you strength for the battle of life. 1t
is hard, l know"
'Can you write letter, Miss"
The bridge and its great panorama had
long since vanished from my physical
senses; the village home swiftly fol-
lowed now. 1 came out OF my dream
life with painful shock which left me
for moment speechless. / looked at
the man dumfounded. He seemed what,
in my limited experience, a Western
miner ought to look like. A broad
brimmed SLOUGH hat, coarse trousers in
side of heavy boots and a Eur coat gave
him the appearance Of q grizzly bear,
such as I had seen pictured In my
school-books His face, however, was
kind, pleasant, and wore respectful
expression. He was man probably
not more than thirty-fve years of age
Can l write a letter." Intercepted,
mechanically, still gazing at him
blankly.
That's about the size Of =. Miss" he
assented, with slight relaxation of his
sad look. ''You see, Miss, I've just
come on from Leadvilie, where I've been
for about ten years I've made lots of
money out there in the mines and I've
come back to settle down. I've got to
stay in the city for week or two on
| some business, and 50 l thought I'd just
get some one to write letter for me to
| my old mother"
"Tll write your letter." I said,
promptly. The odd mother" had
settled the matter with me.
But" said I, thoughtlessly, why do
not you write it yourself? Your mother,
l am sure, would value it more if writ
ten by you"
Guess | couldn't do it, Miss" he
said, with panied look. "Tm learn
ing to write, but I'm afraid the old
mother couldn't read my writing now"
He had picked up my pencil, and was
scTibbling on piece OF paper. Gould
you read that?" he asked, handing it to
me.
| managed to decipher mother" but
that was all could make out.
You used your left hand" said l.;
why do not you learn to write with
your right, instead?" Thoughtlessly
the question was put. and it produced a
deeper pain on his face.
''Oh! know how to write with that "
| said he, hositatingly.
| noticed his increasing perplexity,
and also the fact that he did not with
draw his right arm from his coat
pocket.
Then why do you not use that hand?'
urged, still blunderingly.
"Well, Miss, you see left that hand
out in Leadvillc. An explosion took it
off"
He had put the pencil down. and
looked quite discouraged at his efforts.
longed to make amends for the pain
| had thong tlessly occasioned; so ! went
to the little typewriter, saying: II will
write your letter on this"
But what is that?" he asked, with a
puzzled look, laying his hand on the
! machine.
explained by showing him sheet
of the typewriting. He looked it over
quizzically and handed it back to me
with negative shake of the head, say
inn AEN.,t 70
old mother wouldn't like it. She'd
think it was newspaper work. l want
her to have real, genuine, hand writ
letter; something more sociablc like,
you know"
l hesitated for an instant. | was
tired and wanted to get away from the
Office. OF course could write his letter
with pen and ink: but it was only ques-
ton whether | should humor him or
not. decided IN his favor. had been
musing. | had long -ahsent friend
also, out in the Western country some
where. He had left mother-and me
years ago. We were very dear to each
other once, but a light cloud separated
us; and yet 1 loved him still. Perhaps
we might yet meet under more joyous
Circums tarceS. Who knows?
The stranger noticed my hesitation,
monentary though it was and VEN
, turad: Mother would be SO pleased to
have"
yes, of course" interrupted fully
decided. seized pen, and, placing "a
sheet of paper before me, said I was
all ready to proceed
Il want it to go something like this"
he began, thoughtfully: Dear old
mother
81 want it writ kind and tender like;
just like Id talk to her if she was
here
YES" l assented, holding my pen
poised.
But to tell it all to stranger"
Yes, | understand; but how can 1
write it for you unless you do?" urged
Then I added: You can speak freely to
me. have mother, too; good way
from here, and can imagine am writ
| ing to her."
That's So" he replied. frightening.
while something almost like blush
overspread his bronzed face.
Then I'll go ahead. Say to her:
Your boy, who left you ton years ago,
on whose head you laid your dear hand
| and rave vOur nartinU hlesSinO and