Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-04-22

sensitive ear-and what ear is so sensitive
as a mother's-there was a tremble in it
that was not wholly natural.
rs anything the matter, dear?" called
out that mother, in reply.
The question made him start, though he
replied quickly enough, and in more guard
ed tones:
No, mamsie. Go to sleep. I'm tired,
that's ALL"
Would to God that was all, He recalled
with envy the days when he dragged HIM
self into the house al shutdown. after twelve
long hours of work on the docks AS he
paused in the dark hallway and listened
| till he heard the breathing of her who had
called him dear-the only one in all the
world who ever had or ever would call him
dear-he had glimpses of that old self which
made him question If his self-tutoring on
the violin, and the restless ambition which
had driven him out of the ways of his
cestors into strange attempts for which he
was not prepared by any previous disci-
pine, had brought him happiness or i'm
proved his manhood. He was forced to
acknowledge that the sleep of those far
distant nights of his busy boyhood was
sweeter than the wakefulness of these later
days, and that it would have been better
for him, and infinitely better for her, if he
had remained at the carpenters bench and
been satisfied with a repetition of his
fathers existence.
His mother was the only person sharing
that small house with him, and once as
sured that she was asleep, he lighted q
lamp In the empty kitchen and sat down.
1t was just u o'clock. This to any one ac-
customed to this peculiar young mans
habits, had nothing unusual in it. He was
accustomed to come home late and sit thus
by himself for short time before going
upstairs. But, to one capable of reading
his sharp and none too mobile countenance,
there was a difference in the character of
the broodlng into which he now sank.
which, had that mother been awake TO
Watch him, would have made every turn
OF his eye and movement of his hand in
teresting and important.
In the first place, the careless attitude
INTO which he had fallen totally at
variance with the restless glance which
took in every object in that wel-known
room so associated with his mother and
her daily work that he could not imagine
her in any other surroundings, and Won
dered sometimes If she would seem any
longer his mother If transplanted to other
scenes and engaged in other tasks
Little things pretty objects of house
hold use or ornament which he had seen
al his life without specially noticing them,
seemed under the stress of his present mood
to acquire a sudden Importance and fix
themselves indeIibly in his memory. There
on nail driven long before he was born
hung the little round lid holder he had
pieced together in his earliest years and
presented to lis mother in a gush of pride
greater than any he had since experienced
She had never used it, but it always hung
upon the one nail in the one place, as a
symbol of his love and of hers And there
higher up on the end of a shelf barren
enough of ornaments. God wot, We're a
broken toy and a much defaced primer
mementoS likewise of his childhood, and
further along the wall, on a sort of raised
bench, a keg, the Spigot of which he was
once guilty of turning on in his infantle
longing for sweets only to find he could not
turn it back again until all the floor was
covered with nolaSses, and his appetite for
the forbidden gratified to the full. And
yonder, dangling from a peg, never de-
voted to any other use, hung his fathers
Old hat, just as he had placed il there on
the fatal morning when he came in and
lay down on the sitting room lounge tor
the last time; and close to it. lovingly close
to 1t, SWeetWater thought. his mothers
apron, the apron he had seen her wear at
supper, and which he would see her wear
at breakfast, with all its suggestions of
ceaSeleSS work and patient every day thrift.
somehow, he could not bear the sight
of that apron. With the expectation now
forming in his mind of leaving this home
and leaving this mother, this symbol of
humble toll became an intolerabe grief to
him. Jumping up, he turned in another di-
rection; but now another group of objects
equally eloquent came under his eye. 1t
was his mothers work basket he saw, with
piece of sewing in 1t intended for him.
and, as If this were not enough, the table
set for two. and at his place a little cover
ed dish which held the one SWeetmeat he
craved for breakfast The spectacles lying
beside her plate told him how old she was
and as he thought of her failing strength
and enfeebled ways he jumped up again and
sought another corner. But here his chances
fell on his violin and q new series of emo
tons was awakened within him. He loved
the instrument and played as much from
natural intuition acquired knowledge;
hut in the plan of action he had laid out
for himself his violin could have no part.
He would have to leave it behind. Feeling
that his regrets We're fast becoming too
much for him, he left the humble kitchen
and went upstairs. But not to sleep. Lock
ing his door something he never remember
ed doing before in all his life), he began to
handle over his clothes and other trivial
belongings. Choosing out q certain strong
suit, he laid it out on the bed and then went
to a bureau drawer and drew out an old
fashioned wallet. This he opened but after
he had counted the few bills it contained
he shook his head and put them all back
only retaining a little silver, which he Slip
ped into one of the pockets of the suit he
had chosen. Then he searched for and
found a little Bible which his mother had
once given him. He was about to thrust
that into another pocket but he seemed to
think better of this, too, for he ended by
putting 1t back into the drawer and taking
instead a bit from one of his mothers old
aprons which he had CHANGED upon on the
stairway. This he placed as carefully in
his watch pocket as If it had been the pic
ture of girl ne loved. Then he undressed
and went to bed.
(To be continued)