Year: 1878

He had looked for him all day all
night. 1t was dawn again, and be
must go home without him-without
his little child-his treasure-his most
precious thing on earth. He must GO
home and tell its mother that the boy
was not found. He would never be
found now, the man felt sure OF that.


All his life he had dreaded this-all
the little life of that baby boy. He
had been like a man who wandered
among thieves with diamond In his
possession in full sight OF all eyes.
1t seemed to him that some one must
rob him OF it. AL the old stories
OF gypsies who stole children had
troubled him sorely. and his heart
had ached over the pitiful tale OF the
little chimney-sweeper who, more
than hundred years ago, while ply
ing his trade. came down the Chin
ney OF the nursery from which he had
been stolen when a timer fellow still,
and, recognizing 1t and his mother,
was restored to love and home at
last.


Ofen in the night had the thought
so overcome him that he had stolen
from his bed In the darkness to feel
the little head OF his sleeping boy on
the pillow of his crib. Even his wife,
the child's mother, who had loved
him SO, would have laughed at HE
fancies. So he kept them to himself.
Only once-once he was forced to
tell her. That was when he tattooed
the child's foot.


Right on the instep he had marked
It with a little blue w. 1t was pain
ful-every prick hurt him worse than
1t did the boy. And the mother com.
ing home, had been angry and griev-
ed, and then he told her:


IF the child was stolen, he should
know him, though his face were al
tered-thoueh he forgot bis name
and US. That is way 1 did it."


And she had said:


"People have children enough OF
their owp. Children are only valua-
bic to their parents. You are so ro-
mantic-so foolishi"


Now it had come. The foolish fear
was realized. Lost or stolen, the boy
was gone, and that tattoo mark was
the only thing that comforted him.
Alive or dead. they should know him
now. or after long years, for those
marks we're indelible, and no one else
would mark his foot with that tiny
w and the timer cress that followed.


Alive or deadl Could the boy be
dead? He cast up his hands in his
agony and uttered a cry that rang
through the sleeping street. People
turned in their beds, and said to
thems elves that there must be fight
or that some drunken man was max
ing night hideous. Some early risers
ended their sleep then and there, for
no one knew why the man cried out.
or who he was, or where he went,
save the solitary policeman, who gave
him a grave salute as he passed.
Neither asked the other, Have you
found the child?' They knew the
question was useless.


But at home, where the lights had
burned all night, the mother, who
paced to and fro, asked 1t, though she
knew the answer would be 'No."


"You have not searched every
where" she said. you have forgot
ten some place-some ones house
where he may have gone. Go out
again go. l will go also. You told
me you would bring him back, or
would not have been left at home.
Col"


The man turned on his very thres-
hold.


Il thought he might be here" he
said; "and wanted to tell you--the
tattoo mark, we shall be sure"


Then he fell forward on his face.
For twenty-four hours he had not
tasted food, but only his faintness
told him that he was hungry.


Then the mother remembered that
she was also a wife. The wretched
people ate and drank-stones and
sea- water, for aught they knew; but
they needed strength. For days they
looked for their child in every direc-
ton. The river was dragged, the
hospitals, even the prisons, searched


They spent their small means in ad-
vertising. They posted notices oi
their loss on the walls. All In vain


After others knew that they follow.
ed forlorn hope they still. pursued
1t as earnestly as ever. And SO the