The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1892-03-03

fer questions. "Did he know this part
OF the country? He was north country by
his speech"
Yes, he knew the neighborhood, had
been there"
Being kindly, gentle woman, she put
down his absent manner to his being
weak and i'll. At this time the little girl
had been looking at him with grave child
ish eyes. Suddenly, as il touched by some
divine instinct of pity, she went up TO
him and put her little hand on his knees,
saying: "Poor, poor man." and stretched
up on tiptoe to kiss him, thrusting at the
same time into his hand battered woody
dog, one of her treasures.
The child's attempt to comfort him was
too much; a sort of sob burst from him.
This was her child, ,and she looked as Mary
had done when they were children to-
gether. He could bear it no longer; hasti
ly he stopped down and kissed the child,
then rose, saying: "Thank you, missus,
/ must be goin on my way"
In vain she begged him to stay till her
man came home; he still refused. AS he
passed out Of the door he turned and
asxed: Maybe you know is any of the
family OF Lear left hercabout?"
lhey are all dead or gone away"
& Aye, so I've heard" he answered, and
went out into the night.
Where should he go? He had no friends
who would kn w him. lie walked down
the pathway and heard the door shat be-
hind him. He staggered from weakness
and almost fell.
"Aye, but / will never disgrace her. By
the look in her eyes she has not forgotten
old days. Eh, mum, but she is bonny
yet" he murmured to himself. in the
darkness he made out shed by the path.
He must rest a few minutes more. He
turned aside and crept in at the open
door. Here he sat down, leaning against
some wood stacked there, trying TO think.
The snow drifted in on him unheeded !;
his thoughts had gone back to the
past. Why was all getting so clear to
him? His old home, the kitchen, with
its wide chimney place and k-raltercd
ceiling. He could hear his mothers voice
grooming the evening hymn, "Glory to
Thee, Ny God, This Night" as she went
about her work. Mary Romer was there,
slip of girl; they were s%ting by the
wood fire on little stools, talking of what
they would do when they were big.
How bright and happy they were,
mother listening to and smiling at their
childish fancies. Such a Sense of relief
was coming over his aching limbs. Tho
door opened, tail figure came in and
stood by him. Who was it? Was it the
kind, grave doctor who had fought death
for him? The form bent over him and
a voice said: John Lear, you have had n
hard fight, but you have kept honest.
Rest comes to ALL" and a strong tender
hand was laid on his aching forehead.
"Aye, the fights been hard, but l could
work yet. Could you help me to job?"
he added, trustingly.
81 will help" said the soft, deep voice,
Z" but you must rest now"
And deep sleep fell on the poor, tired
John Lear, and the forms OF his mother
and Mary faded. He slept quite peace
fully, holding still the child's toy, which
he had kept in his hand unconsciously.
In the morning the farmer came to fetch
wood and found John Lear sleeping the
sleep which has no awakening to pain,
cold or want. The snow had nearly
covered him and made his winding sheet
No one knew him; this shattered man
had no likeness TO the fresh, hopeful
youth who had left long years ago. He
had kept his secret.
The farmer, good man, said "though
he might be a tramp, still he had been his
guest and the little lass had given him
her toys" he should have no pauper's
funeral, so he buried him at his own ex-
pense, and himself and his wife followed
TO the grave.
Mary never guessed that il was her old
love they had laid in his last home in the
quiet white cnurchyard and that her little
child had given him his last kiss on earth.
Temple Bar.