The evening Argus., 1870-06-27
THUNDER-STRUCk.
ABeautifu1StOry

As Mrs. Howe's view of the case, though
roughly aud quantity expressed, was Dever
,hs Isss a reason sble one, it was adopted
more particularly as ell shrank from the sac
duty OF informing little Ella of the extern
of their fears. But the time when ever hope
must be relinquished was very near Bober
Middleton bresthed his last sigh in tbt
arms of his motherly old friend, without on,
moments consciousness lone CLEAN of re
cognitiou.
And now-the poor child-our littl,
Ella, said the sympsthizing pastor, as b,
turned sadly from the death bed to whicl
Mrs. Hows's affsctionate zeal had sum monet
him, vainly hoping for some lucid interval
even at the last. VIXEN his pious offices nigh
be available. THE poor little girl. what il
TO be done about her, Mrs. Howe?"
"Oh, don't know-I don't know" sobbet
poor Mrs. Howe. 81 can't tell her; I AIM
got no words to tell her in. Oh, Docto,
Tucker, wonld you You are used to such
things, sort of and you'll know what 10 say
sn1 how TO say it, and | am sure doh J.
And maybe you can kind OF cheer ner up
with holy words, somehow. ana l., law
sakssl Tn all run down and KIND OF heart-
broke myself, aud I'd only make her feel
worse IN az be, if that was possible. Will you
tel, her, Doctor Tucker? Oh, do please
ssy yoa will, for cau't. and father can't,
and who else is there that can p
II will, i you desire 1 should, certainly"
said the kind>aid man, turning reluctantly
upor his ssd effAnd. Where is she now,
poor little thingf Where shall I find
her ?"
''out in the garden, guess, sent her
out for some flowers for his room, just to get
her out of the way
Grave and thoughtful, the kind hearted
old man walked sadly down the little garden
which lay before him, bright in all the
morning beauty of fine, golden autumn
dsy. As be looked across the valley to the
grand old hills, sleeping in soft, misty light,
or turned his glsnces to the woods, now
gorgeous with the many hued glories of the
changing year, and felt the soft, breezy
autumn wind fitting his thin gray locks, be
thought of the young life thus suddenly cut
of in its morning hour, and the other and
younger life. thus early ssddened by the
spoier Death, and he murmured sadly the
words:
''Some flowers of Eden still inherit,
But the trail of the serpen, is over them all. !"
yesrning for that promised land where
death and farewell shall be words no
more uttered.
turn 10 the path brought him suddenly
upon little Ella, who, with her arms full OF
flowers, was coming toward him, and with a
sad heart pang for the grief he WAS bearing
to her he advanced to meet her.
What are all those flowers for, my little
pirI ~ he aaf6 in how N MAJ ~
his sad embassy.
They are for my brother, sir, she an
swered, with grave sweet, smile. "Rober.
is very sick, Doctor Tucker, and Auntie
Howe says he likes fresh flowers better than
al shing else; but all the flowers we love
the best, all the sweetest ones, are dead aud
gon e-thers Is not anything nice lett now.
Doesit not seem q pity the frost should
come and kill them ell? l wonder why it
is ?"
at may seem sad TO us now, my dear
child, said the plying old clergyman. "be-
cause We do EOt see clearly yet But You
must re mem Der, Ella, the same kind, loving
Father who sends US the flowers sends also
the killing frost which you lament. Should
you think Him unkind or unjus, because He
sees 6s 10 take back the good gifts His
mercy gave us -
"Unkind unjust who? our Father in
Heaven ?' said Ella, looking up into his
face 10 grave wonder. "Oh no."
NO, indeed, poor child" said the old
man, looking at her with sad meaning In
his fearful eyes HE is never unkInd, never
unjust, even when He takes from US what
We love the best. Remember, Ella, if there
were no winter In the year there could be no
spring, no blossoms; il there were no death
in the worl there could be no resurrection,
no heaven"
Little Ella gazed at the venerable speaker
for one moment IN q wondering unconscious
ness; and then, as the terrible meaning o.
his words gradually revealed itself to hel
mind, her face paled, flushed, and grew pale
again: her wide, dilatiDe eyes fixed thei
full gaze upon his, like one fascinated by
the deadly glance of rattIesnake; and from
her scarce moving lips came the insdi0ie
words, My brother | must go TO my
brother
"But my dear child. my poor little Ella,
said the kind old man, nov fairly weeping
himself. you cannot-your brother has left
you. He has gone to that beautiful land
where the fowers do not fade-where there
is no more winter and no more death
Yoa can go TO him there. The Lord gave
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be
the name of the Lord = Can you not put
your trust in His fatherly love, my poor
child ?"
Doctor Tucker ceased speaking, but Ella
did not answer him-she did not even hear
him she stood still, her wide, stony eyes
fixed vacantly upon him. Slowly the
nerveless. relaxing hands unclasped, uncon,
sciously dropping their fowery burden at
her feet, and the dropping arms sunk power
less at her side. Presently her lips moved
bur vainly-no words came. Another effort
and as If the pale, quivering lips had
rather shaped the sounds than uttered them m
came the SLOW words. "Oh let-me-go- -
o-my"-brother, she would have added,
but the terrible recollection swept over her
like q tempest, and, with shudder which
shook her whole frame, she substituted the
words-"to Auntie Howe y And, passing
by him with recoiling action and sver.ed
face, as if he were some abhorrent thing
which she dared not trust her,ef to look
upon, with wavering and uncertain steps,
and wide, unseeing eyes, like the ewes Of q
sleep walker, she passed on toward the
house.
Al the open door poor Auntie Howe, her
sell weeping piteously, stood waiting to re-
ceiVe her, ano held cut her arms to her
without word. Ella gave one shuddering
Questioning look Into that sad face, and laid
her hano on that kind, motherly bosom; one
sigh broke from her pale, blue. ouiverine
lips, and, as the strong, sustaining arm.
closed around her with their loving, pitv;ng
clasp, she swooned into utter unconscious-
ness.
show is little Ella to-day? ?' asked DR..
Msyne, looking in upon the Howes, one
morning, about q week after Roberts death,
in call which purported to be no. profess
sional so much as friendly.
"She's pretty well, sir, thank you kindly
said the Deacon, raising as he spoke, and
SLOWLY amnnthinp and folding M the naHE.