Beaufort Republican. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1871-1873, 1872-08-01
HOW ALVIN CAME HOME.


night after night, with her boy away in
the army, and long lists of killed and
wounded filling the newspapers. She had
cut up Alvin's little coat. 1t was the
first coat he ever had, and she remem-
bered how proud he had been of the but
tons and pockets, and it went to her
heart to shred it into Sits.
The room where Patience Tanning sal
was very small and humble. It,iwas tile
first room she had furnished with things
eked out and scraped together by the
hardest toll. For more than twenty years
she had lived in the old dilapidated gray
farm house, in narrow round of duties,
centering at the cradle of her child, and
later about the bed of her sick husband
and yet she had tasted keenly most of the
Joys and sorrows that belong to woman's
lot. Her sphere had never seemed mean
or inadequate to herself, for holding her
child in her arms, she felt that she pos
sessed all the dignity and honor earth has
to bestOw.
BuS the tears would drop sometimes
now, as P4tience sat alone at her work,
in the slender ray of the candle. There
were vine shadows where the row Of pot
ted plants had been, for it was Spring, and
the geraniums and heliotropes were out
in the little door yard beds, and she rested
in the longer twilight, and lived over the
life she had led first as wife, then as moth
er, afterward as lonely widow with her
boy away at the war. Patience had al
ways lived in others. 1t seemed as
though her heart had no separate action
of its own, and received its pulsations
from the beating hearts of those she
loved.
When Washington was threatened, and
danger menaced the Pennsylvania frontier,
Alvin had grown moody at home because
she opposed his wish to join the volun-
teers. 1t was the dark hour of her coun-
try's peril, and Patience had wrestled and
struggled and prayed until she gained
strength to let her boy go out of her arms.
She had given her eve lamb; she sat
alone.
Her farm consisted of few acres of
rather stony land that lay close to the
house where she lived. Her husband had
been a cooper, working at tubs and bar
rels off and on the busy season of the year
and Alvin had learned the trade too; but
the little shop was closed now; and the
fields were let out on shares, and ever
since he marched away in the coat of ar
my blue, her boy had sent back his pay to
the widow, and her cruise and basket were
never empty. Her neighbors were very
kind. Abiah Williams who lived on the
next place had banked up her house in
the Fall, and dug and stored her Winter
vegetables. and in the Spring, as soon as
the ground grew mellow, he came with
his OK team to plow her garden. By car
pet making and odd bits of sewing, Pa
tience was able to supply all her slender
wants. Not penny Of her boys earnings
had ever been touched. That money was
sacred. Patience had already spoken to
Enoch Holbrook about putting it out at
interest. in the long winter evenings
when she only heard the slow tick of
the clock in the corner, or the sOugh of the
wind in the pine trees, her brain was busy
with plans for her boys future
Deacon Spicer brought the paper in
every third day, after he had slowly spelled
it over for an hour or two at nome. The
news had travelled two or three hundred
miles by rail and stage before it came to
her hand; but Patience watched for it
with heating heart The account of a
bloody battle generally drove her to bed
with a bad headache, caused by the hard
er aching of her mother heart. Patience's
sympathies were mainly on the mothers
side; she did not think so much of the
stricken wives or desolate young maidens
mourning over their dead. She had one
of those intense but narrow natures which
Purita0ism developes, with little imagina-
ton but strong and tervent feelings. Her
lite was so deeply religious, that the
whole of life was invested with q sort
of sacred ardOr; even her Joy found ex-
preston in some grand old covenanter, S
hymn. that seemed to fill the pauses Of
the wind in the forest grove near at
hand.
Patience had looked forward many
times to the possible harm that might
come to Alvin. She had thought of
her loneliness that perhaps might end
only with the grave; and how in some
distant Autumn day, when the crickets
were chirping in the stubble she might
feel glad that she had plucked out her
heart and given it to God, remember
ing that he who would save his life
must lose it.
But there were other days when a
sober gladness colored her mood, and
the sublime old hymns that told of
persecution and victory over death,
came rolling out on her rich voice.
Then it was easy for her to believe
that Alvin would be spared, and she
thought of his home coming as of a
second birth, when the Lord would
again put him into her arms as a free
gift. With her deep heart, that took
such eager hold of what it loved, kind
ling and warming as it held, she pic-
tured the life that they would lead to-
gether, and slowly pieced out a story
of exquisite kind in that little white.
,rooLed room, ubara oil his history bod