Akron daily Democrat. [volume] (Akron, Ohio) 1892-1902, 1899-09-09
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lie cpl'iu not smut out the VISION OF Ibt
fair haired girl who. in days gone, had
rraced his home with her presence. MOI
of the mother. who. when dying. had
placed her in his arms-a wee babe then
and begged that. come what might, he
would never cease to love and care for
their child.
The snow of many winters had fallen
upon the grave. and the then babe had
grown into a wcinan. had been wooed
and Won by the man she loved. had mar
ried him, and the father who had prom
ised so much to his dying wife had driven
her from his home on account thereof.
John Leslie had lot married the second
time. He had engaged a housckeeper at
the time of his wife's death, and as
things had gone on about as well as he
cared to have them he was contented and
happy.
If Grace Leslie had not married, he
would have felt that his lines would
have fallen in pleasant places" but the
man whom she had chosen was one that
he detested, and he declared that he
would sooner see her dead than his wife. -
Grace Leslie had a proud spirit and an
| indomitable will besides, so when she
found that entreaty was of no avail she
thrust defiance in the old mans face and
married Edwin Thor.
Thor was good enough sort of fell
low. bore good character for honesty
and other virtues. but he had once made
a bargain with John Leslie which he con-
sidered a little close. and from that hour
Thor lost caste in his eyes.
The old man was strong in his preju-
dices, and when he had formed one
against man he was as firm as a rock,
and in this case even the tears and en-
treaties of his dearly loved child failed
to move him.
So they had gone out into the world,
each strong in hope of what the possible
future might bring them, and if their
bark, so richly freighted, should drift
out of the channel and strand upon some
Isle of Shoals it would not be the first
one. Then, too. they had love at the
| helm to guide, and love is brave!
| That night as John Leslie sat by his
| fire there came to him longing for the
| sight of his child's face once more. Once
or twice he almost fancied her present
with him and turned about in his chair
and gazed out into the room, as if he ex-
| pected to see her.
| Then, when he would fall into half
| doZe. he would dream ~ that somewhere
out in the night she was holding close to
her bosom babe and struggling through
the snow. trying to reach his home. Then
he would shake this tting off with a
mighty effort and try to Danish ali
thoughts of her from his mind.
But somnolency cannot SO easily be
shaken off, and sitting by coy fire on
a cold winters night does not help the
matter much and from time to time the
old man would fall into doze, and each
time the face of his daughter appeared
before him, and her eyes would look so
pleadingly into his that he would waken
with sudden start and call her by
name.
Once he thought he had heard her
voice in accents of entreaty, and the
words she uttered were:
Come to me, oh, my father. Come TO
me, or shall die
Then he arose and went to the door
and opened it and looked out into the
darkness that lay all around him, shut
ing out all objects from view. He then
listened, too, with an intentness that
surprised him, as if he expected the form
of his child to come to him from out the
blackness beyond. He saw nothing, but
he could hear the wind signing among
the trees that stretched out their great
fibrous limbs, like arms of some huge
skeleton that sought to strangle him in
its grasp, and the patter, patter of the
falling snow against the window panes.
"A dreadful night" he said. "I'm glad
that no onerous duty calls me out in such
q Storm And then he drew his coat
closer about him and sat down once more
in his cozy chair by the fire.
1t was not long ere he was doing
again.
''This time the vision of his child was
as clear to him." he said, when he told
me the story, "and her voice as natural
as when he saw her in life
The words she uttered were these:
"Oh, father, why did you not come to
me? 1t is too late now for me; but will |
you not save my babe, which is asleep |
upon my bosom, beneath the snow at |
your very gate?'
Il followed my child through the door |
out into the snow down to the very spot |
where she had indicated. And thereof, |
God!-I found her own dead self and the |
little wee babe she had told me OFF,
God knows" he said. Il would have
given my own life to bring hers back
again; but that could never be, for she
was dead hours before 1 reached her side.
IT l had only needed her first appeal.
then | could have saved her"'
l ventured to ask him then if he be-
lieved that she had come to him in the
spirit form.
Il don't know" was his answer, "but
she was as real to me as in life, my own
darling Oracle, fair hair and all!'
John Leslie gave his only child the cost.
iest funeral that the place in which he
lwelt had ever seen.
The strange story had drawn together
1 great crowd of people, and many were
the questions asked of Mrs. Long, the
in regard to it, but she
could not answer them.
Years have passed inio oblivion since
he night on which John Leslie's child
.ane back to his very door and died, and
N which he heard her appeal for help.
That the form of his child did appear
o him he as firmly believes today as he
lid them.
Whether it was her spirit that he saw
lie does not pretend to say, nor do I, but
nly ask those, if any there be, who can {
olive this mystery: :
'What did John Leslie see?'-Ex-
hangc.
Decline and F8u of Corn Bread.
L.