Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 186?-1872, 1871-01-14

v
the bed and the neighbors came IN to
care for her, she would say, " Put the
little lamp in the window my Hem
ry will be thinking of it,"
Night after night, and even until
her eyes grew dim, she would watch
the radiance of the Pickering light,
only saying sometimes, " Shall | II We
to hear his footsteps? Will that fee
ble flame still burn when my life's
light is gone out?'
~ have longed to see him." she
said; | have prayed earnestly; but /
have given ii all up now. shall not
meet him in this world"
Have you put the light into the
window ?' she asked, suddenly, earn
estly, II few moments after. 1t is
growing dark"
Alas! it was not the light that was
growing dark.
Her hands grew cold. Over her
countenance came that mysterious
shadow that falls but once on any
mortal face.
"Oh my boy! my boy she whis-
pered; "tell him, ,"-they bent lower
to catch her falling words-"tell him
! will put light in the window OF
heaven to guide him there"
| The thrilling sentence was hardly
spoken, when the shadow dropped
from the sufferers face, and it smiled
| in the calm majesty of death.
A funeral followed humble hearts
attended the body of one who was
loved for her sincere goodness all
through the hamlet; and on the hill
side, in u little graveyard, she was
buried.
Not many days after, great ship,
came into the port of busy city.
Among all those who stepped from
the decks, none were more hopeful,
more joyous than young Henry Locke
He had passed through the ordeal OF
q sea life, so far, unscathed. M
blight of immortality had fallen upon
him. He had kept himself as spot
less as If at every nightfall his feet
had been turned towards his mothers
cottage. How his heart bounded as
he thought other! Strangely enough,
he never dreamed she might be dead.
1t did not occur to hlm, that perhap'
her silver locks were lying under the
lid OF the coffin. Oh no; he only
thought of the pleasant light in the
window, that her hands had trimme ed
for him. So he journ yed to his ma
tive town. Tonder comes one who
trudges on laggingly-a farmer in
heavy boots and frock, his whip In
his hand. He cheers the lazy oxen,
but suddenly stops, amazed.
~ see you know me-" said the
young sailor, smiling. "Well, far.
mer Brown, his is"
"Know you? why, how tall yor
are ! So" his eyes drops, his
mouth trembies-'so, you have goI
home"
Yes, and glad enough to get back
again. How is mother"'
"Eour--mother," he says in {
slow, hesitating way, that telegraph'
i'll ,idings before they are told il
words.
"Yes-is she well? OF course she
is; we are late by II month, full"
"Your mother, Henry? Well-tht
old lady =" He plays with hi
whip, or rather, strikes it hard oi
the dusty road. How can he crusl
that happy heart!
"There. you need not speak ~ erie,
the young man, in voice of suddei
anguish and he recoiled, almos
staggering from the farmers side, an,
buried his face in his hands.
Henry, my poor lad, your mothe
is--r
"Do not, do mott" cried the other
showing now n face from which al
color had fled. "Oh! my mother
my mother-she is gone, gOne-an,
, ] coming home so happy"
For some moments he sobbed IN
agony. How dreary the world hat
grown. The flowers had lost thei
fragrance, the sun its warmth; hi
heart seemed dead.
Henry, she left q message 70
yOu,n said The old farmer, wiping hi
eyes with the sleeve of his frock.
"A message for me?n it seemed a
if the white lips could hardly speak
"Ies; says she-so my dame tol,
me, and so the minister said-'rel
Henry | will put IA light in the win
dow of heaven to guide his footstep
| thcre.'r
"Did she; oh, did she say that
God bless you for telling me! Al
my long voyage | have thought q
the light in her little window.
, have seemed To see it streamin!
along, along down to the foot of tn
hill, till it grew brighter and brigh
| ter as | drew near. A light II
/ the window of heaven? Yes, moth
, er, | will think you are still waiting
for me. | could not see you in thes
, long years; but knew the light wa
, burning. l cannot see you now, hu
| know that the light is burning"
Slowly and reverently, he went t
the hillside graveyard, and there h
/ knelt and wept upon her lowly grave
. But not there he thought of her.
, sweet vision was vOuchsaied him. Al
| robed in heavenly garments, he say
the beautiful soul he had called moth
er, and streaming from the bright
, ness of her glorious home, n slende
1 beam seemed to come, trembling Z
his very feet. Then he knew that tn
, light was in the window 0f heaven
+ Once more he knelt in the littl
, room where had left her. Nothing
was moved, but oh how much wa
: wanting! There, on the window sill
r stood he little lamp-that hrough
the tears afresh. But he took hi
/ mothers well-wOrn Bible, aud, kneel
ing 10y her bedside, rs if she coul
, hear him, he consccrated himself I
"A life and work of righteousness
I From that cottage he Went out int
the world, carrying his gift us sacre
: memorial, hut seeing always
p wherever his work led him, his wait
ing mother, AND THE LAMP IN TIL
: WINDOW OF HEAVEN.
=, MINNESOTA papers tell sad stor