The Grand Haven news. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1858-18??, 1863-12-30
The Widow and her Son.

The boy lifted his head. A look Of
high resolve made the young brow man
like in expression. Nor yet bad ten
summers decpened the gold on those fair
locks. Tho earnest blue eyes looked
fondly in the fair face that bent over him.
There was a world of love in that soul
love that was not only lip deep, but was
proved by acts of selfdenial.
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 a country store, five
miles from the cot, or rather cabin, where
they lived. 1t was of but q small pit
tance; but Of late the mother had grown
so feeble that she could earn nothing;
could scarcely do the little that order and
neatness called for at her hands.
One dollar a week! 1t was a very lit
tie sum, but better, much better, than
nothing. 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 lard work, to walk the five
miles, dark and tedious though the way
was. Often he came bringing some little
delcacy that he had earned and which
was sweet TO the invalid because he bro't
it. One night the sky was curtained with
clouds. The widow looked from her lit
tie window facing the hilly road along
which the hay-wagons went on their way
TO the city, and said, as she saw twilight
deepening earlier than was wont, "He
will not come tonight"
No; he would not come that night.
The wind blew fercely and sent the
branches of the old apple tree rattling
against the clapboards, aud threw the
rain, as with spite, over the little win
dows, sheeting, and making dreary music.
So the widow, quite confident that Hen
ry would not venture out in that storm,
read her Bible till her heart kindled with
the holy words, and putting out her little
light went to rest. She knew not how
long she had slept, when a voice awaken
ed her. The sweet voice, so dear to her,
was crying, "Mother, mother" Az first
she thought it dream; but listening in
tently, she heard, blending with the wall
of the wind, that cry, and sound against
the latch greeted her. Instantly rising,
she groped for a light, unfastened the door,
aud behold, there stood Henry, piteous
sight ndeedscovered with mire, literally,
from head to foot. His face was wet, but
the honest, happy smile was in no wise
abated.
any boy, how could you come on such
nightw exclaimed the widow.
"Why, mother, storm couldn't keep
me from you," was the hearty response.
"Tve had the greatest time, though, you
ever did see--lost my way, got into the
creek, and it must be midnight; but !
meant to come, for Mr.. S. gave me tri-
fle over tonight, and knew you needed
it,"
any dear boyp sprung from the
mothers full heart, with tear or two
that tricklcd down her pale cheeks.
81 wonder l hadn't thought Of it be-
FORE" she said musingly. @After this
I'll put light in the window. To be
sure it won't show far; but when you get
to tho top of the hill it will be pleasant
to see it, and know am watching for
YOU"
For three years the lamp was placed
in the little window every night. Peo-
pie often remarked, "as bright as Mother
Locke's little window" and it became a
favorite saying with the noighborhOod.
AT the end Of that time, young Henry