The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1877-12-20
chief; II thought I could tell the story
hut anna-hnw I-nnn,t .,

CuiOlJ tuOuSuI COulu Gell lu0 SlOTy
but some-how-I-can't.''
Mother Meadows had turned her face
away to hide the two slow tears falling
from eyes that had often wept. Lizzy
was looking out of the window, perhaps
at the moon.
The minister sat like statue, arms
folded on his breast, lips fastened to-
gether, eyes fixed as if upon some vision
that troubled him, but the folded arms
heaved upwith the deep chest breathing.
"There, Pm through now," said the
old man, hoarsely, heaving great sigh ;
" there amt much more to tell. We'd
a. given everything we owned, that day,
to have his blue eyes back. Turkey
went for nothing. Benny was broken
hearted. There, there, don't cry, old
lady! You're home this time, and we've
gotgood company to help make us merry.
"But there's a leetle more to tell,
young man. / must clear it all up now,
and don't think harder nor you can help
of me. The Lords forgive me, 1 trust.
Bill wrote me about a-year after, from
the West; said he was doin'' WE'LL l
dare say twas a good enough letter, but
somethin' in it raised my anger, and,
though meant to forgive him, l
thought of how 1 might make him more
sorry. Iwrote him that his mother was
dead-'twas awful, wasn't it? Pll
never, never forgive myself for that.
Don't try to stop me, old lady. Pll own
up the whole, now I've begun. l don't
wonder you look at me, sir. did think
he'd write me another letter; and when
l wrote to him again, STRANGER sent me
word that he'd gone-and there was
what my cruel will did for me. / was
mad; +; my mind must have been crazed.
But it humbled me, sir and who knows
but God may require that poor boys
soul at M hands? not only took his
home, but his mother, from him."
" l think I'll go up stairs" said the
minister, rising abruptly.
"Ah, sir, you're sorry you came to
stay with one who has done so wrongp
"No, no; don't think of it'll Here is
my hand" and he hurried from the
room. The little family. dispersed in ST.
lence.
A bright, glorious sunshine and blue
sky greeted Christmas day. The stran-
ger came down stairs all smiles.
Happy Christmas, sirP" cried the
farmer; Happy Christmas, old lady!
just please to step this way. Here's our
stockings that the child put up. Why,
Lizzy, Lizzy, bless your heart, t0e're moth
ing but children, after ALL There's
yours and mine, and one for the minis
ter. How fat they are! I haven't
laughed so hearty for twenty Christmas
mornings" and he proceeded to pull
out the contents.
"Doughnuts, old lady-and-here
why, Lord help me, here's a pocket
book! and fifty-dollar bill in it? And
here's letterl Where's my specks :?
You read it mother"
"fDear father,'" began the old lady.
"Oh, it's from our daughter in New
York; There's where the money came
from-and Suddenly he turned pale,
as the first few lines were read.
What, from Bill-my boyl Our
boy, old lady-that good-for-nothing
blessed rascall No, mother "-he came
forward with shaking hands" it can't
be-good news, and on Christmas day
Sent the money, did he? Here's hand
kerchief, wipe; wipe your spectacles,
quick. I don't wonder you cry. Pm
crying myself, believe. Will spend
Christmas with usp l can't believe it.
l must be dreaming. When can he
come? There's an express at four this
afternoon. Bill-gone-dead, buried,
years ago-coming if knew-what -
"He's here now" exclaimed the
stranger, in broken voice, crying and
laughing, while with glad shout Lizzie
ran into his open arms.
"Don't hug him to deathr' exclaimed
the old farmer, the tears chasing each
other over his bronzed cheeks; and then
he too held him against his heart as if
he would never let him go. Then he
put him at arms length.
Stand off, my son, and let me feast
my old eyes. Yes, yes, there's mothers
face-not a bit of mine, and Pm glad of
it; for all the heart there was between
us was hers for long years.
"And so you're minister, my boy-a
ministerl the son of my old age SER
want of Godl Now can / depart in
peace. And you forgive me, my boy,
my son, my only son!" and he fell on
his shoulder, weeping.
Freely, father. God, who knows
how hard it has been to keep my silence
till the hour came, knows l forgive you.
Through His mercy l found friends, and
many of these years 1 have been far
away, for the kind man who took me
into his family lived abroad much of his
time. You know / thought my mother
was dead, that your heart was steeled
against me, that -
"For the sake of heaven, my dear
boy, let us talk no more of that. You
are here; my old heart is satisfied"
l wish I could transcribe the quaint
doings and sayings of that day. But
all the words one has at command, all
the fine writing, all the fine thoughts,
could not convey an adequate concep-
tion of the happiness that made that
household brighter than kings palace
that glorious Christmas day,