The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1895-11-10

the lot I've got a half sovering I've been
saving up for a. box and I'll have a bag
instead; it's more convenient to carry"
she put the half-sOVeTeign in the poor
fellows hand; she would not let him wait
to eXpostulate; her missus was calling
her, she declared and she pushed him out
OF the gate and shut it upon him.
Here" she said take this" as she
closed the garden gate, after him, and she
thrust bit of purple lilac in his hand, and
door in his face.
He went down the street like one walk
ing in dream, with Sallys half-sovereign
in one hand. and the branch of purple IL
lac in the other. He had not had so much
money III his possession for weeks, not
since he had been out of work, and a hor-
rible craving possessed him to go into
the first open door and change it, to have
a carouse to eat and drink and be merry;
net to come out until he had spent every
penny. and then-and then-whatever
came there was always the river.
Only those who have been cold and hun
cry and houseless for weeks know what
the temptation cost him, the fierce strug-
gle, the horrible agony of self-denial, to
pass all those open doors that were al
ways swinging to and fro, TO let him in.
He would have gone in al the first door
that opened 10 him If 1t had not been for
that spray Of purple lilac The smell of 1t
had brought back the old garden at home
ana the cottage where he was born, and
ms mothers ilgure as he had seen her last
standing in the porch. with the tears rum
nlng down her face, and her hands cling
ing to him. H could feel them about his
neck now, as he passed those open doors.
They seemed to be holding him back, and
her voice was in his ears.
The bit of purple lilac had brought it all
back-the old garden, and the dear face,
and the tender clnging hands, and his
mothers voice calling him home
II was no fancy; ne could hear 1t ring
ing IN his ears above the roar of the Lon
He wondered he had not heard it be-
fore. He could not understand how his
ears could have been so dull.
He went home the next day. He did
not reach the little village among the
hills until long after dusk he had to
walk great part of the way. Sally's
half-sovereign covered more than half
the journey, and he had to walk the rest
The lights glimmering in the windows
of the cottages sent out a welcome 10
meet him in the darkness. He saw them
quite long way off, the glmmer OF
lights in the windows and through the
open doors. There was one door where
the light was more than a glimmer, where
1t shot across the night in a welcoming
flame to meet him. He saw it as he
limped across the grey fields where the
cattle were sleeping, and 1t seemed to
grow brighter and brighter as he came
nearer it was like a hand stretched out
into the darkness to greet him, to draw
him home; it was the light of his own
hearth. As weary and footsore the poor
trembling prodigal drew nearer and
nearer TO that open door, the voices Of
home seemed to be calling for him
through the darkness, Come in Come
in! Whatever has befallen you, you have
a right to enter here. Forget your SOr-
row and your care, forget your shame
and your remorse; put them all aside,
and come in come inH'
In spite of the welcoming voices of
home, the prodigal fingered by the gar
den gate with the grey lilac bush nod
ding above his head, the lilac bush he
had been picturing all the way, and the
light from the open door falling across
his path; he had not the courage to lift
the latch.
The voice was behind him, as he stood
there with his head bowed, and the tears
running down his hollow cheeks. He
knew the voice in a moment; he had no
He could only say. like the Prodigal of
old. Mother. mother! l have come
back"
He could not have said any more if he
would; he had fallen in a heap at her
feet. His strength, which had kept up
until that moment failed him, and he fell
down like a log at his mothers feet
They bore him in across the threshold
which his careless feet had so often
crossed and when, long after conscious
ness came back, there were dear faces
bending over him and tender arms around
him.
He had come back bruised and beaten in
the race; he had failed utterly; he had
not a word to say for himself. he had
brought nothing hack with him When
they undressed him, and laid him in his
own bed In his own room, and turned out
his ragged pockets, they found nothing
upon him, not single penny not a crust
only a faded spray OF purple lilac.
He had huttoned it inside his coat, and
he had carried it in his bosom all the
dozen times if it had not been there to
urge him on; to assure him OF the forgive
ness and welcome Of Home.
He has got it still; shriveied. dried IN