Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1857-07-01


swollen face that looked up to the boys
ssYou see, hav'nt slept any, hardly, all night,
thinking about you, and so was mp, looking
out of the window, and saw you coming down
the walk
"Well. Nellie," pushing back the yellow
hair and looking at her fondly, ssyou see L
can't do what father says must, to-day, and
SO Pm going off,"
go, Ellsworth what will uncle say 7'' cried
the child, betwixt her shivering and weeping
ssWhat Will uncle say How long shall you
be gone 30
81 don't know" he replied, evasiyely, ssI
shan't be back to-day, though. But you mustn't
stand here talking any longer. Father'll be up
soon, you know. Now goodbye, Nellie.''
There was a sob in his throat as he leaned
forward and kissed her swaet face, that had on
ly seen dozen summers, and then he was gone
"Go and call Ellsworth to breakfast, will you,
Ellen7 7'' said the deacon, two hours later.
ssHe isn't up stairs, uncle" And then as
they sat down to theirs, she related what had
transpired.
The deacon's face grew dark as she proceed
frighten me, by running off for day or two.
He will find that he is much lnistaken.''
So that day aud the next passed, and the
deacon said nothing more, but Ellen, who was
his adopted child, and the orphan child of his
wife's most intimate friend, noticed that he
began to look restless, and to start anxiousy
at the sound of football but still Ellsworth
did not come.
At last strict search was instituted, and it
in ship bound for some part of the western
coast of Asia, on three years voyage.
81 hope he'll come back better boy than
he Left was the deacon's solitary commenta-
rv, but in the long nights Ellen used to hear
him walking restlessly up and down the room,
and his black hair began to be thickly scat
tered with grey.
But the worst was not yet come. One No
vember night, when the winds clamored and
stormed fiercely among the old apple-trees in
the garden, Deacon Grant and Ellen sat by the
fire in the old kitchen, when the former re-
moved the wrapper from his weekly newspa-
per, and the first paragraph that met his eye
was one that told him the ship in which ELS
worth had sailed, had been wrecked off the
coast, and every soul on board had perished.
Then the voice of the father woke up in the
heart of Deacon Grant. He staggered toward
Ellen with white haggard face, and wild
fearful cry, ''My boy my boyn' Itwas more
than his proud spirit could bear. eco, ELS
worth Ellsworth 20 and he sank down rest
less and his head sunk into the lap of the
frightened child.
After this, Deacon Grant was a changed
man. did not know which was the most to
blame, the father or the son, in the sight of
God, who judgeth rlghteously.
But equally to the heart of many parent,
and many child, the story has its message
and its warning.
Eight years had passed. 1t was summer
time again, the hills were green and the fields
were yellow with their glory. 1t was morn
ing, and Deacon Grant sat under the porch of
the great, old, rambling cottage; for the day
was warm, and the top was wrapped round
thickly with a hop vine. These eight years
had greatly changed the deacon. He seemed
to have suddenly stepped into old age, and the
light wind that stirred the green leaves, shook
the grey hair over his wrinkled forehead, as
he sat there, reading the village newspaper,
with eyes that had begun to grow dim.
Every little while fragments of some old
fashioned tune foated out to the old man, soft,
sweet, stray fragments; and fitting back and
forth from the pantry to the breakfast table,
| was young girl, not handsome, but with q
| sweet, frank, rosy countenance, whose smiles
seem to hover over the household as naturally
as sunshine over June skies. She wore pink
| calico dress, the sleeves tucked above the ell.
| bows, and sschecked apron" Altogether
| she was a fair, plump, healthful looking coun'
| try girl.
| And while the old man read the paper under
the hop vine, and the young girl hummed and
auttered between the pantry and the kitchen
table, young man opened the small front
| gate, and went up the narrow path TO the
house. He went up very slowly, staring al
about him with an eager wistful look, ano
sometimes the muscles of his mouth worked
| and quivered, as one will when strong emotions
are shaking the heart. He had firm, sinewJ
frame of midding height; he was not hand
some, but there was something in his face yo'
would have liked; perhaps it was the light
| way down in his dark eyes; perhaps it was th'
strength and character of the lines about MI
| mouth. cannot tell it was as intangible
1t was certain you would have liked that face
The door was open, and the young mai
| walked into the wide hall. He stood still
moment, staring around the low wall, and ol
tho palm-leayed paper that hung on the side
Then thick mist broke over his eyes, ana m
/ walked on like one in a dream, apParen'''