Democrat and sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1853-1866, 1861-07-31
EBENSBURG. PA. WEDNESDAY, JULY 81 1861.

assume? Oh, mother, mother, have not studied
you in vain-your life has been one long self
sacrifice to me; its silent teaching shall bear
fruit. Do not grieve sc bitterly for me- God
was very merciful to me in giving me such a
mother; let us trust Him fo- the future"
All, poor tortured heart, speaking so bravely
forth, striving to cheer the mothers failing spirit,
when all to him was dark, dark. dark!
She raised herself upon her pillow and wound
her weak arms around his neck, and listened to
the expressions of ineffable love, and faith, and
consolation, which her son found strength to
utter, to sustain her soul. Yea, in that hour her
recompense had begun. In loneliness, in secret
tears, with Christian patience and endeavor, with
an exalted and faithful spirit, had she sown and
in death she reaped her high reward
They had been silent for some minutes, and
she lay back exhausted, but composed, while he
sat beside her, holding her hand in his, fancying
she slept, and anxiousIy listened to her breath
ing, which seemed more than usually oppressed.
A rustling was heard amid the flowers at the
window, and bright young face looked in.
sHush' said Edward, recognizing the step
'Hush, Mary, she is asleep ~
The color and the smiles alike passed from
Mary's face when she glided into the room.
"Oh, Edward, Edward, she is not asleep-she
is very, very illi''
'Mary, darling Mary!" said the dying lady,
without difficulty arousing herself & have had
such a pleasant dream out have slept too long.
1t is night Let them bring candles. Edward.
l cannot you now"
Night, and the sun so brightly shining! The
shadows of the grave were stealing fast upon
her.
Other steps now SOUNDED in the room, and
many faces gathered round the couch; but the
blind man heard nothlng-was conscious of no
thing save the painful labored respiration, the
tremulous hand that futtered in his own, the
broken sentences.
edward, my dearest, take comfort. have
hope. God is indeed merciful."
ooh Edward, do not grieve so sadly. II breaks
my heart to see you cry For her sake be calm
for my sake, too!'' Mary knelt down beside
him. and endeavored to soothe the voicelcss an
guish which it terrified her to witness.
Another interval, when no sound broke the
stiffness that prevailed and again Mrs. Owen
opened her eyes. and saw Mary kpeeling by Ed
wards side They were associated with the pre-
vious current of her thoughts, and smile lighted
up her face
LAS wished. as prayed, to diel Ny chill
dren both. Kiss me. Mary, my blessing, my
consoler! Edward, nearer, nearer, Child of so
many hopes and prayers-all answered nowi ~
And with her bri~ht vision unailoyed, her re-
ioicing soul took wing, and knew sorrow and
tears no more.
Four months had passed since Airs. Owens
death, and her son was still aging at Wood
lands. the residence of Mary : father. Colonel
Parker. at about two miles distance from Ed
ward Owens solitary home. lIitacr had he been
prevailed upon to remove, after the first shock
of his grief had subsided.
Col. and Mrs. Parker were kind hearted peo-
pie, and the peculiar situation of Edward Owen
appealed TO their best feengs-so they made no
opposition to their children devoting themselves
increasingly to him, and striving by every inno-
cent device to render his aflictior less poignant
AMI oppressive But kind as all the family were,
still all the family were as nothing compared to
Mary, who was always anxious to accompany
him IN his walks, seemed jealous of her privilege
as his favorte reader and claimed to be his silent
watchful companion, when, too sad even to take
an interest in what she read he leaned back
wearily in his chair, and felt the soothing intu-
ence of her presence. As time wore on, and some
of his old pursuits resumed their attractions for
him, she used to listen for hours as he played
upon the piano. She would sit near him with
her work, proposing subjects for his skill, as her
old custom had been; CT she would beg of him
Iaro in tiuv a
sage. and rendering it with due feeling and ex-
preston. In the same way, in their readings,
which gradually carried with more re-
gularity and interest, she appeared to look upon
herself as being the person obliged, appealed to
his Judgment and deferred to his opinion, with
out any consciousness of fatigue she underwent,
or the service she was rendering.
One day, as they were sitting in the library,
after she had been for some time pursuing her
self imposed task, and Edward, fearing she would
be tired, repeatedly entreated her to desist, she
answered gaily:
LET me alone, Edward. 1t is so pleasant to
go through book with you. You make such
reflections, and point out the finest passages,
and explain the difficult parts so clearly, that it
does me more good than a dozen readings by
| myself. 1 shall grow quite clever now we have
began our literary studies"
s'Dear Mary, say rather ended; for you know
this cannot always go on so. l must return to
my own house next week. have trespassed on
your fathers hospitality, indulgence and forbear-
ance too long"
Leave us, Edwardi' and the color deepened
in her cheeks and tears stood in her bright eyes.
'sNot yet.'
CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK