Year: 1868

The following incident of travel is
narrated by correspondent of the Dali
| ly Saratogian. 1t took place on the Rem
selear and Saratoga Railroad, on one Of
| the Northern trains, between Saratoga
and Whitehall: When the train halted
at Saratoga, among the passengers from
the West came man of about 80 years
of age, elbowing his way through the
crowd, and bearing in bis arms a child.
He was poor man, his clothes were poor


he looked poor. Around his hat was
tied piece of so;led, worn Grape. It
was evidently all the mourning bis scan
tty means would permit, for the mother
lof the child was dead.


This man was rough in exterior, yet
his face was an honest one. He Handled


the baby awkwardly, yet there was ten
derness in his sad look that showed tho
purity of fathers love. The little fel-


low lay asleep on his coarsely clad knee;


a stray sunbeam glanced across its tired
face. They were both tired, the fhther


and the child, for they had come from


the far west; and as he placed his hard,


toil-wo hand to oshield it from the gol-
den rays there was in his look mixture
| of sadness and care, as if his pent-up.
feelings had been so crowded back into
the inner cells of his heart that even
tears could have been no relief to the


hidden anguish that was making his life


misery.


| The poor child cried; it might be the
little thing was tired; it might be it


missed its mother; perhaps it was hun
CRY; perhaps it was sick, and SO it cried.
The tears rolled down its baby cheeksj


the father wiped away the dewdrops as
| ithey fell, and then tried to feed it. He


was awkward with the bottle-his Lad


been life of toll and hardship--and he


knew not how to give his darling its


nourishment. AS he made effort after


effort to stiHe tbe cries and check the tears
lof his motherless babe, how he must have


missed her who in bis life Of labor and


privation had been bis solace and COM


fortl An unbidden tear started to his


eye, but he brushed it quickly away.


And who saw him pitied him. At length


a woman, richly appareled, with an in
fant resting on the lap Of his nurse be-


side her-she had been watching the


man--said in a gentle tone, "Giye me tho


child" The poor fellow looked at her


with look of gratitude, for there was q


mothers tenderness in her voice. With


humble resignation, as though it were
pain to part with him, even for a mo.


ment he gave Ler his boy. The woman
took it; its soiled clothes rested on her


costly silk; its tiny head was soon be-


meath her shawl, and in moment all
was still. Like the ,,Grecian daughter


who, through the iron bars fed her stary-
ling father, so did this high-born lady
lfrom her breast feed the hungry child,


and when ON her gentle bosom the little


one lay in calm and unvsxed sleep, she


put aside the shawl.


i The fathers heart swelled with graft
ltude. He said, as tear welled in bis
leye, and his voice was thick with emo.


tioD, aThank you. I'll take bin now
| Then the woman's nature spoke forth. as
she'gently answered, aNot yet, you will


wake him., and for mile after mile that
q noble hearted woman held that poor


mans child, and it was not until her own


babe required such nourishment as only
q mother can give, she gently rose and
placed the stranger boy with its father