Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1896-08-20

lovely Mary die, and ho fol-
lowed her the samo day-rather
than petition his proud and wealthy
neighbors, when ho knew that thoy
were aware CT his helplessness, vet
kept back their aims, waiting, not an
opportunity, but solicitation, to do
good.
Henry, their only son, aged twelve,
brought up rs he had been, accus-
toned to littlo aud expectant of less,
how did he know "pap" and "mam"
were dying?
He had always been accustomed to
that pinched, cadayerous look he had
often held his mothers thin hand be-
tween his eyes and the fire, and seen
her thin, bony fingers turned to
threads OF Jelly, and her hands were
always cold.
But he had never eecn such wild ex-
pressions upon his parents fnces as
that evening when he cGmo home from
fishing, with his bass "for nam, !"
which his mother would never need.
One was before the fireplace en- the
coor, the other on what passed for G
bed; their eyes were staring blankly,
cold and clammy; their lips were
apart, and when Henry spoke they did
not answer.
He knew nothing of death, save that
he had seen poor Leo, the dog, hanged
to save even what tho poor dog ate !;
and now they locked like Leo did.
Poor boy his heart knew no grief !;
Eo knew nothing but poverty, misery,
hunger and tell. Born to his CON
dition, irresponsible for his existence,
never yet awakened to the response
bihtics OF entity-oh, what expert.
cnces, bitter to the drogs of bitter
ness, awaited this child OF misfortune
Twas Better that ho did not realize
it all.
cpl ted Squire Johnson; I bl;eye
they are Swung like Leo was," he
said TO himself, as he started toward
their .miles.olf, though nearest
neighbor.
He, as children ofttimes do, had
substituted tho cause for the effect.
Knowing that poor Leo had been
hanged, and now seeing them stiff,
cold and silent, ho reasoned rs he
did.
esquire, they are swung-pap is,
and"
"Now, boy, none OF your simpering
impudence! Ii you want anything,
tell that; if not, go on home p
81 sey, squire, they are Swung,
like Leo was, and can't make 'em
talk, OF wake 'em up; they are cold,
aud their eyes are open, and"
"Ihcy arc dead, thcn," said little
Thomas johnson.
Squire johnson, moved moro by
curiosity than by pity, mounted his
horse and rode down to William Charl-
toms, finding the lad's story only too
true.
This, then, was tho mute appeal of
the dead To charity. These people
must be buried. The squiro notified
somc of his poor neighbors to attend
to the affair, and he'd foot the bill,
and said
"This boy, Henry, may etny with
my gardener for a few days, and then
he must hunt work"
And this is the cry of the tramp, al
arr hunting work." and proud, rich
Squire Johuson put this cry into the
mouth of Henry Charlton snd started
him out q tramp.
1t was autumn, and the approach CT
winter had already been heralded by
his white errand boys-the hoar.lfosts
OF the middle latitudes.
Night had passed; another clear,
crisp, frosty morning had dawned up.
on tho sons of men, ushering in an.
other glorious day, fraught to some
with dazzling delight and unfeigned
happiness; to others, with only black
despair, disappointment and death.
From beside hay stack, whose
friendly shelter he had sought the
evening before, to break the chilly mir
and to preyant the frost from Cnthar