The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1860-11-23
DeasOn Palmer's Family.


sweet, mournful currents in and out of tn
hollows, and the echoes among the hill
caught them up and tossed them back ant
forth through the forest, and they ran i,
long, silvery eddies up the turnpike, and o
yer the meadows and across the orchards, til
they reached the ears and stirred the beast.
of the quiet little village of Woodstock
whose farm-houses sat in the valley ut the
foot of long chain Of hills, like compan,
of pilgrims gathering to worship before ths
shrine of vast temple. 1t was just at sun
set, and somehow those long, mournful mi
nor tones seemed the fitting close of the DAVIS
service-that autumn day which had arisen
on the mountains in garments of sunshine
and marched through the hours in beaut,
and rejoicing, living Glory to Godv the
Creator as its good and perfect gift. But i,
was day fraught with dread and foreboiing
to thousands Of homes and hearts in the land
for the voice of war was abroad in the earth
and mothers had strained their brave sons
for the last time to their tcsoms, and seen
them 20 forth to the battle, and husbands
and fathers had laid aside the plow and the
scythe, and shouldered their muskets, and
taken their lives in their hands for the sake
of freedom, and in the name of the God of
battles.
So deep shadows lay on the quiet country
thresholds Of almost every home in New-En-
gland that autumn day, and almost every
hearthstone was an altar where anxious, low
ing hearts sent up cry to God for their be-
loved. Mrs. Palmer, wife of Deacon John
Palmer, of Woodstock, stood in the wide,
old-fashionec kitchen of the dingy, yellow
farmhouse, which she brought her husband
ON her marriage morning. She was an am
pie, motherly. pleasant. faced looking woman,
whose whole physiognomy corresponded with
the room. Strings of red peppers and rows
of dried apples were festooned along the cei-
ling, while swinging board fastened to the
beam, which divided the hall overhead. was
burdcned with herbs and berries, hams, dried
beans, seeds, and motley variety of domes-
tic wares. Mrs. Palmer's life had slipt over
its fittieth summer, and her black hair was
thickly sifted with gray, and there were lines
about her forehead, and the smile in her fa-
ded eyes had something sorrowful about it,
for Mrs. Palmer had walked with grief many
times and of the ten fair boys and girls who
had been gathered to her maternal heart, on
ly two remained to her old age. 1t was a
small family under the roof of the old gray
homestead on earth, but larger one in that
golden upper homestead whose blessed
threshold is never darkened by the shadow
of death.
Mrs Palmer paused as her ear caught the
faint. sweet echoes of the stagehorn, and she
deposited half dozen freshl y-boiled dough-
nuts in the pan On the table, murmuring to
herself, Now, for all the world. If that ism t
the mail coming in. Who knows but what
there may be some news from Reuben" All!
if YOU had heard how her voice fingered over
the name, you would have known she was
his mother. i wonder if that boyll take
any sort O. care of HIMSELF continued the
fond mother, dexterously convo.ving several
strips of dough. and placing them in the
large iron kettle which hung over the fire,
filled with boiling fat. which Indignantly
snapped and sputtered at their intrusion. If
there was a fray, he'd be sure to be foremost,
for he al'ays was poking his head into all
sorts O danger, and never seemed to feel
quite so content as when there was chance
O setting his neck off his shoulders! never
could exactly see where he got his harum
scarum turn, for his father was al'ays sober
minded man; but it was amazin' how he'd
be sartin to come out straight. never had
an easy hour for the first ten years of his
life, for fear he'd be brought home with bro
ken limbs but after he'd gone through with
what would "a killed dozen ordinary chill
dren, | kind O. gave up. concluded he
bore charmed life. Bless his heart my
brave, handsome boy never gave me cross
word in the world; and saw the tears a
shinin' under his lashes that mornin' when
he kissed me good bye, afore he started for
the army. though he talked SO bold and
CHEEKY about his comm back a cap'n or a
colonel. Poor fellow! | hope he won't get
the rheumatis campin' out nights. and they
say they have to put up with fare such as We
wouldn't have the face to offer to smart
dog. wish could do up paper O. these
doughnuts for the boy. he always was fond Of
EN-. Dear me, them cakes are burnin', (dip.
ping her large tin ladle into the boiling fat J
but it always illustrates me when l get to
thinkin' O Reuben. I'm reminded sometimes
o what Parson Hunter said to me: Miss
Palmer, you mustn't make an idol of your
son. He belongs to the Lord know it,
true as Scriptur', but can't help thinkin' the
Lordll show marcy OH my weakness, cos he,
all Eve got, and after great many struggles
I've given up the others to Him but my
very hte's bound up in that boy, and if any
thing should happen to him, God knows il
would break his poor mothers heart
And Mrs. Palmer broke down here, anC
she sat down on the old oaken chest, anc
wiped her eyes with the corner of her check
apron. Light warblings of some old psalm
ture iluttered down the staircase, and ther
the door opened, and pleasant-looking cir
burst suddenly into the room. Kebecc;
Palmer vas twenty-five, and the sight of he
bright young face was like picture reioicin,
the eyes. She was not beautiful, but he
cheeks were full of the glow of youth, an,
the richness of perfect health.
We'll, child said Mrs. Palmer. taking he
kettle from the crane, you jest hustle roun,
spry, and get up supper. Your father ant
| the men will come home clear tuckered GU,
for they've been fallin' trees all day, and "
must get hearty meal for 'em. You slic
up some ham. too, and fry dozen eggs. an
I'll fix up some shortcake.'
Mother, did you hear the stage-horn
asked Rebecca, as she laid the cloth she ha
spun with her own hands for the supper.
Yes and was kind Of impressed ther
was news from Reuben
4 wonder what keeps father SO p remark
ed Rebecca.
Likely as not he's gone round to the ia,
ern, to learn if there's any tidings from tt
army
Another half hour throbbed itself away i
the pulses of the great old-fashioned clock
the corner, and both the women had begu
to grow alarmed at the deacon's prolopee