The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-11-30

himself, and for weeks would go with
out it. Then the temptation would
come with such force that he could
not resist. Finally, something over
year ago, he resolved to give up the
drink, no matter what it cost. And
he did give it up; but about this time
he took disease that was prevailing.
His system, SO weakened by liquor,
could not rally, and though the ply
stefan advised wine as stimulant,
he refused to take it, and died in
few days. His little daughter was
thus left among strangers, but fam
lily living near the town had lost a
child of her age short time before,
and though but in moderate circum-
stances, they took her into their home.
That family has lately removed to
this place. This little girl came here
this evening, and after asking her
name and few other questions, |
was interested enough to go to the
family with whom she is living for
her history, and from what they can
tell, am certain that her father was
Sumner Brown, and this is sister Bes-
sizes child"
There were fearful eyes at the con-
clusion of this pitiful story; then fol-
lowed questions and explanations,
and shy little Bet was kissed and
petted by aunts and cousins until she
ran and hid her face in the folds of
grandma's dress. Uncle Lee always
knew the right thing to do at the
right time, and, seeing that his little
niece was not enjoying so much atten-
ton, commenced a funny story, and
by and by Bet raised bright, flushed
face from grandma's LAP, and, after
little coaxing, joined her merry
cousins in the dining-room.
Well, the evening came to an end,
as all evenings will, and 1 think we
were all surprised when the old clock
in the corner struck ten.
"Dear me-" said Aunt Mary, 81 sup
pose we must think of going to bed
before long, or wesha'n't feel like get
ting up very early; and we must have
a long day tomorrow"
After that grandpa drew his chair
up to the table and opened the Bible
for the evening chapter; then Aunt
Dora went to the organ, and we all
joined in singing, "Be thou, o God,
exalted high" and then grandpa
prayed, thanking God for the mer-
cies that had crowned our lives, and
in bringing back the little wanderer
that had been lost.
Thanksgiving dawned clear and
bright, and the bells jingled merrily
as load after load drew up to the
plain white church in the village for
the usual services. At two o'clock a
large company had gathered around
the long, we'll filled table in grand
mas dining-room. Bet, or Bessie, as
we now called her, occupied seat
next to grandpa. Her faded calico
had been replaced by one of dark
blue merino from Cousin Fanny's
wardrobe. Aunt Dora had curled the
long, dark hair, and certainly there
was not brighter, prettier face at
the table. An invitation had been
extended to the Lawtons, but they re-
fused, fearing that it might be an in
trusion; however, a we'll filled basket
found its way from our pantry to the
little brown house.
That evening, just at twilight, l
went into the parlor to replenish the
fire, and found Aunt Dora and grand
ma in earnest conversation.
"Now, mother, you are willing that
| should have Bessie?" Aunt Dora
was saying. "You have Howard's
three to brighten your home, and our
home is so quiet. She is nearly as old
as our Grace would be had she lived"
and Aunt Dora's brown eyes filled
with tears.
Just then Bessie passed the door,
and Aunt Dora called, "Come here,
Bessie;" and as the child obeyed she
drew the small figure to her and said:
"Bessie, dear, don't you want to go
home with Uncle Lee and Aunt Dora
and be our little girl?"
Bessie looked up with shy. pleas
ed smile: eyes, l love you already,
only-only I'll miss Joey; he's better
with me than Susey."
So it was decided that Bessie's fu-
ture home should be with Aunt Dora
in the West. During the three weeks
before their departure, Bessie spent
nearly half the time with her faithful
friends, the Lawtons, and on the last
evening she took gift to each mem
Der of the family, from a silk hand
kerchief for Mr. T,awton tn a nair of