The Van Buren press., 1859-12-16
and the next-but never mind that.
Ny COMPANION was not only beautifu

Plished woman. The charm of all she said
was indeseribable. 1t was no place for SEN
ti,nent, that sleigh in the tempcstuous night,
but l reached the old Elders house--it
was fixed fact-I loved for tho fourth
and last time.
You think | speak in trilling tone. |
know there is not the appearance of sinceri-
ty in what l say. | know as well that |
am serious when tell you that l positively
loved Jane Duncan that night before |
reached her fathers house. l will be IN ore
serious hereafter, for am now to relate a
serious fact in my life.
1t was dimly lighted room in which
the gaunt old man lay. AS entered there
was sickly odor of medicines. which con
trastad fercibly with the cold, clear ali
without that was at FIRST overpoweretl-
Miss Duncan hastened to his side before !
was fairly III the room, and asked in low
voice if he was any worse.
Nay, my child, no worse if God please
but nearer rest-nearer home-neare,
her-come in, doctor. 1t was wild whi,n
OF this dear child to seek you this bitter
night. | would have forbidden it, but who
could forbid the longing of a young hear;
like hers, loving her father as she loved me
think you will hardly do me any good
Feel my wrist little while, and see if you
can bring back blood to this feeble heart
His pulse was fcarfuily low | was
only astonished at the strength of voice he
had. i was to prescribe for him. | could
only recommend stimuants, bat these he
refused.
9 watched by him till morning, and as
day iroke in the east, | saw that the hour
OF his change was arriving.
Lift me up. and let me look at the sun
Use over the field
We lifted him-placng pillows around
TO support the tall, thin frame. just op-
posite the bed was a window looking out
on the farm he had titled for fifty years,
and beyond 1t over the forest, against the
grey sky, now clear and calm, was the spire
of the church that stood in the graveyard.
| had often driven by that field of little
hills, anl wondered whether l knew any
who were in the dust there.
Jane, my child, your mother lies yon-
der, where tie sun will rise directly. In
the long years of my after life | have seen
the day come up every morning, lying here
until the sun rose, and thought never with
pain of this hour. i am content and glad
very glad, my dear child
The daughter sat on the side of the bed,
with the old mans hand in her own, not
sobbing nor weeping. but calm, serene, an
gel liAe in her face and firmness of soul. |
stood a little way off, watching them
I Dear little Jennie, my snow bird, as /
call hcr-born in December: You were a
snowbird last night. Doctor, thank you
sincerely. think | am not going to last
very long
He became more pale, and sank back
suddenly on his pillows. Jane sprang to
her feet and leaned over him. \ smile
came over his face as he caught her gaze
fixed earnestly on his, and then he whis-
Dercd, Read to me, child. Read thy mo-
Tiers Psalm
She Ioad the 104th Psalm. As she
came to the last versa, the sun came up
above the hills. The first rays touched the
forehead OF the old Elder He smiled
again, repeated aloud, Bless thou the
Lord, oh my soul sharp, swift pang
crossed his countanance his hands Were
clasped, his lips moved an instant, and
then the old man had gone to his old wife
in the land where martyrs and saints abide
in serene glory.
'Threc months passed swiftly after this
occurrence. You may be well assured
did not let them go without visiting the
farm OF Elder Duncan occasionally. The
March winds were cold ami hars. that year
l drove out one night toward III. end Of the
month. 1t was blowing a gale, but | had
a warm hearth fire before me, and let the
horses have their way.
When | passed down the lane, dark
ness had come on. Bat we, the horses and
l, knew the way very well, and. we did not
hold up. don't know to this day. pre-
cisey how it happened, but instead OF ind
ing myself dismounting at the door,
awoke in large room that had never be-
fore seen. and found myself covered with
blood, clothes nearly all taken of, my arm
and two ribs broken, and Jane Duncan,
pale as a ghost, standing over me.
They had brought me into the first
room which was hers, and there [ lay 4
week before | could stir. How / stuffed
that room. tracing her graceful thoughts in
all its adornments. What delicious dreams
found clustering in the folds of the cur
tains. What eyes of angels looked on me
from the ceiling what starlight that was
which stole in at the windows and shrunk
ouNA staieiO't ouu utCiiCN, " aSu IL lcuia
that her purity was not there, and only a
rude village doctor, moaning on the bed OF
his discomfort. No, will not say that. l
was content. | would have been content
to stay there forever.
But one evening said to her that was
ashamed to be Sc long occupying her room,
and keeping her out OF it and that next
day l would get away and go back to my
own place.
What to that large, dismal, dreary
room of yours p said she.
sAh, you have seen it, haven't you p !
said and then with sudden thought, i
asked her 10 go back with me, and she went
And yonder she sits laughing at you !; and
that's all the story
But the fee, doctor-the coin p
ooh, that was notion she had from hel
fathers old country habits, that the doctors
fee should be paid on each visit She gave
it to me the morning he died. wish more
of my patients had the same notions. But
l couldn't spend that coin. Don't you
wish you had it in your cabinet p
No did not. For any coin that had 9
voice, and could tell it's story, would be-