Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1892-02-14

greater, dear. Oh, what shall we do?
What shall we do?-poor darlingw
Somehow l thought Of my own home
and wondered II the little folks there
were well tonight, so many, cold,
weary miles away in the old North
State.
Then the mans voice said in deep,
rich tones:
81 think tits the crisis with her, dear. +"
Then the little cough once more and a
patient little moan that died away in a
sigh. eff she can get through the night
we may hope for an improvement to-
morrow, Clara. See, she is going to
sleep now"
Then there was a long hush, but after
ward came the cough-that cough that
hurts parents heart worse than it
could the child, 1t seems. Then little
whimper of pain and then the voice Of
the almost sobbing woman:
what would we do without her,
Charlie? What would we do without
her? She is all we have. / could not
go home again without her and leave
her here. What would we do, Charlie?
What would we do?"
began to feel uncomfortable. could
not bear to hear this sort Of talk. can
not stand such things. smoked large
brunette pipeful of the ablest tobacco l
| could get hold of and walked the floor.
1t was terrible. l could not read.
| could not write. When the dry, quick
| cough, and the sigh, and the woman's
sob'came l got so tired l started and
turned pale, and if it had not been too
late at night would have left the room
altogether.
"You must give her the medicine now,
1t is IL o'clock, and she had it before at
| 10. Be brave, dear heart. Have cour-
age. Others have passed through even
deeper sorrow, Clara" came the deep,
earnest, comforting voice OF the hus-
band. "Li:e and death are not in our
| hands. We can only do our best and be
ready for the worst"
could not endure this. / am OF too
sympathetic nature. / rang the bell
intending to order my room changed,
but got ashamed of myself before the
boy came and told him to have me called
at 1880 in the morning, and he went
away with bright new shilling which
| had once owned.
''She is awake now, Charlie, and she
knows me. See! Yes, indeed, she does.
She recognizes our voices, Charlie. But
she is weaker; oh, so much weaker! She
can hardly turn over or lift her head
any more. Oh, my poor, poor darling!
What can I do for you?- What can l
COZ"
"Then l could hear her mingled sobs
and kisses. The husband paced the
| floor.
could not bear this any more. l
arose and dressed. IL was no sorrow
that could relieve. might as well 60
away from it. l folded and put away
| the rich hghtrObe in my bag and
dressed myself automatically. Then l
went down stairs with my luggage, the
little hollow cough still ringing in my
ears. l said at the Office that would
| pay my bill and go. | could not bear
the grief even of those whose faces /
had never seen. IL might be foolish, but
/ l could not help it.
''Do not 60, Mr., Nye," the night
/ clerk said. 1--WE will give you 81, on the
| parlOr floor 1t is a much better room,
with steam heat in it. Here Front.
| Show Mr. Nye to 80 and tell 50 that
they will have to leave in the morning.
You are the third man they have driven
out with their wild grief and their
croupy dog"
If we only knew more sometimes we
| would grieVe less.