The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1896-05-13
HER BOY.
BY ROBERT STEWART.

Miss Boughton was leaning against
the shelves of little, low-ceilinged,
crowded, secondhand book-shop in
Broadway, just above Thirty-sixth
street, dipping into volume of NJ.
Ampere.
"Will you please do that up for me ~
she said, holding it out. As she ex-
tended her arm, her large full sleeve
happened to brush open the cover of
one of those soft, leather-covered, old
fashioned Bibles, lying on pile Of
school-books, and her eye caught the
delicate faded traceries of an inscrip-
ton on the yellow fiy-leaf-'To my
darling boy, from his loving mother.".
"Oh ~ she said, with panied start;
chow could any one-I'll take that too,
please" and she closed the cover quick
ly, reverently. 1t seemed to her so
shocking, so cruelty, needlessly cold
hearted, in any one to sell such a gift,
TO throw away such sacred token OF
mother-love. The quaint fine, faded
handwriting called up hundred fam
cies of home and childhood and fond
ling care and starlit pleadings besides
little beds. Who was the mother who
prayed? aud where was the boy who
wandered and forgot? she wondered.
Or, 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
bookshop, along with dog-eared Latin
grammars and stray magazines. She
was glad at least that it had come to
one who would preserve and cherish it
as something most sweet and beautiful
and pathetic.
The autumn shower which had driv-
en- her into this little exchange for rusty
literature had now broken away, and 4
watery ray of sunshine came struggling
in at the door, resting on the bent gray
figure of the the proprietor tying
her bundle, and on another per-
son whom she had not observed, and
who was lounging against one Of the
cases opposite her, lingering the pages
of an old pieture-book, and regarding
her with a peculiarly eager, covert
gaze. He was broken-down man of
perhaps forty, dressed in a short frock-
coat, well buttoned up, that a too inti-
mate acquaintance with rain and
weather had turned to peculiar green
color, and from out which his long lean
arms and neck protruded to an extra
ordinary length. He was type easy
enough to classify-a type one often
sees in public libraries and round old
book-stalis, refined and poor and Ill and
dissipated. Yet there was something
so pathetic in his pale, weak, intellect
ual face, something so appealing and
intense i'm 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 his dingy
memory of what was once perhaps
kind and honest gentleman. She of
course turned away her eyes politely,
but instead of taking her package, she
said /: "Oh, by-the-bye, l have just
happened 10 think that I've got TO go
to lunch with some people. Would
you mind sending these books home
for me' It's only 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 his long lean finger pressed
against his thin chin. She hoped he
wasn't going to come and beg. Some
how she couldn't help believing him TO
be a gentleman. She would be 80 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 certain indignant
pity. Perhaps there might be some
further biographical details. She turn
ed the pages dreamily, in kind of
sad pleasure, when suddenly she came
upon verse enclosed by broad circle
of ink and it was this: al bowed
down heavily as one who mourneth
for his mother" She closed the book
very gently. There were tears in her
eyes. "Ah, he didn't forget, she muir
INJURED.
One snowy winter morning, some
two months subsequent to this little
episode, her maid brought her note,
with the message that an answer was
requested. 1t was addressed in large,
shaky, masculine hand, and quickly
opening 1T, she read: '.SOme two
months ago, you may remember buy
ing Bible in the old bookstore just
round the corner from Thirty-sixth
street. The book was mine. When |
tell you that it was my dear mothers
gift, that she wrote my name there,
and that it was my one memento of a
happy past you will understand how l
value it. / sold it because / had had
nothing TO eat in three days. | asked
her if she'd mind, don't you know,
and she seemed to tell me to. But /
went there and watched it till / could
get it back again, and then you came
and bought it. l knew by your face
why you did. God bless you for it |
listened for your address. i hoped
each day to come and buy it. I'm dy-