The Sunday morning news. [volume] (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1886-1891, 1891-12-13


a cluster, with his face upon his arm.
touched him on the back. Looking up
and seeing me, he says, in our deaf and
dumb talk, do not be angry
Il am not angry. good boy; am your
friend. Come with me. "
] left him at the foot Of the steps Of
the Library cart, and went up alone.
She was drying her eyes.
"You have been crying, my dear"
Yes, father"
"whys
"A headache
Not heartacheg
81 said headache, father"
Doctor Marigold must prescribe for
that headache"
She took mp the book of my prescrip-
tions and held it up with a forced smile,
but seeing me keep still and look earnest
she softly laid it down again, and her
eyes were very attentive.
1.-The prescription is not there, Sophy. !"
sWhere is it,"
"Here, my dear"
brought her young husband in, and
put her hand IN his, and my only fur
ther words to both of them were these:
DIR. Marigold's last prescription. To
be taken for life" After which / bottled.
When the wedding come off, mount
ed coat (blue and bright buttons) for
the first and last time in all my days,
| and / give Sophy away with my own
hand. There We're only us three and the
gentleman who had had charge of her
for those two years. give the we'd
ding dinner of four in the Library cart.
Pigeon pie, a leg of picked pork, a pair
of fowls and suitable garden stuff. The
best of drinks. | gave them speech,
and the gentleman gave us a speech, and
all our jokes told, and the whole went
off like a skyrocket. In the course of
the entertainment Iexplained to Sophy
that should keep the Library cart as my
living cart when not upon the road, and
that should keep all her books for her
just as they stood, till she come back to
claim them. So she went to China with
her young husband. and it was parting
sorrowful and heavy, and got the boy
had another service; and as of old,
when my wife and child were gone.
went plodding along alone, with my
whip over my shoulder, at the old horses
head.
Sophy wrote me many letters, and
wrote her many letters. About the end
of the first year she sent me one in an
unsteady hand: Dearest father, not
week ago had a darling little daughter,
but am SO well that they let me write
these words to you. Dearest and best
father, hope my child may not be deaf
and dumb, but / do not yet know
When | wrote back limited the ques-
ton; but as Sopht never answered that
question, felt it to be sad one. and
never repeated it. For a long time our
letters were regular, but then they got
irregular, through Sophy's husband be-
ing moved to another station, and
through my being always on the move.
But we were in one another's thoughts,
was equally sure, letters or no letters.
Five years, odd months, had gone since
Sophy went away. / was still the king
of the Cheap Jacks, and at greater
height of popularity than ever. / had a
first rate autumn of it, and on the 23d
of December. 1864. ] found myself at
Uxbridge, Middlesex, clean sold out. So
logged up to London with the old
horse, light and easy, to have my Christ
mas eve and Christmas day alone by the
fire in the Library cart. and then to buy
regular new stock of goods all round.
to sell EN- again and get the money
am neat hand at cookery, and I'll
tell you what knocked up for my Christ
mas eve dinner in the Library cart: /
knocked up q beefsteak pudding for one,
with two kidneys, dozen oysters and
couple of mushrooms thrown in. It's
pudding to put man in good humor
with everything except the two bottom
buttons of his waistcoat. Having rel
ished that pudding and cleared away,
turned the lamp low and sat down by
the light Of the fire, watching it as it
shone upon the backs of Sophy's books.
Sophy's books so brought up Sophys
self that saw her touching face quite
plainly before dropped of doing by
the fire. This may be reason why
Sophy, with her deaf and dumb child in
her arms, seemed to stand silent by me
all through my nap. was on the road,
off the road, in all sorts Of places North
and south and west and east, Winds
liked best and winds liked least, Here
and there and gone astray, Over the hills
and far away-and still she stood silent
by me, with her silent child in her arms.
Even when woke with u start she
seemed to vanish, as if she had stood by
me in that very place only single in
slant before.
had started at real sound and the
sound was on the steps Of the cart. 1t
was the light, hurried tread of child
coming, cl;lmbering up. That tread of
child had once been so familiar to me
that for half moment / believed / was
a-going to sea little ghost.
But the touch OF real child was laid
upon the outer handle OF the door, and
the handle turned, and the door opened
little way and a real child peeped in.
A bright little comely girl, with largo
dark eyes.
Looking full at me, the tiny creature
took off her mite of straw hat. and a
nrantitv Of dark curls fell all about her
face. Then she opened her lips. and
said in pretty voice:
Grandchildren
"Ah. my Godt" | cries out. 'She can