The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1895-09-17

Ihe uttJe mother Is on tle 1Cdg.
ing was surely the least sinful The
Holy One, blessed be he, would know
she did not mean to work. Perhaps in
his mercy he would make allowance for
an old woman who had never profaned
his rest day before.
And SO that very evening, having
made hasty meal and lodged the pre-
cious letter in her bosom, the little
grandmother girded mp her loins to walk
the seven and thirty miles. No staff
took she with her, TO to carry such came
under the Talmudical definition of
work =" Neither could she carry an
umbrella, though it was season of
rain Mile after mile she strobe briskly
toward the pallid face which lay so far
beyond the horizon and yet ever shone
before her eyes like guiding star. 81
am coming, my lamb, she muttered
1.-THE little mother is on the way"
1t was muggy night. The sky, flush
ed with weird hectic glamour, seemed
to hang over the earth like pail The
trees that lined the roadway were
shrouded in dragging vapor. At mid
night the mist blotted out the stars.
But the little grandmother knew the
road ran straight. All night she walked
through the forest, fearless as Una, meet
ing neither man nor beast, though the
wolf and the bear haunted its recesses
and snakes lurked in the bushes. But
only the innocent squirrels darted across
boY. f,atb Tho ,,,o,ni,,,r fo,,pd how c,,oy,k
and almost lame. But she walked on.
Almost half the journey was yet to do.
She had nothing with her to eat.
Food, too, was an illegal burden, nor
could she buy any on the holy day. She
said her Sabbath morning prayer walk
ing, hoping God would forgive the dis
respect. The recital gave her partial OBJ
livion of her pains. As she passed
through a village the dreadful rumor
of cholera was confirmed. 1t gave wings
to her feet for ten minutes. Then bodily
weakness was stronger than everything
else, and she had to lean against the
bushes on the outskirts of the village.
1t was nearly noon. A passing beggar
gave her piece of bread. Fortunately
1t was unbuttered, SO she could eat it
with only minor qualms, lest it had
touched any unclean thing. She resumed
her journey, but the rest had only made
her feet move painfully and reluctant
ly. She would have liked to battle them
in a brook, but that, too, was forbidden.
She took the letter from her bosom and
reperused it and whipped up her flag
ging strength with q cry of, Courage,
my lamb; the little mother is ON the
way" Then the leaden clouds melted
into sharp lines Of rain, which beat into
her face, refreshing her for the first few
minutes, but soon wetting her to the
skin, making her sopped garments a
heavier burden, and reducing the path
way to mud that clogged still further
her feeble footsteps. In the teeth of the
wind and the driving shower she limp
ed ON. A fresh anxiety consumed her
now-would she have strength to hold
out? Every moment her pace lessened.
She was moving like snail And the
slower she went the more vivid grew
her prescience Of what awaited her at
the journey end. Would she even hear
his dying word? Perhaps - terrible
thought-she would only be in time to
look upon his dead facet Perhaps that
was how God would punish her for her
dissertation of the holy day. "Take
heart, my lamb, = she walled. "Do not
die yet. The little mother comes. ;"
The rain stopped. The sun came out
hot and. fierce and dried her hands and