Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1869-03-17

81 am certain" said she. choking back
her feelings, that Mr.. Rankin did not re-
alize how much he was exacting from you.
He is not so hard hearted as to require the
work to go on -now-"
She could not finish the sentence, with
that agouized mothers eyes blazing upon
her, as she held her dead boy tighter to her
breast
God be merciful to the man whose
| grasping hand is stayed only by yawning
graves How does he know that the death
angel is not already lowering over his own
household ?"
Mrs. Rankin shivered and caught her
breath, as the suffering woman words burn
ed into her heart. She regretted deeply the
intrusion upon her sorrow. She had intend
ed good, but she thought it better to leave
She could not speak tor some minutes, as
she stood gazing upon that poor woman,
moaning in her first great sorrow, and press
ing her tcar-wet cheek against the cold,
damp brow of her boy. Oh ye mothers,
who have seen the sweet lips of your pre-
cious darlings purple by deaths vintage,
pity the wretched mother, for no other NOR
tails can.
MAY heaven have pity and comfort you,
grief stricken motherl' said Mrs. Rankin
| wish | could make you know how much l
sympathize with you-how much wish to
serve you, and alleviate, to some extent,
what your family is suffering through my
husband inconsiderateness.
True wife she could not give it harder
term in words, though her sou! loathed his
dealing with that poor family.
IF you will permit me, will go home
and prepare warm breakfast, and send it
over at once you need cup of tea.
The poor woman looked up, as though she
would drink in all the good and kindness
she might find in the face before her.
Perhaps / have judged you harshly,
ma am. You look like kind hearted wo-
man. You know, and God knows, if you
do, may be forgiven for the words l have
uttered"
Mr.. Rankin could make no reply, but her
tears we're more convincing than words.
The neighbors were dropping in and Of
fering their services, and Mrs. Rankin went
home, and soon sent good, warm break
fast to the family.
Perhaps no tears more bitter were ever
shed than those that poor Joe Miller
dropped upon the white brow of his dead
boy, lying in his little plain coffin tears of
keen self accusation, as he thought that if
his family had not been subject to so severe
privations, his boy might not have died.
II did not know, o my poor lamb how
much avarice was in my heart, he groaned,
as he pressed the little cold, dimpled hand
in his hard, honest palm.
How much compunction, If any, John
Rankin may have felt, as he stood by the
open grave of the poor mans child, is known
only to the searcher of all hearts All did
he know that, though on the side of their
oppressor was power, they had one Comfor-
ter? He who wept at the grave of Lazarus
stood there in divine compassion, unseen,
whispering, by His blessed Spirit, to those
bruised hearts: 'The lad is not dead, but
sleepeth.
Mrs. Rankin wrapped her furs and broad
cloth more tightly about her, as, leaning
upon Mr.. Rankin arm, she turned away
from the burial; for the frozen clods falling
upon the little coffin sent chill to her heart
that crushed out almost the last feeling
of love and reverence for her husband,
though the path of duty lay plain before
her, and she was not one to turn aside from
her own obligations. And the constrast of
their warm, costly clothing with the thin,
thread bare garments of the poor mourners.
was a source of agony to her soul, from which
would have been a mercy to spare her.
John Rankin thought he did praise
worthy act when he paid to Joe Miller eighty
seven cents per cord for tw, hundred cords Of
wood, which would have been finished at the
specified time but for the death of the poor
man s child.