The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-07-02
SUNDAY READING.
Mysterious Ways.

A hank OF blue yarn tumbled OIL the line,
under which Deb ducked her head, to
grope in corner Of certain recess in the
attic for bits for the ragman's bag, and fell
directly into her great apron.
Dumb things speak sometimes" NUT
tered Deb. "Now might ha' forgot how
soon masters socks IL be worn out only for
that. I'll set up pair tomorrow; no, after
tea"
Then she pocketed the yarn, bundled up
the rags and descended.
A woman and child sat in the kitchen,
old Silas Dene's niece and her baby. A
year or more had passed since news came
to that woman of her husbands S death; and
the horror which had come with it was in
her eyes now. No wonder, for in the depth
of the red embers on which her eyes were
fixed, she saw that awful picture of man
crossing the "dead line," and dropping
across it at the flash of sentinel's mus
ket A picture that haunted Miriam Eldreth
sleeping or waking night and day.
"The ways of Providence is strange, :"
said Deb shaking her head, and poking the
fire; and the woman turned with start
thinking of the things that had been meted
out to her in her very girlhood, for she was
not yet twenty. "Awful strange" contin-
ued Deb. "It's so curious this yarn should
pitch itself at me when / ought to have
thought of using it up and didn't
And ghost of smile crept over Miri-
ANS face and the smile set the baby crow
ing, and the baby's Growing awakened
brighter smiles on the mothers face; and
Deb seeing them playing together at last
=" two babies, poor things" as she said
to herself, laughing aloud in her glee,
"Thank the Lord, she's got some life in
her yet, when she's reused up" she said to
herself, and set the table singing all the
while; and then, her master not being at
home yet, went out to hunt in his room for
what she always called scrabbled paper"
to wind her ball of yarn upon. She found
piece which suited her at last, stiff, yel-
lowish, and cracking, and lying in an other
wise empty desk-drawer, and took it back,
crumpled into proper shape, and began to
wind her worsted. She had wound ten
yards or so, when furious knocking at the
door made her start and break it short off,
and there was no more thought of the knit
ting that night, for at the door she found a
among them, on which, crushed and MAIN
ed and dying, lay old Silas Dene.
A boiler in his factory had burst, and he
with a dozen poor workmen, had been hur
ried into eternity. He had but few mo.
ments to live, bnt in them he called his
niece Miriam to him.
"Don't cry, my child" he said, 81 shall
be better off than if l lived longer. Three
score and ten years are enough for man.
The Bible says so. And you are safe.
knew I could not trust to John. You are
comfortable. This house, and enough to
keep you in it, is yours. Don't part with
Deb; let her live and die here. You'll find
the deed Of gift"
But there the old mans voice failed, and
he said no more, and in an hour was dead
Miriam, now that her last friend was
gone, could only weep and sit holding hel
babe upon her knee, and wishing that they
lay together in the silent peace of death as
the good old man, who had been SO kind to
her, lay. But Deb, half broken-hearted as
she was, went about the house, putting il
into that shadowed order in which the home
death has visited must bo found; and COM
ing at last to the kitchen, where In un.
tasted meal was spread, and on the hearth
of which the fire had smouldered low, pick
ed up her ball of worsted from the floor
and sobbing, "Twont knit masters socks
now," finished winding it, for any disorder
seemed to her an insult to the dead.
After that there came for both women
only hushed watching beside the dead un-
til the day Of the funeral.
The day brought John Dene, grim,
hard-fsted, middle-aged man, who had not
time to visit his father for fifteen years.
He behaved decorously enough, and was
crisp and shiny in new mourning; but, as
soon as decency permitted, he began to set
tie affairs with such gusto that it was evi-
dent that nothing else had been in his mind
from the first. a
"It appears that there is no wilt" SAID
he, sitting with his elbows on the parlor
table the day after the funeral, so l have
nothing to do but take possession. How
soon IL you be able to move, Cousin Mi
riam ?"
Miriam looked at old Deb.
81 suppose shall not move at all, she
said. "Uncle Silas gave me this house