The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1883-11-23

But Reuben did NOT answer, or ever
make the slightest movement. With his
face white and stony, his hands dangling
help&essly beside him, he sat in the remot
est corner, staring out upon them with g
| vacant, unmeaning stare.
"Reuben, what's the matterf' elmosi
screamed the frantic woman. "Are yot
sick-desd-frozen? Oh, for Heavens
| sake, speak to mew
Slowly and almost mechanically he arost
from his seat, and clambered out with fee
bic, lettering steps.
| "Reuben, Reuben-speak TO mew con
tinued Lisbeth, grasping his arm. fiercely
"Where's Simeon-why hasn't he com'
homer"
"He's goneHhe'll never come home any
more! never, never" said the old man in
coherently, grouping with his hands in th'
pockets Of bis coat
"Gone, Simeon gone my boy nevel
come home any more! What do you mean
| Reuben"
"Here it is" he continued, In the sam.
wandering tone; "here it all is! Hell
| never come home any more"
ing hand, and following his pointed finger
read in the deepening twilight:
! "By telegraph from s.. The steamer
Ocean Queen, that left this wharf at sir
O'Clock this morning, took fire on the pas
sage Although prompt and vigorous
efforts were made to rescue the passengers
| owing to the suddenness of the catastrophe
| only two were saved"
Simeon was one Of them: be was one OF
the two," she said, her face blanching, and
! her lips growing rigid.
"No, no-Pve seen 'em both; he'll never
| come home any morew
"What is itT" cried Lisbeth, still uncon
| scious of the dreadful truth, her voice drop.
ping down to a tone of piteous entreaty,
Hwbere is Simeon-where's my boyi tell
me he's not dead, l can bear anything
else"
But Reuben did not answer, for the tears
rolled over his wrinkl.d face, and it was
enough.
The storm swelled higher and higher, and
towards midnight ragged around the little
New England cottage with appalling fury.
The hickory fire had burned down to a few
Pickering embers, which threw a fitful glow
over the Thanksgiving table, and over the
bowed heads of the three disconsolste
mourners as they sat there in their terrible
desolation.
This was their Thanksgiving Day, began
in hope and joyous anticipation, but ended
in the very blackness of utter despair.
"Oh, can't stand it," sobbed Lisbeth;
81 can't, can't; it's el-wicked-wrong.
He was all l had-my only child-my
darling, precious boy that never gave III.
old mother cross word or caused her n
moments trouble in her life; my baby,
that used to sleep in my bosom and lay his
little head against my cheek-an' now he's
in the river-in the cold, black water, and
we're here, living, thinking, breathing by
the warm fire. Oh, l can't stand it, Icant;
l wish could die and end my miseryT'
Reuben was too deeply affected by this
sudden outgush of a mothers grief to
speak a single word Of comfort, and his
own heart was too deeply wounded. For
few moments the three sat side by side
in sorrowful silence; then the old man rose
up, and taking down the family Bible,
opened it and read: "Come unto Me, all
we that labor and are heavy laden, and
will give you rest"
Precious, life-giving words. We read
them night and morning, and hear them
Sabbath after Sabbath from the sacred
desk, yet never know their full meaning,
their true consolation, until some great
calamity sweeps away every earthly prop
and stay, and we have nothing else to lean
upon. All this was felt in that little New
England cottage, as the old mans voice
rose up like signing breeze in the din Of
the winters tempest, and on the great
surging deep of their hearts fell a sad but
peaceful calm.
Still the storm ragged on; the winds rose
and fell and whistled round the gables,
driving the snow before them in great
freezing drifts. 1t would soon be morning;
rose and gold and purple would dapple
the eastern horizon and dispense the storm
and darkness; but over the night of their
desolatioh no morning would ever break.
Was that a step on the snow or only the
voice of the tempest? A step surely, for
it comes on, crunching through the freez-
N ri md In cfx xx-ifh
quick, determined sound. And now there
is rap, short, sudden and eager.
Reuben rises; it is some OF the neighbors
with tidings of the lost steamer; news
that the body of his boy has been found,
perhaps. He opens the door-the wind
sweeps in, bringing with it a cutting
shower of sleet, and also happy, hopeful
face.
How are you, fatheri"
The resonant voice rings through the
silent gloom like peal of sudden joy.
The old father hears it, and falls forward
in his sons embrace; the poor mother
hears it, and rushes forward half frantic
with delight; Faith hears it in the solitude
of her little chamber, and hastens out, her
sweet face alternating between smiles and
tears.
ooh, Simeon-oh, my good bcy!-they
told me you was dead, drowned, lost in the
river; they wanted to break your old
mothers heart, but you wouldn't let 'em;
you've come back, Simeon, never to leave
me again."
"Never to leave you again, motherhood
willing" He held her to his bosom for
and then went round to where
Faith stood.
SNOW, father and mother" he said, his
voice vibrating with suppressed emotion,
as he took the young girls hand, "let me
tell you of my deliverance-for deliver
ance it was-from the jaws of death. 1t
was Gods providence first, and next to
that Faiths little Bible. She gave it to
me the morning We parted, and it proved
q precious talisman. / went on board the
Ocean Queen, this morning, with the rest
of the poor passengers, but just as she was
leaving the wharf, found that l had left
my overocat hanging on the railing ON the
bridge. l didn't care for the coat, but
Faiths little Bible was in the pocket, and
l could not part with that, so l jumped
ashore just as the boat pushed Off. And
now father" he continued, turning to the
old man, who sat in his leathern arm chair
with clasped hands and streaming tears,
II will now say, with your permission,
that which my heart has long felt. have
in my efforts, even beyond my
most ardent expectations; in the far West
a comfortable home awaits us, surrounded
by fertile acres sufficient to yield us all we
need. love you, Faith, l have always
loved you, ever since that winter night
when mother brought you home to be my
little sister. Be more than sister now-be
my wife, Faith?'
The auburn head went down upon his
like flash of sunlight. Lisbeth
stood in silence, unable to comprehend the
scene, but after while the happy truth
burst upon her, and she clasped her arms
about them with joyful cry: "My own
precious children, and we shall all live to.
sether, and never part again, shan't we,
SimeonH'
'Never part again, mother, until death |
parts us" said the young man, solemnly. |