Rocky Ford enterprise., 1897-07-15

PRESS ASSOCIATION.
say. But. as the minister remained
silent. Solomon rose to go.
Are ye mindin' tile funeral the
l. NORM" the sexton asked, taking up
Fhss bonnet.
Mr. Lorraine nodded.
"CaR bring ye anything before
| gang to bed2 l maun rise at five to
flemish the grave"
I mo; go to bed. l shall sit up and
read little"
'Weel. goodnight, SIR" u
| Goodnight. Solomon
Thereupon Solomon left the room.
closing the door softly behind him.
Lighting candle in the lobby, he
made his way quietly to chamber in
the upper part of the house. whese
he slept. and which was. indeed. ths
only chamber in the manse. excepting
the minister's sitting-room and adjoin-
ing bedroom, which contained any fur
niture.
Many years before Solomon had
taken up his abode there, on the min
ister's invitation, and II was his only
home. Besides performing the duties
of sexton and clerk. he acted generally
as factotum to Mr.. Lorraine. attended
to the garden, and groomed the pony
on which the minister made his vista
items about the country. An aged
woman, Mysie Simpson. came in every
day to clean and cook, but invariably
retired to her own dwelling at night
fall. So the two old men were prac-
tically alone together. and, despite the
difference In their social positions. re-
garded each other with a peculiar at
tachment.
The minister sat for some time mus
ing, then with a sigh he took book
from the shelves and began to read.
1t was a volume of old sermons, writ
ten by south-country clergyman.
impassioned, wrathful. and In the mar
row sense Calvinistic. As he read, the
wind roared round the house. and
moaned In the chimneys, and ratified
the shutterless windows: but as the
| wind rose the darkness decreased. and
| the vitreous rays of the moon began
playing on the window panes.
Mr.. Lorraine lit his pipe-the only
luxury in which he indulged: for
despite his plump figure. which he in
herited, he was abstemious and a tee
totaler. Then. with another sigh, he
rose and walked thoughtfully up and
down the room; paused at one OF the
windows. and looked down the moon
lighted lawn which sloped to the river
side; talking all the time to himself,
| as was his confirmed habit.
"Ay, NY. wild night!-and snow
coming. Solomon says! Eerie. eerie.
Is the sough of the wind In the trees.
| 1t minds me ever of her, and when the
moons up 1t is like the shining of her
| face out OF the grave. Wee Marjorie!
my bonny doc! Thirty long years ago
she died. and I'm still here! still
here!'
Tears stood In the old mans eyes
as he looked out in dream. Through
the long years of loneliness and pow
erty-for his living was indeed a poor
| one-he had cherished the memory OF
one who had gone away from him to
God when only in her eighteenth year.
Suddenly, there came a loud single
knock at the front door.
BLESS me, what's that?' he exclaim-
ed. "I thought heard a knock at the
hall door, but maybe my ears deceived
me, It was only the wind, I'm think
Ing"
And he placed his precious relics
back in the drawer. locking 1t carefully
and placing the key in worn leather
purse which he carried in his pocket.
At that moment the knock was re-
peated.
"Dear mel! he cried, there's some
one knocking after all. Maybe it's a
sick call"
Lifting the candle from the table, he
trotted from the room, crossed along
the lobby, and opened the hall door.
AS he did so the wind sprang in like
a tiger, and the light was blown out.
but the front garden was flooded with
moonlight, save under the very shadow
Of the trees.
He saw nobody. however: whoever
had knocked had disappeared.
who's there?" he cried. looking
round on every side.
There was no reply.
Perplexed and somewhat startled, he
stepped out into the porch, and i'll
simultaneously the door was banged
and closed behind him. He took an
other step forward, and almost STUN
bled over something like dark bum
die of clothing lying on the doorstep.
"Bless my SOUL" he murmured,
what's this?"
At the same moment faint cry
came upon his ear. STOPPING down in
great agitation. he lifted the bundle,
and discovered to his CONSERVATION
that 1t contained the form of living
child.
n CHAPTER III.