Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1909-05-17

DesSeQ 1Or recognition. he was pat.
ting him and calling him for the
good work, when suddenly the wife
stopped knitting. She put her specks
on the top Of her head, dropped her
hands in her lap, looked over and said.
as the tears fell Husband, have you
forgotten? This is her anniversary
night" The old man stopped rocking.
His eyes dropped to the floor and the
tears rolled down. His hands in his
trouser pockets, he went to the window
framed his face in the window pane,
looked out into the cold night and
wept.
1t was Christmas eve in a great city,
The church was thronged with people.
They had come to receive their gifts
and opened his veins with the tnstru-
world in blood and tears to keep us
out of hell. The light streamed
thru the windows Of the church
and fell upon the cold white snow and
the creaking Of the wheels as the car
riages rolled down the street told how
chilly it was. The sermon had Just
begun. The minister took as his text
He was wounded for our transgres-
sions," when the door opened and
poor, wretched outcast drifted in from
the storm. She sat near radiator
and she shivered and her teeth chat
tered as she folded her rags about her
and fell asleep during the discourse.
1t was completed. gifts given, the ben
ediction pronounced and the people
hocked out. The minister was putting
on his coat and gloves as he came
down the aisle. Being emboldened by
what he said, she came forth and said
Did you say He was wounded for
our transgressions?" He looked at her
then drawing his cap over his ears,
headed out into the night. She step
ped out, and leaning over the railing.
a paroxysm Of coughing sliced her.
Just then the policeman on the beat
came along and recognized her. He
said "Hello Meg! What graft is on
tonight girl?" She said, between par
oSyems of coughing, None, Jerry. He
was wounded for our transgressions.
bruised for our 1niquities" The po-
liceman tapped his head and murnured
something about the strain being too
much and went on. She started out.
and from her rags she drew her last
nickel of her ill-gotten gain and life Of
infamy. On the car she went, then.
leaving it, on out into the country she
hurried. Up the pebbly path she came.
put her hand on the door and stepped
in. The light from tho fireplace was
blazing. The dog leaped to his feet.
He put his paws on her breast and
growled. He didn't know the bundla
Of rags She spoke his name. He
hadn't heard that voice for eight
years, but he hadn't forgotten the
time when he pulled her up and down
the walk. She threw her arms about
her old friend of other days. and, en-
bracing each other they fell down in
front of the fire and went to sleep.
In the morning when the mother cane
down she found the bundle Of rags and
she touched it with her foot. II
moved. She screamed. The husband
hurried. The hard lines Of the night
before had left his face; the tears had
dried They slipped their arms be-
meath her body; they bore her to the
bed; she clung to her mothers neck
and whispered family. "He was
wounded for our transgressions.
bruised for our iniquities." That
means He will forgive me. mother;
will you? That is what God will do
for you-come back.