The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-10-09

large dark eyes had something awful III
tlaintensity of their gaze her thin white
hands were clasped convul>ively upon her
bosom; her lips were drawn tightly
across her small white teeth, and We could
he;sr her breath as though she had been
running rapidly.
1t seemed all age before my father ap-
peared; bit when he did, it was with
Wil'ie's pale, handsome face, looking more
beautiful than ever, lying on his shoulder,
and his long dark hair, which it always
seemed a shame to cut, falling over his
arm. l think l hear my mothers wild,
despailing cry now, at the distance OF
seventy years. | have heard it at night in
my quiet study; have heard it on board
ship, when the storm winds have thrown
us like feather amongst the frothing
waves; | have heard it in old continental
cathedrals, above the voice Of the choir, the
music Of the organ, and the ringing and
clashing of the bells.
Hush! | thought heard it then! My
father carried Willie home, aud old Walter
and the other servant assisted my mother
Willie was instantly got to bed, and the
ordinary means used for his restoration,
while Old Waite was sent off on the brown
mare to the doctors. We heard the dull
heavy sound of her hoofs upon the snow,
as she went off at a swift pace down the
carriage-drive. In short time he came
back, bringing the doctor.
My mother was bending over Willie,
and nervously swaying herself backwards
and forwards, when he came in; but she
arose Immediately, and with wide flashing
eyes, exclaimed
ooh, doctor! save my boy Oh, Willie /!
Willie, darling! Speak to me, my child |!
| never read David's thrilling lament:
"Oh, Absalomt my son! Absalom! ,
without thinking of my mothers great
agony in Willie's chamber. The doctor
was remarkably skillful man, but it
seemed a hopeless case. How my mo-
ther's eager eyes followed all his move
ments!
AT last, when we were just despairing
Willie gently opened his eyes-those mag
nificent eyes of bis! There was an un-
speakable ecstasy on My mothers face,
the like of which l have never seen since
and never expect to see again. 1t was
coming light when the docto. left US, and
Willie was in a refreshing sleep.
The many-colored rainbow of hope now
hung over the Vicarage, alas! soon to
fade away, leaving us but the cold rain
and dark clouds Of great sorrow.
After an hour or two of sleep, Willie
awoke, and told my mother how he hearl
the shouts and laughter of the children in
the drawing room, and how the music
seemed to taunt him; and then how he
became afraid, and dared not look where
the shadows lay in the library and how,
as he watched the moon rise through the
poplars before the window, he was tempt
ed to climb down the ivy stems; and how
he had wandered to the Black Pool and
been tempted to spring across it to get q
bunch of crimson berries that hung from
a branch IN the other side, thinking he
would give them her; and how he had
missed his footing and fallen backward in
to the pond. Then he told her how he
rose to the surface-and how he was fall
ing into a sweet and pleasant slumber at
the bottom, with thoughts of her passing,
dreamlike, through his mind-and how he
felt some hand touch him, and an exquis-
lite sensation of pain as if he were dy ing
and that was all he knew. How my
mother wept and smiled, and clasped him
to her bosom, and called him her darling
Willie! l need not tell you how my father
kissed him, and asked-aye, he, the stern
disciplinarian, asked-pardon of his own
child. Willie, tatigued with his long talk,
fell asleep again; but it was troubled,
broken slumber. His cheeks grew GRIM
son, and his breath quick and hot, and he
trembled as though he were very cold.
The doctor came again-but this time
he shook his head, and said there was no
chance for him. My mother and father
watched him night and day; but he grew
worse and worse. Now he would talk of
the wild bees nest he had found few
days ago in bank in the wood-then he
would shout as if at play and then
whilst my father covered his face with
his hands and the big tears trickled
through his fingers in an agony of grief, he
would try to repeat his Latin, and, failing
to do so correctly, he would begin again,
saying in beseeching tones, ''Oh! papa,
forgive me! I,cannot!"
Willie died one morning, just as the old
year was dying amidst frost and snow, re-
peating his latin lesson, as my n other
held his head with its splendid dark locks
on her bosom, and his little hand lay in
my fathers trembling palm.
Mr.. Russell, correspondent of the
London Times, and editor of the London
army and Macy Gazette, says in an ar
ticle taking note of the tremendous artil-
lery used by Gen. Gilmore on Morris
Island: "Do not let us pooh-pooh the