Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 September 1887 — From Father's Well. [ARTICLE]

From Father's Well.

Detroit Free Press. “Is there no hope?” “There is none!” The doctor laid down the heavy hand whoße rapid, flickering pulse he was counting, and turned toward the weeping family of the sick naan. “He may last until morning, but more likely he will pass away at the turn of thd' night.” “He does not know me,” sobbed the wife. “He is not conscious,” answered the doctor gravely. “His mind wanders.” “Will he sutler much?” “No; he is very hap|>y. He is talking in his sleep. Do not disturb him,” said the doctor as he left the patient, whose life he was powerless to save. The dying man, who was so poor at this moment that he could not purchase one hour of time, was rich in the worldly possessions he was about to leave forever. He had houses and lands, and bank stock. He had rich viands to tempt hip failing appetite. It was his pleasure to drink of many d ifferent wines at his grand dinners. Yet his restless spirit craved one luxury—a simple, homely thing—that, all his wealth could not buy. Listen! He is speaking and they bend eagerly to near. He is asking for a drink. His wife presses'a goblet to his lips filled with a sweet and cooling draught. He refuses it. , Then flis loving child pours out a glass of his favorite wine and tenderly begs him to take it. “No! ne! not that F” He speaks wildly, and they bend low and try to distinguish jthis broken and faltering words. “Bring—me—the—gourd!” “What does he mean?” asks his wife in despair,—— “"It —is—hanging —just—inside—the— curb.” “Papa, dear, what is it?” asks his sweet-faced child. “I—want—a—drink—of—fresh—water—from—from —father’s —well.” That was all. He closed his weary eyes to open them in his heavenly home where, when life’s little dream is over, we shaH one day slake our thirst irom our Father’s well.