The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1877-07-27
THE BOY HERO.

THE BOY HERO.
1t was on Saturday morning, the ff-
teenth of December, that little Paul
Lavere cat by a low, smOuldering fire in
the only apartment of the cot that had
any furniture in it. He was only thir-
teen years Of age, though his face had an
older look. There were lines of care
upon his high brow, and the neither lip
had a peculiar compression unusual in
one of his years. He was small in stat
ure; but with much nerve, and a de-
cision of character that manifested itself
in every look and movement. His eyes
were bent on the embers now, and he was
in deep thought.
Near him, in a great armchair, sat his
mother. She was pale and thin, and the
low, deep, holIow-throat, told too plainly
there was need of a physician. She was
not over five and thirty, though, like Eer
boy, she looked older. The lines of care
and sorrow were deep and long.
The furniture of the room consisted of
a small table, two common chairs beside
the one in which the widow sat, and one
small bed The rest of the house was
empty. Nearly all the furniture they
once possessed had been sold by the hus-
band and father before he died, and what
few articles he had left, beside these in
this room, had been sold to pay the rent.
OF ornament there was nOne--uniess we
notice the old musket that hung on two
wooden brackets over the door. That
would have been sold long before, had
not Mrs. Lavere clung to it with all
her power of entreaty and prayer. 1t
had been her fathers musket, and he
had carried it bravely and honorably
through the blood stained fields of lren-
ton, Princeton, Brandywine and Ger
mantown and when dying he gave 1t to
his daughter. The poor woman cluDg to
that as the last mementO of her better
days.
"Paul," spoke the mother, in weak,
faint tone, is there no more wood ?"
" l can easily get some, mother, when
you are able to spare me. | have some
gathered up by the roadside near the
pond"
"Then you may go now. l shall get
along very well until you come back"
So the boy put on his cap, and started
off with the sled. He was gone nearly
an hour, and when he returned he bore
wood enough to last through the rest of
the day; and during the morrow. A bet
ter fire was soon kindled, and then Paul
moved out the little table, and placed a
loaf of bread upon it. He made some
tea, and when that was done he asked his
mother if she would eat.
"This is all" he said. Not another
crumb of food is there in our house. But
let us eat !; / can beg more. lam used to
it now."
This was bitterly spoken--this last SEN
tence, and the widow looked for the mo-
ment as though she would chide her son
for it. But the look quickly passed
away, for she remembered that for many
weary, weary weeks he had supported
her.
1t was toward the middle of the after
noon that the door of the cot was opened,
and two men entered. One of them was
Mr.. Notworth, the owner of the dwell>
ing. He was a tall, slim man, with
sharp, angular features, thin, grizzly hair,
small red eyes, large mouth, and mar
row, contracted brow. He was a hard,
cruel man; unfeeIing in the extreme,
and seemed to know of but one incentive
to action ,-and that incentive was money.
The other man was NOtworth's toOl---a
stout, burly clown, ready to do anything
his master bade him, so long as his wages
were paid.
Well, Mrs. Lavere, the other week
has gone, and now l want my house"
Thus spoke the landlord, in harsh, i'm
perative tone.
''Oh, good SIR" the widow returned,
claspipg her thin, white hands, and rails
ing them toward him, 81 am not able to
move now. Let me stay here yet awhile
longer"
'FCan you pay me the rent?" asked
NotwOrth, harshly.
"Not now; but perhaps Paul may find
work."
"And why hasn't he found work
already?"
Because he could not leave me, sir.
| have been very sick, and should have
died but for his attention. Oh, sir, let
us stay"
ono; not another nour l am net to
support all the paupers in the town!
have family who wish to move in here
at once. You can go to the poorhouse "
Alas we must come to that soon
| had hoped we might escape that---I had
hoped it for my poor boys sake. l had
hoped that health might come back to
me, and then my boy and myself might
both work. Oh, we could pay you then
But l am not able to now. am very
sick"
Nonsense you're well enough to go
to the poorhOuse. / have brought my
man on purpose to help you there; he
will haul you on a sled part of the way"
but, siI---the pOor>house is five miles
off! Oh, l could not live to reach it in
this cold weather. Wait until it is
warmer---until | am stronger. Oh, / will
try to get well as soon as l can =;
% / tell you l won't wait another hour
mo, not half an hour! If your husband
was"
ooh, for the love of Heaven, sir, -
grasped the poor woman, clasping her
hands again, "do not speak of him He
has gone to meet his God, and he has
suffered enough"
q Pooh :" muttered the unfeeling
wretch. What do you mean by that
/ say your husband brought We down to
this by his own acts and dye s'pose Pm
a goin' to suppOrC ye? No, no! Now,
out ye go, 9e can go now as well as
ever. tell We the house / must have,
and | will have it, Ye owe me for two
months rent now, and OF course | II
never get it; but ye won't owe me any
more. I've let ye stay here just long
enough---now move :"
The widow bowed her head, and busted
into tears.