The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1862-05-29
After Hsnry's departure, the old house

taciturnity had abated bis wife's social
tendencies. Very long, very quiet, and
very tedious were the evenings which
they spent together. On one side of the
fireplace sat the dsocon. gravely reading
through his spectacles the agricultural
paper which came weekly. Opposite him
set his wife, her fingers actively engaged
in knitting, her mind intent upon her
absent boy. All vas staid, quiet, sub
dued. There was not even kitten to
enliven the scene. Mrs. Holbrook had
once ventured to introduce one into the
house, but the deacon speedily intimat
ed his dislike of cats, and puss had been
bauishsd.
One night Deacon Ho!brook brought
letter for bis wife. 1t was such an
unusual circumstance for the good wo-
man to receive a letter, that she took it
eagerly, and tore it open with unwonted
haste.
What was it that made her eyes spar
kle with joy? The familiar hand-writ-
ing had not deceived her. She knew at
once, by the peculiar flourish on the top
of the II, that it was from Henry.
She read it through with grateful Joy.
1t appears that Henry had worked his
passage, having no money; and leaving
the vessel at San Francisco, had proceed.
ed at oncs to the mines, where he was
now working. He had not been there
long enough to form an idea of what were
his chances of success. He wished his
mother to write, and promised to keep
her advised Ofhis movements. There was
only one reference to his father. 1t was
this: 81 am afraid father still retains his
bitterness toward me. Ifthis is the case,
do not trouble him with any messages,
but if otherwise, you may give him my
dutiful regards, aud say that | do not yet
despair of making myself good and true
man
Deacon Holbrook did not look at his
wife while she was reading this letter,
though the hand, writing must have told
him also whom it was from.
"Joshua," said his wife, timidly using
the rarel ly mentioned christian name of
her husband, "this letter is from Hen
ry."
$50 suppose" said he, coldly.
As he spoke he took from his pocket
the Weekly Farmer. aud adjusting his
spcctacles began to read.
This was hint, and so Mrs Holbrook
understood it, that be did not care to
pursue the subject further. But she could
not help asking, "Wouldu't you like to
read Henry's letter, Joshua? ?"
"You will oblise me by not mention
ing his name again. said the deacon,
stitfly. ole has forfeited all claims to
be considered SON."
So days, months, and even years pass
ed. 1t lacked but a month of five years
since Henry Ho!brook left his homc.--
There was little change in the air of the
grave, sober looking mansion of Deacon
Holbrook. The deacon himself had fail
ed more these FIVE years than in any Eve
preceding. His eorm had lost its an ncient
erectness, and was bowed. His face had
grown more wrinklsd, and he spent more
time in the house. Mrs. Holbrook re-
csived tidings Of Henry at short inter
walls. He was well, and doing well, he
wrote : but did not enter into particulars.
Some time he should return to see his
mother. Of his father he did not speak
These letters were all brought home from
the village postoffice by Deacon Holbrook,
but he never sisuified any curiosity or
interest to learn their contents. Henry's
name had not been mentioned between
the two for years; yet-and let not this
surprise the reader-it would be hard to
tell which thought of him most constant
ly. Behind the dsacon's taciturnity there
beat heart, and that heart was more
tender to bis lost son than he would have
been willing to confess.
Al! at once his quiet life was brokon
in upon, and that in a most cruel man
ner.
One day he entered the house, his face
as pallid as sheet, his limbs tottering
beneath him, his whole expression that
ofgreat and intolerablo anguish.
What's the matter, Deacon Hol-
brook? What's the matter joshua"
inquired his alarmed wife.
Hannah, We are paupers-paupers
in our age ~ said her husband, bitterly.
"Good gracious what has happened,
joshua" asked the wife, turning pale
from sympathy.
Little by little, it came out that Dca-
con Holbrook had become bondsman for
a bank officer with whom he was we'll &C.
quainted, and in whose integrity be had
the utmost confidence. But to day the
astounding intelligence had arrived that
the officer, after series Of defalcations
had fed the country, and left his bonds
men to suffer. The amount for which
the deacon became bound was sufficient
to swallow up the house and farm-all
ia fact, that he possessed.
The farm was not a valuable one. 1t
comprised sixty acres of rough soil,
which, by hard labor. had been made to
suffice for the moderate wants of a small
and economical family. In the market it
would not bring over three thousand and
irsr that amount the deacon was bound.
Yesterday he had reckoued himself rich.
Now he regarded himself as pauper.
"This IS indeed worse than DEATH
thought the deacon with stern SORROW
The Lord has indeed smitten me in my
old age"
Little time was given for anticipation
before the blow fell. The Holbrook farm
was advertised for sale at auction to take
place in three weeks. Bills we're printed
and posted about on fences and in stores.
Meanwhile Deacon Holbrook sank into
state of listless apathy. All day long he
would sit in the rocking chair, with his
eyes liked on the opposite wall, say moth.