The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1871-07-27
From Appleton's Journal.
THE DEAC0N's STORY.

The solemn old bells in the steeple
Are ringin'. guess you know whyr
No? Well, then, IN tell yop, though mostly
It's whispered about on the sly.
Some six weeks ago. church -meetin'
Was called-for-nobody knew what;
But we went, and the parson was present,
And don't know who, or who not
Some twenty odd members. 1 calc'late,
Though don't mean to say aught ag'in' ZEN
I've seen many gatherln'S worse.
There, in the front row, sat the deaeons,
The eldest was old Deacon Pryor;
A man countin' fourscore- and-seven,
And gin'rally full of his ire.
Beside him, his wife, countin' fourscore,
A kind-hearted, motherly soul;
And, next to her, young Deacon Hartley,
A good Christian man on the whole.
Miss Parsons, spinster of fifty,
And long ago laid on the shelf.
Had wedged herself next; and, beside her,
Was Deacon Munroe-that's myself
The meetin' was soon called to order;
The parson looked glum as text;
We gazed al each other in silence,
Then slowly uproSe Deacon Hartley:
His voice seemed to tremble with fear.
As he said; Boy and man you have known me
My good friends, for nigh forty year.
And you scarce may expect confession
Of error from me; brIt-you know,
My dearly-loyed wife died last Christmas,
It's now nearly ten months ago.
The spring hurried forward apace;
The framework came on, and needed
A woman about the old place.
sThe children were wilder than rabbits,
No help to be found in the village,
Although was willin' to pay.
In fact, was nigh bout discouraged,
For.every thing looked so forlorn;
When good little Patience McAlpine
Skipped into our kitchen, one morn. i
'she had only run in of an errand,
But she laughed at our miserable plight:
And set to work. jist like woman. a.
A-putting the whole place to right.
And though her own folks was so busy,
And lily her helpin' could spare,
She'd fit in and out like a sparrow,
And most every day she was there.
so the summer went by sort o. cheerful,
And one night my baby, my Joe,
Seemed feveIish. and fretful and woke me,
BY crying at midnight, You know.
WAS tired with my days work. and sleepy,
And couldn't, no way, keep him still;
So, at last, grew angry, and spanked him,
And then he screamed out with will.
"Just about then heard a soft rapping,
Away at the half-open door;
And then little Patience McAlpine
Walked shyly across the white floor.
Says she: thought Josey was cryin',
] guess I'd best take him away.
knew you'd be gettin' up early,
To go to the marshes for hay;
So Istayed here o-night to get breakfast
II guess he'll be quiet with me-
Come, Josey, kiss papa, and tell him
What nice little man you will bep
She was STOPPING low over the pillow,
And saw the big tears on his cheek; ss
Her face was so close to my whiskers,
/ dar's'nt move, scarcely, or speak
Her hands were both holdin' the baby,
Her eye by his shoulder was hid;
But her mouth was SO near, and so rosy,
kissed her. That's just what did,
Then down sat the tremblin' sinner, r
The sisters they murmured of SHAME"
And 6 she shouldn't oughter a let him,
No doubt she was mostly to blame"
When strightway uproSe Deacon Pryor,
Now bretherin and sisters - he said, -4
eve knowed then that suthin' was comm,
And all sot as still as the dead),
You've heard brother Hartley's confession,
And speak for myself. when say, I'D
That If my wife was dead, and my children
Were all CROWN worse every day;
And if nay house needed attention,
And Patience McAlpine had come, ID.
And tidied the cluttered- up kitchen,
And made the place seem more like at home ;
And if was worn out and sleepy,
But fire tied and woke me at midnight y
AS babies, we know, sometimes will;
And If Patience came in to hush him,
And twas all as our good brother seq.
1 think, friends-I think should kiss her
And 'bide by the Consequenc6s..'--- --T>T-T7
Then down sat the elderly deacon,
The younger one lifted his face. 5a8 3
And smile ripp1ed over the meetin' y,-=
Like light in a shadowy place.
Perhaps. then, the matronly sisters
Remembered their far away youth,
Or the daughters at home by their iresides,
Shrined each in her shy, modest truth;
For their judgments grew gentle and kindly,
And-well-as started to say,
The solemn old bells in the steeple i5fi
Are ringin' bridal to-day. 5