The Portland daily press., 1867-06-08
Selected story.
Deacon Gray.

slow going beast at the best, such horse as
old ladies like to drive, and the deaconss VIE
was verging on to sixty.
Mothers hair was really beginning to turn
now" Jane, the eldest daughter, said, tJahe
had gray hairs hersef,) and SO it was; but mo
ther," blessed good woman, didn't care. I Iae
had lived spotless life, and the peace Oh ner
soul had given to her face sweetness Vi ca
preston that was better than DeiutSi o..
Deacon, are you warm enough? Mrs: GRAY
always called her husband deacon, Dut now
there was a peculiar lntonation vi VehueihesS
in her voice, never very musical.
90 YES. I'm comfortable. Dear, dear, how
sweet tbe clover smells. didn't know as the
scent would ever come TO me again, MaTthy,
when lay there IN the south chalnDef choking
for BREATH
mast now See Uncle 'Biah's medder, don't it
look splendid? and the corn over there, why.
it's growed sight since yesterday. La! do see
DIR. Baird's apple trees, don't they look beauti-
ful?'
Everything looks beautiful Marthy," said
the deacon, a light breaking over his rugged,
somewhat hard face. a-
so it does, and the good womans eyes were
lifted to the sky, across which the softest whit
est clouds were floating, with a motion SO airy
that they seemed like spirits of the upper EN-
er taking forms of grace and beauty.
Don't care about stopping anywhere 40 you,
father? asked the deacons wife, as tue oid
horse j5gged along.
Wen, yes, guess we might as "ei Sc' ou' aI
"Old Joe's" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, aghast,-
"ain't you afraid he'll worry you, now you're so
weak, deaconY ~ .lI ID
critter. and-and you know feel different now
about such things Forty years of health goes
nigga to hardenin' a mans heart, Marthy" and
he sighed as he SPOKE "
So Dobbin refined in at the head of the
lane, and Mrs Gray, making herself crutch
for the deacon, went towards the homely little
house, over whose door, poor and lowly though
it was, the honeysuckle wandered full OF
sweets. ,t-t .......-.-
"If ever did! Here's Deacon Gray COM
in"W cried Joe's maiden sister, smoothing her
hair. < . ll,-
Il don't want to see him." cried Joe, moving
uneasily on his bed.
Good morning, and how are you alp"
1t was Martha's cheerful voice, and Joe could
not but choose to turn, and when once his eyes
caugh sight of the deacons altered face, they
stayed there, fastened by the new expression OF
palor-of tenderness that rested on those
weather-beaten features. s'l
Joe, didn't know as we two should ever
meet again." said the deacon, holding out his
hand. I've thought of you every day since / was
laid on my sick bed. How hard it must be for
You to stay there month after month";
Joe's lip trembeda little. These words COM
ing rom man who had more than once re-
preached him with shlttleSsneSS and shanining
touched his heart. 49,.
''Well, yes, it's sort O. hard,' he answered.
'bat spose III have to bear it. There's them
that's wuss OF, guess
What can do Tor you, Joe?" asked the dea-
con, his voice still soft with that strange ten
derness. lis there anything you'd like? Is
this bed soft enough? Perhaps you could use
my sick chair, it wheels about and YOU might
go to the door, or even outside in it. You're
welcome to it, Joe, only say the word. And
aud anything in the way of jellies, or delicate
things that you'd fancy to eat, and books or
papers if you'd want em. Don't make
stranger of me, joe send to me as you would
to brother" . .r,..... no.
But you know amt brother | amt one
o your kind, deacon, I'--TWa 3 TG4NHltafI
Never mind" said Deacon Gray, as sedu-
ously avoiding an argument now, as before he
had plunged into one, never mind what our
opinions are just now; the Lord sees and NAV
be He'll bring you round to my way othink-
ing yet What am after now is to make the
body comfortable. And jest want. to ask
your pardon Tor all my hard ways and ungen-
erous speeches. know I've done wrong the
Lord forgive me. L couldn't tell what Il differ
ence sickness makes in body and mind then,
but do know now. Come, Marthy, We'll be
going, and Joe, I'll take it hard if YOU don't
tax me for something. God bless YOU, Joe
Good morning..
The two had vanished. but it seemed. some
way, as If the sunshine streamed more genital
ly over the place they had LETT.
well, L never" cried Joe's sister.
Joe himself was silent lopg time % h
What allied the deacon?" lie asked at last
as his sister came back to his bedside
"Diptheria, they said" -.
