Morning journal and courier., 1892-01-14
About a week afterwards an

some time. About a week afterwards an
order was sent from a saloon-keeper for
Andys wages, which the manager very
properly refused to pay, sending back
word, however, that he would pay the
money due to no one but Andy himself.
1t was not long before he came, looking,
oh, so sick and weak. He had been on a
protracted spree, and his trembling limbs
and pallid face told the whole story.
From that time he never seemed to
rally. He did some work, but was not
regularly employed, the pay always find
ing its way into the money drawers of his
friends-the saloon-keepsrs.
Last summer he was taken sick, and as
he had no money to pay for a lodging he
slept in an old disused barn, where he lay
for many a night watching the stars
through the open spaces between the logs.
At last he grew delirious, and h. fsncied
that one bright star had a face like his
mothers and at times she smiled pleasantly
and OH SO lovingly on him, and he felt
her soft hand on his forehead as abe called
him mothers dear boy" Then again the
same star, wearing the came face, would
mock and jibe at him, and he would wake
from his sleep bathed in perspiration and
trembling in every limb, with the wild cry
of ''Motherl" on his lips, to find Il all q
dream.
ont WOEu came 10 Llt kGDeTlntGlG-
ent of the Paymaster that Andy was sick,
and he came down to the village at once TO
see him. He was shocked to find him in
the barn on a bed of hay, and covered with
a single old blanket; and he could not re-
strain his tears when Andy smiled feeble
welcome as he held ont his shaking hand
1t was not long before he was removed to
a neighboring house and placed in q clean
and comfortable bed, where he was pro-
vided with everything which money or
thoughtfulness could procure. Promising
10 see him the next day his friend
left him. Early on the morning following
he went again to the village; poor Andy
had just died, and as he was destitute, his
friends" were already digging q grave
preparatory to giving him a hasty burial
A cemetery had for a long time been
projected in the park below the village, but
as yet no one had had sufficient enterprise
to perfect it. Taking the matter in his
own hands, this good samaritan sent to
the town for a casket and suitable clothing,
and, after laying out the new cemetery
caused n grave TO be made there where
Andy was buried.
One could not wish for a lovelier OF
quieter spot in which to rest after Efe's
toiisoms cares are over. The park, which
is not more than half a mile wide at its
widest extent, stretches for three miles
between two high ranges of mountains,
whose SUBMITS are roseate and glorifed
by each rising and setting sun. Fronting
it on the south. are the glorious Red noun
tain peaks, their brilliant colors enhanced
by the ribbons of snow that remain in the
crevasses of the mountain side, and on the
north, snow-capped hounf Abraham scars
far above the clouds. SiCirting the noun
tain on the west, and folio wing their in
Vulnerable curves, is the famous "Mears
Toll Road )" which Is at once the pride of
the citizens and the admiration of every
stranger Red Mountain river runs through
the park. hurryiDg on, as IL in haste to
join itself with the green waters of the
Uncompahgre, in the great Uucompshgre
canyon below.
Later in the season q little child died
and was buried beside Andy. 1t seemed a
fitting - ce, for little children, under
standing the gentleness of his nature, loved
him SO well. There, on the banks of the
river they lie: the young life gone ont with
all its untired resources, and -hs other,
whose wasted life was worse th useless.
1t is probable that Andy's relatives will
never hear of his sad fate. In her home,
in far distant state, his sged mother may
still be waiting and watching, hoping
against hope, for tidings of the bright-faced
boy who left her SO many years ago.
NO LONlHS uo~tEs 10
his grave; but Mother Nature, in whose
bosom he reposea, covers it with lavish
hand. Indeed he lies in the midst of g vast
flower garden, filed with the choicest and
most delicate of colors; one variety sue
ceeding another with almost marvellous
/ rspidity as the short summer months go
by, and beautiful birds of gorgeous plum
age sing above his lowly bed. In winter,
the same kind mother wraps him in her
pale winding sheet, and the winds which
whistle through the valley chant his wild
requiem.
No wooden tablet or marble pillar mark
his resting place; but prouder monument
no man can boast. For, above him, kingly
Mount Abraham lifts his glittering head,
perpetual and enduring when crumbling
stone shall have passed away, as If in eter-
nal supplication for the poor erring mortal
lying so peacefully at his feet
RACHEL ROGERS.