The Worthington advance., 1900-12-28

"Fifteen years at hard labor!"
The cold, emotionless voice of the
Judge is followed by a heartrending
cry:
my son, oh, my son!" and feeble
old lady with outstretched arms totters
toward the stricken prisoner.
HE doesn't mean it. John; he can't
mean it," she means. "Tell him it was
for me, for the love of your poor old
mother, you done it. o! tell him,
somebody, tell him and he'll take it
back. The monster has swallowed us
up after all, John," she cried in dazed
way; 'my son, o my son!"
Mother" cried the agonized man,
''mother!"
'The shadows, John, the shadows are
here. can't see," moaned the old lady,
cropping her way. "You must come to
me, my boy; come to your old mother" ("
And as John Austin was led from
the dock by the plying officials his
old mother, supported in the arms Of
tie faithful wife, passed into the val
ley Of the shadows, to the mountain
of light beyond.
The night Of stormy day in No
vember of the year 1S- was closing in,
when a man stood irresolutely at the
turning of road near the great city
of c..
The trees shivered and tossed their
long skeleton arms with melancholy
murmurings. The dead leaves stirred
by the wind turned with long quiver-
ing sighs upon their place of sepulture,
bemoaning with faint rustlings, their
sad, untimely fate.
drip. drip, drip!
Steadily. drearily, fell the rain.''
I'm the winter of my days am home
less and desolate," said the man, look
ing about him with dull, apathetic
expression of eye. Homeless and des-
olate.''
With trembling fingers he drew his
thin coat about him. and gazed pitiful-
ly, helplessly into the gray leaden sky
above.
Even the heavens frown and show
no mercy. In prison I had shelter, at
least" he said, aloud; "but out here
under the sky shiver with cold as
we'll as hunger. I'll go back to the
prison. They will not turn from me
as the good people do outside of it's
walls. I'll tell them the Prince of
Heaven had not where to lay his head,
and for His sake ask them to let me
in"
Drip. drip, drip!
Needless of the fast gathering dark.
ness, the cold, the rain, the man sank
down at the foot of tree, and sat star
ing into vacancy.
"Come, little one," he whispered.
feebly, outstretching his hands to some
imaginary object; "come to your ia
ther. Do not shrink" he moaned. 20,
do not shrink from mel"
Then look of hope for moment
crept into his eyes.
II forgot" he sighed; "she was but
babe. and it has been years, long, ter
rible years, since then. All are dead
now, mother, wife, child! All mel"
Drip, drip, drip!
ouSAA IAS OoA ~ TIC Cullle
ing drops fell upon the bowed head
and weary form beneath.
II will 60 back" he murmured.
dreamily; back to the prison. But
it's long journey, and feel SO ill, so
very ill.,"
His head sank upon his breast, and
for long while the silence was un-
broken save by the monotonous fall
of the rain. =.
Then the man stirred uneasily.
Fifteen years." he murmured; rs
long years. I must go home now
home. to Agnes, and mother and the
bnby.",s
Drip, drip, drip!
Motionless sat the figure. @,4--
Angrily the wind ratified the bare
boughs above him; rudely II tore from
its one fastening the thin coat, dashin9
with malicious glee the chilling rain
over the sunken chest, the white,
bowed head, into the ashen, peaceful
face. Round and round his unheedine
form circled the dead leaves, tendefly
covering his weary feet, ,vainly striving
to touch his cold, wet hands.
Drip drip, drip! i. s.s.. B. q /
Home. sgain hurmured the nsn,