The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1893-11-04


wan TO know
"Oh Abner Abner!" cried Aunt
Tishy softly in the pause 1T does
seem as # couldn't stand it"
"NeIl, We amt got to long" oaid
Uncle Arad, with ah eye 90 comfort.
"Ono day with the Lord S II thousan
year"
That's jist the way Il seems to me-
said Aunt Tishy, with n nervous catch
IN her voice very Ike q laugh. ut
seems u thousand years now since he
passed away"
There was q long silence, which the
clock improved with cruel strokes.
"a thousUn' years like one day--a
thousan' years like one day" mused
Uncle Arad. "'rwas techin' to 20
into that room an see him lyin'
there so still. His hand was holdin'
on TO Grace's. an she y kneein' there
by the bed. I couldn't help it il I'd
died tort. / baw.ed like baby. So !
he'd to leave. ! went out into the little
hallway, an felt in my coat.tail pockets
an not a han kercher there
"Wcll!" said Aunt Iishy, rousing ana
holding on BY the chair arms, you l@d
two clean ones ioldedup in your breast
pocket. | put EN- there myself, for !
thought likcly's not you'd need EN-.
Didn't you get round to EN- p
"Well, no, to tell the truth, said
Uncle Arnd meeRly. But ] looked
into my hat that was s,andin' on
chair, lar the red baudauuer, au used 1t
ont there. Didn't seem the thing in
house o mounin'. After spell they
got her to 20 down stairs with me, and
we he'd a talk all alone Or guess
twas me. She was Just like Il stun.
But that sort 8 got ieeIin'. I've seen
Aunt Rachel ies' SO. III you hadn't a
known her, you'd thought she didn't
care n cookie. told her we'd reckoned
GU Auuer's doiu' veil, an set forth to
'er how we'd left i'm the helt OF our
prop'tv, 'longsideo o whatJess give us, an
now 'twouid 20 to her. ! thought she'd
be real U.cEled an think uebbe, twas
lest as she'd caPc'lated. But the maj
in thing was, she said up an down she
wouldn't hev' it. Not uppish you
know, but jist sartin in nor own mind.
Twas SO sudden | kind o ketched my
breath. She SAID u all she wanted was
to carry his name longs she lived. And
she'd got it. For the rest part she
could make her own Twin. That's the
glst Of her remarks, nign's ! recoIlect.
Long ia the course o the day our
parsou come in agin. an told me more
about itN lie said how Abner'd alIays
felt about marvin her, only sue
wouldn't. She thought he was bound
TO DO somethin' great in the world, an
she wouldn't hender. Then he Jest
reached out for her hand-teebIe-an'
shet his ewes like goiu' to sleep peace
iul, an sthed Uncc-only once. An
she dropt down on 10 her knees the
way she does in church, holdiu' his
hahd all the time, an says she, clear
an slow, 4 believe in God the Father
Almighty, Maker OF heaven an earth
They all stood round, the parson an,
the doctor, an mother Hyatt, an
didn't know what on earth they was
Nagoin' to do. An then come in.
Next day forenoon she made all the
arrangements for the lun'ral and every
thing, out OF her own head, an nobody
darst say rs, yes or no. She told our
parson that night when ne set up with
him, that all along she'd felt 'twaut fair
an square o the Lord to make that boy
hey such tough time. till she didn't
know but what she'd get to be an unbe-
iiever. But now twas nil right. she
was sartin he'd got somethn' ahead oil.
him twas OF more account N anything
he was likely to do here. Otherways
'twould hev been sort OF insult to
I'm. That's the way it looked to her,
y'see. She allays was queer, a leetle
oil d we say, but mcbbe no harm int.
There Want any Intended That | will
say, il twas my last words.
An there SHE sot in church that
day--the Wilder Geddie-think ont!
Jes' like statoo, in her black veil an
Uunnit; the men Il snitln' an the wo.
men folks all cryin' an talKlu' on.
Thinks TO ne, On Absalom, my son
Absal0m; oh Absalom, my son, my son!
Would God had died for thee, OH ABB
salon, my son, my SOM An when
thev come to lay i'm alongside Aunt
Rachel, seemss ii I'd tumble right III,
too, an he done whit Not much
sense in MY cumberin' OF the ground
an him gone"
"DId you want to leave me all breath
ing alomeY asked Aunt lishy, o little
hurt.
1t was dark when we came away and
crossed the green, shudderlng nncon.
sciously at the thought OF what lay be-
fore ua We had not seen our friend
since that memorable day in church.
She had been ut Abner's clearinghouse
in town, setting his affairs in order.
a IL t,,t . 10 if.,t 4,
to speak. We came ont into the calm
night from an unknown country. re.
mote from time and space. She whom
we loved had great treasure laid up in
heaven She was by far the richest
woman we had ever seen.
As We turned the shadowy corner OF
the uphill road, where only the stars
and brook seemed alive, strange
figure with waving arms stood directly
in our way. An appnration would not
have had power to sartle us there; but
it was only Eben Smith, with bag oil
sugar cookies and big bouquet oil
feunel.
"Mis Pease thought. you'd reckon Of
'em on the stage he said, and added,
"l'm real pleased to come acrost you
here Saves mo ali this tramp up hill
to the Squares"
The morning was still and dewy when
the stage rounded up to the postotlice
with wurlke toot on the horn that
did not always 90 oil at first. Every
one listened, from away beyond the
school.house corner aud the saw-miii
bridge, for the cheerful sound that
broke through the utter silence, ike q
weekly trumpet call to something grand
ind stirring.
We saw Csp'n Saul bring out the
mni. two pOltAl cards and Il letter that