Barton County democrat. [volume] (Great Bend, Kan.) 1885-1915, 1891-04-23
CHAPTER I.
ONE SUNDAY.


g., 5 7sn9Hs sysr o sas
2% the quiet valley
of the Muskin-
gum. with its sleepy agricultural vii
lagos and pleasant homesteads. Even
the hamlet of Interchangeable last
place in the world where you would
have looked for excitement-was on
this holy day in unusual commotiOn; and
the scene of this mental disturbance
was, of all other places, the village
church, a building whose walls had
never, since the early settlers had first
hewed it's rafters from the virgin forest
trees, resounded to any thing more stir
ring than a condemnation of rural sim
ners or an invocation to a godlier life.
The pulse of the place was throbbing
at fever speed, and the reason was that
Rev. Josiah Brentwood, the aged pas
tor, was preaching a war-sermOn. 1t
was not that the people were lost in as
constituent at the peaceful old mans
discoursing such a subject, which
could hardly have seemed more odd to
them than if one of their own sheep
had suddenly turned to rend them, but
that the burning eloquence of one they
had loved, but had never suspected of
the power of oratory, should stir them
to such enthusiasm was indeed a matter
of wonder.
The congregation of petty merchants
and farmers, with their wives and
daughters, sat in their pews spell
bound, while with graphic simplicity he
told them the story of the civil war,
now in the fury of it's first passionate
outburst. His fervid description, his
80 - 4
them with an emotion they had never
felt before. And when he told them
that cruel as war was, there was time
when the most God-fearing Christian
must grid his loins for the fight and
leave the tender ties of home and
kindred to serve his fatherland, the
sacred character of the spot was for the
moment forgotten and little storm of
applause greeted his glowing words.
For an instant the preachers eyes
rested on the figure of a young man;
and he was panied to see the youths
handsome face flush scarlet and his
eyes droop before his glance in an
agony of shame.
Poor Frank BeSant! He had taken
every word of the sermon as reproach
to himself; for while all the lads of the
neighborhoOd had shouldered a musket
and gone to the front, he had remained
at hOme-nOt from any fear of the
dangers OF the battlefield, but because
the gentle woman, whose hand was now
uervOusly clasping his, was his widowed
mother, and he was her only child and
the idol of her heart.
Every word of the discourse had fall
len like a drop of molten lead in his
ears, tingling them with sense of unde-
served shame; yet, if he could have read
the thoughts of the few who really had
him in their minds, he would have been
solaced to know that they We're only
moved with great pity for the mother
they were assured was so soon to be
bereft; for none, who were intimate
with him, doubted what the end would
be.
She knew it, too.
. AS she clasped her loved ones hand
she turned on the pastor eyes full of
a bitter remOnstrance, insomuch that
the good man hesitated and stammered
under her appealing glance, and only
recovered himself with an effort for the
continuation of his address.
The sermon ended at last, and the ex-
cited congregation, after the manner of
country folk. fingered awhile to ex-
change ideas-chiefy, in this instance,
unreliable news from the seat of war
hurried fussily away to their homes.
Mr.. Brentwood did not occupy the
parsonage, but lived in his own home
stead, pretty farm house, well out on
the outskirt of the village. near where
the river wound its way out of the or
chards into the holder scenery Of the
mountain lands. 1t was quiet, retired
49, 1a h
its Of it's occupant, who was far bet
ter read man than his parishioners had
any idea Of His household was small,
consisting simply of his sister Ruth and
granddaughter Grace = the former q
lady of uncertain years and temper,
whose periodical fits of irritability were
compensated for by splendid qualifica-
tions as a housekeeper and strong at
lection for her brother, whom the neigh
bors said she ruled with a rod of
iron - the latter a sweet girl of
eighteen, whose radiant smile and
winning ways made sunshine in
the old mans house. She was the &C
knowledged village beauty trife
short in stature, perhaps, but with a
form exquisitely nodded, expressive
eyes, which spoke with every glance,
healthy complexion that let the
blush quickly suffuse the cheek, yet
which had nothing of the pink-and-
white hectic loneliness so dear to lady
novehsts, q small, soft hand, a low,
musical voice and an utter unconscious
ness OF her own undeniable prettiness-
in fact, sweet, strong. pure-minded
girl just poisoning into promising
womanhood- Grace was the old mans
grandchild, the orphan daughter of his
only SON, who had died with his young
wife ten years ago.
The Sabbath-day's work was over, and
the minister was on the point Of retiring
to his wen-earned rest, when a sharp