The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1874-03-13

nearest his own was counting over
the treasures of life ere it surrender
ed them forever
There was no great scene when
the woman died. 1t was at evening,
just as the July fervors was coming
on. She had wept much in the NOR
ming. As the day grew warm she
became very weak and faint, and
was moved by her son from her chair
to her bed, and so died as the sun
went down.
John was alone in the house when
she died. Since his return from
Montreal he had been made to feel
that he had but one friend besides
his mother. He had ever proved
true. But John did not like to
trouble his one friend, who lived
two miles away, to come and stav
with him during the night. So he
lighted a candle, took down from a
shelf little Bible and hymn. book
that he and his neither had carried
on an average about four times a
year to q school house used SIS a
church, some six miles away, and
so alone with the dead he spent the
hours in reading and tears and med
itation.
In the morning he locked the door
Of his home and walked 'over to
Pete's. As he met his fried, he said
in a clear voice, but with eyes aver
ted, 'She has gone, Pete; if you
will just take the key and go over
there I'll go down to the lake and
get the things, and tell Downer, and
we'll have the funeral, say on Thurs
day"
Pete hesitated a moment, then
took the key John offered him, and
said, "Yes, John, I will tell my wo-
man, and We will go over and fix it,
and be there when you come back"
And SO John went on his way.
"DoWner' was the minister, and
the things" were a coffin and
shroud.
On Thursday was the funeral
Pete took care to have all the people
of the neighborhood there, although
it hardly seemed as if John desired
/ it. The popular voice, having once
decided it, still held John as muir
derer, and claimed that he was
cleared from the charge only by the
tricks of his lawyer. John knew of
this decision. At the funeral he
was stern, cold, white and statue
like. While others wept, but few
tears fell from his eyes, and even
these seemed wrung from him by an
anguish for the most part suppressed
or concealed.
| He chose that his mother should
be buried, not in the "burying-
ground" at the settlement, but upon
their own little farm where she had
lived. And so in spot below the
rocky ridge, where wild violets grew,
she was laid atrest.
i John spent the night following
the funeral at Pete's house, then re-
turned to his own home, and from
that time his solitary life began. He
took his cattle and his sheep over to
| Pete's, made all fast about his homes
and resumed his boating upon Lake
lChamplain. He fully realized that
he was a marked man. He was ad-
vised, it was said, even by his own
legal counsel, to leave the country,
and to leave his name behind him
but no works influenced him. Firm
and steady in his course, strictly
temperate and just, he won respect
where he could not gain confidence.
{ The years rolled by. Captain
John was still bOatman, and still
, kept his home at the lonely log
house on the edge of the great val
ley. From each voyage he returned
and spent day and night alone at
the old place; and it was noticed
, that a strong, high paiing was built
around his mothers grave, and a
, marble head-stone was placed there,
, and other flowers grew with the wild
violets. Even in winter, when there
was no boating and he boarded
/ down by the lake, he made many
/. visits to the old homestead. His
! figure, which, though youthful, was
now growing gaunt and thin as his
mothers had been, was often seen by
! Pete at nightfall upon the top Of
: certain rocky ridge standing out
! clear and sharp against the cold blue
= steel of the winter sky.
2 John had no companions anC
sought none. The young men anC
J women of his set had married anC
J settled in life; he was still the same
= But there came a change. Elevel
= years had passed since his mOthe
died, and it was June again. Johl
was spending day at the old plac
IS once more. He sat in the door, look
" ing outon the magnificent landscape
e the broad lake and the dim line o
II mountains away across the valley
n The lovely day seemed to cheer thi
's stern, lonely man.
ie Three persons came up the road
n they advanced straight to wher
y John was sitting. One of ther
IS stepped forward, looked John stead
"a ily in the face, held out his hand t
him, and said, "John, do you knO'
y mey
at The voice seemed to strike hir
Is with a sharp, stunning shock. II
iuuiVered, held his breath, stared in
ID to the eyes of the questioner, an
NJ then, suddenly becoming unnatural
cool and collected, said, "Is it yo
d Williamy'
The two who stood back had ONT
Id been Johns warmest friends. The
I'd now came forward and With.suC
ge words as they could command to
II the story of Williams sudden retur
ie. and sought Tor themselves forgivnei
on for the cruel and false suspiciC
le. which had so long estranged the
in from their friends.
elfI John seemed to hear this as or
at in a dream. He talked with Villa
ad and the men in a manner th
w seemed strangely cold and indife
Iat ent, about where William had be-
x voyaging so long in distant seas, al
"a of his strange absence. A quart
lis of an hour passed away. The N,
ri proposed that John should go vi
them to their homes, and said thC
he would be a gathering Of friends the