St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1905-08-05

! !: ! !: !
| N( R]oSNG thy desolation,
( f% |NIM X and the youn
RI /fNlI man placed ii
} jR| M- arm in loving az
J RILAI peal about t b
IL TX ~ shoulders of tn
SlS, aged man an
sought to dra,
him from the tent door.
NAY, my son, there is comfort her
in the loneliness, for the place whic
was graced by thy mothers presenc
and which is sacred with sweet mem
cries Of her, gentle ministry, holds m
irresistably," and, returning his SON
entered the silent, desolate tent, Will
Isaac slowly continued on down til
pathway to the grove at some distance
away.
Father and son had just returned
from their morning visit to the tomb O.
Sarah, where they went twice daily tx
weep and mou i. They had fingered a
Hebron, being loath to leave the spo
where they had laid their precious dead
But a few weeks before, while still dwell
ing in Beersheba, a longing had filled the
heart of the aged mother to revisit He.
bron, sacred with SO many blessed mem
cries, and especially that of the visit OF
| the angels who had announced to her
the birth of Isaac, and they had come
thither. And here, after few brief
days in which she enjoyed the old ia
miliar scenes, she had passed away, and
father and sonswere left disconsolate in
their great grief. Eliezer's watch
full eye noted the bowed head and
mournful countenance, and he asked
himself, as he shook his head:
How long is this to continue? It is
not well for the young man to thus nour-
ish his grief. 1t were time that his heart
was being comforted." And acting
upon the thought he started toward the
tent where Abraham sat. The sound Of
his footsteps failed to arouse the old
man, and Eliezer spoke twice before he
succeeded in making his presence
known, and was hidden to enter. An
embarrassing silence followed, for the
servant hardly knew what to say first,
of all that was in his heart.
My MASTER" at last he said. my
master, hast thou forgotten the living
in thy great grief for the dead? Isaac
wanders alone and his heart is discon-
solate. Ought we not to- seek wife for
the young man."
The mild reproof and the mention of
q wife for Isaac thoroughly aroused
Abraham, and he searched the face of
Eliezer earnestly before speaking.
Come you with an offer of marriage
from the father of some fair damsel? Or
has the young man himself some maiden
On whom he has set his heart ?" he uues-
toned. anxiously.
Neither, my master; but have not
ed the sad countenance of thy son Isaac,
Ind feel that he should not too long
rest under the shadow and loneliness
Of the present bereavement"
Thou art doubtless right respond
I'd the other, slowly and half-reluctant-
y, and shaking his head as though
to emphasize the conviction which was
,aking root within his heart
There are great many shieks in this |
region who have fair daughters and
Who would welcome an alliance with
he rich and great Abraham, for there
none who is so well known and so
highly esteemed as myself.
And recall now that before thy de-
'arture from Gerar the king on one Of
lis visits to thy tent engaged the young
nan Isaac in conversation, being evil
'ently most favorably impressed with
Inn, and urged him to pay visit to the
oval household. And then turning to
arah ne spoke significantly of the fair
aughters there. But she was evident
d1spleased with the advances, and
lrnad the conversation into other chan
els, and nothing more was said upon
ne subject during his stay as your
uest."
The sound of voices interrupted fur
1er conversation, and presently Isaac
ppeared in the tent door.
My rather, a messenger from Abim-
[ech, the king of Gerar, has come" he
nnounced.
Both master and servant started and
'emed strangely moved. Was there .
providence in the singular coinci-
ence! was the thought which flashed
rough the minds of both. The young
an looked inquiringly at his father
ID then at Eliezer, wondering what :
ERE could be in the arrival of the mes. !.
niger which could move them SO per :
'ptibly. But he had no time to ask !:
lestions for Abraham quickly re- :
'vered himself and asked Eliezer to :.
Ok after the comfort of the messenger :
I'd his attendants, and after he was =
sted from the journey to conduct him :,
his presence. The old servant bur =
ed away, and father and son were left :
one.
My son, thy welfare is dearer to me q
an mine own life, and in mine own y
ep grief fear have forgotten the :,
neliness Of thy young life. have u
UGH to say to thee, but not now. Canst !,
Oh waltz" 81
In an instant Isaac was at his fathers :,
lie, and, placing an arm about his m
oulders affectionately, he exclaimed:
Yes, father, and have something on q,
: heart to tell thee of now n,
de paused with some evident embar-
ssment, and then went on: &c