Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1856-01-26


concealed by heavy and luxuriant moustacbe.
GOOD morning, ma'am," he said with some
embarrassment. "Fnding no one answered
my knocks, | took the liberty of walking in.
believe | owe you no apology, for | have
oficiated as turnspit, and saved your thanks
giving turkey from burning"
II am very much obliged to you. | am sure,
answered the old lady, pulling off her mittens.
but did you want 10 see me, or the deaeou?"
Both of you," answered the stranger. "You
had son, ] beIieve?"
"Yes." replied Mrs. Wilson, with hesitation,
and casting down her eyes.
81 have seen him lately"
'"Where!" inquired the mother, with increase
ed agitation.
% "In California"
"Was he doing well!"
admirably. Mother! mother" he added inns
petuouGy, throwing back his hat, don't you
know mJ don't you know your Wliam?"
He r4shed into his mothers arms, and was
casped to'her beating heart, while the tears
streamed from the eyes of both. After the
first greeting was over, the young man asked;
"Where is sister Emmy"
"Gone," answered the mother as her tears
flowed forth anew.
William sank into seat, and hiding his face
in his hands, wept bitterly. The mother did
not attempt to cheek him. She knew those
tears were precious.
"And my father" asked thel young m an
when he regained his composure.
He is well. But you had better retire for
awhile. Go to your old room, my son, it is
just as you left it, and wait till summon you"
1t was with futtering heart that the over
| joyed mother went about the preparations for
dinner, and when the table was neatly set,
every dish in its place, and the turkey smok-
ing hot, waiting to be carved, she summoned
the old man. He made his appearance at once.
and took his seat GlanciDg round the table
he said:
"What is this, wife, you have set plates for
three?"
az thought perhaps somebody might drop in
unexpectedly"
"There is little danger-hope, | mesn--of
that" answered the deacon sadly.
At this iuncture, Mrs. Wilson, with mys-
terious expression, rang the bell, with which,
in happier days, she was wont to summon her
tardy children to their meals.
1t was answered by the appearance Of the
long-lost William.
The deacon, who recognized him after mo-
ment, gazed upon him with a STERN eye, but
with quivering lip that betrayed the force Of
his ill.suppressed emotions.
$50 you have come back at last" he said.
ayes, father, but not as | left you. Father,
last Thanksgiving day went into my lonely
room, and there, kneeling down, addressed my.
self to Heaven, and solemnly abjured the fatal
cupwhieh had brought ruin upon me and woe
upon this once happy family. From that day
to this have not touched drop Is my pro-
baton enough! eau you now welcome back
your son and bless hing
"Bless him! Yes, yes, bless you, my dear,
dear boy" said the old deacon, placing his
trembling hand on the dark locks of the plea
der. "You are welcome, William, though you
come only to witness the downfall Of our
house"
"Not so, father" answered the young man
ioyousy, II have come back to save you-to
atone for my prodgalty, for all my errors. 1t
was this hope that sustained me<in the lone
heart of Sierra Nevada, when I was painting
with thirst and dying with hunger. Thoughts
of home, of you and mother, and Gods an.
gels, enabled me to conquer fortune. have
come back with q store of gold-you shall not
be beggar in your old age; father we shall
keep the farm"
/ After this it is unnecessary to add that JOY
entered the old homestead. 1t was chastenH
} ed Joy, for the shadows Of the past yet minglr
ed with the sunshine of the present; but the
felicity which attended the prodigals return
was enough to compensate for many sorrows
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