Year: 1871

written for US by lady who was acquainted wi
T? all the circumstances in the case, and who Civ


assurance that the facts just as related, with


the exception OF real names OF the parties wi
en- figured therein, which, for obvious reasons, a


not tdivulged.-An1eTScdR odd FettoGo.


God only knew how that poor motht


had suffered. She had given her heart an


hand to one of her own station in life,


hard-working mechanic. That she love


her husband above all earthly objec.s, ws


plainly evident, for he had been her fir
I and only love- She had long been alon


in the world-fatherless, motherless, ST.


terless, brotherless-and now she turne


to him, her husband, with all the worshi


of passionate soul and sympathetic na


ture. She yearned for love returned, sue


as she had dreamed of, such as she felt 70
: him, and she had reason to believe tina


she had found it.


The first year of her married life wa


full of joy, and the second equally so bu


there was the addition of anticipation, foi


she was to become mother She hoped
: soon to gaze upon bright-eyed boy, anC
she prayed that he might be the image o.


his father, and that, growing up, he would


possess the virtues of his sire. And with
I each day her happiness seemed to in
l crease. Never before had her husband
! appeared so noble in her eyes, and never
before had she fully realized how very
dear he was to her-how necessary to heI
. life.


One morning, as was his custom. he left
her for his daily toll He had over and
over again printed kisses of affection upon
her lips, but still she clung to him, until


tears started into her eyes, and she ex-


claimed:


"Oh, George, why is it that 1 cannot


bear this parting? Don't think me fool


ish, but it seems as if I must cling to you


and weep-weep for very joy, for my heart


is so full Am l not too happy? VIII


such Joy last through life ?"


Playfully the husband patted her cheeks,


kissed her lips once more, and left her for


his work. AS long as possible she watch


his retreating form, and then she turned


to household duties, and as she did so,


tried to sing and smile; but something


choked her utterance, and tears would fill


her eyes in spite of all she could do.


Slowly the day dragged on, and the
supper hour was approaching. The table
had been. spread with more than usual
caIe, and dish provided of which the
husband was very fond.


In ten minutes he will be here" she
murmured; but at that very instant she
was startled by the violent ringing of the
|
heart beat with great rapidity, as she pro-
ceeded to answer the summons. She
opened the door, and saw half a dozen
men standing there. Not one of them
spoke, but they advanced into the hallway
and from thence into little parlor, where
they deposited heavy burden they had
brought with them.


The wife had watched all this with
cheeks as pale as death, and with blood
less quivering lips; but no sound had she
uttered. Then she stepped forward and
placed her hand upon the blanket which
covered some bulky object. She attempt
ed to raise the covering, but a shivering
seized her, and she paused, yet only for
moment Then she removed the blanket


She did not shrink or faint, but she ap-
peared even calm under the circumstances
for there was the outstretched form of
George Avery, her husband; and he
moved not There could be no mistake,
for there were the very garments he had
worn in parting from her that morning.
But the face was so covered with blood
that the features could not be distin-
guished.


Even yet, without word, a murmur,
or a sigh, she proceeded to procure water,
and with her own hands she washed away
the gore. Yes, it was her husbands face
but pale, and the eyes expressionless, for
he was dead.


How did this happen?" she asked,
turning to one of the men.


Poor. George fell from the building
upon which he had been at work, Just as
he was speaking of his home, and of the
ending of another week of toll He never |
spoke after he struck the ground"


The poor wife did not sink under the |
blow. She did not even weep; but there |
seemed to be an unnatural light in her |
eyes, and an unaccountable calmness about |
her. But she would not leave the corpse. |
Preparations were made for its burial but |
still she remained by its side, holding the |
dead hand in her own, and sometimes |
kissing the cold lips. She talked to it, |
even as she would have done in life; and |
so the time passed on until the final part |
ing came. Even beside the grave she did |
not weep, although it was found necessary
to support her, for she could not stand.


And now she returned to her desolate
home, alone, although not long to remain
so; for her child was born. As she had
hoped, it was boy, and as she gazed upon
it, she whispered:


"But for this, l could not have lived
but for this, 1 should have been placed be-
side my husband. But l have sacred
duty now to perform. God help me to be
faithful to my charge"


Eighteen months passed slowly by, dur
ing which time the mother struggled nobly
on To her the cLild was strength. These
little nothings, so interesting in the tiny
pledges of affection, were everything to
her. The childish prattle was heavenly
music to her ears, and its halfuttered
words sent thrills of ecstasy through her
heart, while its acts were such as mothers
love. A hundred things she had taught
the infant, and its aptness in imitation to
her was something wonderful Early it
had learned to walk, but with the fondest
solicitude did the mother ever watch its
steps, lest harm should come to her dar-
ling treasure.


The first sharp pang of the husbands
loss had passed away, and although she
deeply mourned him yet, she began to
feel that her duty now was to prepare her
self and her little one for future life, and
both for the reunion which must take
place beyond the tomb. And so she lived,
her boy making her home once more
happy one.
One day, after her ususl toll, the mother
at reading newspaper article, where the
description of child having been kid
mapped was given. For a few moments
her mind had been absorbed, and then
placing her hand against her brow, she

"Oh, if such misfortune should hap
pen to me, what should l do? Mine is a ,
beautiful boy, unless 1 am. blinded by a
mothers love, and must guard him with ,
ealous care. George Georgier'


The little one had been seated in the ,
front door, and only moment before she :
lad heard his innocent laugh. But he did !
not reply to the call of his mother, and, ,
ipringing up re sought him where he had {
been sitting. lie was not there She was ,
lot specially alarmed, for she supposed !
hat he had only wandered short distance !
rom the door, although he was not in
light, and walking 70 the next corner, she 7
'elt sure she should find him. Still, he i
was nowhere to be seen, and the mothers I
heart began to beat wildly, the blood to !
course like lightning through her veins, j
mo then Tor moment she felt faintness I
creeping over her. !
II was moment of trial-the moment s
when it was necessary for the mother once s
more to lay aside her weakness and nut on O
1er STRENGTH RUt that r,osbo-,- -.rt...l |