New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1890-11-19

is so years old nov, and she still
waits for her son. All. poor, old
creature, life has not been rosy for
you. eitherl
She kept her ardent eyes fixed on
me, under the faring light Of the
torches. Her cheeks had grown more
sunken, the lines upon them deeper,
her whole aspect expressed a more
despairing sorrow.
''Your son has made you suffer,
too, has he?''
For we soldiers have all made our
mothers suffer.
'.My son!" she exclaimed, breath
lessly. "Do you know him? Oh,
tell me if he is with you? 1t is SO
dark, and my eyes have grown SO
dim, that I cannot see very well.
And the torches flare so! He is a
handsome young fellow, fair, with a
little mustache. He is a non-com-
missioned officer. Oh! he loves
me so much, I don't see why he
makes me wait so long. Ten yearsp'
She caught her breath, and hur-
ried on in lower tone:
II have seen so many handsome
young men come back to their moth
ers. Why has mine not returned?
Twice every week | come here. I
have never missed once. All, / know
the day and when the boats come in
that should bring my boy to me
very well. But he is not here yet;
no, not yet Paul! Paul.
Come, Madam, tell me about
him.
She looked at me fxedly, as though
astonished to hear anyone speak
civilly to her.
eyes, sir" she went on, II am ask
ing every one; / am trying to gain
some information. Perhaps some
one of the passengers has cen my
son?'
'"They have all landed by now,
madam. You must wait for the next
boat"
wait! Wait! And yet here is what
he wrote me-"
She searched precipitately through
her pockets, unable to find the letter
in her haste and emotion. The GUS
tom-house porters, ciltching sight of
her little black figure, snickered
aloud.
''She has her clutches on fellow
now. She won't soon let him go
again"
Did the idiots think their clumsy
sarcasm would intimidate me? I
was no longer the silly boy I had
been ten years before, and had
learned to despise towards and fools.
l turned to the old woman.
stake my arm, madam. tits rain
ing. Let me take you to. the near
est cafe. Then you can show me
your sons letter." .s -
She gave me q grateful glance, and
drawing me into one of the narrow
little streets adjacent to the Old Har-
Dor, she took me up a flight of dark
steps and into poor little room
where a table was spread. On the
table was a bottle with a red seal,
and near the bottle lay a little nose
gay offaded foweres.
"Everything is in readiness for
him." she said. "I only need to put
a match to the hearth. But see,
see what he writes to me. y
And, with shaking hand, she held
toward me an old letter she had
carefully drawn from a worn enve-
lOpe, and which I had much difficult
ty unfolding without separating the
pieces, and more difficulty still in de-
clphering, SO many were the tears
that had fallen uponit.
1t WAS dated ten years back, and
announced the arrival of her son by
the firstpacket.
And never since have [ been able
to see the incoming of a vessel with
out thinking that it is not bringing
all OF it's passengers, nor to witness
the JOY OF those who greet the return
of long-absent ones without a re
membrance Of the places at other
hearts forever left empty. And,
amid the tumult of the past and
gone impressions, I seem to hear
again the sobs of the woman in
black on the quay Of Marseilles.