The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-09-28

the prcOCcupicd women noticed, ana cleare'
his throat'twice before he spoke.
Il was detained spell on some matter o
my own and Ms. Palmer and Rebecca a
once concluded that he alluded to some bar
gain with neighbor. /.
Don't you sec the chair there, father!
asked Rebccca for the old man stood still
us a statue before the table, though his daugh
ter had Just placed his seat at his elbow, ant
now he sat down without speaking word.
why, husband, do believe you're dea
tonight! You haven't taken your hat of,
exclaimed Mrs. Palmer.
Don't wife, don't : and the old man laiC
his straw hat on the floor beside him.
The two women bent their heads revcrent
ly over the board, waiting for the deacon t.
invoke his customary blessing upon tho meal
but no sound broke the stiffness.
Mr.. Palmer glanced up at her husband {;
his head, too, was bent over his plate and O
stream OF candlc-light which fell on his fac,
revealed il fully to her gazc.
John, something has happened to you to-
night, she said leaning forward, and breath
lessly searching his face.
A deep conyulsivc sort of q groan hcavet
out of the mans lips, and both the women
grew white u, they heard it.
20, what is it, father do tell us y fluttered
up tho frightened voice Of Rebccca.
Mrs. Palmer rose and went to her husband
and laid her shaking fingers on his hard
hand.
20. John, it aint anything about Reuben
She cried out the words rs one might lila
sword had stuck suddenly into his heart.
Rebecca had sat still ut the table, her swec,
face struck white with wonder and fear, and
her brown eyes fastened ON her parents; but
now she sprang up and dropped down on hei
knees at the Dcacon's feet: go, father. dc
saw il isn't Reuben" and her voice was like
her mothers. The deacon opened his lips
but he could not speak. He took the hands
of his wife and child, and covered them with
his own trembling ones. 30, Lori, have
mercy upon us = groaned the stricken man,
and then they knew.
Mrs. Palmer crcpt up to her husband, and
whispered in faint, broken voice, Just say
my boy isn't dead, father. | can bear to hear
anything else.'
And the deacon made no answer; but the
great tears fell down his furrowcd checks,
and it was enough.
Tho tidings of the disastrous battle at Long
Island, which closed the summer Of seven.
teen hundred and scventy-six, had filed the
land with mourning. for thousands of Wild
ows and orphans had been made in that ter
riblc hour when so many brave Americans lay
dead on the battlefield, and the news OF the
successful skirmish which took place the fol-
lowing month near Kings Bridge, in New
York, was everywhere hailed with gladness
and gratitude; and the little village OF Wood
stock bore its part in the general rejoicing on
that autumn night, when the stage first
brought in the tidngs.
The dcacon's family was the only one in
Woodstock to whom the news brought any
sorrow, for it was in this engagement that
Rsuben had fallen. lie was great iavorite
through the village, and every heart was fill
ed with sadness when IL thought on that
bright, and handsome face lying stark and
rigid on the battle field.
1t was late that evening when Parson
Hunter entered the stricken house, for friends
and neichbors feared to intrude on ts awful
grief. But the tender-hcarted old minister
could not rest till he had carried the sweet
balm OF his love and faith into their broken
hearts.
Parson Hunter was n tall white haired old
man, a fine representative of the stanch old
Puritan minister, but beneath some statcli-
ness and austcrity of manner beat q heart
where were all fair and fragrant blossoms,
and golden fruits of charity and love; a
heart in whose pleasant and goodly paths
the angels loved to walk with their shi ming
faces, and of whom they wrote, OF such is
the kingdom Of heaven
The minister found the family in the kitch-
en-, where we left il, utterly crushed down
by grief which expressed itself neither by
means nor tears.
Mrs. Palmer sat in the largo armchair be.
fore the fire, where her husband had placed
her. the crimson light fluttering over her face,
which seemed frozen TO stone, and her tear
less eyes fastened in blank gaze on the wall;
and il was well perhaps that alarm for her
reason or her life had somewhat diverted the
thoughts of the deacon and his daughter
from the dead to the living, though it seem.
cd to the minister that the last hour had
done the work of years on both Of them.
MY friends. said the minister, speaking
in his deep, solemn tones, Il should not have
come into your house of moaning tonight
feeling that the Lord could speak to your
hearts better than | but remembered that
il was twcnty.four years ago this very month
when YOU brought Reuben up to the altar to
dedicate him to his God, and | felt that had
u title to come.
And these words unlocked Mrs. Palmer s
face. She turned suddenly towards the old
man as the vision Of that Sabbath morning
rose and walked up its long path of years and
stood before her.
Il SEQ him see him = sho sobbed out,
with the little brown curls q dancin' round
his face, and the merry brown eyes blinkin'
under them. My little Reuben he was tho
sweetest baby that ever gladdened moth
er's heart, and was so proud Of him, and
| thought God would spare him, to be the
staff OF his mothers old age, because had
given all the Others to him. o, Paron Hun.
ter, il can't bc true that | shall never look
into his face again, never hear the sound Of
his voice, that he's lyin' of there on the
battlefield, and his mother was not there to
smoothe away the hair from his forehead, or
give him one kiss when he looked up for her
face the last time !
The old man sat still, overwhelmed by this
mighty burst of a mothers agony. lie clos:
cd Ris ewes for the tears that filled them, and
felt that for her he had neither help nor con.
ISOLATION.
.Thc Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away: blessed he the name Of the Lord
The low, solemn tones Of the preacher,
scarcely above whisper, fell into the hearts
of the hearers and stilled them, US mans
never could, as only Gods can. Blessed
Bible words, which we read over in morning
lesson and evening service, and never know
the fullncss and richness, the depths of mean
inr there arc in them, till some awful sor.
row of our own touches the springs, and
then We 90 in, and 10 these old familiar
passages are like stately rooms resting on
massive pillars, and garnishcd and adorned
with all fair and beautiful things, or they
rise before us like gardens filed with trees