St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1895-09-13

especially to help the church debt"
had exhausted himself and after a
cold some growth had filled the little
throat and was stranging the child.
at is really wonderful" he said,
stopping to swallow the break in his
voice, "to see how patient the child
has borne such pain-with never a
compaint,-much more patiently
than any the rest of us would have
done it. and we never knew untilyes
terday-he was so brave withal-and
now there is so little hope for him."
We stood about him in that COM
fortress way, when people suddenly
are brought to feel so much and can
express so little sympathy,-and
tried to say something. When he
turned to Rose, wished that Teddy
Farrell and | were not there.
II may see you in Sydney. You
will tell the captain good-by, and ex-
plain to the Others, land he hurried
down the gangplank turning with
his CHEEKY smile to call back, Good
luck to you"
Dear little "Babs, THAT was the
last ever saw him. A more unaf-
fected, sunny-hearted lad never met,
and lump was in my own throat
as | watched the sturdy little figure
up the hill.
Then Paul Stowe, his right arm in
HANDBAGS, was heard chirping up the
companion-way, "Where are all the
folks?" His round, blue eyes opened
when we told about "Babs," and we
quietly sat talking until the gather
ing company below called for music,
and Rose and Paul Stowe went down.
Soon Mr.. Stoves voice rose in some
swinging little air, with words some
thing about
Where the flying fishes play,
some Indian rhyme of Kipling's, |
think, but l cannot repeat it, for |
seldom hear it now. and when hear
it my thoughts run elsewhere-way
off to Rangorah and the quarterback
of ship swaying at its moorings a
hot Australian night, under the spark
ling soft southern sky. No; | never
hear the little jingle without sort
of pain. But such experience gives
deeper appreciation OF much in life
and art; and most of US know it
sooner or later.
And we made merry evening with
our friends with an undertide OF sad
ness for "Babs.'
II a thoughtless party could see its
individuals twelvemonth ahead!
One captain probably rounding the
Horn, the other at Singapore, Rose
and in different parts Of America
"Babs" on a Queensland station, and
where Comte Heber is do not know
And wild Teddy Farrell is dead
Love of rowing and adventure took
him to China, and he fell at Port
Arthur, and weeks after he was dead
came a letter from him in the old
reckless style, which had followed me
from port to port, and many a time
1 must ask myself, How would il
have been? had it started different
that night at Rangorah when Pau
Stowe sang, where the flying fishes
play"
Paul Stowe and the Crayleighs
live on at Rangorah. Pretty Miss
Branton is married in Tasmania
The Carews lost the beautiful ole
home in the settlement ofloose affair:
after Teddy Farrell's death. The
boys scattered and the sisters opened
a school, think in Auckland.
And so it goes:
great while ago the world begun
With heigh no! the wind and the rain;
But that is all one-our play is done
And we'll strive to please you every day.
Next sunset the flags of the othe1
ships in Rangorah harbor dipped
farewell and we lowed out to sea.
A child was born on the ship mex
us the night before, and this night a.
we passed a splendid English ship
from India, towing in, but her ha&
was at half-mast.
was so glad to be bound out anc
for dear old Sydney-but l was think
ing: Birth and death are there
people meet, and misjudge, and some
times find a hero, and live itali
movement in the prose of life, even i
it be only in "a place called Ran