The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-01-03

Datch oil doughnuts In on corner; and Two
given you agrcen necdlebook, and tho top is
filled with pins. and you'll find sewin' silk,
and brown thread, and q couple o. darnin'
needles in ono corner. You've got three pair
O. nice, warm socks, that knit Lao summer.
and that never went ON to your feet. You
must look out and not wet 'em whatever
comes, for I al'ays thought that your father
caught his death cold the day that he fclled
tho hickory trco in the south meadow, for
he came home with his feet sopin' wet, and
was 80 hoarse he couldn't spcad loud word
the next day, and before the week was gone
the cough set in. which carried him to his
grave. You'll remember Martin, and mind
and not get your feet wet2'
I'll do the best can, mother. You talk
as though you didn't know much about the
rough and tumble time we've got to so
through, but you mean 1t all right
1t was in the large kitchen of small, old.
fashioned country cottage, that these words
were spoken. You could not have helped
liking the old woman's face, pale and faded
though II was with years, and sickness, and
care II had such good mother-look, and
was 80 full Of kindness and sympathy.
She was poor and old; her husband had
long ago laid down on that last brown pill.
low which the earth spreads smooth for oil
her children. And around his grave cluster.
cd half dozen smaller ones, sons and daugh.
ters who had gone before him.
So Martin johnson was all which remained
to bis mother tho hope and the staff Of her
old age. All the tendrills Of her love wove
themselves around him 4; and he was kind,
thoughtful, industrious son, whose highest
ambition was to pay of the mortgage on the
homestead, and settle down there for life.
But when the summer crops were mostly
in, and the winter and the hard times
promised little work or recompense to farm
laborers, he had been induced to join COM
pany of volunteers forming in his town.
And now the last hour with his mother had
come, and he stands there, the young, brave,
stalwart man, and there is q strange weak
ness about his heart, and huskiness in his
throat, and no wishes no could get away
without speaking tho last word.
Come, mother he says, slowing the largo
bundle in his deep coat pocket, 'it's high
time was Of, so we must say good bye
Take care Of yourself now, and don't go to
frctting yourself about me. Ill write as
often rs l can.'
The old woman put her feeble arms about
tho strong man. 'Oh, my 10y and the sobs
shook her gray hairs, you won't forget your
poor old mother, that loves you better than
her lle, will you2 You'll remember how
the morning will never rise, and the night
will never fall, in which she dosn't pny God
to take care Of her boy ind you won't for
get the little rod.covcred Bible, I put into q
corner Of the bundle"
NO, l won't forget II. Come now, mother,
give mo u roal, hearty, cheerful good bye
Don't look on the dark side. Maybe I shall
30 back before tho years over, and then II
he's done his duty, Us brave man should,
and may bc got promoted, you'll bo proud Of
your soldier boy''
'Bu. you're all Two got, Martin, and II
anything should happen to you, 1t would
break my heart-it would break it, Martin.
Don't talk of anythins's 'happcnning,'
mother. except what's good. Come, cheer
up, for want last smile, instead Of last
sob, and there isn't another minute tospare"
Mrs. johnson swallowed down her sobs,
and drawing down the sunburnt face to her
lips, she said with q tremulous smile,
God bless you, my precious boy" H
God bless you, mothcr!' he couldn't trust
his voice to speak another word, and hc
dashed away.
She stood in the door and watched him
until he was out ofsight, and she saw him
brush his hand across his eyes several times
before ho turned and waved Il to her. Once
her voice followed after him. u
Don't forget the doughnuts, Martin
Il shan't the next time I'm hungry
They were the last words she heard. A
moment later, and he was out Of sight, and
Mrs. johnson went in and closed the door.
God help her.