Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1860-09-29
; w. n WALLAGH.
DEACON PAL MAS rAmILY.

II
= The sound Of the stage horn flowed in sweet.
mournful currsr.s in and out of the .bollovs'
sno .ne ecoJes among the hills caught them
up anu to-sed them back and forth throug gh
Ine iorsst. and they ran in long, silvery eddies
up TIE turnpike, and over the meadows, and
c.oss the orchards, till they reached the ears
snd stirred the hearts of the quiet little vii.
lsge Of Woodstock, whose farm houses sat I'm
the valley at the foot Of a long chain of hills,
Ike company Of pilgrims gathered to wor-
ship before the shrine of q vast temple. 1t
was just at sunset, and somehow those long,
meurnfnl minor tones seemed the fitting close
sf she days servics-thst autumn day which
mad arisen on the mountains in garments of
sunshine, and marched through the hours in
beauty and rejoicing. q living 'iGlory to God.'
tne CreEtor of its good and perfect gift pa F.
tut 1t was day fraught with dread and
forsbodings 10 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 bosonls.
and seen them 60 forth to the battle, and hus-
bands and fathers had laid aside the plow and
the scythe, and shouldered their muskets, and
tssec their lives in their hands for the sake of
Erecdcm, and in the name Of the God of battles.
30 deep shadows lay on the quiet country
thresholds Of almost every home in New Eng
land that autumn day, and almost every
hearth-stone was an altar where anxious, low
ing hearts sent up a cry to God for their be :
loved. Mrs. Palmer, wife of deacon John
Palmer, of Woodstock, stood In the wide, old :
fashioned kitchen Of the dingy, yellow farm
house, which she BROUGHT her husband ON her
marriage morning. She was an ample, mo.
tneriy, pleasant-faced looking woman, whose
wncfe pnysioguomy corresponded with the
room. Strings Of red peppers and rows of
cried apples We're festooued along the ceiling,
while swinging board fastened to the beam,
which divided the hall overhead, was burdened
nA har L. =
seeds and motley variety of domestic wares 7
Mrs. Palmer's life had slipped over Its
hfneth summer, and her black hair was thickIy
sifted with gray, and there were lines about
her forehead, and the smile in her faded 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 only two re-
manned to her old age. 1t was a small family
under the roof of the old gray homestead on
eartn, out a larger one in that golden upper
homestead whose blessed threshold is never
dsrkened by the shadow of death
Mrs. Palmer paused as her ear caught the
FAINT, sweet echoes of the stage-horn, and she
deposited half dozen freshly boiled dough-
nuts IN the pan on the table, murmuring to
herseif, Now, for all the world, if that isn't
the mail coming in! Who knows but what
there may be some news from Reuben" All,
X you had heard how her voice fingered over
the name, you would have known she was his
mother. go
az wonder if that boy'll take any sort o.
care of himself" continued the fond mother,
dexterously conyolving several strips of dough
and planting them in the large iron kettle
which hung over the FIRE, filed with boiling
fat, which Indignantly snapped and sputtered
at their intrusion.
.'If there was fray, he'd be sure to be fore
most, for he apays was poking his head into
all sorts o. danger, and never seemed to feel
quite 80 content az when there was a chance o.
getting his neck of his shoulders.
never could exactly see where he got his
harum- scarum turn, for his father was nj avs
n sober-minded man; but it was amazin' how
he'd be sartin to come out straight. l never
had an easy hour for the first ten years of his
. life, for fear he be brought home with broken
limbs; but srter he'd gone through with what
would killed a dozen ordinary children,
kind o. gayeup. I concluded he bore charmed
life.
= Bless his heart. my brave, handsome boy
never gave his mother a cross word in the
world; and saw the tears shinin' under his
a lashes that norma when he kissed me good
by. afore he started for the army, though he
talked so bold and CHEEKY about bis coming
back a cap'n or a colonel.
p . Poor fellow! L hope he won't get tho rheu-
mats campin out night, and they say they
have to put up with fare such rs we wouldn't
have the face to Offer to smart dog. / wish
1cOuld do up paper o. these doughnuts for
the boy; he aIays was fond of EN-. Dear me-
them cakes are burnin'," dipping her large
tin ladle into the boiling fat; g but it al ays
illustrates me when get to thirkin' o. Reuben
IN reminded sometimes o. what Psrson Hun
ter said 70 me- Miss Palmer, you mustn't
make an idol Of your son. He belongs to the
Lord know it's true as Scriptur', but I
can't help thinkin' the Lord IL show marsy on
my weakness, COS he's all I've got, and after
great many struggles I've given up the
: others to Him; but my very life q bound up in
that boy, and if anything should happen to
him, God knows it would break his poor old
mothers heart" And Mrs. Palmer broke
down here, and she sat down on the old oak en-
chest, and wiped her eyes on the eorner'o her
check apron. f- t-ssff-gattt.
Light warblings Of some old psalm tune fut-
tered down the staircase, and then the door
opened, and a pleasant-looking girl burst sud
, denly into the room. .-. s.-
sight OF her bright young face was like pic
ture rejoicing the eyes. She was not beauti-
full, but her cheeks were full of the glow of
youth and the richness of perfect health.
"Well, child" said Mrs. Palmer, taking her
kettle from the crane, 90 You just hustle rou nd
spry, and get up supper. Your father and the
men will come home clear tuckered out, for
they've been fellin' trees all day, and we must
get hearty meal for 'em. You slice up some
ham, too, and fry a dozen eggs, while I f1 up
some short-cake." 1850
|" Mother did you hear the stage horn 9''
asked Rebecca, as she laid the cloth, which
she had spun with her own hands, for the
supper. - .-.---..
Yes; and was kind cf impressed there
was news from Reuben"
81 wonder what keeps father so ,'' remarked
Rebecca. p"
Likely as not he's gone round TO the tavern
10 learn If there's any tidings from the army. y
a Another half-hour throbbed itself away in
the palsss Of the great old-fashioned clock in
the corner and both the women had begun to
grow alarmed at the deacon's prolonged alb
sence, when they caught the click of the gate
latch, and his heavy tread along the footpsth.
They saw him stop, as usual, at the wooden
trough at the well, and wash his hands there,
ind then he came into the kitchen. --.,, ! :
-" Why, father" began Mrs Palmer, with a
little vifely admonition, ''what has kept you
50 long l rally began to get scared about
you" q
:" And the supper's about burnt to cinders, +"
added Rebecca, who was IN something Of q
hurry -ef h. fahl Il n, Co.