The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1857-04-23
From Peterson's MagasIne.
THE CONSUMPTION.


SdW tuls story IN newspaper, conden0ed
into paragraph Of dozen lines, and told as
. fac. Thought II 30 terrible in its sadness
that it should be read BY every one, and that j.
may reach - many - possible, Ihave prepar-
ed il for these columns.
|, Up four flights OF stairs in house in Paris,
were three snug little rooms inhabited by the
fsmily Roumille. They had only peaked roofs
chimnies, and the blue sky to look out upon,
but 50 pleasant were the rooms within, and 30
neat, and tasteful and sunny, that there was
small temptation to turn the eyes away from
them.
II was evening, and the family were ASSEM-
bled at supper. They wsre observing fete,
and the best gilt china glittered on the table. q
little bouquet Of fresh flowers stood by each
glass, and an ieed-cske surrounded BY wreath
Of rose-buds distinguished the centre.
Around the board sat the jolly, afEectionate
old father, the delicate and loving mother, their
brave. handsome boy, and one other, not now
belonging to the family, but soon to be called
daughter BY the parents, and wife by the son.
She was gentle, lovely young girl, looking
with afisctionate respect upon the old folks,
and with fond, modest eyes upon her lover.
"Son," said the mother, '.for twsnty.one
years this night hast thou beea the delight Of
my heart. Thou hast Gladdened my eyes every
day thou hast lived All, that thou vert bu,
. few years younger, tina. might be sure Of
thee longer"
"Wife, dost thou not see that Marion takes
thy word as areproach to her? Thou would'st
have thy son all TO thyself, thou sayest.o
IL do not mean that would not have my
child Marion for my daughter. No, no! Bless
her heart, she need not blush 30. And she
need not fear. think even my Robinet harp
to be her husband. But the conscription,
father. Our boy 10 Of age"
The old mans happy face grew pale and
uneasy.
"Wife, J" he said, -four boy is filialt to 40, and
tue to Marion, and loving to God. II heaven
Is but just, he will not draw the fatal lot
Heaven Llesses the good %
"Whom God loveth he chasteneth,'' said
the mother, with SIGH, and Marion's cheek
grew whittier.
"Come, do not darken sunny day BY clouds
Of fear" said the young man. "To-night /
am free. Tonight am can be the happiest
fellow alive. Even il tomorrow draw the
wrong number, and must 90 to fight, may re-
turn to you, Marion, covered with honors.--
Wilt thou not be glad and proud then mother?''
"My son, my son, ! hare known many q
brave boy join those ranks dreaming a. thou
dost; but few came back to their mothers
Oh, Robinet thou art my only one, and il thou
art killed shall be hildless-childless.
"Ah, wife," said the father, crowding back
tears. s.Could'st thou not be almost happy to
be widow The conscription spares the on
iy sons Of widows. Ifthy useless old husband
were gone, thou could'st keep thy brave young
son.n
"Ah, ah,' cried the wife. "Stop the old
mans tongue. Put thy hand on his mouth,
Marion. cannot bear to hear him aIk so. y
"To-night let US be happy" cried Robinet.
81 am not yet a .conscript. And believe
shall, escape tomorrow. So 'begone dull care ,
Father, shall I cut my birthday cake?"
eyes, my boy. Let us not borrow trouble.
II would kill me to see thee among the dissolute
soldiery driven to Slaughter I win not. no, |
cannot think of II. Yes. cut thy cake, but dc
not harm those pretty buds Marion placed
them there in token Of how she wall round thy
life with pleasures. En-, Marion. Each bud
for kiss or kind word, eh?"
Marion wiped her eyes, and smiled blush
ingiy. Cheerfulness was restored, and the
happy family gavs themselves up to enjoy
ment Of each other, the secret thought that
perhaps 1t was for the last time making every
voice tenderer.
On the next day the drawing was to take
place. Father and son proceeded to the place
Of decision. The son, with white cheek and
dilatiag eye, drew, while the father stood by,
his ID My jovial form trembling with agoniz-
ing apprehension.
It was fatal number! and with groan Of
despair the old msn tell upon his sons neck.
"Oh, my boy,'' be said, 81 cannot Il, thee
70! cannot see thee driven to slanghter!--
Thy mothers heart will b. desolate. Icannot,
no, God forgive me, cannot"
He wrung his sous hand, and shaking his
head at the few brave, consoling words Robi-
nets trembling lips uttered, he stopt them short
by kissing. him tenderly. He then went out,
with gesture forbidding any one 10 follow
him.
"The mother will weep over hsr son, y said 4
bystander, Marion* father, shut an old man,
like an old dog, goes alone to srieve. He idol
ICES thee, boy, thy poor, old father. All
Robinet Roumills, there u another, . poor,
young girl whose bitterest tears will be secret
ones"
: The youth, almost stunned with despair Il
his fate, returned TO tell his mother and Marioa.
They awaited his arrival, knseling At the feet
Of the Holy Mary's image, and praying II
agonizing fersency.
Robinet entered quietly, and stood rigid and
pale behind them, his eyes large, and his nos
trils quivering. The mother turned and look
ed up 81 him, then fell back in swocn. Her
son raised her and laid her upon sofa In slow
recovery. Marion clung to his arm, and held
one of his hands in hers, weeping bitterly
Nons asked for the words they could not bear
to hear.
"Ah, thy poor father" /" the mother nnrmur.
ed 0Y kno,v he fs weeninsp IN nANret He ,v.,