Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-12-10
A HIGHWAY WAIF.
How It's Coming Comforted a Sor.
 rowing Mother.

rowing Mother.
 The great yard of the King George inn at Cornchester was almost empticd of men, horses and vehicles when Jere miah Mott, the Willowmere carrier, entered it. It was then eight o'clock of a winter evening, and nearly every body had gone home from market. The stables of the King George were almost empty. In its accustomed corner stood old Farmer Scrooby's gray mare; but that was not unusual, seeing that Scrooby never went home until he had finished his "market-day lowance" He was sitting in the bar parlor just then, leisurely soaking his capacious body with gin and-water, and the ostler knew that the gray mare would have to stand in it's stall for a good hour yet. But it was something very un- usual to see Jerry Mott's stout pony in the stables at that time, and the ostler was curious to know the reason of the carriers delay. As a usual thing, Jere- miah was off and away before six.
 "Yew be late tonight, Master Mott, !" said the ostler, as Jerry approached the stable door. "You'm away home afore this, in general"
 "Ah!' Jeremiah heaved a long sigh. "Ah! You be right, Willum; yes, you be right. Outwards at twelve and in wards at siX-them is my rule, as a hewsual thing-yes, oh, dear, yes"
 Well, ycw be two hours late in go- ing hinwards tonight, then, Master Mott for 'tis eight now by parish church clock"
 "Ah, dear, yes!' said Jerry, helping the ostler to yoke the stout pony into the shafts of the carriers cart But l was two hours late in startin' from Willowmere! ye see, Willum. Oh, ah yes, of course. Trouble, Willum, trouble it was that did it. All flesh is grass, ain't it, now, Willum?"
 "Ah, ycw be right, Master Mott. Yes man as is born of woman'-very powerful effectin' words them be. Somebody dead, Master Mott?"
 "Hcs," said Jerry, heaving another prodigious sigh. "Oh, yes, Willum. My little grandowter."
 Nay. What, Bob little gel? I be sorry to hear ont, Master Mott. And the only one they had, too! Dear, dear!'
 "Ah!" sighed Jerry. "Ten months old this very day, and as fine a child as ever ycw did see. The way it took nourishment! Oh but 'tis a world O trouble in this now, aint it, Willum?"
 "Yew be right there," said William. There do be a deal O deaths. Old Simon Brown died last week-matter O ninety-fower he were. An, very sad is this world-so it is.''
 Aye" said Jerry, clim ping into his cart, and swinging his lantern over its contents to see that they were all safe; aye, Willum, we be all born to trouble, accordin' to the Scripcher. Take it very bad, do some on us, too, when we be called to kiss the rod, too. |"
 Human natur, Master Mott, human natur'. Yes, I reckon Bob and his pore wife Il take it very hard Dear, dear, a deal they did think O that child, surely! The way it were dressed like a quality infant An, sore trouble, indeed"
 Aye, Willum; and, ye see, all the more so cause Bob and his wife has no more. Oh, a very desolate house, in deed, assewer you, Willum, when come away. Bob, my lad I says, you bear up; listen to parson, Bob, I says. Let him speak comfortable words, says l."
 ''To be sure," agreed the ostIer. "'Tis very seasonable is a bit O reli- zion when a mans in trouble" "Aye!' said Jerry, gathering up the reins. Aye! Buried it to-day, they did, Willum. Alongside my old woman it is-God rest 'em both! We'll, good night, Willum-a very sad world is this here"
 Jerry went rumbling out of the yard and through the archway into the glar- ing lights of the market place. Usual ly he had stopped his pony at the sweet-stuff shop and purchased mar lzeting" for Bob's baby; tonight he drove sadly past, for the baby was dead, and beyond the reach of lollipops. He could see the little green grave in Willowmere churchyard in his minds eye as he drove slowly out of Corn chester and turned into the dark coun- try lane that led homeward Such a tiny little mound it was-how strange that it covered so much of human love and sorrow!
 It is six miles from Cornchester to Willowmere, and between the market town and the sleepy village lie two other placcs-one a rather large col fiery village called Falmouth, the other a tiny hamlet called Little Ashby. It was old Jerrys duty to call at both these places. There were parcels to deliver and commissions to give an ac- count of. Presently, therefore, he
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