Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1875-03-06
A STORM AT SEA.

barns and granaries attached, was tn,
home of the Kennedys of Ashton. L
was the best farm in the town, although
old farmers, coming from rich grazing
counties, sneered at the idea of rails
in anything so nigh on to the sal
water"
1t required all Matthew Kennedy's
sturdy active energies to make it pay
but it did pay beautifully. His father
and grandfather had both farmed this
property; but, in both cases, there
had been meagre return. But Mat
thew did not disdain the helps OF
scientific agriculture as laid down in
the books, nor despise the new i'm
proyements in farming implements
and thus he succeeded, where they had
failed.
His wife, a pretty, rosy farmers
daughter, was truly a helpmeet for
him. They who could procure their
supply of butter from Mary Kennedy
churnlng, were fortunate people in
deed. Matthew was not young when
he married her; for he would not mar
ry while his old parents lived; but
Mary knew that he loved her, and
Matthew was worth waiting for.
Six years after their marriage, when
the farm was giving out the precious
reward of their industry, little An
drew, the first and the last child, was
born. All the rewards of the Kenne-
dys came slowly, but they were full
and rich gifts that the good Father be-
slowed, and this, the dearest. most
precious Of all. Surely, no child ever
fulfilled parents desire more fully
than little Andrew He was no pre-
cocious, sickly child, whose feeble
light flashes up for an instant, and then
is quenched in death or imbecility !;
but a strong, healthy, active, boy, full
of life, having a sensible mind in a
splendid physical Organization-the
inheritance from both farther and
mother.
Open and frank-generous. brave
and good-tempered. no one could see
the boy without liking him. 1t was
Mr.. Kennedy's only boast, that An
drew had never, in his life, disobeyed
her. But great sharp pang was new
ertheless, inflicted upon the poor moth
er's heart by this very boy.
1t came, all along of having a farm
so nigh on the salt water" too; for
Andrew, unknown to any one, had
cherished the widest, most intense
lOngings to try his fate upon that ocean
in sight of which he was born! and
now, for the first time, he announced.
on his fifteenth birthday, that he was
going to sea. His father was disap-
pointed and grieved at heart but he
would not damp the boys ardor, and
thought at any rate, he would soon
sIcken Of his resolution after once
emharking.
Let him try it, DEAR" he said to
Mary, when her fearful eyes showed
how terribly she was suffering.
why, Mary dear, don't take on so.
He is not the first that has tried the
waves and when he gets to be an
East India captain like old Thorndike,
we shall be proud of him"
But Mary saw no consolation. Away
down in the depths of the sea, she saw
in her troubled dreams, the caverns
filled with whitening bones, and the
seashells and floating weeds tangled in
her Andrew beautiful hair. She fell
sick, as a natural consequence but no
martyr at the stake was more courage
Gus. She kept her secret, and no one
knew that she was sick at heart.
She rose from her sick bed, to pack
the sailors seachest with garments on
which she had wrought night and day.
10 transform them in into what Andrew
called sea duds;' while many new
ones grew under her hand. Had An
drew known how his mothers heart
ached, he would have given it all up;
but she made no sign" after the first
few days, and even put on a forced
cheerfulness, rather than disappoint
her boy.
In the very midst of the prepare
tons, there came an awful storm, and
the beach was strOwn with the dead.
Andrew cOnsOled himself that storms
like,that were infrequent; and as the
next morning was bright, and the
waves gllttered in the sun, he forgot
that he had almost resolved the night
before to give up his project.
Dick Armstrong, the doctors son.
had joined in Andrews proposed en-
terprise. He was a wild, reckless
youth, and his father was quite
willing that he should go. He
was torment at home and at school
and the doctor thought the dis
cipline on shipboard would be
the best restraint But Mary was in
terror at the thought of his influence
upon Andrew.
No, no, said her husband, when
her fears at length disclosed them
selves to his watchful eye; Andrew
Is too well grounded in good princi-
pies for Dick Armstrong to influence
him. You know he never has yielded |
to him.
Il know-butwhen they are atsea-"
"Faithless Mary" said Matthew;
is not the same God upon the sea as
upon the land? Do not distress your /
self longer about what may be. but try .
TO reconcile yourself to what must
be
Aud so Mary could only bear her
sorrows where she had carried her .
ioys-to the foot of the Great White
Throne. And the day had come for
TO go. She saw his chest
carried away, with mute anguish: and
before noon she saw the white sails of
the AlbatrOss all set, and her colors
flying in the breeze And she knew
that Andrew was on board. and that
soon, very soon, the waves would be
her and her hearts darling.
Every day of absence froma beloved
)nc may bring sad or anxious thoughts.
out every day is not like the first: and
he kennedys were two sensible
people TO darken their rooms or
hut out cheerfulness from their faces.
because their boy was not with
hem. Somehow, the year rolled
wav. and Mary's ffty-second churn-
NC had been performed, and the great
elbow balls Of butter had come out as
lard and sweet as ever, when she be-
AN to think she might reasonably look
or the AlbatrosS from Calcutta.
She had heard from Andrew. He
ras well and happy, enjoying his sea ;
life With a zest she had hardly expect ,
d. All that was in it was playtully
old in a iest-no brave man would
lind it all. Andrew, my little An
rev a MANI" thought poor Mary; 1T !
not be | must have my
oy again, and not a great bearded I
IAN. can't have it so. And she I
he'd few tears because she had lost {