The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1878-12-26

The young man had entered softly,
and now stood by the door, like one in
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, STRIP
The question was not untimely, fol
he who stood by the door had turned
almost CHASTITY white, while the mus
cles of his mouth worked.
"Cold, amt you, sir?" asked The
farmer, going toward him. "Comt
up to the fire. Lizzy, turn him 3 cur
of hot tea. I've noticed that minister.
amt gin'rally warm-blooded people
not like us, mean, who chop anG
hoe. and plant and dig"
By this time the young man had near
" recovered his c0mposure. He tool
his seat at the table. asked q blessing
and this time his voice sounded not
only musical, but tremulous, as if there
were tears very near it. But no ono
noticed it but Lizzy, who sat behind
the tea-urn now, and. fear, thought Of
nothing but the minister, who in his turn
seemed to have eyes only for that ten.
der, 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 basket
on the small stand in the corner.
BLESS me, it does me so much good to
see mother here! I'm that lonesome
when she's gone that I feel like q
feather floating, don't know where
"Father is so used to me-" muir.
INJURED mother, smiling, while the fire
gave the bloom and the look of youth
to her aged face.
"Wel1, yes. if forty years together
makes folks used to each other. You
see one of our children, Ann, is deli.
cate, and mother has to 90 there some.
times; for tell you, after all, there's
no nurse like mother. The Lord blessed
us in daughters, sir. We've got three.
II did hope to have son in my old
age, to take care of things gin'rally.
Or if they'd become something beside
farmers, l wouldn't "a cared. 1t would
"a set me up wonderful, 1 expect, to
have minister for son. Perhaps the
Lord saw it want good for me. I'm
not the one to blame the Lord for my
own folly.
my boys were fine boys, but didn't
know how to treat 'em. Twas 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 l spoiled
'em by being overstrict.
cit makes me ache sometimes to
think how I went on with them chill
dren. Bill, he was the wild one; tried
to bend him, but l broke him, sir. He
was quiet enough. but too fond of his
way. The other was more gentle, and
l had great hope of him. Mother, here,
she used to try to soften my hard ways,
but [ had my own ideas about gov.
ernin', and would carry them out if
died for it. The stick first, the stick
last, and the stick always"
There is better way" said the
visitor.
"No doubt of that, sir. Why, do
you know, when them boys was plant
ing with me, the minute they'd begin
to talk, I'd stop 'em. No talk while
ut work'-that was my motto. No
wonder they rebelled; no wonder they
hated me.'
"They didn' thate you, father" came
from the corner of the fireplace, with
mild emphasis.
"rm afraid they did, old lady, and
can't say l wonder. They loved each
other, them two boys. If one was
whipped, and that one was gin'rally
Bill, the other would stick to him
through thick and thin. I've known
little Benny to git on his knees to m"
for his brother. WE'LL" and he sighed
painfully, "God forgive me. He knows
l thought l was doin' right
"And Benny" asked the stranger,
"what became of him?'
''Ah, sir, Christmas is something sad
to me. Benny was growing up to be
our joy and pride-seventeen years old,
sir, q 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 thing! A good, good lad he was.
He's gone to Heaven. He never give
us scarce any trouble, from his baby
hood.
"You don't ask after the other one
Bill" said the old farmer, curiously.
There was no answer.
''Bill was the one l broke, and the
boy got to hate me. Yes, he did, old
lady, and I'm not going to blame him,
either. see things with a clearer
light now. One day I beat him for
telling ne 6 falsehood, as l thought.
He didn't, though; l found that out
afterwards"
The old farmer shook his head sor-
rowfully, and his pale blue eyes grew
dim. 'pll never forget how he turned
upon me at last. Says he, you'll be
sorry for this some day, father. You've
always been unkind and unjust to me,
and l won't submit to it any longer.
"What! Child of mine to talk to me
that way! Why, 1 don't know but what
if l hadn't been sort of paralyzed for a
minute. and had got hold of him, I'd
a killed him, l was that mad. don't
wonder you shake your head; but they
say an open confession is good for the
soul. Mother, dear heart, she pleaded
and prayed, but vowed I'd beat him
again for that bit of insolence.
"Well, sir, I never got the chance.
That happened at Christmas, too,
Lizzy was baby then. Yes, that
mornin' | found Christmas present
from Bill-he'd spent all his earnings
for months, Ben told me, to get it-but
there wasn't no Bill" tho old voice
faltered. HE left a letter-and in thai
he said-good-by-to all of us, even to
old Susie, out in the stable. You'll ex.
cuse me-" and the, horny hands FUN.
bled for handkerchief; IL thought
cnnld tell tho stOrv-hut Qosno-hnwv