Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1894-08-17

tlums nodded their yellow heads, and
reached the ears of little boy who
was playing "all by his lonesome" in
the oldfashioned summer house at the
foot of the garden.
"Tummin', mamma" came back the
quick answer, and Mrs. Pond, Davy' s
mother, went back to her pleasant
sitting-room and the company of a
neighbor who had called.
"He's strange child, Davy is, 4"
said the mother.
This was no gossip she was talking
to, and it was a relief to speak of Da-
vid's peculiarities to one who would
listen to her, and aid her by advice or
sympathy. The child's father looked
upon her fears as the expression of
rank heresy. His Davy-his little
mani There never was such boy in
the world, none as bright and COM
panionable. At the same time the
father knew that his boy was not quite
like other children, or why would he
prefer to play alone rather than with
the little ones of the neighborhood?
EYES," Mrs. Pond was saying, che
talks to himself nearly all the time. l
can hear him in the arbor, and have
stolen down there often, but he was
always alone, playing with the leaves,
or talking in a low voice And he has
hallucinations. I know it, because he
talks in his dreams of playfellow he
calls Angel.
Perhaps" suggested the neighbor,
cautiously, che really does see the
angels. read in book once story
of an old lady who had died but
couldn't rest in her grave because she
had hidden her will, and her niece, to
whom her money was left, could not
find it. So she came back to earth to
try and show her where the will WAS
The girl could not see her, but walked
through and through her, but the dog
could see her and the child in the
cradle, and it reached out its hands to
her."
"That," said Davy's mother, sis
only book story. l couldn't believe
it if | tried.
81 believe there are influences we
do not know how to receive" said the
other women "some are born of flame,
some of flesh and some of the spirit.
Perhaps Davy is under control; he
may have visions.
At that moment the little fellow
came running in. He was pretty
boy, but not healthy-looking. His
soft, curling hair lay in rings on a
pale, high forehead. A blue mark,
said to predict early death, lay between
his delicate brows. The same blue ap-
pearance settled about his mouth. He
painted with the exertion of running.
Mrs. Pond looked meaningly at her
friend and began to question the child
in the lingo of mothers.
"Where has Davy besn?"
"Playin' wifi Angel"
"Why doesn't Davy bring Ange
home?"
"Angel won't come"
Where does Angel go when Davy
comes in the house,"
"Davy doesn't know"
The child spoke with sad regret
even as the little boy in the story o
the Pied Piper, who all his lif,
lameuted that because he was lame he
I did not get to the cave in time to b,
swallowed up with the other children,
but only caught one glimpse Of tn,
wonderful country into which tbey
were gone.
Another year has passed over payy
I yellow head He il IN new country,
bat he knows little Of H. From th'
garden of iowa 30 the garden of Michl
f gan is not great change Ia a chill,
/ who Is H0 ill he must he carried on
7 pillow all the way. tie hal fallei
sick aud faded from the day, almos
+ from thr hour. when the faisi iiy lei
I theiF ali home. and ho was torn, sob
biug aui aahappY, from the old afho
and his dear Anerl
llis mox xafF hai hsou fafy palleu
with him and the kiHi neishbeT abb
F eane g. SEQ hlm of tnia tim tia
angels Aemt eFef8 eaefsi tAeY ser
upt subject e. His hse uthrf people
E aHi lid ust ueai g. De- conveyed =.
eifsm e oT huats iFpm une palas q
another Hut HaFF UaH li8t gulaiaf ls j