Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1854-12-15
THE DOVE OF THE STORM.
.ar BY DORA M'NEILLE.

wing over pleasant home among the Green
Mountains, where happy circle were gath
cred round blazing fire Of mnple wood
1t was one of those old fashioned home
steads Of which every one has bright
ideal; tall trees bent over it as If to shelter
the young hearts that beat happily under
that roof, and peacefully, even as the birds
that sung TO them through the long sam
mer days, dwelt the little mountaneers in
their secluded home. Their parents had
now been absent week on a visit to
friends at distance, though it was mid.
winter. and the broad evergreen forests
were th;ckly covered with snow. They
were not the people who spend in pleasure
the loveiiest season God has given us, for
little thought could they take Of journeying
for amusement when the rich fruit and
waving grain was ripening fast for them 10
gather.
1t was the farmers season for fitting now
the harvest moon had long since waned,
and left rich stores in barn and granary-
There were stalwart boys to leave at home,
who knew right well what care was need
ful;-and the parents had not feared to
leave the little band alone without any pro-
lection but their own innocence and the
care Of Him in whom they trusted.
Trained as they had been to brave all
storm and danger, caring lightly for either,
the hardy children had enjoyed the indie
pendence of being left to take care of them.
Selves as James Graham had expressed
it, and now they were recounting all the
home duties they had performed, for the
absent ones were expected home that night,
aud each little heart beat rapidly in the
consciousness of having done right.
WELL said James, 4 guess father DOR.
expect TO find the corn Rll hilsked when he
gets home
No nor the old shed all boarded up SC
nicely said Richard
'What have you got to tell father, An.
ME . said james to little gentle creature
who looked like white morning glory with
blue eyes.
'Oh, l shall tell how good we've al
been, and how l helped you feed the lambs
every day
You'll tell him we've been good, too
won't you, cousin Marian p asked Richard
for the roguish boy began to remember Ger.
tain instances Of bis teasing and fun which
be thought might not sound very well in
the account.
A gay and brilliant girl was cousin Miri
an, who had escaped from the dull restrain,
Of city life, for little while to enjoy the
freedom she loved. Oh, it was strange
how she could leave a sphere of gayety
and fashion, where she was the brightest
star, to sit on that old stone hearth in the
farmers kitchen, to crack butternuts OF
help pare apples till her little white hands
looked black enough; but she did love it
and dearly they all loved her, she was SC
gifted and SO kind, 80 winning to all and
then, as James said. she was a first rate
handat making candy and popping corn
But Marian Neville was not genteel, in,
deed she wasn't; for she had rather play
the romping games of the country girls, Oh
coast with James Graham, of moonlight
night, than dance the bewiiching polka il
her splendid city home; and why should
she not? for the shadows of old bending
trees tremblc on the frozen lake, and thu
moon shines brighter there than gas-ligh
does in crowded room, on beauty which
God did not make. Perhaps, too, Marian
had holier thoughts than of mere enjoy
ment. for every night she gathered th
children round her, and with them repeat
ed prayer so earnest in its few simpl
words, that their young eyes closed rever
emily as they knelt, while all her mirth an,
gayety were for few moments forgotten
Now as she sat on rude, low seat, wit
Annie's sweet face resting in her lap, th
GLOWING fire lit up her face with the trues
Igladness as she answered Richard:
Yes. coz. you've been good most all th
time. but
While she was speaking the whole grou
was startled by low distinct rapping o
the window pane, and there with its whit
breast close against the window glass, wa
a trembling dove picking the frost-covere
window, as if it plead for shelter amid tn
driving storm. All the children ran eager
ly to the door, and Richard laid the dov
gently and carefully in Marian's hand
The Pickering light of the candle shon
far out on the lonely road, and dimly show
ed two figures all wresthed in the falin
snow. Ii was unusual in that lonely plac
to see strangers passing thus at night, an
the ever restless Richard exclaimed:
You carry in the dove and warm it, an
| will run out and see who they are,'
! Beautiful looked that half frozen dove
the kind ones who had rescued it. AS
nestled close in Marian's bosom, there We
CLEAN in its opening eyes that seemed al
most human, so earnestly it told Of graf
tude and content They all smoothed tn
rufied white plumes, ca'essingly, talkin
all the while to 'Dovie.' as if it knew the
meaning. They scarcely needed the ell
trance Of Richard until he said.
These folks were beggars. and wante
that we should keep 'em over night. but
} told 'em. as father always does. that ever
town took care of its own poor, and if the
stayed at home they needn't suffer-
who were they? how did they look
where did they come from p inquired the
all at once.
'oh. they looked bad enough; there WI
: an old man. and a girl as big as Mirial
and they come from some place down bt
low that / never heard of before. The ol
,, codger said he was going to see his broth'
up north, but / guess he made up th