Eaton Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1843-1856, 1855-04-19
New Series.

the little treasure he had just lelt behind.
One night John came home an hour later
than usual, and found his mother in tears
1t was no new thing 10 see her weep; but her
grief seemed now more intense than he ever
knew it before, and he felt anxious to know
its cause. Still he did not like TO so far in
trude upon it as TO ask any questions. He
sal down by his mothers side, took her hand
in his own and tenderly begged OF her not TO
cry.
"Be OF stout heart, dear mother; father will
come home by and by, and then | will beg OF
him not 10 90 to Scribner's place any more"
al fear il is too late," replied the mother,
her sobs increasing, "your father fear is lost
forever. | have learned this evening, that
our little farm is mortgaged 10 Scribner, and
that the sum it is mortgaged for is so large
that your father has no hope or expectation oil
IedeeminG it,"
If a clap OF thunder had broken upon Johns
ear from clouGleSs sky, it could not have
1aStoniShed him more. He sat moment in
breahless silence. Tears were struggling be-
tween his eyelids, but he Strove to suppress
them, and succeeded. His mother ceased hei
crying and looked him in the face.
"What shall we do, joint"
"Ill tell you what | will do" said John
after a moments hesitation, ~ toiH redeem
The farm. / can do it,; young as am; Gnc
TwiH !"
There was energy in his speech, though hi
utterance was nearly choked with grief. Biz
thoughts were those revolving in the mind 0
our little hero, young as he was.
The next day John worked as usual. NJ
one could have told from his appearance, a
he struggled away at his labor, that anything
had.occured 10 change the run of his thoughts
Half an hour after sunset, he stood at the gait
of farmer Churchill. Ellen met him, and the,
sauntered across the field 10 their lavoril
resting place; and here they sat down.
"Whaps the matter, John % asked Ellen
al notice YOU have not spoken since we lei
the gate"
"El.en," said John, with good deal of Sc
riouSneSS, edo you love me 2"
More than hundred times before this, El
len had told John she loved him, but it ha
been when they were in a playful mood, an
as one child opens his heart to another. Nov
she was called upon 10 speak in differen
strain. She knew that she really loved hin
almost as she loved her own being-that sh
was happy in his presence, and sad even Q
. heart, when he was away. She almost wol
shipped him; and yet what should she sa
TO this abrupt question: She hung down he
: cheek. Johns quick eye saw it, and ii wa
enough. He clasped her in his arms, and hul
ge1 her closely 10 his breast.
eyes, know you love me, dear Ellen, an
I was cruel to ask such question. But
IN want tC ask you one more. Could you loy
n me four years without seeing me once in thi
rs time 2"
l. This was strange question, and it was r
'g matter of wonder that Ellen hesitated to al
ir swer it.
e "What can you mean, John?" she asket
II after moments silence. "You know that
d, would love you even forty years, should "
le be spared SO long, and Shonld our lives |
Ig spared. But what can you mean by aSkin
t. such question =! 1t cannot be that you thin
IN OF leaving me to be gone four years. Certain
I'd y you would not do that, John"
in For moment John found it hard to speal
le but he summoned up all his courage, and h
d. thoughts found utterance in words.
n "Dear Ellen,' said he tenderly, al cann
id stay here longer. have toiled early al
ii lote ever since was large enough to work
ly the fields but all could do, and all my po
Sc mother could do, we have obtained only to
1t erabe living. We have not enough befol
G. hand to build new barn, or repair our o
- log house. Now we learn my mother lear
an ed yesterday-that .he house, barn, land al
he all are rlorigaged to Scrbner, the grocer, {
nearly their full value. My father has draI
them up. The mortg &c has yet four years
e. run, and thought i'll could get work in son
ed of the large towns, on the seaboard, mig
In possibly in that time redeem our home al
is, save Tvs from utter ruin. Perhaps, if we
ed away, father would do better, at least thiI
al he would harvest the crops | have labored
OF hard 10 secure. shall speak TO him and n
as mother Tomorrow, and if they are willing,
a'' shall feel bound 10 try my fortune Somewhe
ne else. II is our only hope"
SIT Ellen listened with painful silence. 81
dy had never thought of separation before, and
came terribly home 10 her young heart now.
i'm But she saw in the project of her lover som
us thing worthy of greatness; aud she determl
er ed not to give him additional pain by rasi
'ss objections. ."
ch "Go," she said, as the hot tears now coul
lie ed freely down her fair cheek --"go, ant
er- will lsve you and pray for you every day."
Of Night was now gathering in the valleys
rs. about the hill tops. The notes Of the viii
he poorwill were heard in the distance, and I
ed young lovers were warned it was time to
, turn home. Just then they heard slight ru
he ling in the thicket on the other side Of t
ess stream. Possibly it was farmer church,
for Ellen found him not at home when she
eSs rived there.
at The next day John spoke to his mother
Ire his plan Of redeeming the farm, and though
at could not inspire her with much faith in
got success. he obtained her consent 10 his n
king the trial. The father VISA not so soon
ger give way, for he knew that if his son were
18th sent he must be more at home; but his Cpl
lit Siion was not violent and he was al last CO.