Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1872-09-24

not know for certain, and there
were things which Deacon Spicer,
being postmaster, though he knew,
for he peeped at every letter that
came in the lean mailbag from
Highlands.
Patience was blind, but her
blindness had both pathos and dig
nifty. Such tall large-eyed wo-
man could not be so easily ap-
preached by the gossips, so they left
her alone with the music Of the
pine trees signing around her lone
ly house, thinking Of her boy, get
ting him closer to her intense,
strong heat, skipping al tie inter-
val, and living in tn, time of his
return when they should grow each
to the other as the acorn grows to
it's cup.
1t was lcafy, blossomy day in
May when the lilacs were out, and
the snow-balls were beginning to
bleach, birds thrilled in the boughs,
and the sky softencd over the
woods. The great parti-colorcd
balls Of carpet work lay at Pa
tience's feet, and the Bible, with
it's worn, leather covers open at the
family record, and date Of her boys
birth, was placed on the stand by
her side. With his dry, peculiar
ahcm and the shuttle and stumble
by which he was wont to mount the
steps, Deacon Spiccr got upon the
stoop, and pushed at the half open
door. lie was a shambling old
man, dressed in baggy suit Of
buttcrnut brown that seemed to
have been cut'quite by accident.
Good day, widdor, good day"
There was 4 half-trcmblc in the old
mans voice, that made Patience IN
voluntarily ask, "What is it 2" as
the work dropped from her hands.
"Now don't" said the old man, in
a coaXing tone, as he reached out
and almost touched her grey hair.
"Good news never killed anybody
as I've heard tell Of, and | guess
You can stand this" lie fumblcl
in his capacious pockets, in an aim
less sort OF n way; but every heart
beat seemed a century to Patience.
you see there was a scrimmage
t'other day, and Alvin run right in
to the mess, just like such hair
Drained young fellow; he must
have fit with all his might and
main. You see the Cap'n he has
went home, and Alvin has got pro-
NOTED for gallantry. And the boy,
you soc-blcss my soul, it beats al
what | have done with that letter
tho boy got q scratch on his arm,
and they've give him a discharge,
and shouldn't a mite wonder If he
was home here by tomorrow"
Patience turned upon him trcmb-
ling and pale to the lips.
"You are not dccciving me-" she
"my boy has not bcen-|
shot 2
"Deceiving Of you widder? Why
no." responded the old man, in ex-
trcmc astonishmcnt. "D'yc sup
pose I'd have the face to show my
self here! Anything unfortunate
as that would stick in my throat
and choke me to death, | tell you
he is on his way home and in a
fortnight will be as hearty as ever
he was in his life"
1t was indeed true and Patience
put her hands before her face as if
the bliss coming 50 suddenly was
almost too much to bear. The old
man wandered on: 81 mistrust
there's somebody else over the hill
yondcr, will be glad to get the
news"
But patience scarcely heard him
when he took his leave. She sat
there in the red sunset, with trema-
lous shadows spotting the coarse
plaster wall, her bosom heaving,
her eyes dilating, glad young
ool growing in her face. She was
dreaming of the time when Alvin
was baby; how he played around
her chair, and pluckcd at her gown,
breaking out into bursts of infan-
tile glce. And now he was coming
home, a tall young soldier, and
would kneel down at her feet, and
put his head in her lap as he had
done a hundred times. She could
almost feel her fingers in his crisp,
curly locks, touching his forehead
and carcssing his cheek. And she
sat there in blissful dream until it
grew dark, quite forgetting she had