Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1862-12-26
The Widow and her Son.

high resolve made the young brow man
like in expression. Not yet had ten
summers deepened the gold on those fair
locks. The earnest blue eyes looked
fondly in the faded face that bent over
him. There was world of love in that
souI-a love that was not only lip deep,
but was proved by acts of self denial.
The words are beautiful enough to be
repeated. Henry Locke smiled, because
as he spoke there came tears to his moth
er's eyes. He had that morning been
promised place in country store, i've
miles from the cot, or rather cabin, where
they lived. 1t was but small pittance ;
but of late the mother had grown SO fee
ble that she could earn nothing-could
scarcely do the little that order and neat
ness called for at her hands.
One dollar week 1t was very lit
tie sum, but better, much better, than no.
thing. Besides, Henry was to have his
meals with his employer, and could, if he
chose, sleep there. But he did not choose.
For glad smile from mother; for the
pressure Of that feeble hand; for the ten
der Christian words that came from those
pale lips, he was bravely willing, after
the DAYS hard work, to walk the five
miles. dark and tedious though the way
was. Often he came bringing some little
delicacy that he had earned, and which
was sweet to the invalid because he bro't
it.
One night the sky was curtaned with
clouds. The widow looked from her lit
tie window facing the billy road along
which the hay wagons went on their way
to the city, and said, as she saw the twi-
light deepening earlier than its wont
He will not come to night.
No, be would not como that night
The wind blew iercely and sent the
branches of the old apple tree rafting
against the clap boards, and threw the
rain, as with spite, over the little win
dows, sheeting them and making dreary
music. So the widow, quite confident
that Henry would not venture out in that
storm. read ter bible till her heart kin
died with the holy words, and putting out
her little light, went to her rest.
She knew not how long she had slept
when a voice awakened her. The swee
voice, so dear to her, was crying, Moth
err Mother At first she thought it {
dream but, listening intently, she heard
blending with the wall Of the wind, tha
cry, and a sound against the latch greet
ed ner. Instantly rising, she CROPPED TO
a light. unfastened the door, and behold
there stood Henry, piteous sight indee'
covered with mire, literally from head t.
foot. His face was wet but the honest
happy smile was in no way abated.
my boy, how could you come on sucI
a night ? exclaimed the widow.
why, mother, storm couldn't keep m
from you,' was his hearty response. Nv
had the greatest time, though, you eve
did see-lost my way, got into the creek
and it must be midnight; but meant
come, for S gave me a trihe over
night, and knew you needed it,
MY dear boy ! sprung from the mo
theirs full heart, with tear or two tha
trickled down her pale cheeks.
Il wonder / haven't thought of it be
FORE, she said, musingly. After this
I'll put light in the window. To b
sure. it won't show far; but, when yo
get to the top of the hill, it will be pleas
ant to see it, and know that | am watch
ing for you
For three years the lamp was place
in the little window every night. Pee
pie often remarked that, as bright a
Mother Locke's little window and it be
came favorite saying with the neighbor
hood.
AT the end of that time, young Henr.
was offered a good chance on board
whaling vessel, and he resolved to accep
it. 1t cost him, no one knew what
struggle, to pari from the being he love
with an almost worshipped Affection
But be knew the time had come whe