Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, I. T. [Iowa]) 1840-1849, 1842-06-10

Of that reckless nsuhordination. which often
sends pang after pang through the parents
breast; and of wicked deeds which sometimes
bring their grey heads in sorrow to the grave
heard stifed sobs; and looking up, saw that
old man and woman, at the right hand of the
pulpit, had buried their faces in their hands.
They were trembling with agitation, and saw
that fount Of deep and painful membranes
had now been opened. They soon regained
their usual calmness; but though: their steps
more slow, and their conntenances more sor-
! rowful that day, when, after our morning ser
vice had closed, they went to the grave in the
corner of the church-yard. There was no
stone to mark it, but their feet had been wear
ing, for many a Sabbath noon, the little path
which led 10 it,
went that night TO my mother, and asked
her il she could not tell me something about
"the first BELLS" She child me for the phrase
by which was wont designate them; but said
that her knowledge of their former life was very
| limited. Several years before, she added,
man was murdered in hot blood in distant
| town, by person named John L. The MUIR
derer was tried and hung; and not long after,
| this old man and woman came and hired the
little cottage upon Pine hill. Their names
| were the same that the murderer had borne,
and their looks of sadness aud reriring man.
ners, had led to the conclusion that they were
his parents No one knew certainly that it
| was so-for they shrunk from all inquiries,
| and never adveried to the past; but gentle
| and sad looking girl, who had accompanied
them to their new place of abode, had pinned
away, and died within the first year OF their
arrival. She was their daughter, and was sup
posed to have died Of a broken heart, for her
| brother who had been hung. She was buried
| in the corner of the church-yard, and every
pleasant Sabbath-noon, her aged parents had
mourned together over her lowly grave.
'And now, my daughter" said my mother,
in conclusion, ''respect their years, their sor-
rows, and above all, the deep, fervent piety
which cheers and sustains them, and which
has been matured by agonies. and watered
tears, by such as I hope my child will never
knows
My mother drew me to her side, and kissed
me tenderly and resolved that never again
would l, in spirit Of levity, call Mr.. and Mrs.
l.. ''the first BELLS"
Years passed on: and through summers
sunshine and its showers, and Though win
ter's cold, and frost, and storms. that old cou-
pie still went upon their never-failing Sabbath
pilgrimage. can see them even now, as they
looked in days long gone by. The old man
with his loose, black Quaker-like coat, and
low crowned, much-worn hat, his heavy cow
hide boots, and coarse, blue mittens; and his
partner walking slowly by his side, wearing
scanty, brown cloak, with four little capes,
and close, black, rusty-looking bonnet. In
summer the cloak was exchanged for cot
ton shawl, and the wooden gown, for one of
mourning print. The sabbath expression was
as Interchangeable as its dress. Their features
were very different, but they had both the
same mild, mcurnful look, the same touching
glance, whenever their eyes rested upon each
other; and it was one which spoke OF sympa-
thy, hallowed by heartfelt piety.
AT length coffin was borne upon bier
| from the little house upon the hilf. and after
| that, the widow went alone each Sabbath noon
! to the two graves in the church-yard felt
sad when thought how lonely and sorrowfal
she must be now and one pleasant day ven.
tured, an unbidden guest, into her lowly cot
AS approached the door, heard her singing
| in low, tremulous tone.
"How are thy servants blessed, o Lord"
was touched to the heart; for could sac
that her blessings were those Of a faith, hope
and ioy, which the world could neither give
nor take away.
She was evidently destitute of what the
world calls comforts and feared she might
also want its necessaries. But her look was
almost cheerful, as she assured me that her
knitting Cat which | perceived she was quite
cxpeditous) supplied her with all which she
now wanted.
Hooked upon her sun-burnt, wrinkled coun-
tenance, and thought it radient with moral
| 10 md her.
hair was combed back from her furrowed
brow. Her dress was blue wooden skirt,
and short, loose gown. and her hard, shriv-
! eled hands bore witness to much unfeminne
labor. Yet she was contented, and even hap
py, and singing praise to God for his bless
ings.
The next winter, thought could perceive
falterng in her gait, whenever she assembled
Church hill and one Sabbath she was not IN
her accustomed seat. The next, she was also
absent and when looked upon Pine hill,
could perceive no smoke issuing from her
chimney. feltanxous, and requested llber-
ty to make, what was then IN our neishoor-
| hood an occurrence, Sabbath visit. MY
mother granted me permission to 60, and re-
main as long as my services might be necess-
arv and al The close of the afternoon worship,
| wen, TO the little house upon the hill. J
listened eagerly for some sound, as entered
the cold apartment; but hearing none, tremb-
| lingly approached the low, hard bed. She
was lying there, with the same calm look Of
resignation, and whispered few words OF
welcome as took her hand.
| "You are sick and alone," said 10 her;
sstell me that can do for you"
| ~ am Sick" was her reply. "but not alone.
] He who is every where, and at all tunes pres