Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1862-01-23

DeileVe me IrlSubeuou uy SuoSt ~ win
prevent their questioning me-" So was left
at last-quiet outwardly, but with agonizlng
restlesSness within The next two days they
were so kindly taken up with nursing, anus
ing me- and trying to remove my melancholy,
that the nou-appearance OF any letter from Ju-
| liam passed unnotced. At last about the
fourth day, came one from Uncle Richard,
hoping we had not found his strange nephew
much aged in looks by the hard work he
had done. .a ...-. .-a ,.r..H ..a ..-. ....-
1t was to my parents and Hessy like q
death blow "What could it mean Where
was he 2" Father wrote up Immediately to
explain he had never arrived-w had heard
nothing of or from him /; aud then we walked
and talked as in a dream--a wild uncertain
/ dream-our thoughts fell like shadows upon
our own souls Then came stormy, bitter
! answer from my uncle. He had been deceived,
| by one he had befriended and trusted. He
had never liked the boy there was wild
uncertainty about him that had annoyed him
from the first but he had tried TO overcome
| the feeling, and had more than once borne
with outbursts Of passion such as no son OF his
could have been so undutiful as to exhibit
The end was as the beginning" he was, for
the future, no relation be discarded him.
NV father and mother bore the blow as
only Christians can. They never said hard
word cf him. How | blessed them | could
have knelt and kissed their feet, as each even
! ing, the large welI-worn Bible lying open be-
fore them they would speak lowly of the self
exed wanderer and pray GoD keep him, wher-
ever he was Poor Hessy 1t seemed to
have turned her heart to stone. She did not
weep, nor pray, nor speak her sorrow out to
! anv of US. She would sit and work her daily
! task, silently and without complaint. L tried
at times TO get her to speak of him but my ef-
forts were always met with soft repulse. l
even brought out one of my hidden treasures
aud gave it to her but she pushed it from her
saying, " | have no right 10 it, Natty the
letter is none Of mine" So left her to her
sorrow, and it brought resignation to my heart,
for was not the happier of the two l had
the knowledge, the blessed avowal of bis love,
ringing ever 10 my ears like wild, beautiful
melody each night brought back the strange
scene with its parting words, " Bless you, my
darling for ever |" Then had his letters
above all his acret. Had | not kept it
we'll ..s..."
A year passed, marked in our home by the
trifing signs that only loving, watchtul eyes
could detect My parents steps were more
faltering and slow there was more silver
mixed with the gray hairs so loved. Hessy
was febler, and less amible she was fretful,
and nothing interested her. But what could
be done We all knew no doctors art could
avail her. 1t was a settled melancholy
claiming no sympathy and rejecting 1t if offered
No letter for me. Yet 1 hoprd on. We now
seldom spoke of him-rarely aloud. Some
times, when alone with my mother, if the rest
were out and we wandering together, she wo'd
point to some tree or shrub, as one Julian
planted when quite little boy it would be
a great tree by the time he returned" Or we
would come upon some book with O boyish
handwriting on the page, crumpled aud dirty,
and she would put it by on little bookshelf,
and say Don't forget Natty, all his books
are safe in my room and the chemicles and
instruments he was so found of,-when he re
turns he'll find them all safe. Don't forget,
dear, il am not here to welcome him-which
| may not he, my child, if he does not come
soon, for am very weak and ailing. You'll
be quite woman, Natty"-she'd continue,
unconscious of the emotions she was stir
ring up within my breast" he was very fond
of you wonder he did not tell you, even
if he feared to tell US. But Con knows best.
and He will bless him, wherever he is" Then
she would creep back to her armchair, and
muse for an hour, till father and Hessy re-
turned, and rush back to my room and weep
and pray.
Three years, and 10 letterl off prosper |
you shall hear from me-"
My sister faded dailY--hourly; the summer
brought no color to her cheek; and at last the
doctor advised change of air. So we left the
old home for time. To the sea we must go, |
suggesting painful, bitter thoughts to mei to
her, needful exercise of resignation. How
it bounded and boiIed-that beautiful, faith
less sea! | sat and watched its play from the
oYerhanging rocks, as one woAid watch
the gambos of q beautiful panther, fearing,yet
admiring, it's graceful strength and ponderouS
agility. could see the vessels from foreign |
lands come into pert Some day he would re.
turn; he would come to me--if not, l should |
go to him; one was possible, the other GER
tainty. Yet set my thoughts on neither; the
future was becoming daily more distant.
lived so much in the past. We sat for hours
on the sea shore with our sick charge. read
to her; we worked together, when her strength
allowed frocks and uuderclothing for poor
children. 1t seemed her only interest now
working, silently for the poorl and as she re-
clined with her heavy lidded eyes fixed so un-
ceaSingly upon her work, her wan finger ply
ing the needle her thoughts-God knows
wherel but more worthly occupied than mine
Il felt her very existence so calm, so unsel-
fish, a reproach to my warmer and, often, un-
sanctifed impulses / looked back in those
silent hours to my own years. How wasted
they seemed to mel / had ventured my all on
one cast--and ifit failed me, where had
resting place2 But had not said word
and now his silence had broken her heart She
diedl her end calm. as her life had been Dy.