The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1884-04-30
IN THE WINDOW.

"I'll keep the light in the window,
Sandy, till you come back"
Never mind, mother" said the
boy, standing at the door in an un-
certain. sleuching Kind of way, II
might be late. "
Its dark along the line" said the
mother, "and bit of candle light
would be illspared if you got tum-
ble by it. I'll keep the candle burn
ing till We come back.
She was a dfeatured Scotch
woman, healthy and active, though
no longer young, and as she talked,
che worked on, ironing the linen she
had washed and starched, and heap
ing il. like a snow-drift, in a great
basket beside her Four other chill
dren were in the room, girls and
boys, too young 10 do much for
themselves, but Sandy was eighteen,
tall, handsome fellow, with ripe
lips and cheeks, and dancing eyes.
at Sandy only would have been a
little steadier." toe mother often
sighed but to be steady" was not
Sandy's forte. Of, ever and always
to the river side, where other loung-
ing boys watched the boats come In
at the ferry, or plunged stones into
the water for village pet, the great
Newfoundland, "Whiskers" by name,
to fetch" No harm in that, the
mother thought, if the boys had all
been good but, evenings. at the
stores, they were worse; and the de-
cent washer wowan shivered as she
listened to her boys homecoming
step at nights, lest some day he
should copy Squire Peelor's ways.
and drink too much. Squire Feel
or's boys were her terror, though
they were thesons of the richest man
in the neighborhood. But now, as
Sandy stood in the door, so tall, and
fair, and bonnv, the mothers heart
grew light. He'd be sure to settle
down and help her with the BARNS
some day. she said" No doubt of
that; he but bit boy now; and she
ironed on until her work was done,
and then put the candle in the win
dow to light the boy along the lonely
lane at his Homecoming. The can
die burut itself away and sunk into
the socket, and the very wick smol-
dered out, Having only smell and
smoke behind it, and still lit no
Sandy across the threshold of his
humble home. for that night Sandy
had ran away.
The life at home was to hard for
him. The restraints of his mothers
watchful eve irkel him. To do his
OWL will, to have his own way,
Sandy left his home behind him,
but he had grace enough TO re-
member. with pang. those words:
"I'll keep the light burning till We
come back, Sandy"
Some vague hope of being rich
aid doing great things for those at
home. was in his mind, or he believ-
ed so; but a selfish desire
to escape the drugerv and the 1e-
straint, gave the actual impulse to
his steps. He shipped as sailor
the next day, and began in earnest
wild and reckless sailors life.
II suited him. Now and then,
when the storm was at its height,
and far in the distance the lamps of
some tall lighthouse shone like
great red eve, the tiny flicker of that
window sheltered candle would
dawn upon bis memory, and he
would hear his mothers voice. say
ing. "I1l keep it burning until We
come back, Sandy" Now and then,
amid the yarns and songs of the
fore castle merry-rnaking, he heard
the grooming of the tunes she used
to sing over her work-old Scottish
ballads, or perhaps some hymns
handed down from the time when
old Coyenanters worshipped God
and defied man ameng the purple
heather. They never lured him
home to help her. though.
The years rolled on, and even this
sting of conscience lost its paining.
In those days there were no such
things as sober sailors, nor captains
of temperance principles. Hard
drinkers were most old salts, and
most young ones. Sandy drank
with the rest. He grew broad and
stout His cheek was bronzed, his
hair changed its tint, his voice grew
deep and coarse. He was in no way
good man. but he was good sail
or. As the years passed he came to
be an efficer-first mate of the
Aganemnon. His pockets were full
enough for all his purposes. The
sea was better than land to him, and