Richland beacon. [volume] (Rayville, La.) 1869-1890, 1873-02-01

aoout a. Dau Il young scamp u
ever lived to disgrace honest family y
retorted the old cook, who was sharp IN
hei temper; land as TO ghosts. there,
plenty "'ghosts everywhere. for them a,
has sense To see EN-, Peter. but | don't
think yoH need be afearcd.''
Meanwhile another NOrham tradcSmau
had dropped into the cOtiee-roOm and
Peter, In the intervals Of his attendance
came out and chatted with them in a cheer
fui equality. wherein the sole line of So
cial distinction .ay in his remaining stand
ing while they We're seated.
Real Christmas weather this said
Mr.. Johnston.
But Norham's very dull" answered
Mr.. Lee.
"They're a dead-and-alive set of ppo-
pie. now, - the Norhamites.'' said Mr..
Johnston. who was one himself and would
allow nobody else to abuse them. 1T
used to be different in my young days.
remember II quite gay, what with oxen
roasting To be given in charity. and the
puddingS boiling for the same, and every
body that was anyways connected with
the Church-and everybody seemed TO be
in those dlyS-inyited to tea in the Town
hall. And used'nt there to be fine carol
singing through the streets. And rare
Christmas sermons he used to preach.
the old rector that was in my young
days"
"Ah. that was Mr. Rogerson." put in
Peter directing his thumb toward the
open door. 1--WE just been showing that
gent that bit OF an old sketch up agcn the
wall. He broke the good old gcntlcman's
heart. that young scamp did"
"Ah. yes. and did deal of harm to
Norham every way" pursued Mr.. Johns
ton; "we've never had lively Christmas
since: | remember the first after his 90
ing off. What could people do when they
knew there was nothing but misery in
the rectory house: The town just kept
rs quiet as ever it could, and it couldn't
do less every Christmas after, during the
Old rectOr'S days. And SO it got out of
the good old ways"
Poor young Rogerson," said old Mr..
Lee. IL used TO think there was some
thing gooi in the young fellow for all his
WildneSS, and always hoped he'd right
himself, till he went and did that wicked
hess that set man against him. as well aS
Col"
Il don't know about good or not" per-
! sisted Mr. Johnston, but | know that it
took years and years before his sister
Mary looked up again. Only at last, as
| time began TO thickcn 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 | noticed she was happier
like after that ust 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. /,
MAY 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 a
poor undcr-clerk all the rest of his days,
and has lett his poor widow just to strUg
gle on and get what places she can for her
bows. Such pretty, dainty miss as 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 its real
right side. Il should think what their
uncle did went go against my sons, Mr..
Johnston she said only the other day.
Bless you, Mrs. TOm,' says |, half the
tswn-peOple are new since them Pm
always SO afraid hell come back says
>ht- ia sure tOII l WISH MIN HOt W
repent says she, | always hoped he
wOuld-but can't help thinking of my
own, and for their sakes, I'd rather he
never came back The more peni-
tent 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. ROg-
erson-how she turned against Mr.. Tom.
good dutiful son rs he was. because he
wouldn't stay by Mr.. Dick through thick
and thin, and defend him as if he were i'll
nocent. Poor dear old lady, she knows
better where she's been this many day.
But Mr.. Dick had better wait to ask your
forgiveness 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, lad he returned in ever
such shame and misery" said kindly old
Mr.. Lee.
"Aye, aye" chimed Peter; ~ 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 saw her. She never thought
nobody was looking at her. My old
woman says she always walked reg
ular ameng them green avenues by
the old abbey. where she used to
walk with Mr.. Dick when he was court
ing of her. May be she thought he'd be
sure to go there, If ever he'd come back"
At that instant the stranger came sud-
denly out of the brown closet, crossed the
cOffee-room, left the house. and walked
up the street towards the main quarter of
the town.
That stranger knew a little boy who
had attended many a service in that cathe-
dral-awed by its sweet music, wonder
ing at its white-rObed chOristerS. The
little boy had known every face on the
quaint gargOyles of the ancient chapter
house. and with child-like familiarity he
had given name to each one of those con-
tOrted countenances. That little boy,
muffled in black weepers, had stood be-
side an open grave right under the great
west window, and listened to 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 a little grave any more, for
under the name of Amy ROgerson, aged
four" Is written ALSO the rev. Rlchard
Rogerson, father of the above, aged seven
ty. Also his W fe Amelia, aged sixty
nine. Also their son Thomas. aged for
ty-eight."
oh, little ST ter, 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 and joined the fold
ed lamb of happier times? Oh, little sis
ter! is there any look on the face on 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 lit
tie boys playiellow, the Herons. But
the stranger knew that he could