The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1864-12-01

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us and has never been back
''1ou have heard from him?"
Yes, several times He left US to gc
to California We heard from him quite
often, for nearly year Then he wrot,
to us that he had lost all his money by
buying worthless claim and had con
cluded to strike out for Australia. hoping
to do better there. He had shipped or
board a returning Chinaman and thought
he could easily find passage from Canton
to Melbourne He sent US all his love
and a kind good bye. and we have never
heard of him since l often fear the
worst, but / cannot give him up altogeth
er. There is only one chance for hope
His letters may have been miscarried
for | know he has written if he is alive =
II trust, sir, that he may vet come back
safe and sound many have returned after
much longer absences. YOU know"
Il do encourage myself in that way
sometimes, but it is hard O it is hard to
hold up year after year Hope deferred,
maketh the heart sick | think of him
night and day, how l used to rock and
tend him when he was a baby, and how
he used to play and frolic and rnn to
meet me when he was a little larger, and
how he used after that run of errands,
and do little things for me. By the time
he was eight years old, be knew every
tree in the woods, and could climb them
like a squirrel. So he grew up strong,
handsome and dashing He was always
headstrong, but he was a good boy, and
never gave me rough word, and he was
as kind and attentive to his mother as
she had been to him when he was lying
in his cradle. But L don't think he loved
any of us so well as little Minnie 1t
was pretty sight to us to see them
together, and they were seldom apart
he a fine young fellow with strength and
courage and spirit enough for two, and
she sweet little thing riding on his back
or perched upon his shoulders, or clinging
about his neck, with her pale golden
curls, half hiding his dark manly locks
o it was pretty sight to US, at least
Sometime-we never knew when, eX
actly, my son William found a place in
his heart for another sweet orphan
girl, sweet Alice Benson. She lived
near here with an aunt, and from chill
dren she and William were never hap
pier than when with each other. He al
ways carried her satchel for her to and
from school, drew her upon his sled in
winter. carried her through the drifts in
his arms, and nothing pleased him bet
ter than to put his coat over her in
shower, and come home himself wet and
glorious. She is the young lady who
waited upon you at tea, sir, our adopted
daughter. We used to think she would
be more than that, though l don't know
how she could be much more or nearer
than she is.
I1ax tu-n ty
old Then / saw that though he loved
us all very much, he was chatting more
and more for some life where there was
more to be done and dared He had
never kept his thoughts from US, but
this he never spoke of, partly l think,
because he thought it not quite right,
and also because he feared to give us
pain. But / understood it all, and one
day broke the ice and we hal long
talk | had hoped to persuade him TO
be contentcd at home, but before we had
cot through, he had half brought me
over to his way of thinking, The truth
is, l had great confidence in him. and
really believed he might accomplish
something handsome if he were to have
n chance SO my love and pride helped
to overbear my better iudgment.-His
mother could not give him up without a
great struggle, and poor little Minnie,
when she knew he was a going-we
thought her heart would break"
On the day he went away-it was the
morning after Thanksgiving, five years
aro-we were all standing together down
ut the gate there. waiting for the stage to
come along. Alice had come over to
see him off, and we have never been able
to let her 90 since. Our hearts have
clunr to her instead of our lost boy.
William was standing there in the midst
of us. brave and cheerful, and when the
stage hove in sight, he took both my
hands, and gave me the goodbye OF
good true boy. Then he kissed his
mother and Alice. too. tcnderly and like
gentleman But when he came to little
Minnie, he took her up in his arms for
the last time then he broke down. The
poor child clung to him as if he had been
her life and they both sobbed together.
At last he unclasped her little arms ten
derlv. and with q God bless you all, he
was gone.
Gone indeed, and all day and all night
the house seemed changed and strange
and lonely-Wc al, thought of him very
much. but our poor little Minnie most OF
all. She would 90 and sit for hours
where they had been together, pining
and dropping all the while And Alice,
though her heart ached soreiy, she bore
up the best Of US all When AT the end
of q fortnight we received our first let
ter from him. he seemed to have been
away a long, long time; it did not cheer
us much for we could but think Of the
time that must pass before we could hope
for another-he had written on the point
of sailing-and of the dresry years that
must be before he would come again.
By and by the winter passed and the
spring wore away without its wonted
gladness As the season wore on our
little Minnie grew more and more silent.
We did all we could TO divert her, and
take up her mind: but do sll we might
the sweet little one paled and wasted
with the waning summer. We did not
know what allied her, and the doctor
could do nothing for her. A terrible
fear came over Us. and in it we almost
forgot our former grief-we never spoke
of il but we all knew what was in each