Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-07-21

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:
rs your name Gregg
The old man looked up, surprised.
Never mind" the other answered,
moving nearer and laying his hand on
Greg's arm If I come back to you
this evening-if have it in my power
TO do you good-so much goodwill you
90 home now and wait for me?"
Greg shook his head. "rm past the
help o your money, sir, thanks to We"
mo one is past the help of the Lord
said his companion. ''Tll count on your
beinr 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 sudden prescient 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 that he
was waiting for the divine hand to be
stretched out 70 him across the waters
But now he felt only the cruelty of his
fate, and 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. A pleasure boat
skinned past him. and faded to 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 the clouds in n solemn
splendor OF sisy-lit heights, and he re-
membered how he had watched his hap
pier days pass over them, beyond his
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 hymn. He shipped oars and
rowed nearer the shore. Now it swelled
clearly, and the words:
Pass me not D gentle Saviour"
reached out to him across the water.
He drew to shore and walked to the
church in the village, seating himself
on Il bench outside. A woman, coming
out with an unruly child, said to him,
sharply, that the inside was better for
such as he. He felt ashamed What
weakness had brought him there after
all his avowed resistance to religion?
He would go away. young girl
called him back. She had seen him,
for her bench was near. She took his
knotty hand as if to lead him, saying:
won't ye come in? There's plenty o
room on my bench"
Her ingenious anxiety to help him
touched the old man.
''Well, look here, he burst out. 'I'n
do any thing ye like, if yen ask 'en to
sing that there hymn again." and he
suffered himself to be led in.
To the worshipers it was as if one
had come to them from the dead. He
felt the sting of their amazement, and
was half-minded to rush out and plunge
headlong from the rocks. The words
Of he text held him: II will heal
their backsliding; I will love them free
ly, for Mine anger IS turned away"
And again: "Fear not, for l have re-
deemed thee; have called thee by
name; thou art Mine" They fell into
his heart like grain into plowed field,
plowed deeply and narrowed for the
sowing.
At last he sank to his knees. When
the people We're gone the sexton closed
the windows and doors, leaving him
kneeling, unobserved and alone. A
solemn peace held the place. Only the
rattle of a dead vine against the pane
and the groaning of the ocean reminded
him of the world outside.
Then the weary old man fell into a
deep sleep. He was on the ocean,
drifting, drifting, drifting. 1t was
night, and far horizonward star was
shining that seemed to throw out q
glittering chain of light and draw his
boat thither Shadowy forms rose from
the deep to drag him down; he felt
their clutch, but he held the chain
until he reached the star. Then, in
what had been star, he saw the face
Of woman, radiant with light. He
looked, and it was the face of his wife.
In her arms she held child, who
stretched out its hands towards him.
Somewhere a door opened; he was
vaguely conscious of a sound, yet the
eyes held him spell-bound and the lips
moved as if to speak. He listened.
"Father!' said gentle voice, and a
hand rested on his head. His heart
leaped. The vision spoke, and he held
his breath to hear.
Father! dear father!' said the voice.
"Open your eyes. It's Alice-your own
Alice"
Slowly the dream faded. Back again
came the growing twilight and the still
ness of the church. There were arms
about his neck; face was near his
own. lie saw her eyes, the very bits
o. blue sky" bright fragments in his
memory.
Father, dsar, don't you know me?
Pm AEce-youp own lost Alice"
Starting up he locked wildly about
him. "Allie, my loetle Allie!" he
gasped. Nav, nav, the sea never gi'es
up it's deadl"
He sank down, overwhelmed, and a
great sigh struggled through his frame,
as he gazed upon her like one bereft of
redSOn- one DenU DeSluc AlLl5 WIFI Htr
head on his breast.
Father" she fsltered, 'tit is lit is
your own Allie. They told me you were
dead, long, long ago, and would not
bring me back to you. Have you suf
fered, dear father? Have you grown
feeble waiting3 Did you never know
that was saved? They were kind to
me. father, but their kindness wasn't
yours. We were looking for your
grave; and, oh! can it be that we've
found you?"
Some one else was near-some one
spoke; and his young friend of the
morning took his limp hand reassur-
ingly.
"Ye, too2" faltered the old man, con-
fusedly. "Ye brung 'er back to me?''
''Yes, from England, from the good
people who picked her up at sea-"
There was silence. Even the gather
ing shadows in the little church seemed
"a III