The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1856-06-20

Il It was new phase in his ministerial o.
, pcrience. Old DR.. Dow, under who's
e preaching he was converted, drove hor'
It who never forgot the dignity of her station
y 80 far as to exceed fast walk, on any oc
d casion, and he could not help feeling scan
q dalized at such an innovation on the Oh
, customs.
: So much was his mind exercised on tn
!. subject, he felt it to be his duty to e1postu
l late with his pastor. Mr.. Hale heard hin
with quiet smile and endeavored 70 softer
: his animOsity to poor Pysche, by telling hin
of her docility and gcntleness, but to M
purpose. He left him not in anger but will
heightened viags and as sorowfal shake
of the head.
The good deacon lived just below the par
sonage in an old farm house, whose project
. ing roof, where the swallows colonized, wide
stone-aoored porch, and large yard shaded
by Lombardy poplars, gave 1t q venerable,
patriarchal aspect.
| The yard, with its carpet Of emerald turf,
was the play ground Of the deacon's grand
son, little black-eyed fellow, whose father
having gone to the land of gold, had placed
his wife and year old boy in his fathers
house for safety and protection. The child
was the idol Of his grandparents and the
pet of the whole village. Mr.. Halo often
walked down to the gate to caress him, and
sometimes lifted him over, and sat him upon
Pysche's back, who seemed to know that
with such delicate, precious burden, she
must be very gentle, and pace slowly about
now and looking back, as if to see that ho
was securely seated.
A few rods above the parsonage noisy,
bnwling brook made its way over huge
base that covers nearly an acre Of ground.
In the summer It dwindles to an insignif-
cant stream and small pool of muddy wa
ter; but in the spring when swollen by the
melting snow, it'runs with swift current,
and in some places the lake is quite deep.
A patch il laid out around it, and fight
of rude steps, up to the side of the rock,
leads to q shady walk above, much frequent
ed by the villagers on summer evenings.
One bright May morning, not long after
the deacon had urged Mr.. Hale to sell Pysche,
Mary Saunders sat inditing letter to her
absent husband, and she told him Of the nice
home he had provided for her in his absence
and descanted upon WHY'S goodness and
beauty shO forebore to tell him tho rogue
had alroldy upset an inkstand upon her
snowy wrapper, and now hung about dis
tracing her mind by his childish questions.
Unable to proceed while thus annoyed, she
tied on his little straw hat and scarf, and
sent him out into the yard, where the grass
was just springinG, and the lilac trees burst
ing into bloom.
Congratulating herself that he would be
safely amused for an hour sho returned to
her letter, and soon forgot oil things else.
Willy was very happy for while in
watching the robins who flow from limb to
limb of the old poplars, and the swallows,
who were bringing mud for their nest, be-
meath the caves; but no soon got tired of
these, and leaning against the gate, looked
wishfully out into the street.
Soon he espicd tho latch. 1t was a per-
feet mystery to him, how it was 10 bo un-
fastened but standing on tiptoe, his little
fingers soon pressed with sufficient force up
on the thumb piece to lift it, and the gate
swung gently open. Pecping out, first on
one side, then on the othor, to be suro no
COWS were near, and casting furtive glance
towards the house, as If he expected he was
not doing quite right, he ventured out upon
the grassy sidewalk. The yellow dandeliQn
and The bright king cups bcckoned him on
a. they peepsd out from under the fence and
soon filled his hat with their gay blossoms,
US he wandered on towards the pond, and
brook, which still swollen by tho spring
rains, attracted him by its noise as it fell
over the rocks.
At the end Of an hour Mary Saunders had
finished her letter, and placing h0r writing
materials in rosewood desk, her husbands
last gift, she turned with brlgh. smile to
the window, to see what pretty mischief or
cunning roguery Willy might be doing
But no Willy was in sight. The gate stood
ominOusly open, and catching her sun bon
net she darted into the street. "Willy,
willy!" she called, but no answer.
Looking down she cspicd his tiny tracks
in the soft earth, outside tho grass, and
with beating heart she saw they lead to-
wards the pond.
With new fears she almost flew on, his
little foot prints still tending towards the
water. The flowers he had picked she found
scattered by the margin Of the pond, and
on the steps his hat, still holding few
Of its gaudy treasures. Mary's strength
was scarce sufficient to make the ascent, and
on reaching the top, what was her horror
to SEQ Willy standing in the middle Of the
stream, on large fat rock, that just showed
itself above the stream for more than hall
its width. The water beneath it was
deep, and run with swift current, into
which he was throwing the last OF his
flowers, and watching with glcc their rapid
progress towards the fall. Poor Mary was
no heroine. With one piercing shrek she
fell senseless to the earth.
Willy, hearing the cry and seeing his
mother, instead of going back to the bank
took one step towards her, plunged beneath
the swift running stream. Mary's cry had
reached tho ears Of Dennis, who was at