Herald and tribune. [volume] (Jonesborough, Tenn.) 1869-current, 1873-10-23

voice calling, Come, boys, como to sup
per-"
One after another the big, warm, bless
cd tears came rolling down Old Bill
checks. Ali tho lady had found tn
door then.
81 was always at home at Willie's-
fnther would say-and used to have m!
fresh milk and bread, too and, when thi
had disappeared, Willie would draw biz
stool to his mothers feet, lay his head OIL
her lap, and she would tell us some pleas
ant story, it might be of Joseph or David
or some good child, who afterwards be-
came a great man and then she woult
part Miles brown curls from his fore.
head, and in a voice | can never forget
say, Promise me, Willie, whom you q
into the world and its temptations, and
your mother is laid down to sleep in the
churchyard ycnder, promise me, child,
that her prayers and her memory shat
keep you from all evil ways And vii.
lie would lift his laughing blue eyes to
her face and say, III be irst,rate man
don't be afraid, mother And then, after
we had said our prayers, We would 60 to
our bed as happy as the birds that went
to their nests in the old apple branches by
the window, and just as we we're sinking
to sleep, we would hear a soft football on
the stairs, and a loving face would bend
over to see if We were nicely tucked up.
1t is a long time-father would say, after
a pause-since | heard from Willie, but |
am sure that be has never fallen into any
evil ways. The memory of his mother
would keep him from that"
Rap, rap, rap! went the words of the
lady at the door of that old mans heart.
Crack, crack, crack went the door on its
hinges, while far above them both, the
angels of God held their breath and list.
ened. But the lady could only seq the
subdued man bury his face in his ha ids
and VII le bis whole frame shook like an
ali aspen leaf, she heard him murmur,
amid childlikc sobs:
My mother! Oh, my mother!"
And she know the teIrs that were wash
ing those wriGklcl cheeks were washing
out also many q dark page il the record
Of old Bills past life 50, with a silent
prayer of thaukfulness, she resumed
''But there was one scene my father
loved to talk Of better than all the rest.
1t was IN the morning you were married,
Mr.. Strong. 1t was enough to do ones
eye good-ho used to say-to look at them
as they walked up the c~hurch>aisle; be
with his proud, manly tread, and she a
delicate and fragile creature, fair rs the
orange blossom that trembled in her hair
l remember how clear and firm his voice
sounded through the old church, as ice
promised to love. protect and clcri sh he
fair girl at his side and | knew, as he
looked upon her, that the very winds of
heaven should not visit her fair face too
roughly.
"And then my father would tell US
about a house made very bright by watch>
full affections, and Of a dark eyed boy and
a fair haired girl, who came after a while
to gladden. it and then you know lie rc>
moved to the West and lost sight Of you,
Mr.. Strong"
Once again the lady paused, for the
agony of the man I,cIore her was fearful
TO behold and when she spoke again. it
! Was in q lower and more m%ournful tone !:
Il promised my father, previously to his
death, that if even l visited his native
State, | would seek out his old friends. |
kept my promise. But when l inquired
for you, they unfolded a terrible story to
me, Mr.. Strong; they told me of q bro.
ken, desolatc household; of the gentle,
accomplishing wife, who went down with
a prayer on her lips for tie erriug hus.
land. brokeu-hearted, to the grave, and
of the fair~haired girl they placed in a
little while by her side. Oh, it is a sad,
sad story | have of my fathers ole
friend"
at was I! 1t was | that did it all =
| killed them !" said old Bill, in a voice
hoarsc with emotion, as he lifted his head
FROM his claspcd hands and looked upon
the lady, every feature wearing such a
look Of agony and remorse that she shud-
dered to behold it. Wide, wide open
stood the door then, and the lady hasten
ed to pass in. A small hand was laid
gently upon old Bills arm, and a sweet
voice murmured:
Even for all this there is redemption
In the name Of the dear mother that
loved yoi, in the name Of your dying
wife, and Of the dear child that sleeps
beside her, | ask you, sign the pledge?''
81 WILL" said old Bill, ani he brought
dowo his hand with such force on the
pine table that its rheumatic limbs hardly
regained their equilibrium, and he eager
ly sized the pei and pledge the lady
had placed before him, and when no re-
turned them to her, the name WILLIAM
STkoNd lay in broad legiblc characters
upon tho paper.
There wa an expression. ludicrous
from its extreme curiosity, on the bar,
keepers face, as the lady passed quietly
through the shop after tho long inter.
view with old Bill and the expression
was in no degree l~esseued when, in a few
moments after, old Bill followed her,
without stopping, as usual, to take his
first glass. And HE NEVER PASSED OVER
THAT THRESHOLD AGAIN.
And now, reader, you whose heart
throbs with tenderness and reverence for
~