The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-09-20

yAsh, Ioihplhg VIII, Sny, yet merry llttle
May.
Hush, dears, ." the mother said, softly,
"papa is tired. You had better run out
again.
No, Mary, let them stay" he interpos-
ed, and then he said, so low that his wife
ears just caught the whisper, 81 cannot see
them too much in this little while"
Oh, how the days went on after that
Every day the world looked DINNER to the
minister's darkened eyes. He spent nearly
all his time trying to fix the things he
loved, in his memory.
1t was pitiful to see him going round
over each well-known, well-loved scene,
noting anxiously just how those tree
boughs stood out against the sky, or that
hill climbed toward the sunset. He stud
led every little flower, every fern the chill
dren gathered ; for all creation seemed to
take for him new beauty and worth
Most of all he studied the dear home faces.
His wife grew used to the dim, wistful eyes
following her so constantly; but the chill
uiOh "oii''SiOu why Pap" iihSu 81 hOli w
keep them in sight why he did not read
OF study more.
There came time at last, one Sunday
morning, when the brilliant summer sun
shine dawned for him in vain.
''Is it bright day, dear?" he asked,
hearing his wife moving about the room.
every bright, William"
"Open the blinds, please, and let the
sunshine in at the east windows" a.
! Mary Spencer's heart stood still within
her, but she commanded her voice, and an
swered, steadily
"They are open, William. The whole
room is full of light"
Mary, / cannot see ; the time has come
Pm alone in the darkness"
"Not alone, my love ~ she cried, in a
a passion of grief, and pity, and tenderness.
Then she went and sat down beside him on
the bed and drew his head to her BOSOM
and comforted him just as she was won't
to comfort her children. After time, her
tender caresses, her soothing tones seemed
to have healed his bruised, tortured heart.
He lifted his head, kissing her, his first from
out the darkness in which he must abide,
and then he sent her away. l think every
soul, standing face to face with an untried
calamity, longs to be for a space, alone
with its God.
Three hours after that, the church bells
rang and as usual, the minister and wife
walked out of their dwelling, save thatnow
he leaned on her arm. In that hour of Sc
cluson, he had made up his mind what to
do. They walked upin a familiar way and
she left him at the foot Of the pulpit stairs,
and went back to her pew in front He
groped up to the stairs, and then rising in
his place he spoke to the wondering con-
gregation.
"Brethren, I stand before you as one on
whom the Fathers hand has fallen heavily.
l shall never see you again in this world
! you, my children, for whose souls ! have
striven so long. have looked my last on
your kind, familiar faces ON this earth
see to it that / miss none of you when my
eyes are unsealed In Heaven. Grant, O
Father that of those whom Thou has given
me, may lose none"
There was not fearful face among those
which were lifted toward him, as he stood
there, with his sightless eyes raised to
Heaven, his hands outstretched as if to
bring down on them the blessing for which
he prayed. Some Of the women sobbed
audibly, but the minister was calm. After
a moment, he said:
''My brethren, as far as possible, the
services will proceed as usual"
Then in clear voice in which there
seemed to his listeners ears some unearth
ly sweetness, he recited the one hundred
and thirteenth psalm, commencing
''Out of the deep have cried unto Thee
o Lord Lord, hear my voice !"
Afterwards he gave out the first line of {
hymn which the congregation sang. Thel
he prayed, and some said who heard him