The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1850-08-29

trouble, 70 raise them 10 nlgner ana purer lie
When Mr. Pierson tells us, as he sometimes does,
of the famous men that lie buried in Westmin-
ster Abbey, and how, az a boy, he used to wander
among shsir monxments, and muse their lofty
deeds feel their spirit strong within me. ], too,
have destiny to achieve. | viii make myself a
monument in the hearts of my countrymen, so
that long after my death, in all times Of trouble
and danger men shall tnrn TO my memory as
sailors turn to the polar star. | care not where
| die, or where my body lies, but | would not
have my name forgotten upon earthp
81 shall never forget one loved, said Dorcas,
sadly.
X" No, child, and there is no harm, as see, in
the lads wish to be remembered. It's material to
us all. | myself should feel kinder bad, if |
thought, after am dead none of you would take
the trouble 70 put up decent stone with my
name and verse of Scripture or 30 on it, to let
people know where lie,o said David Allen. By
! y. <ys s6ra seh y6u We hasV6t9 ~ ~
green sloping field between the meeting house
and the river for a burial ground p
stNo; bn, they told me so in the village, as |
came along and stopped moment and Won
dered who would be laid there frst.n
Z" So ask myself every Sabbath" said Dorcas,
~ guess know said one Of the curled heads
at the other end Of the settle. "Oid Goodman
Barker. heard Deacon Barnes tell father, the
other day, that he was most gone"
Nathan, Nathan said the mother, reprov-
ingly. :.
"Who is it wants gravestoneW asked the old
grandame, suddenly rousing up. Now think
of it, Davidn she went on, without waiting for q
reply to her query, "you be sure and see that
Job Ritton puts on to mine, Abigail, relict of
Samuel Allen-not consort but relict, just as it is
on old Madam Eaton's stonen
Here Esther Allen interrupted the somewhat
l. Al. AZ :.
the younger children and the not less childish
grandmother to their beds after which, the
others drew closer round the FIRE, and sat chat
ting cheerfully until the hour-glsss on the shelf
had marked the tenth hour since high noon-un-
usually late for them, but then lsaacs visits were
very rare, and he was ever q favorte with his
simple hearted relations.
From his childhood, Isaac's character had been
marked by lofty ambition. Though that mind,
which took in not only the present. but the future
as it's field of action must necessarily be widely
different in its inner life from those Of his more
contented playmates and friends, yet he possessed
generosity of character and winning kindness
of manner that readily disarmed envy, and rem
dered him not unworthy of the place he held in
their hearts
Even the sternest Of his fathers old friends
and neighbors, though they sometimes shook their
heads very gravely at what they termed his car
nal priden and new-fangled notons,n liked to
hear him talk, for there was kind Of charm,
even 70 them, in the earnest anthupasm that
| marked all his words.
We need hardly say how much he was to his
widowed mother and brother Sam. He was very
young at the time of his fathers death and az
Sam was several years his senior he regarded him
with something like the mingled love of q father
| and brother. Sam was the reverse of his brother
in many things: he had none Of his lofty aspira-
tions he cared little for the world or the worlds
opinion; but he had all his good humor and
| buoysnt spirits; and il he was proud Of any
thing, it was Isaac.
| He was wont to boast that he brought him up
and there wasn't another lad in the whole town
ship that could manage wild colt swing scythe,
or chop into tree, quite as slick as Isaac; and,
during his short vacations, there always trial
of skill between them in all sorts Of labor common
to the season In good sooth, their uncle Allen,
whose good nature made him fsvorite with them,
| had some reason for calling them "couple of
| brsgs.n
| The next morning, after the early breakfast
| was over, the chapter read and the prayer Offer
ed, in the house Of David Allen, Isaac started
for his home, which lay about mile and half
distant saying in answer TO their entresties for
| him to abide with them longer. that he had prom
| ised Sam to go on to the Hill with him that day,
to cut the great oak that stood on the edge OF a
deep gorge, known to this day as the Great
| Gulf
| "If you want to see what Sam and can do,
| uncle David just come along about ten o'clock,
| and you shall hear crash" he added, gaily.
"Aye, | am going along up that wy myself,
| by and bye; and may be Pll stop and lend you
| hand. You'll get tired out by that time, dare
say,p replied the uncle, in the jocular tone.
| ~Pray be careful, Isaac" said Dorcas, you
| and Sam are 80 headlong when you get together"
| "Never fear for us, Dorcas,' cried the youth,
as he passed through the gate.
"Yet it's pesky bad spot to fall tree in, lad, y
called David Allen after him. " Be careful, or
you will have il at the bottom of the Gulf before
you thinkw
aAye, aye, sir" came ringing back through the
clear frosty air.
In about an hour David Allen had drained his
mug of Fingered cider, drawn on bis mittens and
standing braced out upon the beam OF his sled
something after the fasbion Of the Colossus al
Rhodes, drove of to the clearing he was making
in the vicinity of the Gulf The hearth wa
swept, the old grandame placed In the warm cor
ner, the wheels Of the mother and daughter drawn
forth, and piled with busy hands and feet, while
the somewhat strict discipline, which he'd been
slightly RELAXED dr-iug issac's VISIT was agar
put in force eyer the younger children. The two
L
served for stools, Smelling the bright kernels o.
the Indian corn into large wooden tub that stood
between them while the two little ones built cob
houses on the floor, in imitation Of the leaning
tower of Bologna.
Their voices mingled right pleasantly with TIT
buzzing murmur of the wheels and the monoto
nous dripping Of the melting snow from the caves
!. aud the whole room was in cheerful contrast u
the icy winter without.
Neither the mother nor the daughter seemed II
J a very garrulous mood, though they OCCASIONAL,
exchanged word about some household affair
and onoe or twice spoke of Isaac and his ambition
dreams. Thus the hours passed on the SHADOW
on the window sill had almost receded TO the noon
mark, when the old grandmother suddenly rouse
herself, and, looking eagerly round, asked, In ne
shrill, tremulous tones
where's Isaac? Where's Nabby's boy 2"
Isaac went home before you we're up, mother,
returned Esther Allen.
, "Ah, we'll, didn't know what mightnt hap
; pened to him Wasn't he talking about shrcud
or grave-stones, or some such things last night
wonder what makes him think about sue
thingsW
"fsaac's head runs upon everything mother
"Sure enough, 30 II does but wonder wha
he should be thinking about his grave-stone for
when have never quite made up my mind wha
verse to have Job Ritton put on to mine. Nov
mebby that's what made me dream 90 last night
dreamed Ieaac Was dead. Queer enough that
should dream Of Nabby's boys dying amt II :
she mutssred, spreading out the palms Of her thi
hands to the Are.
aDream Of q death Il . sigu of wedding
mother said Esther Allen, cheerfulIy.
AYES, lie good sIgn, but I've known II fail,
returned the old dame. Many Q time have
heard Submit Lssts's aunt Leah tell how Oh
drssmsd two nights running, that Hilkiah Palm
o. was dead, and sure eSsugh he was killed no
long AFTER, in skirmish between our troops an
Prince Ruperts Kiah was Submits swesshear'