Year: 1865

eyes grew dim. she would watch the ra-
dance of the Pickering light, only say
ing sometimes, ..>hall live to hear his
footsteps VIII that feeble flame still
burn when my life's light has gone OUT


Pray with meT she murmured, that
Imay see him before die Oh for this
most precious boon.


In vain all prayer. Slowly, more
slowly the wheels OF time went round.
and the pulses like ebbing drops fell
fainter and fewer, until one calm night
in summer, the wa.ers were scarcely stir
( red.


She lay quietly. smile upon her lips.
her eyes closed. her hands folded.


I've longed to see him., she said i
have prayed earnestly; but have given
it all up now. shall not meet him in
this world


Have you put the light in the win
dow! !! she asked suddenly, earnestly q
few moments after. 1t is growing
dark


Alas. it was not the light that was
growing dark.


Her hands were cold Over her
countenance came that mysterious shad-
ow that falls but once on any mortal
/ face


oh my boy, my boy she whispered
tell him'-they bent lower to catch the
failing words-.tell him will put light
in the window of heaven to guide his
footsteps there


The thrilling sentence was scarcely
spoken when the shadow dropped Fl ON
the suffering face, and it smiled the calm
majesty of death.


A funeral followed, humble hearts at
tended the body of one who was loved
for her sincere goodness all through the
hamlet; and on the hillside, in little
graveyard she was buried


Not many days after a great ship came
into the port of busy city Among all
who stepped from her deck, none was
more hopeful, more joyous than young
Henry Locke. He had passed through
the ordeal of sea life, SO far unscathed
No blight of immortality had fallen upon
him. He had kept himself as if at
nightfall his feet had been turned to
ward the door of his mothers cottage
How his heart bounded as he thought of
her. Strangely enough he never thought
she might be dead 1t did not occur to
him, that perhaps, her silver locks were
lying under the lid of the coffin Oh,
no, he only thought of the pleasant light
in the window, that her hands trimmed
for him.


Beautiful and bland was the day on
which he travelled again the long &C
customed road. How pleasant now to
go home with sufficient to provide for the
comfort of that dear mother. She would
never want again. He would take her
to better home, and give her the luxu
ries he had once longed to see in her
possession. The old arm chair-she
would have one, easy in motion, elegant
in material. The faded shawl he had
seen folded and refolded year after year
and that old fashioned bonnet with its
one band of Grape; these, yes everything
should be replaced with new, and better
The flowers on the road all smiled as he
looked toward them. the very kline seem
ed to him turning their meek eyes at the
sound of strange footsteps to know that
his heart was glad with love and antici-
patton. Hope on dreamer


1onder comes one who trudces on
laggingly-a farmer, in heavy boots and
frock, his whip in his hand He cheers
the lazy oxen, but suddenly stops
amazed.


Il see you know me, said the young
sailor smiling. We'll, farmer Brown,


Know We, why how tall you are !,
So--'his eyes drop his mouth trembles-
so you have got home


.'Ies and glad enough TO get back
agaln-how 5 my mother p


y 1our-mother-' he says it in that
slow. hesitating way that telegraphs i'll |
tidings before they are told in words !


"Yes-is she we'll Is she expecting
me? OF course she is; we're late by
full month";


Your mother. Henry, well-the old !
lady He plays with his whip or, /
rather strikes it hard on the dusty road /
How can he crush that happy heart?


.There you need not speakr' cried I
the young man in a voice of sudden an
guish; and he recoiled almost stagger |
ing. from the farmers side, and buried |
his face in his hands.


Henry, my poor lad, your mother |
is


Don't. don'tr' cried the other,
showing now a face from which all color
had fled. .'Oh, my mother. my mother,
she is gone, gone-and / coming home T,
SO happy"


For some moments he sobbed in ago
ny. How dreary the world had grown
The flowers had lost fragrance the sun
warmth: his heart seemed dead.


Henry she left message for YOU"





the sleeve of his frock.


A message for me = it seemed as if
the white lips could hardly speak.


Yes, says she-so my dame told me.
and SO the minister said-Tell Henry 1
will put light in the window of heaven
TO light his footsteps there"


Did she, oh. did she say that?' God
bless you for telling me, All my long
voyage I've thought Of the light IN her
little window. I've seemed to see it
streaming along down to the foot of the
hill. till it grew brighter and brighter as
l drew near. A light in the window of
heaven? Yes, mother, I'll think still
that you are waiting for me I could
not see you in these long years; but I
knew the light was burning. I cannot
see you now. but l know the light is
burning. / will come, mother"


Slowly and reverently, he went to the
hillside graveyard, and there he knelt
and wept upon the lonely grave But