The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1870-06-24

1nankSglVln all the year round,
now, my poor boy-my brave boy!
but says 1, well make somebody
welcome for Davies sake; won't we
motherY And now, sir, you'll spend
tomorrow with us, and tell me about
the battle ofGettysburg, where Da-
vie died, crying out with his last
breath, not to let the flag be captur-
edr'
/ Zenas' voice died out in a chok-
ing, gasping sob. John Siddons
laid his hand softly on the rough,
toll hardened hand of the farmer,
while pang of envy shot through
his heart. All. it was almost worth
while being shot down in battle, to
be missed and mourned like dead
David Carey!
so, wife, walled Zenas, when
John Siddons had fallen asleep in
the little corner room that had been
the lost boys; "it is almost like
having Davie back again! Wife, l
fight my great sorrow down every
night, but every morning it rises up
again more than ever? God help
every parent whose home is made
desolate by the field Of battlep'
Thanksgiving dawned through a
white whirlwind of driving snow
that eddied among the gnarled
boughs of the apple trees in mad
frolics, and edged the old stone wall
with dazzling ermine. And the
fiery sparks, careering swiftly up Ze-
mas Carey's wide chimney, met the
steadily falling snow half way, and
gave battle, while the hearth glowed
with ruddy brightness, as if it knew
all about the Governors Proclama-
tion, and approved of it.
"You have cozy little farm here,
Mr.. Carey" said John as they walk
ed through the snow storm to the
church, whose spires nestled among
the everlasting hills beyond.
''1f l was only sure Of it, sir" said
Zenas with a sigh. "But I've been
hard put to 1t, to get along these
times. Taxes and such like come
heavy on poor men, and I've had
a run of ill luck, so that the place is
mortgaged to its full value, to a hard
man-one that will sell the home
you've been born and brought up
in, as soon as eat his breakfast, so
that he can make money by it. 1t
will be black day tor Melindy and
me when we have to leave the Rock
Farm; but it must come soon, and /
don't care much what becomes of
me afterwards. l tell you, sir, when
a man has lived to my age under
one roof-tree, he don't take very
kindly to bein' moved. Men are
like forest trees, sir; you can take a
young 'un and do as you please with
it, but if you transplant an old 'un
it dies. Let us talk of something
else, Mr.. SiddOns. l oughtn't to
complain on Thanksgiving day."
John looked with feeling oil ac-
tual reverence at the hard featured
old man, whose simple soul, borne
down as he was by debt, and grief,
and age, could still find something
to be thankful for.
The turkey, and pumkin pies were
smoking on the round table when
John and Zenas returned from
church; and Mrs. Carey had brought
out her choice old-time silver spoons
in honor of their guest. There was
no beverage but coffee, that never
knew the shores of Java, and a
pitcher of cold sparkling cider: but
champagne could not have been
more cordially dealt out by Zenas;
and Mrs. Carey's smiling kindness
gave a sparkling flavor to the chick
orized rye, that is sometimes lacking
in "egg shell china"
The table was cleared away, and
they were sitting around the
fire, when the door was opened, and
Deacon Evarts entered, bringing q
snowdrift on the shoulders of his
shaggy oyercoat.
swell, 1 am beat~ quoth Zenas,
"Take a cheer, Deacon. Let me
hang your coat afore the fire to dry
Cant stay" said the Deacon,
giving himself a shake like q black |
water dog on his hind legs. 81
thought you'd like to hear the news
so just dropped in on my way to
darters Thanksgivin' dinner"
''News! what news?" exclaimed |
Zenas, while his wife dropped her
knitting.
''Do tell! then you amt heerd"
81 amt heerd nOthin' but the wind |
a howlin' down the chirnbly, and |
Elder Smiths sermon this mornin'.'
said Zenas, little impatiently.
"The squire's dead up to the great
housep'
dead! you don't tell me so.
That's the man l was speakin' of as
holds my MORTGAGE" exclaimed Ze-
mas, turning to John Siddons-And !
when did it happen, Deacon?"
''Died last night, sir, just about
as quiet as lamb. There
wasn't nobody with him but the old !
neutrality-suspicious. didn't s'pose he
was dangerous. And lawyer Ovid |
says there's reg'lar will, and he left
his property to the only relative he /
had livin'; sOldierin' fellow that ne |
never so much as seen-one Sedge-
wick, Sibley, or what was his name, !
now? And now he's fell heir to all
Squire Ailesford's property, and
that's pritty considerable windfall !
"Was the name Siddon?" asked
the soldier who had hitherto listend-
ed to the conversation in SILENCE