Putty sick, want hep" ts -t
Thought he'd die, folks said So"
ell IL Zone him more good than all--no
ma ler," and Joe ended abruptly. t"st
10 think how he used to fret and funnel"
muttered Joe's sister. "And what a blessing
that chair will be, and how you've wished YOU
could git one an he coming and offerin' il
himself! Well, I'll never say Deacon Gray
amt a Christian again. 1leverl ---
Meantime the deacon's wife was lifting the
attenuated frame of her husband into the car
rla,e again, her vigorous shoulder his main
support. There were tears in her eyes, but
she bnstled about looking this way and that,
tucking the big shawl over the deacons knees
and pressing him snugly back as if she feared
a gust OF strong spring wind might blow him
away. but in her heart it seemed as if she
had never felt such wealth of tenderness
The one thing the good but severe man had
lacked, was now, almost by miracle, it seemed
wrought into being, and had taken its lodg-
ment IN his heart. In his face new and holi-
er benlgnlty shone, even ON the strongly seam
ed forehea 4, in the deep lines that toll, and
thought, and care had worn in his cheeks The
eyes, the gray eyes, thaG only on extra occa-
sions had lighted up with a human beauty,
seemed now to have gained an almost unearrll-
Iy sofIness.
"Marthy, Christ knew didn't hep" he asked
In quiet, tender voice. ~ ISL s78sl. l.. ; |
Knew what, dear?" the good woman start
ca at her own gentleness-at the unusual term
of affection.
wife W MS
How to pity us; oh yes, and he took it all
lit was put on me, thank God! | wouldn't |
nave taken it. no, no. Humanity shrinks,
shrinks from the suffering, from the cross
Forty years of health, Marthy, is a fearful
test. Il don't know; looking at the past as 1
do now, feeling what have lost and what L
have gained, L don't know as 1 had grace
enough to save me, Marthy 1t didn't seem to |
me once as though anybody need to be sick |
Many time thought folks gave up because
they were weak and lazy. don't know but |
1t seemed a sort of sin to me to be sickly and |
aihng But you see God knew what needed
Stop, Marthy, there's poor Stephens little lame
BOY. wonder if something can't be done for |
SO Dobbin was stopped, and the child glad
dened with kind word and handful of cop
pers that set his face to shining, what with de- |
Hght and surprise, bringing tears again to the |
good wlfes eye, for children had rather avoid |
ed the deacon, sterling man though he was
Il Ii see If that boy can't be helped" the dea-
con went on. I've heard that if his father
could only afford it, there's place where he
might be cured, He's fine little fellow, and
its shame to see him go stumping through
life.
"Shan't wo turn round now, deacons" asked
his wife. - |
Il think I'd like to go to Tom Blake's he is
another cripple, and more likely to be worse |
than better" no = -
But deacon, you hadn't heard, L suppose.
poor-house." -.
"Martby, is that SOP" cried the deacon. the |
old sternness coming back to his face.
1T is SO. He grew SO bad that they could |
not find any one willing to be burdened with
hlm, SO they Just put him there" .
I've hear him say, many's the time. he'd
rather die than go there, poor Tomw
Yes, it was very hard"
We'll drive there, Marthy."
4here was another refolding of the shawl
after the good woman had turned Dobbiu's
Gull head IN the direction of the poor house-
The deacon went in leaning on the arm of his
wife, and was led directly to the bed of the old
man, poor Tom Blake.
rom looked askance at the deacon from
Mhom he had taken many long sermoh,-for
iom was as near an infidel as that other God !
Iess man, poor Joe-then, at the sight of his |
pale, milo countenance, the old man faItered.
he put up his thin hand turned aside his face |
and burst into tears S .N' -N00
Ion, L IN sorry to Soc YOU here" said the |
deacon, placing his own whitehead hand on tbe
old mans shoulder. - > n''nu On oii ' 'he
I'D rather you'd seen me in NV GRAVE Do.
con Grays' sobbed the old man. '"But I Won't
die here'-a look of defiance crossed he 60
tures-"It shan't be said that Tom Blake died |
pauper. No, sir. I'll crawl ON my hands |
and knees at the last gasp, and I'll find strength
to do it, too, out of this pauper place." |
Tom, you shan't stay here, said the deacon
resolutely III t..fsIf..
The old man looked up. His face was pitt
ful to see, all dabbled with tears sli
No, Tom, know how you feel When
hEI in hat, 4 A.