Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1853-09-29


lie could not find his father anywhere
be was not Gin the garden, nor in tn
shed, nor down the street"
"Well, he viii soon be in!" said Mrs
Stanwood, "tske your bread and milk
Willie; you hear the COW lowing for he
pasture"
The children finished their breakfas
and went out; Harry and Annette-th'
two youngest, next the baby, to thei
play, and little Susy to gather fresl
flowers to place in the cottage window
while Stephen-her twin brother, anC
Willie, drove the cow to the pasture.
But the father had not appeared
The steam had ceased curling up from
the white loaf, the yellow butter wa:
beginning to look oily, and the coffee wa'
almost cold. More and more frequent
ly was the glance of the wife turned
from the sewing she had taken in hel
hand, towards the window. Her hus.
band had never caused her so to wait
for him before. An hour passed; where
could he be? Mrs. Stanwood began to
be alarmed, and she had Just decided tc
send Willie to the village in search ol
him, when Susy came running into the
house.
Mother" she said, opening her lit
tie dark eyes wide with astonishment,
''father has gone away-very far away
He went last night when the moon was
shining; heard the clock strike twelve
after he went outl'
"Gone away? what do you mean,
child?" asked Mrs. Stanwood.
81 thought it was dream, mother, "
said Susy, "but it was notl Father
came into the room and kissed us all as
he always does before he goes to bed,
and l heard him whisper about going
very far away over the ocean and not
coming back any more. But father will
come back again, will he not, mother?"
and Susy burst into tears.
Mrs. Stanwood rose from her seat and
opened closet. Her husbands every
day coat and cap were there, but the
new hat, and the suit of clothes he had
brought home day or two before, were
gone; his linen had all disappeared, the
box in which he kept his money and pa
pers was entirely empty, and his trav-
cling trunk was not to be foundl Mrs.
Stanwood walked across the floor, and
placing the babe in its cradle, sat down
beside it, but only for moment did she
retain her seat; and then, with low,
deep groan, she fell fainting on the floor.
How that day passed, and how pass
ed many other days and weeks, even,
to the deserted woman, she could not af-
forwards tell: the blow was SO terrible
so unexpected!
From the moment when the hand
some young stranger, whom she had
seen few times at the church of which
her father was the rector, came and sat
down beside her as she knelt alone,
poor orphan, beside the new-made grave
of that father, took her cold hand in his,
told her of his love, and begged her to
become his wife-from that moment,
till the night of his desertion, though
ten years had since passed away, never
had he addressed an unkind word to her;
never had look, but of love and ap-
proval, met her glance. She had be-
lieved, what had been most true in her
own case, that each passing year more
and more satisfied him that his hasty
choice of partner was well made
They had always been poor. On leav-
ing England, her husband had but
enough to procure them a passage to
New York, but by his industry and the
good management of his wife, though
her health was delicate, and though ''the
poor mans blessing" was bestowed on
them almost yearly, they had always
lived comfortably, and at length the
thatched cottage the family now occu-
pied, and the few acres of land about it,
had become their own.
"Poor in this worlds goods, but rich
in you, my Maryp
How often had these words been
whispered in her ear, as warm cheek
was pressed to hersl not a week before
he left her, had they made her heart
leap for JOY.
1t was no wonder that the deserted
woman sank under this dreadful woe,
that nothing short of the dangerous i'll
ness of one of her children was able to
call her dying energy back to life
Stephen was taken suddenly and SO Sc
verely Ill that for several days his life
was despaired of, and the daily atten-
dance of physician was necessary for
nearly two weeks; but on the day that
be was pronounced out of danger, con-
viction was forced on the heart of Mrs.
Stanwood, which made her almost wish
that Heaven had taken the dear boy to
itself;-the conviction was that she was
poor, and consequently friendless.
The physician sent in his bill for at
tendance on the child, and Mrs. Stan
wood went instinctively to the money
box; but as she put her hand on the lid,
she remembered that it was empty, and
worse than that, she knew not where the
sum she required could be obtained.
Asshe sat, after the departure of the
doctors boy, who had replied to her
very rudely, when he was told that she
was at present unable to pay the bill,
but would do so at the earliest moment
possibie-yainly attempting to discover