Woodville Republican. (Woodville, Miss.) 185?-current, 1889-05-25

are all made. The boys have their
small duties laid out; they are made to
understand that if father goes away he
will come again with hands full of
gold-pieces-and a gold-piece is some
thing rare and charming in a child's
eyes.
The last kiss has been given, the last
goodbye waved, but the last tear has
by no means been shed by those who
watch the numbering stage bear away
their best beloved to far away and un-
tried wilds.
Months have passed. The postman,
so seldom seen in the old times. so COM
mon now-has brought loving letters
full of hope. Lam sure they were full
Of hope. never read word of them,
but old and faded out, they still lie in
grandma's stand drawer within reach
of her hands,
So seldom do we realize that the
hands that strangers folded and laid
away out of sight will never more
clasp ours, and the lips that strangers
kissed not in dying will touch ours in
love no more. So seldom do we realize
this that there is no unexpected foot
fall audible to our dreaming ears even,
that does not bring before us our lost
one whose grave is in foreign soil, and
causes us to start awake with disbelief
Of his death.
know a mother Of strong sons and
matronly daughters, whose one son
did not come back from tho war; and
whose sepulcher no man knows. To
this day she springs up from sleep in
the dead of night if strange football
nears the house,
Father, George has come" she
whispers, huskily.
Something Of this feeling, fancy,
clung to grandma, and clings still,
though she has pressed down other
lids, and knows the truth.
But grandma, in spite of her age, in
spite of her hard years of labor and
sickness, in spite of children and
grandchildren, is romantic There is
no question about it.
Do you know what am going to say
nextP All! yes. You are waiting for
me to tell of the letter in the strange
handwriting that the postman
brought. 1t told of short illness in a
new country. thinly settled of death,
with but one friend near; of a grave
in rough cemetery wherein hardly
any yet slept. The date-three weeks
back!
Three weeksl And we have
laughed and smiled and ioked and
worked every day, and nothing told
me / was being hopelessly bereft OF
my dearest and truest. What was l
doing three weeks ago to-day? God
help me! but it was the busiest day of
all, and my heart never told me that
my love lay dying. The boys will
never realize that their father is never
to come home to them as other boys
fathers do"
The following Sabbath the minister
prayed for the bereaved ones and said
some comforting words. There were
no dry eyes as the old-fashioned choir
sang:
why do we mourn departing friendsf'
and the big bass-viol prolonged the
mournful strains of "China" until no
further dirge was needed.
v.
Around another home the birds sang,
the breezes played, but the times were
more recent The loom had long been
silent in the farmhouse. Little grand
mas no longer sang "My Little Her
rim as they sprinkled the linen,
trippling among therows. The naples
are larger and older. The blue flax
flower is no longer seen.
1t is a still country afternoon. In
grandma's new home are gathered
friends of other days; relatives; the
minister who said the words of com
fort years ago; the son grown to man
hood. looking so like his father.
What occasion is thisP
The son, unwilling that his fathers
bones should rest SO far from friends
and kin, has tenderly and reverently
sought them out and brought them
back Slowly up the aisle of the old
church in the wanning afternoon, went
the weeping ones, living over a time
almost forgotten by some.
At the head walked grandma, or the
other husband arm, then the SON and
his little sister. Strangely mixed
"chief mourners," thesel Ay! tho
strangest procession Of which ever
was part.
Tenderly they laid the lost and found
to rest with his kindred Grandma
could do no less than read over her
letters. She read them all through.
vi.
Grandma is still with us; still loves
us and tells US Of things she used to do
and see. She has little face now un-
der a little cap. She has little
smile, little tear for every one in
trouble. little sigh for the past, lit
tie appetite for breakfast and dinner,
] q still smaller one for supper SD