The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1844-11-27

on board the ship -, which sails in an hour
for the Pacific ocean. Fondest, best 0 fmothers,
do not grieve; will one day return to bless and
comfort you and my dear Alice. Unjust do some
thing for you and her. Kiss her for me. Moth
Ell, can write no more, only l hope that | shall
have your prayers. Ihaye got my pocket Bible,
and shall keep itnext to my heart. Farewell.
Your affectionate son.
L. 5. lhave somewhere read, what | am sure
will prove true in my own case:
"Where' er ! rove-whatever realms 1 see,
My heart, untravelrd, fondly turns to thee"
By some means the letter did not reach the post
Office as soon as it should have done, and the I'M
certainty bore heavily on the heart of mother and
sister. The postmaster, on its arrival, kindly
sent it to me; and hoping that it contained tidings
of the lost child | ventured to break the seal.
The truth--sorrowful as it was---was a great re-
lief, and was felt to be SO by Mrs. Grant and
Alice. Yet, for a season---und who can marvel?
their hearts we're filled with a sadness which
scarcely admitted of alleviation--it was a dark
and mysterious providence, and when friends
called in, as they often did to mingIe their their
tears with the weeping, and to administer conso.
latlon, the most they could do was to say, ''his
ways are in the sea-, andhis judgments past find
ing out"
But time does neutrality-suspicious. does more.
By degrees these sorrowful ones were able to
pray, and as the christian poet says, "Prayer
makes the darkest cloud Withdraw"
So itdidforthem. They did not indeed recover
their wonted cheerfulness, but they were calm
and subdued. No murmur escaped the mothers
lips, and even Alice seemed TO have imbibed the
spirit of a holy resignation, "Father, thy will be
done.'
But there we're days ofkeen and bitter anguish,
and in those nights when the storm swept its an
cry blast across their humble dwelling, and rock
ed their bed, it was impossible for a mothers heart
not to tremble for her sailor boy, far off upon
the stormy ocean, and perhaps suffering the per.
lis OF the billowy tempest. But even at such
times, she was enabled to commit herselfand heI
wandering child to the care of a covenant keep,
ing God-uttering the language of holy conf
dence, ellis faithtulness is as the everlasting
mountains."-"Though he Stay me, yet / will
trust in Him."
-Four years elapsed, and nothing was heard Of
Charles Grant. Sometime during the second
year of his absence a rumor reached lis that a
ship supposed to be the, which sailed from
Yin vi DOuIu u WHICH SIldljCS was SuppO'
sed to be, was burned at sea, and that but two OF
three only were saved, and among these was a
young man named Grant. But the rumor though
not contradicted, was not confirmed, and another
period of uncertainty and anxiety, fell to the To-
OF the long stricken and heaIt-saddened mothel
and sister Of the absent boy.
AT length the friends o fMrs. Grant perceived
a visible change in her health. The indications
OF that too fatal Observation-Disclosures toe
apparent to be mistaken. Its approach indeed
was slow and insiduous, and for a time was KEEP
at bay by assiduous attention of our village ply
%siclan; but medical prescription at length lost it
power, and she became at first confined to the
house--then to her room--and finally to her bed
often visited her, as did other friends. He
room was no longer the abode of gloom and sor
row. She had for some months been making
rapid progress in resignation TO the will of God
and though her feeble tabernacle was shaken
and was likely TO be dissolved through years o
anxiety of affection, yet her faith seemed to &C
quire more and more strength, and to fasten with a
frmer hold upon the divine promises.
One day as sat conversing with her, she alIu
ded to the faithfulness of God, and expressed he
unwavering confidence in Him. She said it ha(
been her desire to acquiesce in the Divine will
and she hoped she would be able to do so, whatev
er / might be in relation to herselfor her absen
son. But, continued she, Ihave prayedlong anC
te%rvently that once more mightIsee him---see hin
a true penitent--and cannot elinquish the belle
tina: God will hear and answer,
l was about to say something which might tend
to soothe her, i'll case her hopes were hot realized
as must confess that | saw little present reason tc
expect they would be, when she stopped me, ane
observed, "You may think me presumptious, bu'
my faith must enjoy its hold on the Divine prom
ises. Has not God said, Call upon me in the da,
of trouble, and Twill answer thee, and thou shall
glorify mep have called---yes | have called b,
day and by night, and God has seemed to helpme
Has he excited such strong, such intense emo
ton. for nothing? Has he enabled me to wres-
tie with him, only to be disappointed? | an
aware that probabilities are all apparently agains
me. | must soon fail; this heart will soon cease
beating, and the narrow house be my resting
place, but | still have confidence in the faithful
ness of my heavenly father. VIVA though | see
no immediate prospect of the return of my poo
boy? | believe / shall yet press that poor chile
to my boson.-Years since, | wrote in a poke.
Bible | gave him, ellis loving kindness changes
not p" and do you think it will fail nowp
confess | admired the steady faith of The
mother---a faith strong in the Lord and in the
power of his might; and yet it seemed scarcely
possible that her hopes should be realized. A
length my faith faltered, for it was apparent tina
her hour of departure was not far distant.
That night two or three female friends, fear
lul of her failure before morning, offered to stay
with the mother of Alice. This the latter cheer
fully a~ssented to, though she had decided not t.
leave ermother. The necessary Arrangements
for the night were made, and at an early houl
all was silent inand around the humble cottage
1t was a glorious night abroad--clear, soft