The Abbeville banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1847-1869, 1859-02-03


home; and on this, the third, he too WAS
gone, and his child was alone on the desc.
late earth.
Nelly had worked hard all day-she was
very tired but now she must clear off the
long table which had groaned under the
weight of good cheer round which Mr..
Barton had gathered her relations. Nelly
must not 60 to bed till the last dish was
washcd-she knew that. She got high
chair and set it before the closed door leap
ing into the parlor. Then climbing up on
it, she looked through the glass over the
door, into the cheerful room. Oh, how
warm and brightit was Her step-motller
sat, with her friends, before the fire. Her
gaiIy dressed children were gathered round
her. There was warmth and light and
mirth for the living, bu, there was no one
to speak loving word to her. Could the
dead see her from under the grave mounds?
She came back and looked again at the
table. She sighed and said once more, i'm
her low sad voice, "Oh, dear, there
are so many!" That was all. Then she
began her task, and did not pause until it
was done-the last dish was washed and
put away, and the table placed back as.inst
the wall. 1t was only nine o'clock but she
did not go into the paror. They had moth
ing for her-shc had nothing for them.-
She took her candle and climbed YEARLY
up stairs to bed.
Soon sleep closed her cycllS, and
brought with it dreams. At first they
were pleasant ones. Her mother seemed
with her again, and life was bright and
hopeful. But even in her sleep, trouble
followed after the joys. She lived over
again her wrongs, her oppression, her long
sorrow. Then voice seemed to speak to
her. 1t reused her from her slumhcr.-
She thought it was her mothers toncs.-
They seemed calling her to the ch,rrchvarl
They told her that the earth underneath
the grave sod was troubled If she went
there, she thought her mother could hear
her moan-her mother, who seemed calling
her again to her bosom.
"Comc, come, com. ~ called the far
off voice. The child started up wildly
She rose from l"d-she hurried noi<eIvsslv
down stairs. She opened the outside door
just as the the clock struck the hour of
midnight. The house WAS still. No one
heard the light :'"',stcls. She closed the
door behind her and hurried on. Tn" winds
swept through and through Ii = nght,ress
the hard earth cut an,l gpadvl her bare,
tender feet. But she WAS insensible to the
cold or pain. She hurried on. Only one
thought was in her heart-her mother had
calc'l-shc was going to her.
Across the ii:Ils She sped the
cl,urchyard s,,o-on, these two graves
beneath, the willows-on, until she pressed
her fcverial brow upon the bare sod abrve
her mothers heart. And then the merc.
ful snow began to fail. 1t covered up the
letters on the headstone, which the poor
child had been tracing with her fingers
1t folded over the two graves its white man
tie OF peace. 1t lay like SNOWY veil
over that young victims brow. 1t cloth
ed like garment her shining limbs. 1t
was more mcrcifu'to her than the world.
ut she needed not its ministry.
All her senses were locked save one -
She Observation-Disclosures
iy. She listened for her mothers voice.
Oh, was it fancy! Out of that grave
sweet low tones seemed to rise. She
Lhought-it.may have been only the snow
hakes-but she thought soft hand rest
ed upon her hair; she felt spirit kiss
upon her forehead. She lay on the cold
bare earth no longer-her head was
lifted to soft loving bosom. She had
found rest at last, and she mmrmured, as
she had SO many times done at her moth
cr's knee, "God keep little Nelly, and take
her to heaven when she dies. And gentle
gentle fell the snow-over the two graves
over the sleeping child.
They called in vain TO little Nelly in the
morning. She was not in the kitchen;
she was not in the yard; she was not in
her little bed in the attic. The clothes she
had worn the day before hung across the
foot of her bed. Her shawl and bon.
net hung in the passage, but where was
Nelly?
All, hurrying feet Of Mrs. Barton.-
What strange terror, what late awakening
instinct leads you across the fields into the
churchyard gate Your face is white,
my lady?-but you shall see something
there, whittier still. Aye, kneel now-et
those tardy tears have free course. They