Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1859-07-06

An old gentleman passed him on the steps,
and scanned him eagerly, then turned and fol-
| lowed him in.
s.Sir, 1 address Mr.. Moses =, believe do
| you RENE mber me a'' said the stranger.
81 do not, sir my name IS Moses -.
| ssI presume not,' continued the old gentle
| man sssome years have passed since we met,
| twenty, at least, and we were both that much
Younger and he passed his hand through his
| long white hair; ssmy name is Piice-will
| you dine with me ?'
| ssReally, sir, my business is pressng"--
| $50 is my invitation. L cannot be refused.
Name the hour if you will: but dine with me
| to-day You must 20 and the peremptory words
were spoken kindly, and the strangers
grasp was SO friendly that refusal was impos-
sibe. The hour was named, and, promising
| to meet there, each went his way.
Much did our friend wonder, as, after his bu-
| siness completed, he retraced his steps to the
hotel, and there found the gray haired stran-
| ger waiting in sleigh, to which were attach
ed two magnificent bays. A five or six min
| htes' ride over the crispy snow, and they drew
| mp before stately mansion. Mr.. Price aligh-
| ted, and throwing the reins to servant, mo-
toned his companion to follow, and as he
stood on the threshold of the open door, he
grasped the younger's hand saying,
"Welcome, sir, right welcome to my home.
| Enter; my wife awaits your coming
Throwing hastily aside, in the hall, over
coats and hats, they entered pleasant room,
~ IL y
| in flower, and occupied by old lady, who
rose at their entrance, and, advancing, said,
81 knew of your coming, and you are well
come, Moses =, right welcome, to the home
| your kindness restored to me. For twenty
yoars have / daily prayed the good God to
| bless you for that one good deed, and He WiH
| bless you.'
| stMadan1, Mr.. Price, are you not mistaken
| in me Your kindness have never merited.
| You are strangers to me, and''-
| ssEnough, young man, interrupted Mr..
| Price, as a bell was distinctly heard ssenough
| that we are satisfied with your identity. That
| is our dinner bell. Over the dessert will
| tell you a story, and you shall cease to Won
| der;'' and offering his arm to Mrs. Price, Mr..
Moses = followed his host to the dining room,
| which, did all else around, spoke much of
the opuience of the possessor.
| The dinner, of some importance to a hungry
| man some miles from home, was excellent,
| and our friend did it justice, though somewhat
| impatient for the story, which came, as prom
ised, with the dessert.
| ssYou may Smiie,' - said the white haired
| host, at hearing of love from withered lips,
and yet it is a love story 1 have to tell Ny
father and my wite's were friends in youth,
| bitter enemies in manhood, why, it matters
not now and here. We were their only chill
dren, and, in spite of commands and prohibi-
| ton, we were play-nates as children, friends
at school, and lovers in after years. We low
cd truly, and yet Mary would not marry me
| while her father lived. She was his all, she
she said, and he was old, and she could not
| leave him. Years sped on. Sped They
dragged wearily and heavily, heavily dragged,
| for her and for me but release came at last
her father died.
The old lady wiped away tear, as she
murmured, ssDear father he was very kind
in all else 20
'sMay he rest in peace" replied her hus-
band ''he lived in this house, he continued,
s'and was deemed wealthy; yet he left his
phan penniess, but free to become my bride,
and we were married. lived with my father,
also, and there took my wife, but we met on
| ly reproaches, scorn, and curses. Not
| hour did we remain beneath his roof, but went
| forth together, strong in our faith in each 9TH
| er's love, and prizing nothing else. But love
| is neither meat, drink, nor clothes, and the
children Of wealth can lily endure what the
| children of poverty call comforts. l tried to
| labor; did labor, and yet we suffered much.
| We knew naught of economy but the name,
and my earnings were scanty. Experience is
a hard master, You know. Those were sad
days as well as dark. God gave us children
to brighten the darkness, aud, Mary, dear wife,
twas God that gathered them in his arms
And tears stood in those eyes, undim-
med by years, and the old lady softly sobbed.
| The listener was not unmoved.
| "Necessity obliged me to accept offer
a situation in distant city, and extreme pow
erty deprived me of the society of her who
| had made poverty endurable. | left her in
| Haverhill with a kind old aunt of mine, and
went forth alone and dispirited to earn main
| tenance for us two. l asked no more of for
tune, but this little seemed denied me. Scarce
| ly had three months elapsed before sickness
prostrated me and when was at length con-
yaleScent how wretched was my position my
situation gone, my little earnings gone, my
strength gone, and almost gone my faith in
Him who s,doeth all things well.'' With three
dollars in my pocket, and those borrowed,
| returned to my wife. i rode as far my
means allowed, and then thought to walk the
| remaining twenty miles, after nights rest
and sleep. But over-ratedEmy strength; at
nIghtfall, with scarcely half the distance ac-
| complshed, l sank exhausted in the snow. 1t
was a cold, frosty night; the bitter, biting
wind seemed to reach my very vitals, (for my
purse afforded me no overcoat,) and prayed
to God for my wife; and for myself, despair
ed. A boy of some fifteen yeaSs''-
ssI know you now, sir; L remember the
night said Moses. ssI slept enough the
sweeter that night to fully repay me. Please
say no more of that, but, if you will, continue
your story; am much interested
ssYom took me to my wife. There awaited
me letter from my father. He was on his
death-bed, and desired to see me. 1 reached
my childhood's home in time to receive my
fathers pardon and dying blessing; and his
last act was, to call for Goals, and therein to
burn the will which disnherited his only son.
Sweet as it was to receive my fathers pardon,
sweeter yet was it to give my wife, not only
the luXuries of her former life, but also restore
to her the home of her fathers. But for you,
had [ even survived that fearful night, | had
been to late for either"
The old lady arose, and laying her tremb-
ling hands on the head of Moses, said, eeMay
the blessing of the aged prevail nightly with
God for you, as the bread You cast upon the