The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1892-06-25

Willie is sick, sick unto death; and not
one OF these reckless, hardened despera-
does but feels a soft aching in his heart
for the sunny tempered boy.
Poor little chap" signs one. Blamed
II 1t amt hard for him to die so far away
from home, mother and friends"
This speech sets score of minds wan
derlng away to Iar-off housewives,
children, sweethearts.
81 tell you what, pards," continues the
speaker, "a cove don't appreciate woman
until he falls sick, and then he knows
| her true value. / left little woman be-
hind me when I got this cursed gold
| fever, intending to return at the end of a
year, and here 1 have drifted from place
to place, and now, at the end Of five years,
| Pm no better off than when l started.
Blast me-" dashing his cards upon the
ground, IF l haven't mind to start for
home tomorrow. 1 tell you, pards, all
the gold in the world amt worth a true
woman's heart. We neglect, slight and
toss 'em aside, but it's the truth what
Pm saying"
Right you are, Bill" echoed one OF
his companions. "Sick or in trouble,
who so kind and gentle as woman.
God bless them"
Inside a little cabin the sick boy lies
with the unmlstakable pallor of death
| upon his sunken, pain-drawn face. The
| curly, light hair is dark and moist from
the burning fever. He is not alone.
Peggy is kneeling by his narrow bed
side with one Of his wasted hands clasped
| tight between her own. She is sobbing
softly.
Don't cry, Peg, dear. It is not half so
hard to die as one would think for. The
worst part of all is that l must go with
out bidding mother and sister Nell good
by. Nell is about your age, Peg. She
| -i1I l. 7 La i r
was going to the diggings to make my
fortune, and l would come back rich,
then she and mother would be fine ladies'
Poor mother. We did not let her into
the secret, because if we did she would
never have let me come. / intended to
return home next month, and now"
with a pitiful CULVER of his lip, Il must
never see them any more. Oh! Peg, Peg,
| if / could see my dear mothers face just
for half a moment. She has such a sweet
kind face, Peg. Such pretty white hair
that waves so nice around her forehead.
l am the youngest of six. She was so
proud of me, Peggy. She used to lay
my head upon her breast and kiss me so
many times. If / could only feel one of
her dear, dear kisses upon my lips now 1
could die content. Would you mind"
with faint blush staining his hollow
cheeks, would you mind kissing me
just once, Peg. l will try and think it is
my mother"
With sob the girl draws his head to
her bosom, and resting it there presses
slowly and reverently a dozen tender
kisses upon the thin, blue lips.
Dear Willie. Poor little boy" she
whispers, brokenly, lovingly stroking
and gently smoothing the matted, wet
hair from off his forehead.
Il wonder if God would hear and listen
if 1 tried to pray. Do you think He
would, Peg? But am so tired-so very
tired. VIII you pray for me, dear?"
The girl mods assent. Gently replacing
him upon the pillow with bowed head
and clasped hands Peggy prays. She
starts as another form slips down by her
side, and the clergyman's clear, kind
voice arises in earnest, passionate plead
ing. The divine flow of words over
whelms Peggy, kneeling, spellbound, be-
side the speaker. Her soul is filled with
strange, hitherto unknown feeling
beautiful, mysterious, vague. And when
he ceases involuntarily she again raises
the dying boy upon her breast.
Il wish l could go with you, Willie.
Death is beautiful. 1t is rest, rest"