The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1870-05-15
JUVENILE. COLUMN.
THE WANDERERS RETURN.


William Fink and his wife, Eliya time
and care, and one great sorrow-the sorrow
of their peaceful and happy lives, had
sprinkled their hair with gray.
William Fink had a habit, and he carried
it through life, of makinng the wants and
3suferings of others in some sort his own
The habit, or whatever else it may be
called, certainly increased with his years,
and his loving helpmate during the long
period of their welded life, through the
influence of assimilation, and, above all
the heavenly fruit of sanctifed sorrow,
had grown to be modelled very nearly
after the same pattern. x -
So when he sat down one wild, stormy
night, paper and spectacles in hand, and
read the "news" which was in every body q
mouth, as they seated themselves around
cheerful tea-tables or blazing fires, Mre.
Fink ceased to rock back wards and for
ward in her arm chair, filled with hens
feathers and dropped her knitting quite re-
gardless of little black and-wh kitten
| at her side, which put the ball to a use a
feline fancy suggested.
And what IS the news, pray Z"
Fifty others had asked the same question
that day; but coming from good Mrs.
Fink's honest heart, tho very words sound
ed differently, like the same tune played
in dissimiiar keys.
The husbands eye, as it fell upon the
| shipping list, in scanning the open paper,
was quickly withdrawn. as if the sight
panied him. His answering remark most
persons would have thought decided d.
gression FROM the subject fF ~
1t is just three years tonight, Eliza,
| since we beard that our boy was drowned.
We were expecting him home from that
voyage. and you pat on your best silk
dress, that he bought for you in Canton,
and set the tea-table with the china-set."
Mrs. Fink S eyes sought the glowing en-
bers which flashed and fickered on that
never-to. be-forgotten night; and puss made
another tangle in the yarn.
A pain, sharp, strangling, choked her.
Willie was their only son, fair haired,
in sight of the sea, and from his early child
hood, when the mimic little ships of his own
making made wonderful voyages over
mimic oceans, all his thoughts centred on
the blue heayiDg waves with a strange
fascination that his fond parents, much as
they loved him, could not resist.
His parting from home and all that makes
home dear brought tears to his eyes, and
almost broke the heart of his loving
mother. But when he came back from his
first voyage, SO handsome and manly, with
the rich healthful color mantling his cheeks,
and his noble brow bronzed to an almost
olive hue, it throbbed with pride as only a
mothers heart could.
Again he left that happy home and with
manly courage braved the dangers of the
deep. Far, far away, in strange lands, be-
meath strange skies, his fond heart often
returned to his childhood's home and the
sweet words of his mothers love rang
again in his ears. The sweet influence of
home thoughts lowered over his path like
SO many guardian angels while in the starry,
tropical night watches lle paced the silent
deck, communing with himself-thinking
of the joys and sorrows of the past.
And then, when least expected. came the
for ehnCL fr,r
the fathers kindly face, bowed his tall,
straight form, and silvered his wife's brown
hair. But we draw q veil over that fearful
night with its NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. was a
secret sorrow! ,..,..
But he was not dead-not buried in the
bosom of the deep. In a fearful storm
which had burst upon the vessel in the
South Sea, he had fallen overheard, and all
the crew had supposed him drowned, but
he was picked up by some natives in a
boat, while clinging to q broken spar, and
carried to neighboring island. The ma
rarely approached the shore, it was two or
three years before he succeeded in getting
off.
One calm evening, while they were sitting
sad and silent beneath a tree in their front
yard, O tall stranger opened the gate and
and looked. A deadly paleness overspread
Mrs. Fink's face, and she would have fallen
had it not been for the supporting arms of
the stranger, tenderly clasped around her. |
"Father!" said he; smother 7"
Their son, their long lost son! In a mo-
ment he was clasped ia their loving en-
brace. In silent rapture they gazed upon |
him as one returned from the dead; then, |
sinking upon their knees, they raised their |
trembling hands and tear-filed eyes to |
heaven, they gave the homage of grateful |
hearts to God. i
Charlie J" Clear and sweet as a note |
over the common.
"That's MOTHER" cried one of the boys, |
and he instantly threw down his bat and |
picked up his jacket aud cap.
"Don't go Yet !" ''Have it out!" "Finish |
the camel" "Try it again !" cried the |
players in noisy chorus.
% must go-right off-this very minute.
I told her I'd come whenever she called"
" Make believe you didn't hear her ~
they all exclaimed.
"But did heart"
"She don't know you did"
But know it, and"
Let him co. said d bystander. 3" You
cau't do anything with him. He's tied to
his mothers apron strings" rt- 81,
"That's SO ]" said Charlie "apd it's to
what every boy ought to be tied and in a
hard knot, too" .-eY,... r..
"But I wouldn't be such baby as to
run the minute she called" said one.
"I don't call it babyish to keep ones
word with his MOTHER answered the obe-
1ent boy, a. beautiful light glowing in his
nine ewes &c call ii manly. and the how |