The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1860-06-08

the anniversary of which we are now cele.
brating, when Mrs. Bent, widowed sister
OF Edwards mother, came to spend the
twelve days with US, and liking the accomo>
dations well concluded to remain during the
winter. | was rather sorry she had chosen
our home for her winter quarters, for she was
very salf.willed, and, what was yet worse,
paid but little homage at the shrine of truth.
She usually found way for her will, and
for this reason feared her, yet feared far
more for Edward than myself, for her in
f1uence over him was almost without limit
She seemed to idoize the child, and would
not allow his wishes to be crossed if she
could prevent it. soon learned that was
nobody in her estimation (although by my
self | was thought to be quite fine woman
for the times) and that Edward found me
less attractive than ever before; he was still
civil and obedient, but as sunless in all his
bearing towards me as the northern side of
an iceberg. Dear girls, don't smile at my
comparisons if you ever had felt, what l
hope you never may. the awful chillness of
unrequited affection, you would understand
how l felt then.
Augustine saw it all, and was planning
a way in which to relieve the house of Mrs.
Bents presence, telling her in so many words
that her room was more desirable than her
company, when be was called away upon i'm
portant business, which would detain him
from home several weeks. With his kind,
encouraging face bent down close to mine,
he whispered, Hope, hope, dear Louisa, and
a fnI no
will thaw them YETI l could only answer
with sigh, and turn away and weep. 1t
was hard for his sympathiziDg soul to leave
me so unpleasantly situated, but be must go.
Then, with benediction of Peace be and
abide with YOU breathed as aparting bless
ing upon US, he was gone.
Alone Oh, what sense of desolation
settled down upon my soul when his beloved
form was lost in the distance! had every
thing around me for my comfort that my
heart could ask, everything but the love Of
his child; and that boon withheld, all ease,
comfort and luxury were as empty nothings
to me. Must it always be thus? Would
the light never come to chase away the thick
darkness that shrouded all joy and robbed
all peace of its peacefulness Oh, my heart
my heart l cried to myself, will its yearning
never be satisfied? How can live so? l
cannot-I must not. Life was not given for
such cruel purpose. But what can do?
Hope and pray, labor and wait! Aye, that
| will. 1t is always darkest just before the
dawn. How often does the cloud of thick
darkness bear in its folds long coveted
blessing So came the hour of sorrow to me-
GA few days after Augustine left home,
one of Edwards schoolmates came to invite
him to join an evening skating party, upon
pond about half mile distant 1t was
dark, cold night in midwinter, but Edward,
who thought only of the fine sport with his
schoolfellows, asked eagerly, Can go? He
always asked leave to 60 out in the evening i,
instead OF running headlong no one knew
where, and he was perfectly obedient too
in this he was model boy. Mark this, little
boys, and little girls too, its observance as a
rule will bring you lifelong blessing, as it
has to Edward. Before l could reply, for |
paused to think of the danger to which he
would be exposed if he went, and the disap-
pOintment he would feel if he remained at
home, Mrs. Bent caught the troubled ex-
preston OF my cOuntenance, and very
promptly informed him that he could 60
there or anywhere else he wished to enjoy
himself; she did not believe in keeping chill
dren mewed up at home all the time The
boy took his leave, and Edward, looking
very happy, was about to follow him, when
| called him back. felt then, if ever was
to realize my position, was in his mothers
stead. 1t seemed as though the voice of the
departed spoke to me, saying, Be faithful
to my little one l said to my heart I will
stand in my proper place, and draw the child
to me if l can. Mrs. Bent scowled; Edward
came back with wondering look. With
silent lifting up of my soul for heavenly aid,
l addressed him:
sc Edward, my son, wish you to remain
at home this evening; it is not safe for you
to go out upon the pond when it is so dark,
and it is very cold too. Hark hear how
the wind blowsp
"'I fear neither dark nor cold, wind nor
water replied he.
"'Brave boy!' said Mrs. Bent. Dear
me, Mrs. Southside, don't 60 to making a
girlish coward of him.
"I will not harm him, Mrs. Bent, but
rather will do him all the good can. Will
you please allow US to talk without inter-
ruption? p
"Muttering to herself something about
my having more 'spunk' than she imagined
from such meek face, she arose and left the
room. After she had closed the door, l held
out my hand to Edward, who stood gazing
in the fire with mingled expression of
anger and defiance upon his countenance,
and asked him to come and sit beside me,
for wished to talk with him seriously. He
advanced step and then stopped, saying:
i am near enough-talk away. 1t was the
first saucy word and the last be ever ad-
dressed to me. l did not heed it. knew
he was angry with me, and be thought
justly, because l wished him to remain at
home.