The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1913-01-17
IN MEMORY OF A BABY


summer day, whom all the air was
soft with . scarcely psrceptibls base
which gives October that pensivensss
which II not sadness. and yet which
tempers Joy.
Miriam sat on the porch grooming
. lullaby to her baby ~ she gently
rocked back and forth and contem-
plated the Quietude Of tho country a.
II lay before her In . glory OF crimson
and gold.
A woman came slowly up the street
and paused ~ she caught sight Of
mother and babe. A woman. haggard.
faded. dust-stained. young In years.
but with youths bloom gone from the
pale cheeks and wretched eyes, fash
Ing suddenly with . wild light a she
held out her arms In supplication.
Miriam shrank back in her chair
and held her baby closer. thinking
the woman insane; but seeing her
mistake. leaned forward a bit, inquir-
ing II the woman was Ill or needed
help.
mo. madam. not iii. but thas been
30 long since I've seen a baby! You
are good. you are 80 happy. you have
not seen sin; you don't know what
1t is to have lost your baby and 90
about the world with empty arms and
despairing heart. My baby 10 gone!
II you will only let me kiss your
baby, let me hold It Just once-I would
be more flt to die"
Intuitively. Miriam saw that this
woman had suffered much; wronged
her womanhood. perhaps; but suffer
ed. Pity flashed tears into her eyes
sin shocked her-but she could not
send . fellow-creature away perhaps
to death. without giving what help she
could.
Hesitating but moment, she said:
Come. sit hero beside me; baby is
almost asleep" and rising. she laid
the little bundle of warmth and fra
GRANGE In the strangers arms.
With q stifled cry the woman sank
into a chair. while tears coursed down
her wan cheeks. She wept-wept with
grief unspeakable-with that agony OF
an overcharged spirit. until In the full.
ness of compassion Miriam put her
arm around the shaking shoulders and
tried in her gentle may to sympa-
thize.
The baby slept.
Miriam brought light refreshment,
dainty sandwiches and cool, rich milk.
Refreshed, the woman. now calm, soft
ly whispered: "If you knew what I
have been you would despise me. You
would not let me touch your pure,
sweet baby. You have been 30 good,
now let me CO."
But Miriam gently detained her. III
1t will help you to tell me your
trouble. may be able to aid YOU" she
said.
Then the woman wept again. but
tenderness prevailed, and bit by bit
the story Of a young girl. born and
brought up on a farm far from the
city's whirl, lured away from home on
promise Of marriage, then deserted,
came. How her baby had been born
in a charity hospital; how she had
searched and searched for her faith
less lover, only to find him emerging
from a great church with radiant
bride on his arm; how she had walked
the streets night and day searching
for work no one would give; how rea-
son had left her when her baby died
in her arms: how she was nursed
back to puny health by others who
had suffered, who gave her home
and certain rough but tender care;
how she was led on to life of shame
because she could find no other means
to earn bread. and how, sickened by
the revolving life, she had cast aside
her gaudy raiment and was on her
way to join her dead baby.
Miriam felt the truth of her story;
felt that she could not turn away
soul SO sorely distressed.
Il think you were more sinned
against than SHINING, and God has
brought you to me. VIII you stay
with me and help ne care for baby?
I have great need CT some one who
will put love into this work, and per-
haps. after while, my baby VIII
comfort you as your own
you will take me; you will keep
me; you will let me tend your baby?
oh. it is too much, too much!"
~ will do more. by giving you love
and a great trust. You can help or
harm me much if you are loyal and
faithful to baby ard me you will give
me a surer confidence in all humanity.
but If you fail me, shall never dare
to listen to the voice OF my own soul
again. 1t is a trial for US BOTH"
When the woman lifted her bowed
head there was new light in her
cves: n rested lock.
Il thought there was nothing for me
10 live for, no work for me to do, but
will live since you think me worthy
OF such a trust. / will prove to you
that there is something true In me
still. | will be faithful"
The next spring In far away city
over a little mcend in the churchyard
a white stone was placed which bore
the inscriptions: "In Memory Of a
Baby" and the tiny grave was blue
with myrtle and violets.
The woman lived all her long years
with Miriam and the baby. She came
to be like one Of the family, respected.
trusted, loved, looked up to. She
tended them in sickness and In
haoIth. roioiced In their lows aOYroW-