Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1901-02-27
Copyrighted 1901, by Daily Story Pub
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Copyrighted 1901, by Daily Story Pub |
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For thine is the kingdom, the power
and the glory, for ever and ever, Amen
And. oh. dear God, please give me my
sweet Mrs. Warham for my mother"
mo, no. child; you must not pray for
that" said Mrs. Warham hastily. THAT
is wicked
The child opened her eyes wide and
dropped her hands in dismay.
You said l should pray for whatever
I wanted"
II mean only good things
There could not be anything better
than that. and it is what l wanted most
of all the things that God can do
There you are through your prayers
now. Good night"
The child looked troubled as she kissed
her friend goodnight. What harm was
there in praying for what she most
wanted? She went thoughtfully to bed,
feeling that for the first time in her short
life barrier had come between her
and the Great Father whom she had
been taught to ask for everything she
wanted Was it possible that there was
something that God either could not
or would not do?
Mrs. Wurham sat for time with her
head bent, her 'eyelids dropping over her
lustrous brown eyes. Then she looked
at two letters lying on her table. She
had read them but she took them up and
perused them again.
One was addressed in a strong, mas
culine hand. 1t asked after his child.
Nanette. 1t told her when he would
tn "a 1p n
home. 1t said something about his obli-
cation to her for her gentle care of
his motherless child who would have
been lonely but for her kindness.
The other letter was from friend
of her girlhood. Looking back through
the years-nOt so very many had they
been-she remembered how fair and
beautiful Aletha had been, and how gay.
The mirth was all gone now and the
letter was a sad one. Death had taken
away her loved ones; misfortune had
robbed her of fortune and home. She
to whom life had been one dream of
pleasure must now find place among
the bread winners.
You know they used to say that when
my fortune left me-what a remote pos
sibility it seemed in those days-I could
make a living at governess. How, and
where? The friends I have left are the
winter friends whose heads also bend be
fore the winds Of adversely. The sum-
mer friends have drifted away with the
butterflies and June roses. What
stranger would trust an unknown wo-
man with lifes deal est Interest,""
There was one thing she could do;
she could tell Colonel Lander of her
friend and of what gentle, wise guide
she would be for this lonely little girl
who was clinging to her with such fond
affection. She might thus secure a home
and congenial employment for the wo-
man who had lost all that made her life
happy.
Mrs. Warham wrote long letter that
night, pausng now and then to think
deeply, her eyes seeming to be fixed
upon something far off.
Some days later she received another
letter from her friend, filled with JOY
and gratitude.
ut seems strange that should be
leaving my southern home with feelings
of intense thankfulness, but so it is.
am going into a life of toll, but it is
beautiful work and it means home and
independence to me, as we'll as the love
of little child to help fill the deep, wide
vacancy in my heart. 1t is to you that
I owe the life opening before me and for
which / am so thankful that I cannot
put my gratitude into words. Whatever
of good may come to me in my new
sphere-and what but good can come to
one who enters the world of work with
love and hope and purest ambition?-l
owe to you, the dearest friend of my
youth"
Mrs. Warham read the yetter again
with wave of thankfulness surging
through her heart 1t was only through
good deeds for others that she could fill
the loneliness of her own heart and
Mrs. Variants good deeds were many
AS the weeks passed on many letters
came to Mrs. Warham telling her of tn,
new home, of the beauty and comfor
and charm of it, of the love of the little
child of the hope and pleasure that hat
been born anew in the heart of the wo
man who had lost all her olden. mirth
full life. Then there was a silence ant
Mrs. Warham thought that the new in
.terests and pleasures had so filled thu
heart of her friend that she had for
time forgotten the one who had hitert,
shared her joys and sorrows.
ut is well,' she thought half sadly
1T is not in joy but in grief that tn,
heart pines for sympathy. 1t is from
the storm that seeks shelter no
from the soft light that showers upon tn
earth when the sky is azure and tn
bird-notes float musically across tn
chords of the wind-hary and the VIC
let's look up to the bending arch of tn
heavens"
One morning a letter came:
''My Sweet Mildred:
What must you think of me when
tell you that, much l love my ney
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