Little Falls herald. [volume] (Little Falls, Morrison County, Minn.) 1889-1950, 1898-05-06
ON THE BRIDGE.

-
The night was dark. Overhead the few
sad stars were shining dimly, buffeted by
tho clouds, and the water underneath hur-
ried between the arches with strange
rush past as il fearing sudden despairing
burden from above. On the bridge were
two shadows, two only in the bitter wind.
"My dear Charlotte, why did you do it?''
II had to. One must be civil.'
"But why tonight? cannot eat or
drink while this goes on, and am famish-
ing"
The hostess bent over across the flowers
and murmured sagely, "Dear, when I
asked him, I was morally sure that he had
vestry meeting" and then she drew
back a little remorsefnlly.
Mrs. Chatterton had invited one too
many, and this one was doing all the talk
ing. The hungry blank before dinner had
been filled with his sonorous voice. and
the same voice, in it's mass meeting tone,
was laundering down the table, compel
ling the frivolous to attend. The very serv-
ants appeared to feel that they had no bust
ness to offer anything to eat.
The Rev. johnson was an earnest man,
and these men have no conjunction. He
had few other opportunities of touching
such worldly people, and his thin, kind,
clever face was eager. He had been hold
ing forth upon the awful desolation, bes
yond these doors. ,>.-
"Not so very far" he was saying-and
his soup was cold-"o Others, men and wom-
en-, are seeking shelter, wandering in the
night. They watch the glimmer of lamps,
houses lit like yours, and their despair be.
b.
think of the happiness beyond CWhich
you are properly diminishing, said Colo
mel Somebody to himself). cts not fair,
it's not right 1t is your task to change
It, Not with guinea here and there, but
with earnest, honest help. Go and look
and you will believe it. Think of it, here
der her breath said "happy!"), "there
hundreds shut out-shut out, do you I'M
derstand?-from all but the pain of life.
ton, you know it, but only in the sun
shine, when the water ripples gladly
enough. Your carriage rattles over it
hastily in the dark. These others know it
in the night They creep there, hungry
and weary, to hide themselves in the shad-
ows, dark on the bridge, and darker upon
the water, with the darkest Of all shadows
in their hearts. Do you ever think of that,
Mrs. Chattertonf''
The hostess put both hands up. to her
fair, wild hair-a habit of hers when trou-
bled. The look of airy satisfaction had
left her face.
"Poor things!" said she. 81 don't like,
going to stare at them when they are re-
claimed like conviots. wish I could go
there some dreadful night and carry them
all off and make them happy"
"a pity it should only be a wish," said
the Rev. johnson, glancing dryly across
the pretty wilderness of silver and ferns
and glasses. He did not believe in Mrs.
Chatterton. She was like a rose leaf
whirled over the grass by the summer
winds and quite as careless. Then he bent
quietly to his plate, but after one mouth
full he began again to impress these peo-
pie, most of whom did not often hear his
words elsewhere.
Mrs. Chatterton was clasping and un-
olasping her fingers nervously, as if she
were to blame for all. Mr.. Peterson, at
the other end of the table, was only think
ing that this dinner was fasco. He was
the father of little girl who had died
yes, but he was not frivolous. He was
also the father of many sons, and some
men have few ideas, letting the sad ones
slip. These do not need distractions-tri-
f1es. The Rev. johnson principally adj
dressed himself to Mr.. Peterson.
Mr.. Butterfeld was getting all the at.
tention of the servants. He was almost
the only person who did not keep things
waiting at his elbow, but then he was a
rich man and hard man, rumor said, and
perhaps he was not lightly moved. Miss
Lavender, on his left, was an authoress.
She was handsome and tall and brilliant,
and her mouth took on q sarcastic twist
whenever she had to listen to other peo-
pies views. 1t seemed this time as II her
patience failed her. She turned to Mr..
Butterfeid all at once and in rather high
voice inquired what he thought Of q cer-
tain play. The Rev. johnson looked earn
estly at them both and judged thsm.
u was dark on the bridge, and the wind
was bitter. M. Butterdeld had taken .
strange way home. ...,rs.: :. u,
He, the hard man q tho world, could
hardly account for the way In which he
had been stirred by facts he had already
heard more than once. He had meant to
walk to his own house across the square,
but his feet had almost unconso1Ously led
him hither, to have a look, . he as
sured himself nneasily, shiyering in the
cold. On either side down the water was
. wavering line Of ligAts; IN the distance
the rumbling OF carriage; on the bridge
nothing IS 80 III V
sH IS strange thing, : the Rev. John
son had said in parentbesis, :. how these
wallis vary in their haunts! Some nights
the bridge Is lined with despairing< men,
and on others it IS deserted. $ =
Mr. Butterfeld shiyered again and
whistled. M