Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1873-02-20

| rare Christmas sermons he used topreach,
the old rector that was, in my young
days" 49,. .s NJ pooerson !, mt in
| Peter. directing his thumb toward the
omen door, I've just been showing that
cent that bit of old sketch up agen the
Wall. He broke the good old gentle
| mans heart, that young scamp DID,.
.Ah, yes, and did a deal of harm to
Norl.am every way" pursued Mr. john
ston; "we've never had lively Christ
mas since: | remember the first after his
going Oft. What could people do when
they knew there was nothing but misery
in the rectory house? The town Justkept
as Quiet as ever it could, and it couldn't
do less every Christmas after, during the
old rector's days. And SO 1t got out OF
the good old ways"
"Poor Young Rogerson," said old MIR.
Lee. Il used to think there was some
thing good in the young fellow, for all
his wildness, and I always hoped he'd
right himself, till he went and dld that
wickedness that set man against him, as
well as God"
| az don't know about good or not, per-
sisted Mr.. Johnston, "but | know that 1t
took wears and years before his sister
| Mary looked up again. Only at last, as
time began to thicken over the tender
| spots O. grief and shame, she kind OF took
heart. Says she once to my dear wife
that's dead, Mrs. Johnston, our poor
Dick was the child of many prayers, and
I've faith God will keep hold Of him
And then she took fancies that he was
dead. And I noticed she was happier
| like after that-just as one breathes freer
in house after the dearest corpse is
buried AS for poor Tom Rogerson, his
brother ruined him for this life, anyway.
Maybe he needn't, but poor Mr.. Tom was
awful proud and sensitive Miss Mary,
she told my wife that her brother Tom
said he'd never ask people to trust him,
| because he couldn't expect they would,
after his brothers ways, and he wouldn't
| lay himself open to be half-trusted,
and watched, and suspected all the time.
| And so. he that was so clever stayed
poor under-clerk all the rest or his days,
and has left his poor widow just to strug-
gle on and get what places she can for
| she used to be, and now she's wearing an
old rusty silk that's been turned and
| turned, till she's forgotten which is it's
real right side. Il should think what
| their uncle did won't go against my sons,
Mr.. Johnston, she said only the other
day. Bless you, Mrs. Tom,' says I, half
the town-people are new since then.
| Pm always so afraid he'll come back
says she; Pm sure l don't wish him not
to repent says she, 4 always hoped he
would-but I can't help thinking of my
own, and for their sakes I'd rather he
| never came back The more penitent
he is the more he'll stay away, ma'am,'
says /. 1t isn't as if the whole story was
above ground still, and he'd only got to
be forgiven and all would go well, but
there's some that's dead that died in
wrath and bitterness with others for his
sake. Look at poor old Mrs. Rogerson-
how she turned against Mr.. Tom, good,
dutiful son as he was, because he wouldn't
stay by Mr.. Dick through thick and thin,
and defend him as if he were innocent.
Poor dear old lady, she knows better
where she's been this many a day. But
Mr. Dick had better wait to ask your for
giveness till he can ask hers, too. You
forgive him, ma'am,' says |, 'and that's
enough for you but maintain that he'd
have no right to come disturbing your
mind to ease his own.
''There was one that would have been
glad to see him, had he returned in ever
such shame and misery" said kindly old
Mr. Lee.
"Aye, ave." chimed Peter; II know
who YOU mean You know she was on
the charity school committee, and when
the lection board met here, she always
Just stepped in yonder and took look at
that rum picture on the wall She never
thought I saw her. She never thought
nobody was looking at her. Ny old wo-
man says she always walked regular
among them green avenues by the old
abbey, where she used to walk with Mr.
Dick when he was counting of her. May
be she thought he'd be sure to go there,
if ever he'd coined back"
At that instant the stranger came sud-
denly out of the brown closet, crOssedthe
coffee-room, left the house, and walked
up the street towards the main quarter of
the town.
Quaint old Merriam! The winter moon
| light lay clear and cold on its ancient
cathedral, standing in its spacious square
of sombre, stately houses. The stranger
stood still and gazed upon it,
That stranger knew a little boy who
, had attended many a service in that
cathedral-awed by it's sweet music,
wondering at its white-robed choristers.
That little boy had known every face on
the quaint gargoyles of the ancient chap
ter-house, and with childlike familiarity
| he had given a name to each one Of those
contOrted countenances. That little boy,
muff1ed in black weepers, had stood be-
| side an open grave right under the great
west window, and listened to the funeral
service over little sister The stranger
went to seek that little grave-went
straight to it without one mistaken step.
| But it is not little grave any more, for
under the name of "Amy Rogerson, aged
| four" is written, "Also the Rev. Richard
| ROgerson, father of the above, aged
seventy. Also his wife Amelia, aged
sixty nine. Also their son Thomas, aged
| forty-eight."
Oh, little sister, who went so long be-
fore, how much did you know of earth
while you were growing up in heaven?
Was not your father very glad on the day
when he entered rest aud joined the fold
ed lamb of happier times? Oh, little
sister, is there any look on the face of an
angel, whose human heart was broken?
The stranger stood still by that house
hold tomb, and looked around. There
was another grave which that little boy
had known-the family grave of that
| little boys playfellows, the Herons. But
| the stranger knew that he could not find
that grave in the twilight, though he
could have found the way to their house
il the utter darkness!
He crossed the Cathedral Square, and
issued out on Norham High Street. The
shops were very bright with Christmas
| Goods and husy with Christmas trade