"Here is a letter from our dear child," said Mrs. Reagan to her husband, one evening as he came in from work. "Sit down and read it aloud, for some how, my old eyes get dim every time I try; I cannot imagine what is the matter with them."
I can. They were full of tears. Strange, that we shed bitter and sweet water from the same fountain.
Reagan put on his spectacles, took the letter, looked at the first words, took them off, wiped the glasses, looked again, repeated the operation, laid both letter and spectacles upon the table, got up and walked the room back and forth, then he tried to speak--to utter the first words of that letter; if he could get over that he could go on, but he could not, they stuck in his throat. At length he got them up--"Dear father and mother, I am coming home to kiss you both." Simple words! Common every-day words. But they were strong words, for they had overcome the strength of a strong man, and he fell upon his wife's neck and wept like a child.
"Such words to me--me who have kicked, and cuffed, and froze, and starved, and abused that child for years. Oh, God, preserve my life to make her ample amends for my wrongs and her love! Oh, God, preserve her life to make us both happy, and drop a tear at our grave!"
Prayer calms the spirit. Realization and acknowledgment of sin soothes the soul.
Reagan could now read the letter without difficulty. His spectacles did not need wiping again. It was dated,
"Near KATONA, Westchester County, New York.
"I am coming home to kiss you both. I don't know but I shall kiss Tom, for he has written me all about it--I know it all--I know how you was brought in, and how you took the pledge, and how you have kept it, and how industrious you have been, and how you have saved your money, and how you want to go to housekeeping again, and all about it--I know it all. Tom writes me every week. He is a good boy. Well, in two months I am coming down. You need not look for me before, and then, if you want me, I will come and live with you."
"If we want her! Did you ever hear the like? But, then, what is she to do? She is a big girl now, and must not be idle. I wish she had a trade. Every child ought to have a trade."
"Well, well, wife, let us have the balance of the letter."