Idaho semi-weekly world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1875-1908, 1892-12-16

Mr.. Poole, the Bilbury station master
pacing his lonely platform at an early
hour next morning, found his stroll sud.
denly arrested by the peremptory sum-
mons Of the telegraph.
kilograms formed the brightest spots
In Mr.. Poole's official career. He hast
ened with alacrity to his post, straight
ened the paper ribbon and opened the
Key. The message clicked itself Of, and
Mr.. Poole listened. He preferred listen
Ing to reading as the quicker method.
As his ears took in the burden Of the dis
patch his eyes gradually widened until
ms jaws began to cape for sympathy.
NEW YoRx, Sept. -. 49,.
70 the Telegraph Operator at Bfibury station,
Mrs- Isaac N =. lies at the Astor house. Ia this
cisy' very Ill Please notify relatives or friends
6AAUEL HyDE, NJ D.
wen, I'm durnedr' calculated MI
Poole. 80 that's what's to do. / thought
Jakes folks couldn't ha' ben KNOWN, IN
that caper. The old lady's cuter'n thun-
der, amt she2 Well. Ill go tell 'em.
faint time fer the freight yet, an Jake
may want ter 20 down ont
The consequence Of which timely action
on Mr.. Poole's part was that Just twenty
four hours after his grandmother had
reached the Astor house Jacob Fosdick
reached it, TOO. He found the old ladv
lying helpless, but placid, in the spot of
an others where she would have chosen
70 spend her last moments; and. bending
over her, something SO very like his idea
Of what an angel must be that he was
almost startled.
All through that day-her golden we'd
ding day-Lucy Fosdick lay and waited.
All day long the golden haired bride
cheerfully relinquishing this Bit Of her
own bright beginning for the sake Of an
others peaceful ending and watched
beside the bed, while, in the further cor
ner OF the room, Jake Fosdick sat and
watched her. 1t would have been hard
to convince him that she had not been
sent straight from heaven to care for his
poor old grandmother. Jack Hazard.
looking softly in from time to time. ex-
ulted iii the knowledge that her chief
mission lay elsewhere: but neither did
ne doubt for moment her being heaven
sent. lt was growing dusk when he
came once more and drew her from the
room. y
Come out and have walk, Dot. You
need the fresh air. Marcia is here now.
and you can be spared"
She came back, however, for mo-
ment, when she was all ready for her
walk, and stood looking down upon the
quiet, waiting face. If she were less like
an angel now that the white wrapper
was exchanged for the soft gray dress
and hat, with the cluster of fresh roses
at her belt, she was so uncommonly
lovely as woman that Jake Fosdick's
admiration knew no lessening. She laid
one little, warm hand lovingly upon the
cold, lifeless ones of her predecessor, and
then turned to go. As she did so. the
closed eyes opened full upon her with a
clearer look in them than they had shown
before.
"As pooty as picter," quavered the
feeble voice once more. ''As pooty as a
picter. God bless ye, dear.' And so
she went.
Their walk was long. and never to be
forgotten. The little bride came back
from it as blithe and rosy as if sick beds
were things unknown to her. Marcia
met them as they came, arm in arm,
along the corridor. The tears in the
honest girls eyes were contradicted by
the smile on her lips. Both struggled for
the mastery, but neither could quite sub
due the other.
''Ee's come" she said, softly. Isick's
come! An by the look on her face when
she seen him, guess he brought the
posy, too"
Without a word, but with sudden
paling of the rosy cheeks and dimming
of the joyous eyes, the little bride drew
her husband on and into the room where
Lucy Fosdick lay with that transcendent
peace upon her face which the world
can neither give nor take away. Silent
ly, side by side, they stood and read to-
gether what Gods hand had written.
Then Dots arms stole softly round her
husbands neck, and her bright head
dropped to the strong shoulder that
seemed to her SO sure shelter.
Jack" she whispered, as he held her
close, Il thought we never could be hap
pier than We are already; but now
know we can. Ladies' Home journal,