The Kansas herald of freedom., 1859-10-22
Wisceiiapeous.
The wen in the Rock.


you"
Rachel Woolcoot asked this question.
and set down the large loaf of rye bread
from which she was cutting some slices for
supper.
The father came into the room, the
large, stalwart man, in his farmers trow-
sers of tow cloth, and he CROPPED like
little child, or a man suddenly struck
blind.
"Yes, father, what is the matter?" que
ried the alarmed voice of Mrs. Woolcoot,
as she ran out of the bedroom, where she
was just laying away the weeks ironing
81 guess Pm kinder shaky, wife
Won't you bring me cup of water
A moment later Mrs. Woolcoot return
ed, her mug filed to tho brim with the
clear liquid, which her husband seized in
his great hands, but they shook SO that he
could hardly convey it to his lips, while
Rachel stood by, and looked at her father
in dismsy.
HE says he was taken about an hour
ago, in the fields; it's fit, like whisper
ed the girl to her mother.
mercy on us! how in the world did it
come on, f4ther?" cried the pale little wo-
man, and she peered into the sunburnt,
but ghastly face that now rested against the
old oak chair. Father, you we ruu
against some troubled"
Mrs. Woolcoot's wifely heart could not
be deceived long
Don't, don't motherl"
The man put up his hand deprecatingly
but great groan heaved up from his iron
chest
Mrs. Woolcoors face grew pale, as did
her daughters, but it was only for mo-
ment. She bowed down under the un.
known blow which had Frustrated he
husband. "Isaac," she said, taking hi
great hand in both of hers, You know
when you took me, a young, inexperi
enced thing, twenty three years ago, witt
nothin' but the little pastur' lot in Cow
Lane to bring you for my portion, prom
'sed TO stick toy0u, a true and lOvin' wife
to the day when death should part us.
reckon have tried to do it, Isaac. View,
had bright times and sorrowful uns sine,
we've walked the same road, but reckol
the good uns have outweighed t'other, AM
we've pulled together in all things, au'
never had hard word or a hard though
for more than mint ag'in each other
Pve been the mother of your Children, {
them that's in heaven as well as theI
that's on earth, and it's the first tim,
Isaac Woolcoot, that you ever hid yor
heart from me, or carried cloud in yOr
breast which your wife didn't share"
She was not much of talker, little Mr.
WOolcoot, but now her true woman
heart fired her lips with native eloquenc
as she stood there with the still tear
her eyes aud the brave smile about b,
pale mouth
Farmer Woolcoot looked at his wifi
and for momen: the man forgot ever,
thing but the true heart which beat {,
him in that little woman's breast.
"Ips true, Massey, every word; you''
been the blessedest comfort and helpme
that ever man had; you've taken Il
heaviest side of my burdens, and borl
with my faults, and Pve allus felt new
deserved such blessin' as you, any more
a frail mortal man does an angel to wa
BY his side; and it isn't for myself hs
as much as for you / care: but it com
tough to give itup." And the mans he'
sank down heavily.
Got to give up what, father? Dol
hold it back any longer"
"The old homestead, Massey, where y
and | have lived so many years, and tn
to bring up our children in the fear
God"
Our home, father?"
Mrs. Woolcoot cried the words G
sharply, as though there dwelt great pa
and smaZement in them.
"That's it, mother. Seth Rogers
got hold Of an old deed of the land, viii
belonged to hisSgrandfather, about fl
years ago, and learned it this afterno
for the first time. The orchard, aud I
old house itself, every timber of viii
has the face Of an old friend, will have
CO."
10, whapll become of US all?' cri
Rachel, aud sank down and burst il
tears. An hour ago her heart had bt
like country full of fragrance and sw
song, and far-reacLing mountains of
light; and now the uists had arisen fir
the sea and blurred out all the goodly pr
poets, and the winds lashed and the stO
gathered over the young girls life.
Mrs. Woolcoot took it quietly.
tears ran over her faded cheeks as
moaned out, 20, it is hard, so ha
father!'
"Thaps it, Massey! l am get.in' I
my prime now, and I've little hope of g
buildin' new roof to shelter my heat
its old age. You know that, with
rheumatis, and the children's sickness
deaths, and failures in crops, never
forehanded.n 81.
He won't show US any marsy, will
father?" wound i'll the soft, broken v,
Of Rachel, while Joseph stood BY tw