The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1862-12-05
SAINT PAUL. FRIDAY. UECtMBER 5. 1862

unhappy mood Of mind, his wife entered
the apartment and said
''Henry has just come in, and he is a
perfect fright! He is covered from head
to foot with dock mud, and is as wet as a
drowned rat !"
"Where is he ?" asked the father, stern
ly. v.+'
"He is shivering over the kitchen fire.
He was afraid to come up here when the
girl told him you had come home"
"Tell Jane to tell him to come here this
instant !" was the brief reply to this infor-
nation.
Presently the poor boy entered, half
perishing with alright and cold. His ia
ther glanced at his sad plight, reproached
him bitterly with his disobedience, spoke
of the punishment which awaited him in
the morning, as the penalty for his offence;
and, in harsh voice, concluded with:
CHOW, sir, 60 to your bed?"
"But, father" said the little fellow, i
want to tell you"
"Not word, sir; go to bed!"
81 only wanted to say, father, that "
With peremptOry stamp, an impera-
tive wave of his hand toward the door, and
a frown upon his brow, did that father,
without other speech, again close the door
of explanation and expOstulation.
When his boy had gone supperless and
sad to his bed, the father sat restless and
uneasy while supper was being prepared,
and at tea-table ate but little. His wife
saw the real cause, or the additional cause
of his emotion, and interposed the remark {:
81 think, my dear, you ought at least
to have heard what Henry had to say.
My heart ached for him when he turned
away, with his eyes full of tears Henry
is a good boy, after all, if he does some
times do wrong. He is tender-heart-
ed, affectionate boy. He always was"
And therewithal the water stood in the
eyes of that forgiving mother, even as it
stood in the eyes of Mercy, in "the house
Of the Interpreter" as recorded by Bun
yam. .-
After tea, the evening paper was taken
up; but there was no news and nothing of
interest for that father in the journal of
that evening. He sat for some time in an
evidently painful reverie, and then rose and
repaired to his bed-chamber. As he passed
the bedroom where his little boy slept, he
thought he would look in upon him before
retiring to rest. He crept to his low cot
and bent over him, A big tear had stolen
down the boys cheek, and rested upon it !;
but he was sleeping calmly and sweetly.
The father deeply regretted his harshness
as he gazed upon his son; he felt also the
"sense of duty; yet it the night, talking
the matter over with the lads mother, he
resolved and promised, instead of punish
ing, as he had threatened, to make amends
to the boys aggrieved spirit in the MORN
ing for the manner in which he had repelled
all explanations of his offence.
But that morning never came to the
poor child in health. He awoke next
morning with raging fever on his brain,
and wild with delirium. In forty eight
hours he was in his sllroud. He knew
neither his father nor his mother, when
they were first called to his bedside, nor
at any moment afterward. Waiting,
watching for one token of recognition,
hour after hour, in speechless agony, did
that unhappy father bend over the couch
of his dying son. Once, indeed, he thought
he saw smile of recognition light up his
dying eye, and leaned eagerly forward, for
he would have given worlds to have whis-
pered one kind word in his ear, and have
been answered; but that gleam of appa-
rent intelligence passed quickly away, and
was succeeded by cold, unmeaning glare,
and the wild tossing of the fevered limbs,
which lasted until death came to his re-
lief.
Two days afterward the undertaken
came with his little coffin, and his son, a
playmate Of the deceased boy, bringing
the low stools on which it was to stand in
the entry-hall.
II was with Henry" said the lad,
"when he got into the water. We were
playing down at the Long Wharf, Henry
and Frank Mumford, and and the tide
was out very low and there was beam
run out from the wharf; and Charles got
out on it to get fish line and hook that
hung over where the water was deep and
the first thing we saw, he had slipped of,
and was struggling in the waterl Henry
threw off his cap and jumped clear from
the wharf into the water, and, after a
great deal of hard work, got Charles out !;
and they waded up through the mud to
where the wharf was not so wet and slip
perry and then l helped them to climb up
the side. Charles told Henry not to say
any thing about it, for, if he did, his father
would never let him go near the water
again. Henry was very sorry; and, all
the way going home, he kept saying si!
" What will father say when he sees me
tonight? wish we had not gone to the
wharf 4" sf4GE9dipo1 19dio STol 20 a91
3 "Dear, brave boy 4" exclaimed the be-.
reaved father; issand this was the explana-
ton which 50, cruelty refused to, hear !"
And hot and bitter tears rolled down his
cheeks. iaSt@ 10 ssoqtiq elf rof SldEdOT'
lies !! that stern father now learned, ana
Ifor;the first time, that what he had treated
with unwonted severity as fault, forgetful