The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1862-11-07
NOVEMBER Z, 1862.

At the end OF that time, young Henry
was offered good chance on board whal-
ing vessel, and he resolved to accept 1t. Ii
cost him. no one knew what struggle, to
part FROM the being he loved with an almost
wonhipped affection. But he knew the time
had como when ho must 60 forth into the
world to do battle for himself and for her
and sailors life was his coveted calling.
1T seems to me, Henry said the mother,
when. with trembling lip, she parted from
him. 'as II I must still put light in the lit
tic window. shall think sometimes that !
hear the sound Of your footsteps, the click Of
the latch, and your pleasant voice. o, Henry,
Henry, II I could but light you over the
stormy waters"
The long voyage was ended; but another
voyage was to end before that. The Widow
Locke was taken i'll. Yet, with unfading
regularity, with feeble step and trembling
hand, nightly, tho dear woman trimmed the
little lamp and placed 1t in the window
Still, when the bended form could no longer
totter about the cottage, when she lay help
less upon the bed, and the ncishbors came in
to take care Of her, she would say, 'Put the
little lamp in the window-my Henry will
be thinking Of it,
Night after night, and ever until her eyes
grew dim, she would watch the radiance Of
the ilickcring light, only saying sometimes,
Shall ] live to hear his footsteps? Will
that feeble flame still burn whom my lifo's
light has gone out?
'Ihavc longed to SEQ him. she said; Il
have prayed earnestly, but | have given 1t all
up now. / shall not meet him in this
world"
'IIavc you put the light in the Window
she asked suddenly, few moments after
1T is growing dark
Alas II was not the light that was grow
Ing dark.
Her hands grew cold. Over her counter.
ance came that mysterious shadow that falls
but once on any mortal face.
'Oh my boy my boy!" she whispered,
tell him'-they bent lower to catch falling
words-'tell him | will put light in the
window Of Heaven, to guide his footsteps
there
The thrilling sentence was ha rdly spoken,
when the shadow dropped from the sufferers
face, and it smiled in the calm majesty Of
death.
A funeral followed humble hearts attend.
cd the body Of one who was loved for her
sincere goodness all through the hamlet ;and
on the hill side in little grave yard she was
buried.
Not many days after, grca, ship came in
to the port of a busy city. Amongall those
who stepped from the decks, none were more
hopeful, moro joyous than young Henry
Locke. Ho had passed through the ordeal
of life at sea. so far, unscathcd. No blight
of Immortality had fallen upon him. He
had kept himself as spotless as IL at every
nightfal his feet had been turned towards the
door othis mothers cottage. How his heart
bounded as he thought Of her. Strangely
enough he, he never dreamt she might be
dead. 1t did not occur to him that perhaps
her silver locks were lying under the lid of
the coffin. Oh. no; he only thought OF tho
pleasant light Of the window. that her hands
had trimmed for him. So ho journeyed to
his native town.
Yondcr comes one who trudees on tagging
ly-a farmer in heavy boots and irock, his
whip in his hand. Hc cheers the lazy oxen,
but suddenly stops, amazed.
u see you know me, said tho young sail.
or, smiling. We'll Farmer Brown. how is
-T
Know you, why how tall you are! So
his eyes drop, his mouth trcmbes-'so you've
got home
Yes, and glad enough to get back again.
How is mother?'
.Your-mothcr,' he says, in low. hcsit-
ating way, that telcgraphs Ill tidings before
they are told in words.
Yes, yes-is she well? Is she expecting
mo? or course she is (; we're late by month
FULL
Your mother, Hcnry2 Well, the old Ia
dy,'-ho plays with his whip, or rather
strikes It hard on the dusty road. How can
he crush that happy hearth
'Therc-you need not speak' cried the
young man in voice Of sudden anguish !;
and he recoiled, almost staggering, from tho
farmers side. and buried his face in his
hands.
Henry, my poor lad, your mother is
Don't! don't' cried the other, showing
now face from which all color had fed
.Oh my mother! my dearest mother -
she is gone, gone-and am coming homo to
bc happy'
For some moments he sobbcd in agony
How dreary the world had grown The
flowers had lost their fragrance, the sun its