News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1921-05-11

| weather-spotted angel on the monu-
ment Of the Reverend Thaddeus
Sneed, who had been lying there,
among the rude forefathers of the
| village, since 1906. Suddenly the
| angel began to move. Mr.. Blenkinsop
observed with alarm that it had dis
covered him and that its right fore
finger was no longer directed toward
the sky but was pointing at his face.
The angel had assumed the look and
voice of his Old Self and was saying !:
Il don't see why angels are always
cut in marble an set up in grave
yards with nothing to do but point at
the Sky. It's cold an lonesome bust
ness. Why don't you give me job?'
His Old Self vanished and, as it
did so, the spotted angel fell to
coughing and sneezing. 1t coughed
and sneezed so loudly that the sound
went echoing in the distant sky and
so violently that it reeled and seemed
to be in danger of falling. Mr.. Blenk-
nsop awolle with a rude jump so that
the dog Christmas barked in alarm.
1t was nothing but the midnight train
from the south pulling out of the
station, which was near the old grave
yard. The spotted angel stood firmly
in place and was pointing at the sky
as usual.
1t was probably an hour. or so later,
when Mr. Blenkinsop was awakened
by the barking of the dog Christmas.
He quieted the dog and listened. He
heard sound like that of baby cry
ing. 1t awoke tender memories in the
mind of Hiram Blenkinsop. One very
sweet recollection was about all that
the barren, bitter years of his young
manhood had given him worth hav-
ing. 1t was the recollection of a
little child which had come to his
home in the first year of his married
life.
"She lived eighteen months and
three days and four hours" he used
to say, in speaking of her. with a
tender note in his voice.
Almost twenty years she had been
lying in the old graveyard near the
ash tree. Since then the voice of a
child crying always halted his steps.
1t is probable that, in her short life,
the neglected, pathetic child Pearl
that having been her name-had pro
tested much against plentiful lack
of comfort and sympathy.
So Mr. Blenkinsops agitation at
the sound of baby crying some
where near him, in the darkness of
the old graveyard, was quite natural
and will be readily understood. He
rose on his elbow and listened. Again
he heard the small, appealing voice.
"By thunder Christmas" he whis-
pered, IF that amt like Pearl when
she was a little, teeny, weeny thing
no bigger'n a pint o. beer! Say, it
is, sir, sure as stint"
He scrambled to his feet, suddenly,
for now, also, he could hear the
voice of a woman crying. He CROPPED
his way in the direction from which
the sound came and soon discovered
the woman. She was kneeling on
grave with a child in her arms. Her
grief touched the heart of the man.
"Who be your he asked.
I'm cold, and my baby is sick, |
and l have no friends" she sobbed. |
Eyes, We have" said Hiram Blen-
kinsop. 81 don't care who We be.
I'm yer friend and don't We forgit it,"
There was a reassuring note in the |
voice Of Hiram Blenkinsop. Its gentle
ness had in it duiver of sympathy. |
She felt II and gave to him-an I'M |
known, invisible man, with just a
culver of sympathy in his voice
her confidence.
If ever one was in need of sympa-
thy, she was at that moment. She
felt that she must speak out to some
one. So keenly she felt the impulse
that SIZE had been speaking to the
stars and the cold gravestones. Here
at last was human being with a
culver of sympathy in his voice.
~ thought | would come home,
but when l got here l was afraid"
the girl moaned 81 wish l could die"
"No, We don't, either!' said Hiram
sometimes, I've thought
that l hadn't no friends an wanted
to die but l was just foolin my
self To be sure, l amt had no baby
on my hands but I've had somethin'
just as worrisome, l guess. Folks like
you an me has got friends a-plenty
If We'll only give 'em a chance. I've
found that out You let me take that
baby an come with me. l know
where you'll git the glad hand. You
just come right along with me-"
The unmistakable note of sincerity
was in the voice of Hiram Blenkinsop.
She gave the baby into his arms. He
held it to his breast a moment. think
ing of old times. Then he swung
MS arms like cradle saying:
you stop your hollerin'-ye gor-
darn little skeezucks It amt de-
cent to go on that way in a graveyard
an We ought to know it. Be We tryin'
to wake up the dead?'
The baby grew quiet and finally