Indiana American. [volume] (Brookville, Ind.) 1833-1861, 1854-06-16


Of the wind without, as il drove furious
" by the cvilla, acemcd 10 echo tho sad
ness within. Yld ~ '8 sa
Mrs. Howland, pale and trembling,
sat by tho couch Of her dying child. Lit
tle Eddy, her only son, sweet boy,
three years of ago, had wasted away TO
a mere shadow. A deep hollow cough,
the hectic flush, and night sweats ad-
monishcd Mrs. Rowland that ere long
sha and her dear boy must part. She
sat motIonlcss, holding bis thin hands 10
hers, carefully watching hIs labored
breathing and the rapid strides OF death.
Doctor Elwood sat near. deeply sympa-
pathizlng with the afflicted mother.
doctor, do you think tho childps dy-
ingln asked Henry, as he entered the
room and staggered up to the child.
81 think he IL very near his end"
"Look up here, Eddy; don't you know
your fatherfn s'Hlatf tAn aAe
II Wouldn't disturb him, think" adj
ded the doctor.
""pon-ny-word, doctor, he'll live
yet. Hs pulse Is 10 strong to dieyct-
no mistalse, DOCTOR" said Howland,
laughing, as he felt OF the, child's wrist.
Turning from the CHILD, he reeled against
the stand, upon which stood few china
cups containing remedies. and overturned
IL, He finally threw himself upon the
soIa, and was soon sleeping soundly.
The feelings AZ Mrs. Rowland can be
more easily imagined than describod. A
sad silence reigned In the apartment,
such as always pervades the chamber Of
death. The domosties sat demurely by
the cheerful CRATE, while Mrs. Rowland
and. the physician watched with deep aud
painful interest the faintly-movIng lip
tho marble forehead, growing more and
more cold--tho little hands, fast beconl-
ing motionIess--and the gently -heav-
Ing bosom, which moved slower and
slower. ''l,sqs1 itlni Lat
"The scene has closed,p said the
doctor, as he pressed down the thin eye
lids. ''''' '.'"',
Mrs. Rowland settled back in her
chair raised eyes towards heav en-, os II
to trace the departed spirit to "fairer
worlds on high" and said, ~ will not
murmur, for the Savior when on earth
said, Suffer littlo children, and forbid
them not, to come unto me; for such is
the kingdom Of heaven. The Lord
gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed be the name Of the Lord.".
A limpid stream, which had It's rise in
its rise a range of mountains east Of the
Hudson, in its course swept through
Howland's farm, forming a beautiful cas-
cada not far from the villa. A little en-
inence, near where the water made its
final leap into the river, which was COW
cred with cedars, with here and there a
cypress and maple, was selected as the
last resting place Of little Eddy. A
monument was erected, aad the grave
enclosed with a neat picket fence, to re-
mind tho passer by that the remains OF q
dear one slertthere.' ''
= . - \ - = ~ y -
As Mrs, Rowland sat one day care-
lessly looking over the county paper, her
eye fell upon notice for tho sale of
property under a'mortgage. She read
Il, aud found TO her aslonIshment that II
was her own dear home. She knew her
husband had become exceedingly prodi-
gal, as well as intemperate,--she knew
be had wasted much personal property,
but this was the first intimation
that he was so deeply involved that
the homestead must be sold to meet his
debts. ...t, ~, s.i .,.ti5l.
Henry" she inquired, pointing to the
article as he entered the room, "wha,
does this mean !a'-a i9etia $50
IS "Don't be too inquisitlye," he replied
as his eye caught the no tice.
''But Henry, must know all about
this"i Easl9 ~ ioa sH "a .fafsea
"Find out, then, by your, learning.
am capablc OF managing my own busi-
ness. fi1aio .dlfih l.''7'l'l
"Can--it-be--possible, Henry, you
have mortgaged our home!' asked Mrs.
Rowland, as the tears coursed down her
careworn cheeks. 4if
ia"It's my OWL have u right to sell
il, IL | please" he replied. in sour. in.
different manner.
She left him, went into another room
and gave vent TO her feelings by sighs
and tears. In few DAYS her painful
anticipations were fully realized.--
Wealthy gentlemen from Albany, &C
companjcd by the Sheriff, carefully sur.
veyed the premises: the lawn--the gray.
el walks--the flower garden-the fruit
yard--the ornamental trces---the beau
tiful cascade--and II e mound, coyereS
with cedars, where Eddy slept. The
villa, also, underwent a careful scrutiny
The walls---the carpeting-the statuary
1.-The rich paintings which once orna
mented her fathers parlor-and the rici
and heayyirosewooa and mahogany fur
niture, were carefully examined, ant
sold under the sheriff's hammer. =
The sun rose clear, the air was blanc
and still, the prismatic colors wero re
fectet from ten thousand dewdrops up
on shrub and flower, and the featherel
TRIBES made the piazza ring with thei
merry songs; but Mrs. Howland had I
sad and heavy heart. She had spent he
last night at the villa.
As no time could be lost, for the
were that day to start for distant plac
that was to be their future residence
Mrs. Rowland took her daughters Eli
and Ida by the hand, TO take their las
look, their parting look, of the dear OF
home. All the places of interest a5ou
the farm---the fruit yard, the flower gar
den, the bowers and arbors, and the oh
servatory--were visited for the las
| time.
Slowly and sadly, hand in hand, the
walked out to little Eddy's grave.
was beautiful day in the month of DC
! tober. The mountains in the distance
} and the hills on the opposite bank of th
! river, were dressed with the gorgeou
colors of orange and crims on, which re
, minded her of the reverses aud change
of life. All around them was quiet an
, still, except gentle breeze that playe
: through the branches of the cypress an
cedar,--now and then scar and lyellol