Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1883-05-04

good-looking now. She had bright
alert blue eyes, and pretty soft gray
hair. But there was an air of keen un-
rest about her which could jar on nerves
like strident saw. In repose she would
have been sweet old woman. Now,
she looked and was, as people say, hard
to get along with. jackson Reeds
light burning meant moro to the Lord,
perhaps, than IL did to the sailors.
At five o'clock the storm was fairly
there, and the old lighthouse keeper
had not come home. A heavy tempest
twilight was settling down, and it was
almost time the lamp was lit.
Six O'Clock came, and 1t was darker
yet, and still she sat there alone, her
knitting dropped in her lap. Seven
o'clock, and her old husband had not
come. 1t was quite dark now, and a
terrible night, hot and pitchy, and full
of mighty electric winds and fires and
thunders. A conglomerate roar came
from the ocean as from n den of wild
beasts. Suddenly an awful thought
struck the wretched old woman at the
lighthouse window, and swift on its
track rushed another still more awful.
The first was, her husband had had q
turn somewhere on that lonely road
from Rye. "Turns," as she called
them, jackson Reed had had once or
twice before, but they had never inter-
fered with his duty. He had fallen
down insensible, and lain so for two or
three hours. This was what had hap
thought was her darling. William Bar
stow was out on that dreadful sea, and
there was no light to guide him to port
Strange that she had not thought before.
Yes, it was Tuesday. Was it Tuesday,
Yes, the very day he was going down to
Lockport with Johnny Sower. He was
out on that sea somewhere in boat,
which could not live in it a minute. Yes,
it was to-day he was going. He and his
pretty little wife were talking it over
Sunday night. She was lamcnting,
half in sport and half in earnest, over
the lonesome day she would have, and
he promised to bring her home new
bonnet to console her. Yes, it was Tues
day, and jackson Reed had told Abby
Weaver about it yesterday-that was
Monday. He had forgotten that she was
no longer so interested in Willie Bar
stow's movements, And when he had
told his wife what he had done she
scolded him for his thoughtlessness.
r Yes, it was Tuesday, and he was out
on the sea, and there was no light lit.
Nothing to keep him off these terrible
rocks that the light had been set there
to show. In the morning he would be
thrown dumb and cold where she could
almost see him from her window. 1t
would be with him as it had been with
his father and grandfather, and may be
with his wife as it had been with his
poor young mother. All the strong,
baffled, but not suppressed nature of
the woman asserted itself with terrible
force.
"Oh, my darling! my darling! my
darling!" she shrieked, in voice which
was in itself both prayer and curse.
"You out thar, an all the love in your
mothers heart can't light ye home!
Oh, the black water rollin' over that
beautiful face, an those laughin' blue
eyes that looked at me when you was a
baby, an those black curls I've brushed,
an those lips I've kissed putin out
that lovin' soul! o, Lord! Lord! Lord!
"He's beena good boy" she went on,
in a curious toner as if the mighty ear
of the inexorable God she had half be-
lieved in was become now reality to
her, and she was pouring arguments,
unavailing though they might be, into
it-''he's been good boy; never any
bad habits, never any little mean ac-
tions. There's Abby Weaver, / know;
but look at the face of the girl he's
married. o Lord, love is the same be-
hind q homely face an handsome one.
But while you keep on maxim folks
that think rosies is prettier than pota-
toes, an pearls than oysters, the love
that looks out of q pretty face will hold
the longest an strongest. He want to
blame-O Lord, he want to blame. Alb
by was a good girl, but you made this
one as pretty as a pictur'. He want to
blame, Lord, he want to blame. Don't
drown him for that. 1t amt right to
drown him for that. o Lord! Lord
Lordr'
She sat there shrieking in n strained
weak voice, half in prayer, half in ex.
postulation. The wind rose higher and
higher, and the sea thundered louder
and longer. A new terror seized her
If her husband should recover from the
bad turn which she suspected he had
had, and attempted to cross that bridge
now, he would be killed, too. God
knew what new rents might be in it
When her sitting-room clock changed
out nine, above the roar of the storm
she went into perfect fury of despair.
Down she sank on those old rheumatic
knees that had not bent at her bidding
for the last five years, and prayed as she
never had before.
In the midst of her agony great calm
fell suddenly over her.
"I will go an light the lamp myself -
she said, in an awed voice, can He will
go with me-" Slowly Sarah Reed arose
ON feet that had not borne her weight
for five years. Every movement was
excruciating torture, but she paid nc
heed to it; she seemed to feel it and yet
be outside of it. She realized, as il
were, the separateness of her soul and
her spiritual agony from all bodily pain.
She walked across the floor, went out
into the entry, and groped her way up
the narrow stairs leading to the tower.
She dragged herself up the steep steps
with terrible determination. She slid
apart the slide at the top, and blaze
of light almost blinded her. The ighl
aDds Tit.
Sarah Reed might have foated down
those stairs, upborne on angels wings,
for all she knew. Somehow, she was
back in the sitting-room, on her knees.
Her husband found her there, half
hour later, when he staggered, pale
as death and drenched to the skin, into
the room.
"Good Lord, Sarah, who lit the
lampp'' his first words were.
"The angel of the Lord" she an
swered, solemnly, raising her gray
head. ~y-- -.
~ he'd turn over thar on the road,
bout mile out of Rye. I've jest come
to an got home. Seemed to me !
should die when thought of William.
The bridge is pretty we'll broke up. but
hung on to the side. And, Lord!
when / saw that light burnin' I could
ha' come over q cobWeb. Who came to