The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-11-19
HAD HER MoTHER's FACE,
How a Father Recognized His Little
Girl,
From the Baltimore American.

From the Baltimore American.
Cincinnati, Nov. "a man aged about
40 and well dressed, but somewhat dusty
p. m. Monday, and watched flight of
stairs leading up from Fifth street. He
said to some boys;
Boys, stand right here by me and when
Coar Tindall comes along tell me-"
Cora Tindall is a remarkably pretty
little 15-year-old girl, who works at Roth,
Bruner & Feiss' cigar factory on Main
street, and always comes home every
night along this way. The little boys all
know her sweet, kindly face, no matter
how thick the shadows grow before her
tired feet bring her their way, and readily
consented to the strangers bidding.
That's her; that Corar shouted the
boys, as a petite figure came rustling
along, and the strangers voice shouted
after her. "Oh, Toby!"
The little binl stopped and turned
around, surprised that a man she had
| never seen before should call her by pet
| name not known outside the family, and,
| looking back, hesitated. The stranger
walked straight up to her, and, without
| further remark took her pretty face be-
der the gaslight.
"Great God" was his sudden exclama-
ton, and the tears rolled down his sun
burned, travel-stained cheeks. Cora Tin
dali did not know what to do or say.
Don't you know me?" asked the man.
81 don't believe 1 do" stammered the
girl amazed at the strangers emotion.
"Why, l would know you were my lit
tie girl If had met you on the streets of
| New York, for l can see your mothers
| face in yours, and your poor mother
| eyes" and the two were locked in low
| ing embrace there under the Pickering
| gasight, after separation of over twelve
years. father and daughter with only a
| few street urchins to witness the dra-
! matte affair.
Then Cora Tindall who lives with her
aunt, at 800 Baum street, told over to
| her father the long nights she had laid
| awake wondering whether he was living
or dead, and how she had thought of
| putting notice in the papers, thinking
| that he might see it in some distant land,
| and know that his daughter still lived to
| welcome him back home.
| Hand in hand, they slowly walked down
| Baum street TO the cottage occupied by
| the childs uncle, William Cashin, but
| that fathers heart was doomed to be
1 riven with anguish, while his tears could
| not wash away the aches nor the arrows
1
years ago his only boy, John Tindall,
| who, when a baby, was taken by a lady
| IN Indiana to raise, was brought to the
| Good Samaritan hospital sick, and died
there The first news of his death reached
| the father from the pale lips of his daugh-
| ter Cora at his side. Old scenes rushed
| back, and the strangers form shook and
| trembled with agony, for the death of
the child's mother in Riley alley, where
| Cora was born fifteen years ago, came
| back, and the destruction of his once
| happy home, for Jack Tindall was known
| then as one of the alleys FOUNDERS"
The sorrow of what followed Frustrated
even him, and binding out the two ba-
| bies, he resolved to quit the old gang
| and again be a man, with the hope of
| some day coming back to them when he
| would not be ashamed to have them
| know he was their father Not meeting
| with the success he anticipated he put
off returning from year to year until time
ran away with his ambitions, and the
| little ones at home were almost forgot
| ten. Then came a day of repentance,
| keen and sharp as the fang of the serpent
and then the resolve to look again upon
the faces of his children, if only as did
Enoch Arden, to find them across the
| wide gulf of other affections, and he came
| home. He was away out in the wilds OF
South Dakota trying his luck, and, while
| not the most fortunate in his specula-
tons, did fairly well, and brought back
the profit of his labors to his only child.
There was pleasant little supper at
| the Cashin cottage.
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