UNKNOWN

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7859, 29 June 1905, Page 4

UNKNOWN

■ Itching and ema. CUTICUM low I suffered rribly painful, * itching," and bleeding eczema, my } body and face beinjj covered with J sores. Never in my life did I experience such awful suffering, and I • longed for death, which I felt was ' near. I had tried doctors and medi- •• cines without success, but my mother 9 insisted that I try Cuticura. I felt - better after the first bath with Cutis cura Soap' and one application of ■ Cuticura Ointment, and was soon en- - tirely well. Any person having doubt about this wonderful cure by Cuticura - may write to me. (signed) Mrs. A. ; Etson, Bellevue, Mich."

Kept to herself the words that wcii within her heart. How eouid she tell the boy that hi: father had died a drunkard's death Eight times the autumn leaves hai blown the thistledown over a grav< in the little cemetery on the tus sock hill ; ejght times the sun hai shone there since the man had pass ed from her life, and she had neve ceased to thank God that the fathei had never looked upon the face o his youngest son. Between her firs born and her last there had livci other children. Her tears had fallei when each one had died, but she knev that it was best. They had beet taken from cruel things, for thci father lived, and her first born mock ed her love. The child of her old'agi was hers alone ; in him she shouli have compensation. As wife she hai loVed and hated ; as mother she ha< loved and been slighted. Her whoh soul was bound up in Dannie now and because she loved him so tin shadow that had lain over her owi life should not touch him yet awhile She spoke to him with yearning—"Come closer to me Daonie, darlin. To-morrow p'rjaps this stranger mai 'll come an' turn us out, but to-nighi the little house is still ours. Comi on my knee, manic ; there's no oni to see you. I' want to put ray arms round you an' think of the days wher you was a baby. Come for once Sonny ! " » The child crept on to her lap and nestled there. The fire had sunl to a bed of glowing coals'; every and then a tremulous flame leapt u) for a moment and died away. Th< mother spoke softly ; made the roon live with scenes of other days, peo pled.it with forms of long ago. Al that life had given her to bruise hei soul and the greatest joys of her lif< came to her again. " I used to set the little cradle ii this corner," she said, "by the fire You all lay there ; Bobby,- an' yoi an' all the others. I used to nursi you here, in the chair, where I'm sittin' now. An' I used to poke tht fire to send the sparks out. You all laughed at 'em, every one of you. I' was here by the table I taught you to walk, dearie; an' Bobby over there. Ah, he was a little beauty, just like you, Dannie, with big brown eyes an' curly hair." She rambled on while the dying fire grew grey, unhechful of evcrvtninn but her memories. Then her voice ceased. Outside, through the stillness, came the click of the gardcr gate, and muffled footsteps sounded on the path. She roused to life again. " It's Mr Ross," she said ; " you said he was coming, Dannie." The child, looking wide-eyed from the window into the dusk, answered her with terror and passion in his voice. " It's the big, dark feller, too," he cried. " I know him ! He's come to turn us out ! But it's our house tonight, Mammy ! You told me so ! I hate him, Mammy, I hate him ! 1 will bolt the door an' keep him out. He musn't come ! " He had flown to the door and was fumbling with .the latch, but the mother stayed his hand. ■ " It's Mr Ross, Dannie," she said; 'and if the other man comes ' tonight, too-well ! the place is his." She set open the door, and the minister stepped across the threshold and took her hand, but the stranger hesitated outside. "Come in, sir," the wdman saiu\ with simple dignity. "The place is yours. Throw some wood on 'the fire, Dannie, dear, and brine a match. 111 light the lamp." The minister still held her knotted hands in his. He spoke from the darkness with heartfelt joy in his voice. J "You think I have come to comfort you, Mrs Sutherland-to condole with you-but I have not. I have come to bring you good news and to rejoice with you. Once, in old days, a story was told of a prodigal son who threw away his father's love but returned to him again. I have come to tell you the slory afresh, but this time it is a mother's pardon the prodigal seeks. He has lived and suffered and repented, and now he comes to you." The mother groped for apprehension. „ " I— ■ I_^ on ,' t r 'ghtly understand you, sir," she faltered. "Your eldest born has come to you again, ' he answered, softly. Then light broke in upon her with a torrent of tears, as the stranger stepped forward, took her in his arms, and spoke her name. It was a child's voice that rane through the darkened room.' ' "It's Bobby, 'Mammy ! Bobby' Ik is he that's bought the house for you I said he'd fight old Carson ! I said he d look after us ! I said he'd bo good to us both if he was here ' "