The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1896-10-06

by he grew morbid, melancholy and
morose. When he walked it was as
though in a dream. For hours he would
SIT on the river banks, gazing far across
the waters to Island Home. At such
times he would think of the happy
hours spent there with the loved n
that had gone hence perhaps to return
no more. It was thus he sat n after
noon, bemoaning, as usual, the cruel
fate that had blighted his life, when a
hand was laid upon his shoulder. He
turned and found his father standing
beside him. Fearing that If his son
should continue to indulge his present
state Of mind much longer that it
would eventually lead to the complete
wreck Of both body and mind, he had
tried, but in vain, to think Of q way
oy which tho thoughts of the bereaved
young mar might, at least for the
time being, be diverted from the sad
past, and in time to come, perhaps,
take up the duties of life once and
bear his sorrow with Christian forti-
tude. As he though the matter over
that afternoon, it occurred to him that
for a year or past he had not
heard from his brother Jacob. who was
living some where in Florida. Strange
that he did not write. He had written
repeatedly, but had received no an
swer. Perhaps he was dead. It had
worried him no little. He decided to
send Charlie to hunt him up, if living,
and if dead, we'll the kno Wedge would
at least put his mind at rest regarding
his fate. With this object in view, he
went in search Of his son and found
him, as above related, seated on the
river bank, listlessly looking across
the dark waters to the blue isle in the
distance.
My son, would you like to take a
trip3" he asked.
where to, father9" ne asked indif-
ferently.
ITO Florida, my boy; you have Of
ten expressed a wish to visit that Land
of Flowers. Now I am going to send
you there on a mission, and you may re-
main as long as you like"
He then told him OF his brother
Jacob who had gone there several
years before, and when last heard from
was living near Cedar Keys, On the
Cult coast.
would you like to goa" he asked.
eff you wish me- to go, 1 will go,
father. l fear that if l remain here
much longer 1 shall end in drowning
myself"
My son!-surely you can't mean
what you are saying?'
Yes, father; more then once I have
been tempted to cast myself into the
river and end it all. God has forsaken
me. Why should I wish longer to
liver"
My son! Ny son! II grieves me
more than I a tell to hear you talk
thus. God has not forsaken you-be
lieve ms, He has not"
Then why has he filed my life with
sOrrOW-a sorrow more bitter than
death. Why has he blighted the life
destroyed the reason-Of one 50 sweet,
50 gentle, so good as Malene, who has
loved and served him from the days Of
her youth. l ask you, father, can G5d
be lst and visit such suffering upon
his creatures?'
My sonl Ny son!' tears stood in
eyes of the man of God, 'have all my
efforts, my prayers, my ~entre8ties been
in vain; have I lived to see the day
when my boy-the joy of ny heart,
the hope otmy declining years-douOts
the justice and wisdom Of the Author
of his being? My son! Ny eon!' CHS
voice trembled with emotion) question
not the wisdom Of the Advise God.
He know US best. Though the rod of
ahlction may fall heavily upon ue,
remember, my boy, that he doeth all
things for the bes5-for the good OF
those that Iove and trust him. Though
we may not know wherefore and
whereof these things should be, he
knows, and in his own good time he
will reveal them to us. Oaly trust
him and you will yet learn that in his
infinite wisdom he doeth all things for
the best"
Charles rose to his feet and extend
ing his hand said:
Forgive me, father, I see that my
words have panied you. I cannot, ia
q momens, forget the teachings OF
vears-the faith in which you have
reared me. I do trust God-fully,