The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1890-07-03

should die ter day there amt a single
: heart es would mourn fer me, and there
| amt man er woman er child es would
/ remember anything good ev me.
? "Ye've asked me great many times
, to try ter to be a Christian, deacon, an
, I've told We that the kind o. religion that
{ folks was a gitten generally wouldn't
suit my case. But now I've come to
/ thinkin' If ye can make out some kind
r of cOntract-sOme sort ev an insurance
! mot that kind as is looking fer good
chance in the next world, but one as
/ will make me be lovin' an tender an
: honest by Mary an John an all the rest
now, before l die, 1 want it. An I'd be
, willing ter give a medder farm fer it,
, deacOn-a medder farm an more, yes
more, a deal more, fer | haint done
: right by Mary. I've let her work jest as
hard as if she's poor mans wife. An
, deacon, I'm ashamed ter remember how
l let that dear woman do my prayin' fer
me all the years sence we've been hus-
band an wife. Many's the time I've
walked up in the dead ev the night ter
find Mary down onter her knees pray
ing soft like an still. An I've heard
her askm God to bless her husband an
lead him inter the light. An, deacon,
I've laid there jest like great, lazy
hulk, when | knOwed | orter git down
Onter my own knees beside her an do
my share CIV the askin', because | knew
| needed it a powerful sight morn she
did.
"An' so, deacon, when we fix up the
dokiment, want We ter make sure that
II be bound fast am strong ter try ter
make up to Mary, jest the best that |
ken, all that I've starved out ev her life
AN now there one thing mOre-an
| want this ter be the most bindin' of
all, because ye know it's Mary's dearest
hope-an that is, that l shan't stand in
the way of John an his hankerin' after
bein' minister. An l want the Lord
to get strong grip on to my purse
strings an not let 'em get shet up tight
and kinked into knots when the call
comes ter help along his work.
Now, Dea. Bonus, do ye think ye can
make out the dokiment in the right
kind er fashion, an make it strong
deacon, make it strong an binding?"
Thanks be to God, my brOtherl The
compact shall be written in letters of
living light. Let us kneel, that God may
place upon it his sacred SEAL"
The farmers knees, so unaccustOmed
to bending, almost refused to do him
that service, but his soul knelt in the
depths of that divine humility which
asks no outward sign.
Upon the soft sward, on either side of
the garden fence, the two neighbors
prostrated themselves. The evening
breeze lifted gently the gray locks of
their silvered heads, and while the
deacon prayed aloud, across the hills
came the sound of the village bell. With
slow and solemn strokes the years of
Neighbor GREEN'S life were being meas
ured off. The sound disturbed not the
kneeling suppliants.
When the prayer was ended, and the
bell ceased tolling, Farmer Bell said:
"For life and death. is it, deacon?"
"For life and death, Neighbor Bell"
| When Farmer Bell arose upon his
feet the twilight had shaded almost into
darkness. His ear caught the sound of
something moving softly just beyond
the russell apple-tree by which he had
been kneeling He thought at first it
must be Rover, but he remembered that
he left the dog chained in his kennel. 1t
was some one weeping, but it sounded
more like gladness than tears. 1t reused
the old man, for he knew that it must be
Mary. 1t was Mary.
After the supper had been cleared
away and the last shining pail and pan
for the dairy set to dry-these tasks had
become hurried lest the oncOming dark
ness might force the wasting of tallOw
dip, an extravaganza that Farmer Bell
was wont to disapprOve-weary in body
and sick at heart, Mrs. Bell sat down by
the window to rest. Bitter tears would
start as she remembered the long, thank
lase 1ruIUinn uaarc thrnu0b which Gha
had "toiled without trecOmpense" to make
Josiah Bell rich man. She looked out
upon the hills, watching the darkcning
shadows creep slowly towards their
submits, and thought of her young
life, and of the bright, happy youth that
had been hers. She couldn't help
thinking how its light had been ex-
, tinguished just as relentlessly as the
darkness was quenching the last bit of
the days sunshine.
She thought, too, of John, her precious
boy; and how his young, sensitive soul
was going to be forced to grapple with
work for which he had no heart, Just be-
cause Josiah Bell-his father-her hus-
band, was tyrant and would have his
own way; just because money was his
god, and he demanded that his god
should be worshipped.
The thought would cOme-it was a
wicked one-'What if Josiah Bell should
die? Then these broad acres would be
, Johns and hers to do with as they
pleased. How different everything could
be? They could have their way then,
and there'd be no more drudgery for hel
and John. All! John, her John, the
dear, beautiful soul"
Just then the first stroke of the tOllinl
bell fell upon her ear. 1t reused her t.
! life-tO herself.
|, "What is it? Who is dead? Who il
i the bell tolling for? Can it be tha
4 Josiah-Pve just been wishing it
r oh, my God, can it be that Josiah il
I dead?"
\ She never thought of Neighbor Green
I She remembered that she last saw he
Q husband more than an hour ago goinl
e down the garden path. Had he conn
4 in? If so, where was he?
I She fled to his room. Perhaps he ha'
gone to bed. He often did so Garlic
v than this. He was not there. She raj
r to the porch, then TO the stable, the
g upstairs and down, calling all the while
n vet hearing no return, only the echo o
d her own frightened voice.
q Then down the garden path she fled
n nor stopped a moment, until nearing til
russell apple-tree. she heard a voice
d voice in prayer and there upon his knee
Is could she believe her eyes?-she sa'
m Josiah, her husband. Could it be poi
d sible? Josiah Bell, whose will ha
re never yielded either to the love of viii
Of or children, giving up to God?
I'd She knelt upon the grass; but Josia
m heard not the rustic Of her garments, f
nf his soul was upllfted in the first raptul
mr. OF divine love. The hell tollod U
r. stroke after stroke, with solemn, mea
: ured sound, but each stroke for her wi
II like the music of the heavenly hos
when the plains Of Bethlehem resOund,
of with the news of the Savior's birth.
ak "Are you there, Mary?"
A voice-not JOsiah's Of this moTnin
ho yesterday, or of the long, weary, gras
no ing grudging years of her married life
~ !" but the voice of the lover who had WOO
no ~, her young heart and life.
y eyes, Josiah" she answered, soft
nu "The tolling Of the bell frightened m
bo You were gone so long, was afraid
Inc might be tolling-for-for-you." S
nc nc answered, half apolOgetically and qui
rs timidly, as had been her wont to addrC
os. him.
ssS ''It was, Mary, it was toiling for {
% NE Josiah Bella mean, miserable, {
III tyrant, as hasn't been wuth yer worry
III fer UNI yer lovin'. Mebby ye have
m, any objection ter having new husba
"a "a -one that's goin' TO live for ye an Jo
III" an the rest on 'em, accordin' to
contract I've made with the Lord; If
n ,ad hain't sorry for il, wen have anew W,
te tor din an the deacon here shall tie
60 knot.
" "Here, Mary, give me your right HI
an NAV the Lord hold me Gins ter