The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1855-06-13

came slowly up the blue ridge, on either
side OF which lay the silver.looped and
gray-fringed clouds, when Harry Willard
burst into the room; and every muscle Of
his white face seemed working with terri
bIe suffering, as he sprang to Aunt Marv's
side saying wildly: "Oh, please 90 to her
peas" go to her quick, for my mother is
dying"
With halfsurpresscd exclamation,
Aunt Mary seized a shawl, and hu: ried
after Harry, who had rushed out of the
house.
was alone, with the white moon 'ook-
ING IN at the window, and plating with
silver the hack Of the chairs; and in the
half darkness, great fear came over me
could not endure the Stiffness and the
ghostiv moonlight. so, siezed nv bonnet
and fo'Iowe Aunt Mary as rapidly as nv
trembling limbs would permit.
shall mover cease TO remember tho
scene which presented itself as 7 entered
the red house. Mrs Willar, was s;,,;nr
in chair in one corner Of the lorg oil
fashioned parlor, her head resting on Amt
Mary's bosom, who was striving to vino
away the current Of blood which issued
from her white lips. Hsrv's words were
hut too trnc! His mother was dyino Of
sudden hemorrhaCe at the lungs.
But once the dim eyes unclosed, and
the cold fingers moved convulsivelv,
"harrv." gasped the diving woman. a. the
hoy buried his head with heart break
inG sob, in her lar, Il am going home
oh God frrpet not thy covenant with
the atherless" Again. the cold fingers
moved ronvulsiveiy amid his brown curls.
there was f,lrt sigh: the head leaned
NOR" heavily on Aunt Mary. Harry
Willard was mothcrless,
Two days later, they buried Mrs. Will
ard. 1t was pleasant autumn dav. and
the winds sighed through the tangled
grass Of the church-yard, and the sun
beams clitored brightly along the mar
he, where Harry's mother was laid down
:" lhat slumacr, which no sunlight conId
ever awaken. Poor Harry! lie did not
weep then; hut he stood there, his whole
frame qniverng like a wind-broken bough,
when the clods ratified on the coffin.
There was a corner in that same church
yard TO which Aunt Mary and glanced
often through our tears; for there, under
those dropping willows. with their white
hands folded calmly over their hearts,
ny father and mother We're sleeping tina,
sleep which knows no earthly waking.
We could not dissuade Harry from
sleeping at the house lust down the road;"
but he passed most of the week subse-
quent to his mothers death at our cot.
tage. lie grew calmer every day; bu,
none who looked in the boys sad eye could
doubt Of the "heartache' beneath them
~HO ihoiHiHR, he CAlnc over aS usual,
and told my aunt that he had resolved
to leave the village, now that he had no
relatives (how his voice trembled) to
keep him there.
IL was all useless irving to dissnade
him from this, for the boys heart was set
on going; and he said he had lain awake,
in the loneliness and darkness of TIE red
house, thinking how he would carve out
his own fortune; so, at last, Aunt Mary
ceased her verbal opposition, and set
hersclfabout preparing the boys ward.
robe for his journey; and disposed to
the best advantage of his mothers sim
Pile furniture.
IL was an October morning. The great
frnIt laden branches were dripping down
ward, almost within our reach, when
Harry Willard anI I stood under them
for the last tune.
"fou will not quite forget ne, Harry"
| said swallowing down the sob that was
in my throat, "when you are so FAR away:
and you will think sometimes Of the vii
lage school, and the garden and the old
trees where you used to sit; won't you.
Forget you, AlIyF' and his arm was
drawn around my waist, and the brown
eyes looked earnestly, almost rcproach-
fully, into mine; "you whom love better
than any body in the world, nov mama
Is gonei Oh, Ally, I shall be lying un-
der the grass, as deep and as stilI as she
Is, this pleasant morning before can
forget you. and Aunt Mary and all your
kindness to me. a poor little fatherless,
friendleso boy Ally, I have passed the
.haPpiest houn Of my life with you; and
now won't you give me one Of those long
cu'ls that has lain for years against your