The Russellville Democrat., 1877-07-26
THE BOY HERO.


 teenth of December, that little Paul Lavere sat by 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 peculiar compression unusual in one of his years. He was small in stat ure; but with much nerve, and de- eison 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 great armchair, sat his mother. She was pale and thin, and the low, deep, hollow-throat, told too plainly there was need of physician. She was not over five and thirty, though, like Ter boy, she looked older. The lines of care and sorrow were deep and long.
 The furniture of the room consisted of 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. It had been her father's musket, and he had carried it bravelv and honorably through the blood stained fields of rren. ton, Princeton, Brandywine and Ger mantown; and when dying he gave 1t to his daughter. The poor woman clupg to that as the last memento of her better days.
 Paul." spoke the mother, in weak, faint tone, "is there no more wood2"
 can easily get some, mother, when you are able to spare me. l have some gathered up by the roadside near the pond"
 "Then you may go now. I shall get along very we'll 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; 1 can beg more. am used to it now"
 This was bitterly spoken---thi 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.
 It was toward the middle of the after. noon that the door of the cot was opened and two men entered. One of them was MT. Notworth, the owner of the dwell- ing. He was tall, slim man, with sharp, angular features, thin, grizzly hair small red eyes, large mouth, and mar row, contracted brow. He was hard cruel man; unieeling 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 J Thus spoke the landlord, in harsh, i'm perative tone.
 "Oh good sir" the widow returned clasping her thin, white hands, and rais ing them toward him, "I am not able te move now. Let me stay here yet awhile longer"
 Can you pay me the rent2" asked Notworth, harshly.
 Not now; but perhaps Paul may fino work"
 And why hasn't he found worl already?"
 Because he could not leave me, sir l have been very sick, and should hav' died but for his attention. Oh, sir, le us stay"
 No; not another nour! I am not t, support all the paupers in the townl have family who wish to move in her at once. You can go to the poorhouse
 Alas we must come to that soon
 had hoped we might escape that---l ha' hoped it for my poor boys sake. ha'