Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1890-07-03
TO be continued.
FANCIED HIMSELF A CHILD.
His Dying Moments Dream of Child
hoods Happy DAYS

his Dying Moments d Dream OF Child
hoods Happy Days.
The doctors said it was no unusual
thing in delirium. but it seemed strange
and pathetic to the loving watchers that
the middle aged care-worn man tossing
YEARLY on sick bed, should fancy him
self again a child at his mothers knee.
The grave far away in a country village
where she slept had no existence as far as
he was concerned. She had never died,
but was with her boy again. The many
trials of life that had worn those deep
lines in his face had passed from his
memory, now, and boyish woes and con-
fidence alone were on his lips.
When his weeping wife laid her hand
upon his fevered brow he looked up and
smiled and called her mother. The
hand that held 1.-THE medicine to his lips,
that smoothed the pillow, was mother S, -
and in all the faces that came and went
about his bed he saw but hers, which had
been the first his baby eyes had known,
and over which the dews and SHOWS of
twenty years had lain.
He had forgotten her, oh, so many
years. He had been too busy to yearn to
lean his tired head upon that faithful ten
der breast, and thousand transient
worldly things had clouded the image of
that kind mother, but as deaths mighty
hand set aside those perplexing, fretting
distractions, all SO little now, clear and
sweet to his parched soul came the memory
of an innocent childhood and mother S
love, and all at once he knew himself a
weary, tumbled creature, sick and faint
over earth's fevered, muddy draught, and
he went back, like a little child, to her
whose tenderness had never failed him, to
drink once more of that pure, cleansing
stream.
your little boy is tired, mother. The
sun is very hot.
His children broke into sobs as he spoke,
but his fatherhood was a thing unknown
to him now.
May | wear the new boots to-day,
mother? Please! You said that | should.
I'm not girl, as the fellows said I was,
any more, for you We cut my hateful curls
m most man now, mother, and when
I'm big I'll give you heaps and heaps of
things; red silk dress like Cousin Mary s
and hat with feather lots and lots
longer than hers, most as long as my own,
maybe.
I'm sleepy and I want to go to bed. I've
been a bad boy some to-day, amt |? but
I'll ask God to forgive me, and if you do,
guess he will, too. Hear my prayers,
mother. I've learned them quite by heart
now"
They saw that the end was close at hand
then, and his wife made frantic appeal
to him to recognize her, but his ears
were fast dulling to all earthly sounds,
and he only struggled to raise himself to
his knees. They could have restrained
him. but he said:
why, can't 60 to sleep without say
ing my prayers. I've been a bad boy to-
day, and God would be angry, mother
Then they helped him up, and with
tender arms supported the weakened form,
while he knelt with upturned eyes fast dim
ming with deaths film. and clasping his
hands as a little child does by its crib side,
prayed the sweet petition of:
Now lay me down to sleep,
And pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.
And if die before wake,
I pray Thee. Lord, my soul to take.
And which among US dare to say the
lisping. childish prayer had not the
power divine to wash away the dust and
sin that are this sad old worlds dark
heritage.
WJJJA TJOYD JACKSON