The Council Bluffs nonpareil. [volume] (Council Bluffs [Iowa]) 1857-1867, 1858-09-18
From the Olive Branch.
FARMER PIXIES GRANDSON.
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND.

FARMER PIXIES GRANDSON.
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND. o. =.
cleaning OIL him, make, with reverent mcekness
His thy will, ....T... o..
And with strength from Him. shall thy utter weakness
-. .. Life's task fulfill" .s .... .
Well, Aunt Esther, what did he say?'
'Yes. do tell US, what did he say" .,
Cousin Alice Lake echoed eagerly my
words, as our aunt came into the sitting
room where we were loungng away the
pleasant summer afternoon.
see her now, though half a score Of
wears has the grave dust hidden that face
from the eyes that loved it, as she came
through the door, with her soft, slow step;
with her lilac colored silk shawl, and her
Leghorn bonnet, trimmed with white satin
ribbon. Aunt Esther Lee WAS our father's
only sister, and she had been childess
widow for many years, the latter half Of
which she had passed at our home.
Cousin Alice Lake was passing the vaca-
ton with us. There WAS not years diff
ference in ages, and we had been school-
mates from early childhood, and believe
sisters seldom love each other as We did.
That afternoon Aunt Esther had started
out on visit to Farmer Pixies the rich old
widower, whose great yellow brown house,
stood on the turnpike half Il mile from our
house.
Farmer Pike was strange, hard man,
YOU would have felt this, with one glance at
his strong, rugged, features, his iron gray
halr, and his large, muscular person that
had not bowed itself with the weight of
three score years.
He lived with his housckceper, and his hired
men, in the great yellow brown house, an
honest, industrious man, but without sim
gle affection, or social sympathy in the world
with life as cold, and stark, and barren, rs
Il desert over whose bosom no running
spring winds its necklace of Jewels: in whose
dry, dead heart, no sweet flower opens its
soft lips to the sunshine.
Yet Farmer Pixies life had its tragedy, so
believe all lives have, if We couIdonly unlock
the hidden cabinets, where they are laid
away from every eve but Gods,
MANY years ago. Farmer Pike had mar
riel Il Woman much Younger than himself.
\ woman with one OF those scntr, shrink
ing, mimosa natures, that seemedgto have
few points Of sympathy with his coarse,
rugged character.
However, believe they got on well to-
gethcr, and it i, probable III" gentle, tremu-
luus wife called out whatsoever Of tender
ness there was in the cOarsur soul of her
husband. At last, Il son WIS born to them,
and the delicate mother fell mo Il decline,
and before her boys life had covered lis
third year, the grass had lad its green COW
ering over the mothers head.
Mrs. Pike and Aunt Esther Lee were
sehooImatcs and had always been friends;
SO the farmer placed Joseph under her care,
and he continued to reside with her, until III
my mothers death, which occurred several
wears later, my aunt came to Us, and the boy
wcut home to his father. ~--
Joseph was a warm hearted but terribly
scf-wiLIcl boy. Ny aunt had more inhu
emcc over him, than any other person, for
! she loved him almost as though he were her
very fond Of his bright, handsome boy, but
he WAS Il cold, undemonstrative man, and he
and Joseph never got on we'll together.
As the boy grew older his father deter
mined upon making him Il farmer, but Jo-
scph's active, energetic nature reyoltcd at
this life; he was bent upon going out
into the world, and trying his fortune there.
know the old yellow brown house witness
cd some terrible contests between the faith
er's will, and the sons determination; there
were harsh threats on one side, and sullen
resistance on the other, until worn out with
these things, Joseph made up his mind to
run away. and 20 TO sea-
llp did this with his usual rash impulsive-
and ttrn Enrv,ar d -, HI.
lifted up his hand, and sworc solcmly that
Joseph should not inherit a dollar Of his
property: that he would never see or speak
to him agaln to the day of his death. And
he kept his word. He lived in the yellow
brown house, a lonely chidiess old man,
broadening his acres every year, and broad
cning too, by his cold, selfish unproductive
life. the gulf between him and the kingdom
of Heaven.
One day in the late spring, however, an
old man and a little golden-haired child
stopped at the house and asked for Aunt
Esther Gray. Then for the first time in all
these years, we heard of Joseph Pike.
Life had been with him mo dance of ro-
ses,' but along, sharp struggle. lie had
married young, and his children had been
taken from him, and at last, his young wife
had been laid beside him, leaving him only
the golden haired boy that stood before US.
Joseph Inherited the delicate constitution
of his mother, and his health had failed un-
der all these trials. He had wandered from
place to place with his motherlsss boy in
search Of new strength. But he failed ra-
pldiy, and at last himself gave up all hope
of recovery. Then he wrote to nv aunt, the
mother of his boyhood, as he caled her,
and bequeathed to her tenderness his only
child. scarcely four years old. And the old
man who brought him to us, was one who
Joseph had once rescued from drowning,
and who remained with him out of gratitude
to the last hour of his life. ..
Auu, Esther bowed her head above those
golden curls, and said, while her tears drip
ped fast on the bright face that wasso like
its father will take the child.' -5@
I've made up my mind said Aunt Es-
ther, suddenly, one day just after dinner,
and she folded up her knitting, and looked
off a moment on the dusty road that wound
like d.ngy red ribbon through tho pas
lures of Woodside.
"What have you made up your mind to do,
aunty:' asked Cousin Alice Lake and sim
uitaneously, as We looked up from the mag
azlnes We were reading.
That I'll take Weston, Joseph's child,
and go straight over to Farmer Pikcs' this
aiternooa. He'll be just about oYer his af-
ter-dlnner nap when we get there. It'svery
we'll for him to talk as he does, so long as he
don't see the child, but come to that. be-
heve, twill be more than he can bear! }~>e