The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-02-07
The Light in the Window.

'T'Il keep the light in the window,
Sandy, till We come back"
'Never mind, mother" said the boy,
standing at the door in an uncertain,
slouching kind Of way; 81 might be
late"
"Irs dark along the lane" said the
mother, fiand n candle-light would be
ill-spared if ' on get tumble byit. Pll
keep a candle burning till you come
back"
She was a manufactured Scotch wom-
an, healthy and active, though no lon
ger young; and as she talked she worked
on, ironing the linen she had washed
and starched, and heaping it, like a
snOw-drift, in 4 great basket beside her.
Four other children were i'm the room,
girls and boys, too young to do much
forthemselves; but Sandy was eighteen,
4 tall, handsome fellow, with ripe lips
and cheeks, and dancing eyes.
"If Sandy only would have been 4
little steadier," the mother often sighed;
but to be STEADY" was not Sandy's
forte.
OF, ever and always to the riverside,
where other lounging boys watched the
boats come in at the ferry, or plunged
stones into the water for the village pet,
the great Newfoundland, "Whiskers''
by name, to fetch.
No harm in that, the mother thought,
if the boys had been all good; but even
ings at the public house, they were
worse; and the decent washer-woman
shivered as she listened to her boys
homecoming step at night, lest some
day he should copy Squire Peeler's boys,
and drink too much.
Squire Peeler's boys were her terror,
though they were the sons of the rich
est man in the neighbOrhOod.
But now as Sandy stood in the door,
so tall, and fair, and bonnie, the moth
er's heart grew light.
"He'd be sure to settle down and
help her with the BARNS some day. she
said.
No doubt Of that; he was but a bit Of
boy now; and she ironed on until her
work was done, and then put the candle
in the window to light the boy along
the lonely lane at his homecoming.
The candle burnt itself away and sunk
into the socket, and the very wick
smOldered out, leaving only smell and
smoke behind it, and still lit no Sandy
across the threshold of his humble home,
for that night Sandy ran away.
The life at home was too hard for him.
The restraints of his mothers watchful
eye annoyed him.
To do his own will, to have his own
way, Sandy left his home behind him;
but he had grace enough to remember,
with pang, these words:
"Pll keep the light burning till ye
come back, Sandy"
''Some vague hope of being rich, and
doing great things for those at home,
was in his mind or he believed so; but
a selfish desire to escape the drudgery
and the restraint gave the actual i'm
pulse to his steps.
He shipped as a sailor the next day,
and began in earnest 4 wild, reckless
sailors life
II suited him. Now and then, when
the storm was at its height, and far in
the distance the lamps of some tall
lighthouse shone like great red eve,
the tiny flicker of that windOw-sheltered
candle would dawn upon his memory,
and he would hear his mothers voice
saying:
"Pll keep it burning until We come
back, Sandy.u
Now and then, amidst the yarns and
song Of the forecastle merry making, he
heard the grooming of the tunes she
used to sing over her wOrk-old Scot
tish ballads, or perhaps some hymns
handed down from the time when the
old Covenanteers worshipped God and
dehed man amongst the purple leather.
They never lured him home TO help
her, though.
The years rolled on, and even this
one sung OF conscience ceased its pain
ing.
In those days there was no such beings
as sober sailors, nor captains of temper
ance principles
Hard drinkers We're most old salts, and
most young ones.
Sandy drank with the rest. He grew
broad and stout. His cheek was bronzed.
his light hair changed its tint, his voice
grew deep and hOarse.
He was in no way good man, but be
was good sailor.
As the years passed, he came to be an
ofiicer-first mate Of the Agamemnon.
His pockets were full enough for all
his purposes. The sea was better than
land to him, and when on shore he led
that kind of bOisterOus life that drives
the thought of mother from mems
very souls.
He had friends, at least be thought so
men who knew wher his pay jingled
IN his pockets, women who did not blush
TO receive the lavish gifts from the
Jovial sailor.
lie was not niggarily; nay, once he
ilau emptled his last silver into a beg
srirl 81 Vc Il pIellAlSn Deggar-
5i'' anu ne mad gone on three wears
cLulSe shoeless; and during shipwreck.
OF When the Agamemnon found n sister
We EesseI t IN distress, Sandy was bravest of
] Ine ]Drage; but he had never been gen
eroIs SnoIl e enough 10, nor brave enough to 90
otbop UcH ~ ad Ie eastward S var seaport where his
ie ioeiigi ~ Ia iiau lglI the candle burning for
MIN III tne WiIluoW-never, never.
Five years were gone, and Ten .,,s
twenty. anu
A man nearly forty years of age stood
in Sandy CamerOn's shoes-a man VI
had led the widest life under the nooo,'
ashore; a man TO whom fiery brandy
was as water to a child; man who re-.
membered God only in his oaths; when
the Agamemnon came, after long and
stormy voyage, just within sight Of the
ooast within Gi0hf of fhe IIg6fbonsa al