The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-07-01

"...he was my d~arter, sir: the pretti-
est. likellest leetIe 'un that ever drawed
breath. She was drowned, without
mercy. without warnin'."
The stranger looked at him keenly.
''WiIl you tell me about it?' he asked.
believe me. | do not ask from idle curl
ositv."
The tone was respectful, kind. Greg
had resisted sympathy, for it came from
unsuffering friends. VINO We're troubled
more for the condition of his soul than
Of his heart; but this genuine pity
touched him. and he was moved to
speak.
''She was all the world to me after
'er mother died. | kin remember 10Y
them soft eyes o ~hern-leetle bits O
blue sky. Every mornin' at sunup she
was a-stirrin' and singin' about the
house. Ye'd "a thought she lived per-
petua, in the hollow O. the Almighty's
hand. OF %evenin's, she'd set on the
doorstep and sing 'er hymns. Oh, them
hymns. them hymns.-how they'd come
a-driftin' acrost the water to me. There
warn't no music O. this earth like 'er
voice. / believed in Heaven every time
| heerd it.
"One O them hymns she loved more'n
all the rest. 1t was: Pass me not, o
gentle Saviour Every evenin' l could
hear it a long ways off as l was com
in home, and She settin' on the rocks
waitin' fur me. She sung it like she
learned it in Heaven. But when the
Lord found me on the lowermos'
rounds, a-st>1gglin' to mount. He flung
down the ladder. l left Him then and
there.
This day ten year ago my Alice was
drowned. l bid 'er good-Dy in the
mornin'. and she jest as lively as a sea-
bird dippin' over the waves. Long after
Id gone too fur to see 'er wavin' 'er
hands. | could hear that hymn-chune a
reaching out to me:
Pass me not, o gentle Saviour
| listened till ii grew to a fine thread O
sound. It was the last l ever heard O
my child's voice. When l come back
that evenin' she was gone. Oh. Cod
After a bit her BOAT was washed
ashore. drawed it home; twas all I'd
left of her. / put it in her gyarden,
and | filed it full o earth and planted
'er name in howers-them white kind
that never dies. It's all the grave she
has I've kept it CROWN fresh and
green"
The hating voice sank lower, then
ceased altogether. There was some
thing in the story. something infinitely
appealing in the stricken old nan him
self, that afflicted the other strangely.
The boat touched the shore and the
young man leaped out. Turning and
scrutinizing the bowed face, he said:
is your name Gregg
The old nan looked up. surprised.
Never mind" the other answered.
moving nearer and laying his hand on
Greg's arm. "If | come back to you
this e~vening-if have it in my power
to do you good-so much goodwill you
go home now and wait for me?"
Greg shook his head. I'm past the
help o your money, sir, thanks to ye.'
No one is past the help of the Lord
said his companion. III count on your
being there. Here's for your trouble.
Good-by."
Greg saw him gain the station. and
watched the train arrive and disappear
as he tackled ~homeward. The revival of
his grief overwhelmed him anew. and
he felt q sudden president dread of him
self. He looked back over his life.
Year after year had found him more
desolate. He had drifted beyond his
depth in the seas of doubt, then strug-
gled to get back; but the way was lost,
and he was vageuly conscious hat he
was waiting for the divine hand to be
stretched out to him across the waters.
But now he felt only the cruelty of his
fate, and a frenzied resolve seized him.
Leaning over the railing, he peered
down into the gurgling, deep-voiced
water. Then he raised himself. half
crouching, half-preparatory.
HIS keen eye caught the downward
sweep of a gull. \ pleasure boat
skinned past him, and faded to a speck
in the sun-swept distance. He looked
long toward his home lying at the foot
of the jagged, pine-edged cliffs, which
stood out against tn clouds in a solemn
splendor of sky-lit heights, and he re.
membered how he had watched his hap
pier days pass over tneLn, beyond ms
reach.
Once more he rose to leap over. His
hand was on the railing. He stopped
listened. 1t came again, a fine thread
o sound" He sat down. There was
plenty of time. Again the breeze
brought it fuller, and he caught the
sound OF a hymn. lie shipped oars and
rowed nearer the shore. Now it swelled
clearly. and the words:
Pass me not o gentle Saviour"
reached out to him across the water.
He drew to shore and walked to the
church in the village, seating himself