The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1870-12-08

-ui. " liiidul CtEbDS
All! with those few words the lady had
got farther Up the winding stairs and
nearer the hidden door than all who had
gone before her.
. Yes, that is my name ma a'am.' said
old Bill, and he glanced down at lis shab>
by attire, and actually tried to hide the
elbow that was peeplng out. 1t was d
long time since he had been addressed as
Mr.. William Strong, and somehow it
sounded very pleasant to him.
Il am very glad to meet you, Mr..
Strong" responded the lady; Il have
heard my father speak of you so often. aud
OF the days when you and he were boys to-
gethcr, that L almost feel a. If we were old
acquaiplances. You surely cannot have
forgotten Charles Morrison ?'' =
"Oh. no, Charley aud | used to be great
cronies," said old Bill, with sudden ANNA
ton, and light in his eye, such as had not
shone there for a long time except when
rum gave it a titfuI brilflancy.
All the lady did not know, as perhaps
the angels did, that she lad mounted the
stairs and was softly feeling fox that unseen
door, so she went on:
Il almost feel, Mr.. Strong, as if I could
see the Old spot upon which your home
stead stood. | have heard my father de-
scribe 1t so often. The hill with its crown
OF old oaks at the back Of your house, and
the held OF yellow harvest grain that Wav-
ed IN front. Then there was the green
grass before the front door, with the bnre
apple tree that threw its shadows across it:
and the Old 'portico' with the Crane vine
that climbed over it, ana the white roses
that peeped in at the bedroom window and
the spring that went shining and bubbIing
through the bed OF green mint at the side
/ OF the house.
O,d Bill moved uncasiv in his chair,
and the muscles around his mouth twj,ch-
/ ed occasionally, hut undminGfu Of this.
/ the lady kept on in the same low, melting
/ voice
nany and many were the hours, so
father would say, that Willie and | used
to pass under the shadow of that old apple
| tree playing at hide or seek, or loiling on
the grass and telling each other the great
things we meant to do when We became big
men, while Nlile's blue eyes would spar.
kle with hope and happiness; and when
the sunset lald a crown of gold on the tip
OF the oaks on the hill, WilIie's mother
might be seen standing in the porrico. with
her snowy cap and checked apron, and he
would hear her voice calling, Come, boys,
come 70 SUPPER
One after another the big, warm, blessed
tears went rolling down old Bills checks,
and filling on the pine table. All the
lady was at the door then,
was always at home at Willie's.
father would say, and used to have nv
bowl of fresh milk and bread too and
when these had disappeared, Willie would
draw bis Itte stool to his mothers feet and
size "UaIu ttif fiiuI sUuie pIeasanC srUry UI
Joseph, or David. or some good boy who
Afterwards became some good man, and
then she @ would J4ehRssd RaTdi Mda Msnd say IN fremb
ling voice, | can never forget, Promise me
Willie, when you are man, and the grey
hairs of your mother are resting in the
church yard yonder, you viii never dis.
grace her memory And Willie would
draw up his slight form, lift his blue eyes
proudly to his mother and say, Never
fear, mother, will make good man, and
great one, too, and then, after We had
said our evening prayers, we would go con
tented and happy as the bird that nestled
in the old apple-tree, to rest. Then just
as we were sinking into some peasan.
| fall on the stairs and kind face bending
over would inquire if we were nicely
| tucked up. 1t is long, long time, father
would say, since heard from Willie, but
am sure he has never fallen into any evil
ways. The words of his mother would
keep him from that. -
Rap rap rap! went the words Of the
lady at the door. of BiIl's old heart
Creak creak creak! went the door on
its rusted hinges i he lady could only see
| the suhdued man bury his face in his
| clasped hands. and while his frame shook
| like an aspen leaf, she heard him murmur
amid chidlke sobS, My mother, oh my
mothcrI' With silent prayer Of thank
fuIneSs she resumed:
But there vas one thing my father
loved to talk about better than all the
rest. 1t was of the morning you were
married, Mr. Strong. 1T was enough to
do one'S eyes good to look at them, lie
would say, as they walked up the old
! church aisle; he, with his proud manly
read, and she, gentle, fragile creature
fair as the orange blossoms that trenlbIcd
| in her hair. | remember bow clear and
confident William S voice sounded through
the old church, as he promised to love,
protect and cherish the bright, coDhding
creature at his side, and [ knew he
thought, as he looked down upon her,
that the winds of heaven would never
visit her face too roughly; and then my
y
boy, and the fair haired girl that came
after awhile to gladden. it; and then you
know he removed to another part Of the
country, Mr.. Strong, and lost sight Of
you"
Once again the lady paused, for the agony
Of the strong man before her was fearful
to behold. and then in a lower tone she
spoke: Il did not forget the promise |
made my father previous to his death,
that if ever visited his native place, |
would seek out his old friend. But when
inquired tor you they uniolded a terri
bic story to me, Mr.. S rorg. They told
me of a deSolatc and broken household.
Ofa blue>eycd boy that : fathers heart
might so well delight III, who had left his
home in disgust and despair, for one on
the homeless waters OF the gentle, suffer
ing wife. faithful to the last. weht down
with prayer on her lips for her erriDg
husband, broken hearted to the grave, and
of the fair haired orphan girl, who fol.
lowed ler mother in little while. Oh!
it is sad. sad story I have heard of my
: fathers old friend
''It was it was that did it, [ killed