The morning news., 1892-02-21

board for three days past, and all rny pray
ers and pleading for honest work had fallen
Hat upon the s.rs ~ -.a., s~si the little
gaunt fingers pulling at my heart-strings
now, and the pale, wan face looking up In
pleading TO my eyes,
The tears fell thick and fast down the
poor beggars cheeks.
But do not despair urged, as the sobs
and
Despair Indeed,n be Interrupted hur-
riedly. Were you cast upon the bosom of
the Wild, wind-w hipped ocean and behold
ing a strand Of seaweed, graspit with your
sudden hope and then feel yourself go down.
down, with the frail thread clutched be-
tween your cramped and trembling fingers,
would you despairl Ahi would your This
little organ at my feet is the frail straw at
which caught with such eagerness this
morning aud have felt myself sinking step
by step each moment since, until now the
waters are strangling me and the
briny froth OF despair is dash
ing into my gasping nostrils and binding
my eyes red with grief. Ere another day
has dawned, may a Kind aud merciful
heaven fold the two jewels Of my heart and
soul TO It's bosom and rock them gently.
sweetly there and feed them upon the love
and beauty of paradise. And ere the sun
has again risen from his watery pillow.
may the hungry fires OF hell have Tapped up
this thin, accursed frame Of mine. that the
demons that have pursued me through
thirty wears OF toll and struggle. may peer
with ghonllsh glee into my dismal grave. "
A terrible groan escaped his thin, trem-
bling lips, his breath came short and hard,
long, labored sigh and he fell prone upon
the cold stone pavement at my feet
bent quickly over him as a shimmering
ray OF light suddenly burst from a distant
tower and dispelled the cleaning Of the
early twilight and fell full uuon his cold.
olanched face. His lean, fleshless limbs,
already chilled and frozen with tie bitter
winds, were stiff in death and almost as
hard as stone. His eyes were set as motlon-
less as though pinioned by rIvets of steel
and not muscle quivered OF drop Of the
thin blood coursed through his veins.
He was dead his wish fulfilled, and the
ones that he loved so well had gone before
him. Starved and frozen, the mother sat
upon the low steps OF the howell from which
she had been driven into the cold, wind
swept streets, the gaunt. fieshless erms of
the little one entwined about her neck.
her lips welded to its own in a last, eternal
mothers kiss, the lifeless body pressed
tightly to her throbless bosom: pale moon
beam in charity overspread ths white
pinched brow, half upturned in reverential
duplication to the skies A little mouse
no5bleu III Ine tOlus OF the Unln skirt, hiding
behind the frail shelter to shut out the bit
ing winds, or TO keep this human statue of
maternal love and sacrifice company.
The lapse of only n few years and the poor
beggar and his lovod ones have been for.
gotten; few ever knew they lived or died.
Upon the spot where the dismal hovel
sat, now stands grand business house, In
which the music of jinglinR millions is
heard each day. and the potter's field, where
lies the beggar and the ones he loved. has
been reclaimed and upon the site to-day
looms up in kingly greeting to the blue
skies gorgeous modern palace with wide
gardens, rich with the perfume of rarest
flowers, sloping valleys. broad driveways
and low mountains looped In here and there,
each a pretty coloring in the magnificent
painting.
Can it be that each Of the nodding roses
waving over this potter's field is the mate
rializing of the soul of some one of the poor
unfortunates that sleep unforgotten beneath
them1
Who knows but what the two old bankers
who almost trampled upon the poor beRaar
at their feet were not Aleck and joint that
Gertrude and Julia did not pass him with
their happy hearts and gay laughter ring
Ing like new silver colnl that the stately
figures from whence came on the breath of
the winds the words that had heard were
not their mothersl Who knowsa Indeed,
who does knowa
he must do it, but beautiful heaven pity
the world that made it so.
HENRY WEBB KoLsUN.