McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1885-04-23

and Benny and herself. Memory
showed her now her sweet brown
haired mother by an open window,
just outside of which her father stood
pruning rose that threatened to
throw such thick foliage across the
window as to shut out the light, while
past them through the airy hallway
and out through the yard to the
orchard Fred, her eldest brother, was
driven by the darling of the family,
little Ben, still in frocks, but often
Boosting of the pants he is to wear
soon.
'Out on the wide, rose covered
porch, a cluster of young girls are
chatting merrily, and their laughter
reaching the woman by the window,
then makes her smile again as if she
felt in their happiness her own youth
renewed,
In the pleasant DINING room the
table is spread for tea, and soon the
family aud the merry girl cousins, who
have come in honor of the day, are
gathered to unite in the enjoyment CT
the good things prepared for them
All heads are bowed moment as the
father lifts his voice in words of
thanksgiving and of prayer. That
prayer comes back to the teacher in
the plain country school house far
away from her loved ones day. The
fathers voice is stilled in death. Lit
tie Ben. and the mother, and even the
merry cousins, full of life and health,
as they then seemed to be, have each
heard the call to the home where it
is always joyful, and the roses never
fade. The teacher believes that Fred.
has joined them there. He went to
the army, while yet the roses of that
June were in their prime, and years
have come and gone, the war is long
since matter of the past, there is
yet no word from the soldier bow, and
hope so long delayed has given way to
despair. There was another, too, who
went out that happy June time to risk
his life at his country's call-one who
was young, and passionate and hot
headed; who because of foolish
quarrel with the girl who loved him,
herself quick-tempered, and little
thinking how far one little angry word
may 90 toward embittering a whole
lifetime, thought would soon pass
away, as many another of their quar-
rels had done, leaving him loving her
as much or even more than ever
went away without one word of peace
or kind good-by, though he still wore
her fair pictured face next to his heart
and she still retained the engagement
ring he had given her.
After days of weary waiting for him
to come sueing for peace, the village
gossip told in her hearing of his hay
ing joined the army and gone away,
and the news fell on the girls angry
heart like seething branding iron.
But then she had her ia her and moth
er and little Ben. at home with her.
Now all were gone. The happy home
gone too. Yet that prayer of the
father for her in whose honor, that
simple feast was spread-her whom
his heart held very dear, and for
whom his soul went out in trembling
earnestness, still lived ON.
Even as it came to her thoughts to-
day she felt as if not alone after all.
Surely the God to whom her father
had prayed was with her yet. He had
promised never to leave nor forsake.
With Him was no changing-no death,
no anger, that so long as life endured
could not be turned away-showing
forth His tender mercy and His love.
No, she was not alone. A sweet
sense of. protection-of comfort-came
to her heart, and she seemed to join
her fathers spirit in the prayer he had
breathed that other day, that God
would take her future into His own
keeping and guide her days according
to His will.
A red rose fell on the desk at her
side, and, looking up in startled way,
she saw face at the window near her
that made her hold out her hands
with cry, uncertain between fear
and Joy. But the great bearded fell
low who sprang through the window
and caught her in his arms just as she
tottered to fall was not uncertain any
longer.
This was his sister May. The one
whom he had sought and sought again,
but could not find until by chance If
there is such a thing as chance-in
passing this little house in the grove
he had found her bending over the
roses with a look that he knew al
though the face that held it was sadly
changed from that of the merry sister
he had left at home so long ago.
There was no school in the brown
school house that afternoon. The
children frolicked in the grove or shyly
crept up to the door and looked in at
the happy pair; some of them even
tiptoed into the school room and
stood listening while the brother told
of the fierce fight that had almost cost
him his life, of the long, dreary sea-
son in the hospital, of other fights
that followed, of time harder than
all the rest when he lay surrounded
by the horrors of Libby prison, of
other fights and other hardships till
the war was ended and he started for
home, only to be overtaken time and
again by sickness, when he must bide
for weeks, sometimes months at some
hospital along his route, as he was
too poor to hire medical care for him
self. Then, of his reaching his native
village at last to hear that all of his
relatives were dead except May and
that she had gone, no one knew
whittier.
..But how did you find me at last?"
asked the happy teacher. "a friend at
our old home" was the answer, ''has
shown me great kindness. He as
sisted me to start in business, and has