Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1898-03-26

now nuIeu nlNSCiI LOT lldNlllB ~ ppS-
sible that she should sing those words
from the heart. l dropped my head in
my hands, and rocked like tree shaken
by the wind.
Every word struck deeper and deep
cr into my soul. l began to pray.
asked God to forgive me for bruising
that tender, loving mothers heart. L
called myself an migrate, matricide,
for her tones impressed my incoherent
brain with the thought that she was
dying. The refrain, peculiarly COM
posed, as you know, gives the impress
sion of a wall, and when she reached it
second time, thought should shrek
aloud.
"Then 1 remembered that L had
sinned, not only against mother, but
against God. 1 asked His pardon and
got it, just as she reached the last
stanza:
'"Go FOR my wandering boy tonight
Go search for him where you will
But bring him to me with all his blight,
And tell him love him STILL
"Then came the refrain:
"'Oh where is my boy tonight?
o where is my boy to-night?'
"When she sang the second where
with all the emphasis her genius, her
longing, her mother heart could give 1T,
the agony of her soul drew me to my
feet, and 1 walked up the aisle toward
her with my arms outstretched. Fur
ther words died on her lips, the or
ganist ceased playing, and in wonder
ing surprise, turned to look at my
mother. For the briefest moment
silence reigned, then l sobbed like any
child:
"'Here 1 am, mother
"How could carefully studied melo-
drama have been better acted? Mother
came hastily down the choir steps and
folded me in her arms. Then DR.. Darby
seized one hand and father took the
other. The organist struck the chords
of old Hundred,' and almost as one
voice, the congregation burst into the
DoXology: Praise God, from Whom all
blessings flow,' and L think they sang
it about ten times while they were shal-
ing hands with me.
"All that was more than two years
ago. 1 date different life from that
night"
But you have never heard the song
under quite such dramatic circum-
stances, Harry"
II am not so sure about that. Iheard
my own words to my mother repeated
last summer under vastly different cir
cumstances, though perhaps you will
say they were as remarkable as what
have just related.
Last summer L was making horse
back survey in southeastern Kentucky.
a local preacher, by the name of Logan,
was guiding me, and was to stay at
| his house one night.
Several days previous he had come
upon party of gamblers in the woods.
His son Thomas was one of the number,
but he had impartially reported all of
them to the grand jury; they had heard
of it, and had been in hiding ever since.
With Spartan-like determination he
had resolved that his son should suffer
with the rest, but his wife was deeply
| grieved at the circumstance, and felt
indignant that a father should inn
| molate son in any such way.
after supper we sat in the soft,
June moonlight, and Mr.. Logan asked
me to sing. Mrs. Logan was sitting
father out in the yard near the office
as the boys building in some southern
front yards is called.
after several other pieces, l thought
of Where Is My Boy To-Night?' My
mind reverted to that blessed Sunday
night in Evettsburg, and my mothers
longing seemed to fill my own soul,
so that the singing was particularly ex-
| presSive. We were in cove where
rocky precipices hung near, and my
words seemed to climb the cliffs and
enter all their gloomy crevices and
caverns with the wild, despairing query
of the weird refrain. l don't think L
was stuck on my own voice. but L
could not help knowing that l was
singing well, and L felt fine eXhilar-
alton in the surroundings.
Mr.. and Mrs. Logan were facing me,
and did not see what l saw as 1 started
on the last stanza. A young man
walked from the shadow of the fir tree
to the Office. He lifted his finger in
warning to me, and / proceeded with
the singing as though nothing had hap
pened, but watched him narrowly, al
though 1 could not believe that he
meant harm when acting so openly. He
stood still in the shadow of the office
until / finished.
There was silence for n moment,
then Mrs. Logan arose in bewildered
way, tossed her arms wildly and
moaned, not loud, but with searching,
penetrating force: 'Oh, where is my
boy to-night|
"The figure in the shadow cried aloud
the words: Here am, mother!'
"She turned as Logan and | sprang
to our feet, Tommy! Tommy! she
murmured, as the strong, young fellow
folded her in filial embrace!
Logan said, as severely as possible:
Young man, do you know that you are