Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1854-12-15

De sure, Tor when told them the tavern
was two miles off, she said, 'Ol, dear, that
seems a great ways
Father says it is only encouraging folks
to drink, if you do anything for them when
they wander about So continued Richard.
lie did, indeed, repeat an oft-heard SEN
timent of his fathers, in what he said, for,
though a worthy man in most respects, MIR.
Graham was one Of those who remember
the poor only so far MS the sufferers were
good and virtuous, and struggling hard to
support themselves.
But the holicr and better teachings OF
his wife had given the children other feel
ings. and Richards conscience smote him
when little Annie quietly said:
'Alothcr wouldn't have sent them away
if the man did drink rum.'
You promised us n story, cousin Marian.
said Richard, glad to turn from painful
subject tell us about old times, like
those best
'IelI about war, said James.
About Indians said Fred. . r.-
About when you was little girl like
me- said Annie.
Tell US about something you never told
us before said quiet boy in the corner.
If the gifted Marian had one power in
perfection. it was that highly valued but
rare gift of telling stories. There was n
long, low seat in the kitchen, which they
called a Settle 1t answered the purpose
Of w1od box and sofa in the winter eve
nings, and being painted bright red and
vanished, it looked like q good natured
face in front of the FIRE. ..
On this the children used % Bet for
hours and listen to cousin Maran's en-.
chanting stories, which were usually the
thrilling realities of history dressed in hel
own glowing thoughts. Sometimes she
recited an old fairy tale or some wild le
gend of the early times but tonight the
white-plumsd dove lay lovingly BY her, and
her eyes rested sadly on its trembling
breast, as it uttered those low, moaning
sounds, which nothing on earth can equal
in plaintive sadness. Marian's heart beat
time to the mournful notes, for there were
noble feelings striving against her woman't
fearfulness; thoughts of poor sufferers in
that wild storm, Of their peril, and it nigh,
be Of their death. She rose resolutely ard
said:
4 am going to find those beggars.'
AS she spoke she began to wrap a shawl
around her, while her lovely face glowed
with courageous feeling.
Don't co. pleaded little Annie, you'll
be all buried up in snow
God will take care of me Annie she
answered, laying the blue-eyed dove in the
child's lap.
You shall not 60 alone, cousin Marian.
said Richard, whose better feelings were
awakened by little reflection.
1'll carry the lantern said James, for
rough boy as he was, he knew how to ad.
mire her heroic resolution, and he knew
the peril of such an errand.
While they were hastily wrapping cloaks
and coats around them, we will follow the
beggars on their lonely pa.h
X Il X X Il
That house looked some like our ole
home, didn't it pa said the pale, sad-heart
ed girl. as she looked back on the sheltered
house where shelter had been refused
them; oh, how | wish we were back where
We used to live,' she added, as the old mar
walked on silently.
You have forgotten haven't you, tha
the old place don't belong to US now,' he
answered harshly; don't worry about it
for we can't help it now.'
4 know it, ,hs said sadly, I'VE have nj
home any where
Oh, how mournfully those simple word
were spoken. bearing the tale of young
heart crushed and blighted, of young hope
chilled forever. II touched the heart o
the hardened father, and he drew his moth
erlcss child close to his side, murmuring
| Poor dove. poor Isabel!'
Ay, the beggar-girl bore that prou
name, and she had graced it in happie
days, when her father was an honored an
a trusted man, when the noblest vessel O.
the broad lakes was his own, before rur
ruined god.like intellect and wasted
princely fortune.
1t was dark now in those forsaken hearts
even as on Gods earth. and their path W.,
lost Faster came down the binding snow
and in their utter desolation the wanderei
at last sat down, unable to proceed an
weary with exer;ion. And now the neg
lecled Isabel lay folded in the bosom of III
father whose fallen fortunes she had so de
votedly followed, and hot tears fell fror
his eyes on her pale face.
} Isabel, darling, can you forgive me thu
| have deprived you of love and home. an
every thing on earth? can you forgive m
for being a drunkard?'
'Oh, father, do not talk of these thing
now; am happy in dying with you, m
!, dear father.
Shadowy phartoms gathered dml
around the repenting man, pointing ia
back TO lost home and character, to th
grave Of broken hearted wife, and to tn
fast-closing eyelds of his gentle daughie
Broken words Of agony and contrition, ming
, led with the hollow dirge that the old tree
sung over the dying.
Isabel's eyes were shut; the father kne
! it by bending his cheek down till il toucl
ed hers, and he felt almost glad that b
J saw not the closing of those gentle eyes, s
many weary day their light had cheere
him since poverty and drunkenness ha
driven him out to beg for daily bread
I they were clear and blue as the waters
[ their own beloved lake. and thew ever lool