The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-04-04
A PICTURE FROM LIFE.
IF. E. Huddle, in Through Mail.1

. His children feared him and shrank away from him when his anger's storm burst in their home, and his patient, forbear. ing wife trembled when he was dis pleased. Loud and deep curses on all he should have loved, broke what might have been the peaceful quiet of his home, and where should have been pleasure, was nought but strife and trouble. For more than thirty years 1t was SO. The patient woman whom he had vowed to love and honor, grew old and subdued, and tue sorrows she had borne and the troubles she had endured, had worn deep funows in her sweet, old face and bent her back unul she seemed far lower in stature than she had been when young l Age lent a violence to his character which it had never known before, and the good woman bowed her head upon her bosom and prayed that she might die. Her children had been driven from home before they were out of their teens, and his heart hardened more and more as the circle around his miserable 6reside grew less.
 The time came when the poor, crushed woman turned upon him and said she could bear no more. He laughed at her pleadings and scorned her weak threats, but her children enforced her wishes and he was cast out to wander here and there upon the earth without home. He had done much evil in the days of his triumph, but he reaped an abundant harvest from his sowing then. S,ili his spirit was not broken. The tyranny of his nature was not yet dethroned, and seeking distant place, where he was not known, he put on the cloak of religion to cover up his sins and pretended to teach a gospel he had never observed in all his life. His zeal won over some of the enemies of former days, who had gone to that new land, and for a time he fourished in his crying hypocrisy and deceit. He preached and sang and prayed, and the weaker mem- bers of his fold pointed with pride to his devotion, but retribution came even while he was at the meridian of his imposture. One day, a stroke ot paralysis fell upon him at a moment when he was calling the vengeance of heaven down upon the heads of unrepentaat sianers. For the first and last time, his prayers were an- swered, and that which he asked, he fully received.
 
 They are taking him home. His hand; have lost their cunning and his tongue is still. The end is near, and while he could never go home to live, she who has sui fere6 so much at his hands is having him brought home to die. They told him when he went away that he might never come back alive, and in the anger ot the moment, he had said it was a lie, and that he would die in that house. Since then, he had rashly vowed to make good his words, and as the train speeded on toward the place from which he had fled a few short years before, he felt triumph in his heart, that it was to be as he had said, though eternal silence was on his lips and his hands could make no sign Ain the wicked thoughts :h.. sa.ged through his brain were not allowed to escape beyond its walls Too bitterly triumphant to be heard, they could no, be spoken-too wildly triumphant to be seen, they found no voice in even signs but the child that sat, humble and for giving, near him, read them in the strange glow of his eyes and shuddered as he thought what suffering the pent up fires must work.
 Nearer and nearer home they drew Now an hour distant-now but half an hour-a quarter-almost there. The strain is too much. The man is frantic in his enforced quietude. Could he but speak-but make single intelligent gest. ure to express his thoughts, he might live on, but no. The hour when heavens pen. alties must be paid for such transgression as he has made, is come. The whistle sounds the last station on his journey He is almost home. His rash made VOW is about to be fulfilled. Slower move the wheels-slower comes his breatn-siower slower still. His eyes roll wildly with the joy he feels in his triumph-not yei won. More slowly still. The raging fire is dying out of his heart and eyes. It's embers glow but faintly now. A strange Pallor spreads over his features-s groan bursts from his unsealed lips-a pleading look creeps into his eyes as his son bends above him and says as he sobs:
 Father, we forgive you. Your heart is softened now, and 1 know what you would say, if you could speak" He smiles in recognition of the thought and looks again into the face of his son.
 Father, you are forgiven" he repeats, land hope-I pray-l trust that peace has come" Another smile plays upon his face and the fires that ragged in his eyes are queHched. They close and he falls asleep-asleep never more to wake on earth. The hard man-hard until a moment before his life was over-has softened and died, and never word was said, but he never reached his home alive. Peace reigned when he had gone away, and peace was there when he had been brought home.
 
 The man of God said over his coffin that he was at peace. His body is, but of his soul, who can say whither it has gone or what it feels in the limitless realm beyond the tomb? Who knows that i, has gone to the right hand of the Grea, Judge, and who dases say it has gone to the leit7 In the great day, all will be known-now, let there be peace in his house and about his grave.
 !