Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1860-09-29

DON Z, Wne, don't, ana the Old man lald
his straw hat on the floor beside him
The two women bent their heads reverently
over the board, waiting for the deacon to in.
woke his customary blessings upon the meal;
but no sound broke the stiffness.
Mrs Palmer glanced mp at her husband; bis
head, too, was bent over his plate; and stream
OF candle light falling on his face, revealed ii
fully to her gaze.
John, something has happened to you to.
night, she said, leaning forward, and breath
lessly searching his face.
A deep, convulsive sort of groan heaved out
Of the old mans lips; and both of the women
grew white as they heard it.
Oh, what is II. father? do tell us!" auttered
up the frightened voice Of Rebecca.
Mrs. Palmer rose and went to her husband
and laid her shaking fingers on his hard hand
oh, John, it amt anything about Reu-
benz" Sho cried out the words as one might If
a sword had struck suddenly into his heart
Rebecca had sat still at the table, her swee,
face struck white with wonder and fear. and
her brown eyes fastened on her parents; but
now she sprang up, and dropped down on her
knees at the deacon's feet:
"Oh, father, do say Ii 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 bis wife and his
child, and covered them with his own trem.
'li'S hSs snf: Lord, hay. m.,., nnoD n.,, ,,o,,.,
the stricken man, and then they knew.
Mrs. Palmer crept up to her husband, and
whispered, in faint, broken voice:
jest 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 furrowed cheeks, and
IL was enough. I0''77
The tidings Of the disastrous battle at Long
Island, which closed the summer Of I776, had
flied the land with mourning, for thousan DIS
of widows and orphans had been made in that
terrible hour, when so many brave Americans
lay dead on the battlefield; and the news of
the successful skirmish which took place the
following 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 tidings.
The deacOn's family was the only one in
Woodstock to whom the news brought any
sorrow, for 1t WAS in this engagement that
Reuben had fallen. He was a great favorite
throughout the village, and every heart was
hiied with sadness when it thought on that
bright, handsome face lying stark and rigid
on the battlefield
1t was late that evening when Parson Hun
ter entered the stricken house, for friends and
neighbors feared to intrude on its awful grief.
But the tender-hearted old minister could not
rest till he had carried the sweet balm of his
love and faith into their broken hearts.
Parson Hunter was tall, white haired old
man, fine representative of the staupch old
Puritan minister, but beneath some stateliness
and austerity Of manner beat heart where
were all fair and fragrant blossoms, and gold
en- fruits Of charity and love; a heart In whose
pleasant and goodly paths the angels loved to
walk with their shining faces and of whom
they wrote, ''Of such is the kingdom of heav-
en- ..-s
The minister found the family in the kitch-
en-, where We left 1t utterly crushed down by
grief. which expressed itself neither by moans
nor tears.
Mrs. Palmer sat in tho large arm -ebair be-
fore the fire, whore her husband had placed
her, the crimson light futtering over her face,
which seemed frozen to stone, and her fearless
eyes fastened in blank gaze on the wall, and
it was well, perhaps, that alarm for her reason
or her life had somewhat diverted her thought Is
Of the deacon and his daughter from the dead
to the living, though it seemed to the minister
tnat the last hour had done the work of years
on both of them.
50 My friends" said the minister, speaking
in his deep, solemn toner, I" L should not have
come into your house Of mourning Tonight.
feeling that the Lord could speak TO your
hearts better than /; but remem bered that il
was twenty -four years ago this very month
when yeu brought Reuben up to the altar 20
dedicate him to bis God, and felt that I had
a right and title to come"
And these words unlocked Mrs. PsImer,s
face. She turned suddenly toward the old 10 an
as the visit Of that Sabbath morning rose and
walked up its long path of years and stood
before her.
Il see him see him - she sobbsd ont.
" with the little brown curls q dancin' round
his face, and the merry brown eyes blinkin'
under them My little Reuben, he was the
sweetest baby that ever gladdened mothers
heart, and ] was so proud of him, and /
thought God would spare him to be the staff Of
his mothers old age, because 1 had given all
the others to him. Oh, Psrson Hunter, il CAM
be true that l shall never look into bis 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 smooth away the hair
from his forehead, or give him one kiss when
ne looked up for her face for the last time -
The old man sat still, overwhelmed by this
mighty burst of a mothers agony. He oIosed
his eyes for the tears that filmed them. and
felt that for her he had neither help nor con.
ISOLATION. 70"
The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name of the Lord"
The low, solemn tones of the preacher. scarce.
ly above whisper, fell into the hearts Of the
hearers and stilled them, as man q never couId
as only God 9 can. Blessed Bible words, which
we read over In the morning lesson and evening
service, and never know the fullhess and rich.
ness, the depths Of meaning there arc IA them
till some awful sorrow Of our own touches the
springs, and then we go in, and 10, these old
familiar passages are like stately roomsrestine 2
on massive pillars, and garnished and adorned
with all fair and beautiful things, or they rise
before US like gardens filed with trees, whose