The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1856-01-24

''And you intend Harry saoald 60 100, 10
sake care Of ne! 0. I'm SO glad. Aunt Mary =
| interrupted. springing up and cloPPing my
hands-an involuntary ebullitioR Of my feel
ines.
Aunt Mary's smile verified my remarks;
and at sunset, on that very day, she went
down to the red house, and had long talk
with Mrs. Willard The star was lust com.
ing over the great Eill at the side Of our
home, single golden drop in that sea of blue,
when Aunt Mary returned. and informed me
that her mission had been successful one,
and that Harry and | were to enter the village
schoolon the ensuing week. o. that Monday
mornings sun shone not on two happier hearts
than Harry's aud mine. when shut the
white wicket OF our cottage home, and, hand
in hand. took the road leading TO the village
school, pauSing every few rods to send a smile
or a kiss to Aunt Mary, who stood in the front
door. watching Us with her loving eyes until
We were out Of sight. Very happy were we.
too, ior the next six months; very tender and
watchful was Harry's care for rne; aud very
wonderful was Harry's progress in his stud
les. distancing all his class mates, and greatly
surprising the teacher while the light beamed
more brightly, and the shadow went more and
more from lis face, which he would turn 70
me, and say, in his sudden, abrupt manner.
30. Ally. I'm very happy now!' Bat, al
the expiration of six months, there came the
darkness of the shadow of death over all this
brightness.
L vas evening: Aunt Mary set in her old
seat by the window, ann stood by her side,
watching the round moon as she came slowly
up the blue ridge. on either side of which lay
the silyer-looped and gray -fringed clouds,
when Harry Willard burst into the room; aad
every muscle Of his white face seemed 10 be
I,
to Aunt Mary's side, saying wildly. 20, please
go 10 her; please 90 to her quick, for my
mother is dying
/ With ha!f-suppressed exclamation, Aunt
Mary seized shawl. and hurried after Hag
nv. who had rushed out Of the house.
[ was all alone, with the W hite moon look
ing in at tie window, and plating with silver
the backs Of the chairs; and III The half dark
ness great fear came over me. | could not
endure The stiffness and the ghostly moonlight;
/ so l seized my bonnet, and followed my Aunt
Mary rapidly as my trembling limbs would
permit
/ shall never cease to remember the scene
which presented itself as | entered the red
house. Mrs. Willard was sitting in a chair
in one corner of the long, old fashioned
parlor her head resting on Aunt Mary's
bosom, who was striving to wipe away the
current of blood which issued from her white
| lips. Harry's words Were but too true: his
mother was dying of a sudden hemorrhage at
| the lungs' But once the dim eyes unclosei,
and the cold fingers moved c0nvulsiyely.-
Harry" gaSped the dying woman, the
/ boy buried his head, with heart broken sob.
/ in her lap. Il am going home. o God, forget
! not thy covenant with the fatherless! y gain
the cold fingers moved convulsively amid his
brown cur.s; there was faint sigh; the head
leaned more heavily on Aunt Mary-Eatry
! Willard was motheress.
Two DAYS later they buried Mrs Willard.
( 1t was pleasant autumn day, and the winds
sighed through the tangled grass in the church
yard, and the sunbeams glinted brightly along
/ the marble where Harry's mother WAS laid
down TO that slumber which no sunlight could
ever waken. Poor Harry He did not weep
then; but he stood there. his whole frame
quivering like wind broken bough. when
the clods ratified the coffin.
There corner IN that same church.
yard to which Aunt Mary and / glanced Oft
en- through our tears: for there, under those
dropping willows. with their white hands fold
ed down over their hearts, my father and
mother was sleeping that sleep which knows
no earthly waking.
We could not dissuaie Harry from sleep
ing at the house ..just down the road" but
.
subsequent to his mothers death. He grew
ca'ner every day; but none who looked in
tie bows sad eyes could doubt Of the heart
ache beneath them. One morning be came
over as usual, and told my aun. that he had
resolved to leave the village, now that he had
no relatives how his voice trembled. To
keep him there
1t was all useless trying {, diSsuade him
from this, for the BOYS heart was set on GO
ing; and he said he had lain awake, in the
loneliness and darkness OF the red house,
thinking how be would carve out his own
fortune. So a. last Aunt Mary ceased
her verbal opposition, and set herself about
preparing the boys wardrobe for his journey.
and disposed 20 the bes; advantage OF III
mothers simple furniture
1t was an October morning. TIE great
fruit-lsden branches were dipping downward
almost within our reach, when Harry Willard
and | stood under them for the las. time
y osl will not qsise forget me. Harry" said.
.wsliowing down the sob that was III my
throat. when YOU are 50 far away; aud you
will think sometimes Of the village school
and the garden, and the old trees where you
used to sit-won't you9"
( Forget you. Ally and lis arm was
drawn around my waist ana the brown eyes
looked earnestly. almost repToachtully, iato
mine-''vou, whom l love better than any
/ body in the world now mamma is gone, O.
/ Ally, shall be lying under the grass, as deep
/ and as still as she is this pleasant morning
before I csn forget you. aud Aunt Mary, and
/ all YOUR kindness 10 me. peor little. father
/ less. friendless boy Ally. have passed mr.
! happies. hours with you; and now, woa't you
give me one OF those long curls that has la;a
/ for years against your cheeke And VIII
place it on my heart; and it viii keep Il always
warm for ycu Don't crv AIY deari'' for