Ladysmith news. [volume] (Ladysmith, Wis.) 1906-1907, 1907-02-09

down wooden house, swarming with
tenants, teeming with misery, filth and
| crime.
Up crazy flight of steps, and turn
| ing to the right, Arch saw that the door
of his mothers room was half open, and
| the storm had beaten in on the floor.
1t was all damp and dismal, and such
an indescribable air of desolation over
everything! Arcn's heart beat little
slower as he went in. His mother sat
| in an arm chair by the window, an
uncovered box in her lap, and a min
iature locket clasped in her hand.
| ooh, mother! mother dearest!" cried
| Arch, holding up the flowers, only look
what I have got! An angel gave them
to me! A very angel, with hair like the
sunshine, and a blue frock, all real silk!
And have got my pocket full of pen
MES, and you shall have an orange,
mother, and ever so many nice little
things beside See, mother dearw
He displayed a handful of coin, but
she did not notice him.. He looked at
her through the gloom of the twilight,
and feeling of terrible awe stole over
him He crept to her side and touched
her cheek with his finger. 1t was cold
as ice. A mortal pallor overspread his
face; the pennies and the flowers rolled
unheeded to the floor.
Dead! dead My mother is dead"
he cried.
He did not display any of the passion
ate grief which is natural to childhood
there were no tears in his feverish
eyes. He took her cold hands in his
own, and stood there all night long,
smoothing back the beautiful hair and
| talking to her as one would talk TO a
sick child.
1t was thus that Mat Miller found him
the next morning. Mat was little
older than himself-a street sweeper,
also. She and Arch had always been
good friends; they sympathized with
each other when bad luck was on them,
and they cheered Justify when fortune
smiled
"Hurrah, Archn' cried Mat, as she
burst into the room; sit rains again,
and we shall get a harvest! Good
gracious, Arch! is-your-mother-
dead?"
Hush" said the boy, putting down
the cold hand; Il have been trying to
warm her all night, but it's no use.
Only just feel how like ice my hands
are. I wish I was as cold all over, and
then they would let me stay with my
mother"
ooh, Arch" cried the girl, sinking
down beside him on the desolate hearth,
tits a hard world to live in. W0rI-
der if, when folks be dead, they have
to sweep crossings, and be kicked and
be cuffed round by old grandmas when
they don't get no pennies? If they
don't then I wish [ was dead. too,
Arch!'
81 suppose it's wicked, Mat. She used
to say so. She told me never to get
tired of waiting for Gods own time
her very words, Mat. Well, now her
time has come, and I am all alone-all
alone Oh, mother-mother!' He
threw himself down before the dead
woman, and his form shook with emo
ton, but not tear came to his eyes.
Only that hard, stony look of hopeless
despair. Mat crept up to him and took
his head in her lap, smoothing softly
the matted chestnut hair.
Don't take on so, Arch, don'tn' she
cried, the tears running down over her
sunburnt face "Illl be mother to We,
Arch! I will, indeed! l know I'm lit
tie brat, but love you, Arch, and some
time, when we get bigger, I'll marry
you, Arch, and we'll live in the country,
where there's birds and flowers, and it's
Just like the park all round. Don't
feel so, DON'T!
Arch pressed the dirty little hands
that futtered about him-for, next to
his mother, he loved Mat.
81 will go out now and call some
body" she said; there's Mrs Hill and
Peggy Sullivan, if she amt drunk
Either of them will Conner And few
minutes later the room was filled with
the rude neighbors.
They did not think it necessary to
call coroner. She had been ailing for
a long time. Heart complaint, the
physician said-and she had probably
died in one of those spasms to which
she was subject So they
robed her for the grave, and when all
was done, Arch stole in and laid the
pinks and roses on her breast.
ooh, mother! mother! he said, bend
ing over her in agony, ''she sent them
to you, and you shall have them
thought they would make you so hap
Ply! Well, maybe they will now! Who
can tell?"
The funeral was very poor one. A
kind city missionary prayed over the
remains, and the hearse was followed
to Potter's Field only by Mat and
Arch-ragged and tattered, but sincere
mourners.