The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1877-12-20

sweet face appeared at the door. "Why,
old lady, never was so glad to see any
body before. So AIMS better, is she ?
and you thought you'd keep Christmas
with your old man? Bless your dear
hearth
Lizzy had taken off the gray silk bon
net and wooden shawl, and seated her
mother in the old armchair, before Mrs.
Rolf noticed the extra splendor of the
tea-table.
"It's for the minister, my dear.
We've got live minister up stairs
caught him for Christmas. The deacon
sent him, he's so full, and glad enough
was l, though ne didn't make up for
you, old lady. Why, here he isl''
The young man had entered softly,
and now stood by the door, like one in a
dream.
"Come in, sir. This is mother.
Didn't expect such good luck, for she
went to see our sick girl. I-why, what's
the matter, sirT
The question was not untimely, for he
stood by the door had turned almost
CHASTITY white, while the muscles of his
mouth worked.
"Cold, amt you, sir9' asked the
farmer, going towards him. "Come up
to the fire. Lizzy turn him cup of
hot tea. I've noticed that ministers
amt gin'rally warm-blooded people
not like us, l mean, who chop and hoe,
and plant and dig"
By this time the young man had
nearly recovered his composure. He
took his seat at the table, asked bless
ing; and this time his voice sounded
not only musical, but tremulous, as if
there were tears very near it. But no
one noticed it but Lizzy, who sat behind
| the tea-urn now, and, l fear, thought of
nothing but the minister, who in his
turn seemed to have eyes only for that
tender, placid face, on whose temples
shone the silver curls of beautiful old
age, the face of the dear mother.
Hope you've enjoyed your tea, sir,"
said the farmer, as they drew up to the
fire, and Mother Rolf took her knitting
needles from the little checkered bas-
ket on the small stand in the corner.
Bless me, it does me so much good to
see mother herel Pm that lonesome
when she's gone that l feel like q
feather floating, don't know where"
Father is so used to me" murmured
Mother Meadows, smiling, while the fire
gave the bloom and the look of youth to
her aged face.
"Well, yes, if forty years together
makes folks used to each other. You
see one of our children, Ann, is delicate,
and mother has to go there sometimes;
for l tell you, after all, there's no nurse
like mother. The Lord blessed us in
daughters, sir. We've got three.
81 did hope to have son in my old
age, to take care of things gin'rally.
Or if they'd become something besides
farmers, | wouldn't "a cared. 1t would
"a set me up wonderful, expect, to
have minister for son. Perhaps the
Lord saw it want good for me. Pm
not the one to blame the Lord for my
own folly.
"My boys were fine boys, but 1 didn't
know how to treat 'em. / was brought
up pretty much alone, and didn't know
boy nature. Bill and Benny were
bright little fellows; handsome too;
like my old lady here; but spoiled 'em
Dy Delng OVeISIrlcI.
at makes meache sometimes to think
how l went on with them children.
Bill, he was the wild one; 1 tried to
bend him, but 1 broke him, sir. He
was quiet enough, but too fond of his
way. The other was more gentle, and /
had great hope of him. Mother, here,
she used to try to soften my hard ways,
but had my own ideas about governln',
and would carry them out if died for
it. The stick first, the stick last, and
the stick always"
"Ihere is better way" said the Wis
itor.
No doubt of that, sir. Why, do
you know when them boys was planting
with me, the minute they'd begin to
talk, I'd stop 'em. No talk while at
work that's my motto. No wonder
they rebelled; no wonder they hated
me-"
"They didn't hate you father" came
from the corner of the fireplace, with
mild emphasis.
"Pm afraid they did, old lady, and l
can't say 1 wonder. They loved each
other, them two boys If one was
whipped, and that one wasgin'rally Bill,
the other would stick to him through
thick and thin. I've known little Benny
to get on his knees to me for his brother.
Well" and he sighed painfully" God
forgive me. He knows l thought l was
doin' right. "
"And Benny" asked the stranger,
"what became of him F'
"Ah, sir, Christmas is something sad
to me. Benny was growing up to be
our Joy and pride-seventeen years old,
sir, a fine, manly fellow-when he was
brought home, five years ago to-day, by
three men. In this room they brought
him, sir, stark and dripping, on this
very night, as it were. A weary, weary
Christmas that was, with his dear dead
body in the next room. As full OF
health and fun he was when he went
out to skate with the little girl he hoped
to marry-and-that's the way he come
home. There was a soft place ON the
ice. She was just saved, poor thingl A
good, good lad he was. He's gone to
heaven. He never gave us scarce any
trouble, from his babyhood."
"You don't ask after the other one
Bill" said the old farmer, curiously.
There was no answer.
"Bill was the one 1 broke, and the
boy got to hate me. Yes, he did, old
lady, and Pm not going to blame him
either. l see things with clearer light
now. One day l beat him for telling me
falsehood, as l thought. He didn't
though; found that out afterwards"
The old farmer shook his head sorrow
fully, and his pale blue eyes grew dim
"Pll never forget how he turned upo1
me at the last. Says he: You'll b.
bitter sorry for this some day, father
You've always been unkind and unjus
to me, and l won't submit to it an,
, longer
, What Child of mine to talk to m
that way! Why, l don't know bu
what if l hadn't been sort of paralyze,
for minute, and had got hold of him
, I'd a. killed him, 1 was that mad.
. don't wonder you shake your head; bu
they say an open confession is good fo
: the soul. Mother, dear heart, sh
| pleaded and prayed, but I vowed Z,
, beat him again for that bit of insolence
"Well, sir, l never got the chance