The Robesonian. [volume] (Lumberton, N.C.) 1870-current, 1897-07-14
NELLIE'S CHRISTMAS EYE.
BY EMMA GARRISON JONES.

Christmas was neaF at hand,
and they were very busy at Wal
nut Hill. The house was filled
with company, and there was a
great deal of work to do.
Nellie had been on her little feet
ever since sunrise. She was very
tired, and i'll, too with something
worse than mere bodily ailment,
hopeless, heart-broken sorrow.
Little Nellie was an orphan.
Years before, when she was so
young she could only dimly re-
member the sad event, her father
had died. They lived in the heart
of great city at the time. But
being left very poor, and in feeble
health, the widow was led, by the
hope of obtaining respectable en-
ployment, and the expectation of
finding an old friend, to remove to
the neighborhood of Walnut Hill.
The friend she hoped to find was
in his grave and as the place af-
forded her employment, having no
alternative, but to support herself
and her child by constant labor,
she settled down and went to work,
doing plain sewing for the shops
in the village.
Years drifted by, and the widow
toiled patiently and uncomplain-
ingly, and little Nellie grew up a
happy, promising child.
She and her mother were all in
all to each other. During the day
they were inseparable, and at night
in each others arms.
One night, a night that Nellie,
never in all her after life forgot,
the child was reused by her mo-
theirs voice. "Nellie, Nellie, get
up and light the candle, my dar.
ling"
The child obeyed, something in
her mothers voice thrilling her
little heart with vague terror
She brought the light near to the
bedside, and, seeing her mother
face, cried out in wild anguish.
ooh! Mama, what is the mat.
ter?"
"Come closer, my little girl,
and don't be frightened; let me
clasp you in my arms darling
There now, I'll tell you what it is,
Nellie. Ny last hour has come;
am dying, my child"
Nellie's cry filled the silent night
with piteous echoes.
"Hush, my love-" painted the
dying mother, struggling hard tc
speak. "You will not be left tc
perish. The Father of the father.
less will have you in His tender
care, my little Nell. The loving
Father, who cares even for the
young sparrows, will care for you
When / am gone, Nellie, some one
will be raised up to befriend you
You have heard me speak of my
dear friend, Mrs. Goldthwaite; il
lyou could only find her, Nellie
But, alas, l have not heard of hel
for years! But there's letter;
wrote it when l was i'll before yor
Twill find it under the cover of my
Biblel 1t is addressed to my deal
friend, Alice Goldwaite. If by any
chance you ever hear of her, sent
that letter, and she will be- YOU
second mother. You won't for
lget, Nellie?
"No, Mamma, I wont forget. ;
Then there was silence. Th,
laboring breath became slower
the white face more CHASTITY Mel
lie shrieked aloud in her terro,
and agony.
"Mama, Mama, tell me- what t.
do?"
"You can do nothing, my dar
ling! Only kiss ME, Nellie. Oh
Father in heavetf, into Thy tende
hands I commit my fatherles
lchild!"
| And that was the end. Th
white lips spoke no more. Mel
lies mother was dead.
Nellie was now wholly friend
less> But Mrs. Halfway, of Wal
nut Hill, being in need of ~ gir
to look after her baby, offered he
q home. Nellie had no choice bu
to accept the offer.
| For a long, weary year, she ha
lived there, until that wintry al
ternoon, which opens our story
A little maid of all work, doin