Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1874-06-04

"ln that house." he replied, point
ing to fine brick house.
"And your mother, does she live
there too?'
"Yes ma'am," he replied; then af-
ter moments pause, he continued,
''do you know my mother?"
Il think that 1 do"
"Won't you go in and see herp'
said the little fellow, politely.
/ thanked him, and followed him
up the steps, went in and sat down in
the parlor, while he ran upstairs, as
he said, to tell mother that lady
wanted to see her. My heart beat
quickly, l knew not why, but was
very much excited. In a moment
more she whom 1 had known in such
an humble condition, entered the
room, in a calm, dignified, and lady
like manner, dressed with the most
scrupulous neatness and good taste.
She recognized me in moment, and
fastening forward, pressed both my
hands in her own, and kissed my
cheek. Tears coursed down her still
handsome face, and / think my own
eyes were full of them.
will not keep the reader in sus-
pense, any more than l would allow
the widow to keep me so. learned
that after about years absence, her
brave boy, Horace, had crossed the
plains to the Pacific, with a company
of California engineers; that with
the impetus of duty constantly in
his mind, love for his mother, and the
recollection of his fathers dying
words, he had worked with the spirit
of a man. Extraordinary success
had crowned his efforts. The miners
learned his story, and afforded him
protection, advice and kind assis-
tance. He was strangely successful,
even beyond his most sanguine hopes.
So attached had the miners become
to him, that they made up a purse
for him and sent him home the short
est and quickest route, free of cost.
And when he arrived at Louisville,
he had, with a few diamonds pur-
chased to Tighten the weight of the
gold, the value of eleven thousand |
dollars.
''Oh, it was not the money, am
sure it was not the money that re-
jOiced me so much, but it was the
means whereby to keep my dear Hor-
ace with me, and to feed my chill
dren."
The widow wrote once more an i'm
ploring letter to her father. He had
removed to Boston, and found him
selfgoing, step by step, childless and
to the grave. Perhaps,
too, the widows story touched him,
now that the boy had so nobly
sought for and obtained relief for his
and, perhaps, too, he was in
fuenced alas, poor human nature!)
by the fact of the ample means she
possessed for their wants for long
time to come. At any rate a favor
able answer was returned to her last
letter, the family came and were kind
ly received. A house was taken, the
grandfather came to live with the
widow and her children, and their
home was serenely happy one.
And thankful is the heart of the
whose nightly prayers ascend
to heaven for the past, from a grateful
bosom, and with hopeful beseechings
for her children's future.
l saw Horace, and a few words
from his mother explained our ac-
luaintance. His fine, manly form,
scarcely yet t-of boyhOOd's frame,
,welled with emotion, and his lips
luivered for a moment as he adj
Vanced and took my hand.
81 need not tell you, madam" he
said, "that your name and kindness
ire too indelibly engraven on our
hearts to be forgotten"
Let me draw the curtain over this
gleam of sunshine that closes my
story.