Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1897-04-15

II really think I must leave soon. !"
he said to Mrs. Russell.
They were sitting ON the porch one
afternoon. while Rachel was far down
the garden walk. gathering flower
seeds.
I'VE shall miss thee sorely. want
ed to ask thee something. What does
thee think of my Rachel?" Her voice
trembled, but before he could answer,
II indeed In his surprise he had known
what to say. she went on. i've bind
ed my eyes all could. because /
couldn's endure to see what's coming,
but Friend Newell. who was here to-
day, says she has failed very mush;
she's not seen her since spring. She
thinks we ought to have a doctor.
Does thee think that she is fading away
my Rachel?"
MY dear Mrs. Russell, no! She
doesn't complain or even cough, does
she?"
mo. oh, no! She never is really i'll,
but so tired always of late; thee must
have noticed how little she eats; and
her sleep is much broken"
But she is so young. Mrs. Russell.
She will soon outgrow this weakness.
She ought to have advice and tonic,
however.
She's been taking a strengthening
medicine right along for months.
hoped she was better; / couldn't see
she had changed SO much"
Probably she hasn't; don't worry
about what that visitor said; she was
very indiscreet, and also mistaken.
Children often grow too fast, you know.
and when your daughter is grown up.
she may be as strong as any one"
why, Rachel is grown up! She is
nearly twenty"
Mrs. Russell! ! thought she was
about fourteen or so. She seems like
a child to me-"
81 know she Is small, but can't hope
for her to grow taller-or stronger. I'm
afraid. Her father and all his people
were frail and short-lived. Hush!
She's coming"
Rachel came up the walk, flushed
with her exertions and bright and hap
by over some exquisite blossoms she
had found. The mothers spirits rose
as she looked critically at her. Friond
Newell had been mistaken, and she her,
self had been foolish to disturb her
genial boarder with her forebodings.
For he did look disturbed. He was
thinking of many things which Rachel,
in her child-like innocence had said;
of words he had spoken lightly, think
ing they fell on childish ears; but now
he feared they had sunk into wo-
mans heart. She was frail and ethe-
real looking, surely. The flush soon
died away from her delicate checks,
and the sparkle out of her eyes. and
her hands were such tiny hands! Poor
little Rachel Carew
The parting came next day. 1t was
sad thing, but it had been more cruel
to defer 1t. Fred White was not so
sure as once he had been that the child
would cry her eyes out and then gel,
over it; now he feared she might cry
her heart out. Yet he had really no
cause to reproach himself, unless it
might be for tarrying so long; and no
comfort to give, but to promise to come
back next summer, and to write some
times and send her papers.
He looked back from his wheel at
the turn of the road, but Rachel was
now standing where he had left her at
the end of the porch, with quiverinB
lips that could not steady themselves
to bid him good-by, and that he did not
dare TO kiss; for she was not child.
His heart was heavy as he rode over
the hills and down through the valleys,
and it would not have been lighter had
he seen the little Quaker maiden, when
her storm had passed. lying like "a
wilted flower on the lounge in the lone
ly, shadowy best room. Poor little Ra-
chel Carew!
About five months later, among tlfe
letters placed one morning on Fred
Whites desk. was one addressed in un-
familiar writing. Feeling a president
thrill, he opened it:
Friend White-Dear Sir: / write
line to say thee need not trouble to send
any books nor flowers no more for my
Rachel, for she has gone away. She
left us New Year day. 1t is the Lords
will, but 1t has made us nigh heartbro-
ken. Thee has been kind, so kind!
She said to tell thee so, and to give
thee her dear love, with thanks for all
thy remembrance.
Faithfully thine,
RUTH CAREW.'
In how few words can tragedies be
told!
The man laid his face down on the
letter, wetting it with sudden tears,
and said brokenly:
Dear little Rachel! Blest little Ra.
chel. Far happier than to have re-
NAMED here, for now and forever she
is as the angels. "-Waverly Maya
zine.
A BIoodhound's Keen Scent.
A remarkable exhibition of the keen
ness of scent of the bloodhound wan
given at the little town of Bronson,
in Allen County the other day The