News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1896-02-13
Her Boy.

Miss Boughton was leaning against
the shelves of little, low-ceilinged,
crowded, SECONDHAND book-shop in
Broadway, just above Thirty-sixth
street, dipping into a volume of M.
Ampere.
"Will you please do that up for
me-" she said, holding it out. AS
she extended her arm, her large
sleeve happened to brush open the
cover of one of those soft, leather
covered, old-fashioned Bibles, ly-
ing on a pile of school-books, and
her eye caught the delicate faded
traceries of an inscription on the yell
low hy-leaf-"To my darling boy,
from his loving mother"
"Oh!" she said, with panied start;
chow could anyone-Tll take that
too, please" and she closed the cover
quickly, reverently. 1t seemed to
her so shocking, 80 cruelty, needless
ly, cold. in any one to sell
such gift, to throw away such a
token of mother-love. The quaint,
foe, faded handwriting called up a
hundred fancies of home and child
hood and fondlng care and starlit
pleadings beside little beds. Who
was the mother who prayed? and
where was the boy who wandered
and forgot? she wondered. o.,
kinder, thought, perhaps he was
dead too, and the book that he had
wept over and found comfort in had
so fallen into careless strangers
hands, and made its way at last to
the old book-shop, along with dog
cared Latin grammars and stray
magazines. She was glad at least
that it had come to one who would
preserve and cherish iJ as something
most sweet and beautiful and pa
thetic.
The autumn shower which had
driven her into this little exchange
for rusty literature had now broken
away, aud watery ray of sunshine
came Struggling in at the door, rest
ing on the bent gray figure of the
proprietor tying her bundle, and on
another person whom she had not
observed, and who was lounging
against one of the cases opposite her,
lingering the pages of an old picture
book, and regarding her with pc
culiarly eager, covert gaze. He was
a broken-dOwn man OF perhaps forty,
dressed in short frOck-cOat, we'll
buttoned up, that a too intimate
acquaintance with rain and weather
had turned to peculiar green color,
and from out which his long lean
arms and neck prOtruded to an eX
traordnary length. He was a type
easy enough to classify-a type one
often sees in public libraries and
round old book stalls, refined and
poor and i'll and dissipated. Yet
there was something so pathetic in
his pale, weak, intellectual face,
something so appealing and intense
in the look of his large, bright brown
eyes, which for an instant caught
hers over his hollow hectic cheeks,
that Miss BOughton had sense of
nearness and sympathy for this dingy
memory of what was once perhaps "a
kind and honest gentleman. She OF
course turned away her eyes politely,
but instead of taking her package.
she said: "Oh, by-the-bye, | have
just happened TO think that I've got
to go to lunch with some people.
Would you mind sending these books
home for me? It's only a step. [
live in Thirty-eighth street." AS she
gave the number she thought she
saw the other listening, with his body
bent over the pages, and bis long
lean finger pressed against his thin
chin. She hoped he wasn't going 10
come and beg. Somehow she couldn' t
help believing him to be agentleman.
She would be 50 glad to help him,
but she didn't want him to spoil
himself
Miss Boughton threw NJ. Ampere
carelessly on the table on her return
that afternoon, and took up the worn
old Bible with a certain indignant
pity. Perhaps there might be some
further biographical details. She
turned the pages dreamily, idly, in u
a kind of sad pleasure, when sudden.
ly she came upon a verse enclosed in
broad circle of ink; and it was this ;
81 bowed down heavily as one who
mourneth for his mother" She
closed the book very gently. There
were tears in herpyes "Ah, he didn't
forget" she murmured.
One snowy winter morning, some
two months subsequent TO this little
episode, her maid brought her a note,
with the message thatan answer was
requested 1t was addressed in a
large, shaky, masculine hand, and