Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1879-01-01
A Bit OF Life.
"wAIr A WEE AND DINNA WEARY"

"wAIT A WEE AND DINNA WEARY"
/" He that is now able to possess his soul in pa
tience shall eventually possess all things"
"In all my troubles and temptations |
have lost more by losing my temper and
patience than even the much | have lost
by the trials"
1t was Miss Ray who said this. l had
become acquainted with her full two
months before, up among the Berkshire
hills, where we were staying in one of the
dear old farm-houses of that locality that
so Hospitality open wide their doors to city
wanderers, who, with the coming of sum-
mer, like birds fly countryward.
knew just the outline of Miss Rays
story merely that she was an orphan, Il
teacher in the public school in II town in
New England, and that for years every
summer time she had sought this farm
house for rest. She was middle-aged
person, with quiet, composed manner, u
gentle, pale face, and voice soft and
pleasant, like a low song; yet, till she ut
tered the words about patience, l had not
specially noticed her; but they straightway
attracted me- though | never thought to
approach close to her heart as | did the
day before we parted. 1t was toward twi-
light; we had been searching for ferns and
grasses; weary at last, we had sat down
on u moss covered stone by the roadside,
and it was then and there that we talked
together of many things, then and there
that she told me this simple story-com-
monplace enough, doubtless:
81 was only young rl,"-thus she
began" when the news from Fort Sum-
ter flashed through our land, kindling into
action thousands who only needed such
blow to rouse them. My meeting with
Andrew Gray wasa year before that time.
Ii was at the academy ut G. We were
young things, with no thought that in Il
moment Il shadow could come between us
and the sunshine of our gladness.
'The world was boundless, for we did not know
And life poem, for we had not sung
After six months we parted, and there
was no spoken word of promise; yet we
knew each others story-we knew"
And the light in Miss Rays eyes grew
tendcrer rs her fingers rested caressingly
on quaint ring, the only ornament she
wore, while she said: "Just before we
parted, Andrew Gray named the stones
in my ring, calling the ruby, rosy and
warm, Love, and the pearl that shone in
the centre then, be called that Hope.
1t was so strange, my losing it when |
did-my beautiful pearl of hope-so
strange. Wait, and | will tell you. We
made no promise in parting, repeat, but
knew | was to wear the golden, jewel
starred circlet till we met again-and
have worn it ever since-ever since"
III e;1o
while Miss Ray stopped to pick daisy
from nodding clump growing close by
the roadside, and unconsciously as child
she pulled one after another the fringed
leaves from the flowers golden heart.
Presently she continued: eve did not
meet again there was letter sent, never
received, Il mystery, and then that Sumter
blow.
Both of my brothers enlisted in the
northern army, but Andrew Gray's home
was at the south, and his place was among
the ranks of his own people," And again
Miss Rays right hand caressed the ring
she wore on the left, and she never ceased
caressing it during all the rest of her
story
1t was the year 1862; a Sabbath morn
ing in September. Never did the world
seem more beautiful remember it all so
well-and somehow, since that day Gods
world has never seemed so fair II place.
could not tell why, but Andrew seemed
so near to me that morning. | almost felt
his presence, us one feels the nearness of
IL friend expected the next hour. Was he
near? Do earthly miles separate hearts
that lovcp'
Not waiting for reply, Miss Ray contn-
ued: "Afterward they told me that
coudless sky had bent, too, over Maryland
Heights that Sabbath morning, even
though the day before the air had been
thick with smoke, and had palpitated
with the roar of cannon and muskelry. A
cloudIess morning, but at noon-time again
the wild tumult rent the air, and before
nightfall all through the broad land hearts
were aching and eyes were weeping, so
quickly the story of that battle winged its
way.
| 1t was at noon-time that | stood in the
sunshine with the fingers of my right
hand resting as they rest now, on my ring.
| know every stone was in its place then,
but at night, when | felt it again, with IL
wild hunger in my heart for the comfort
of its mute panionship, my fingers
rested on vacant place. the pearl, my
gem Of hope was gone, and never found
| il, though searched and searched every
step of the way l had trodden that day
And then followed years of waiting, years
of learning patience. was such n slow
scholar, | seemed to spell the lesson back
ward. seemed TO forget that | never
could learn the lesson till faith and pit
tience met; and there is only one place
where they can meet, just to I, st in Christ.
! was such tired thing then, so rebcllious.
| tluttered and beat against the door of the
ark of safety, but at last found the green
olive -submission-and then flew
within the shelter of the ark. 1t was after
the war was over that there came sLruE-
ger to me-a soldier. l straightway knew,
Tor one coat sleeve hung empty. Not long
did it take him to tell the history of that
day on Maryland Heights-not long.
We fought on opposite sidcs,' he said,
but we fell close together. lie was NOR
tally wounded, but he fingered long enough
10 tell me your story. He babe me bring
this-I found it in the bullet pierced pock-
ct Of his coat-and he bath me to'-but |
cannot repeat the message. When the
soldier went away he left in my hands II
torn, blackened thing, but knew it was
the picture of myself"
Just smothered SOB, II culver of pain
through the cold hands over which held
my own, II long silence, and then Miss
Ray S voice again, calm and low, saying
f." 1t was strange that the pearl of hope was
lost out OF my ring and out of my life The
same September day-strange; but life is
full of such condolences. DO they meat
anythingP We cannot tell now, but whei
its enigma story is plain, then l think We
will know-I think we will. WAS tha
brief time of loves young dream wortl