Newspapers / Siler City Leader (Siler … / Oct. 9, 1886, edition 1 / Page 6
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WAIT FOR THE MORNINQ. ' ' Wait for the tnnmins it will roxe indeed. As surely astfce night hath given need. The yearning eyes, at last, will strain their sight -'. . . "No moi e unanswered by the morning light ; No Ion ;er will they vainly strive through . tears , "To pierce the darkness of thy doubts and . fears, .. ' ' . J2ut, bathed in balmy dews and rays of dawn, "Will smile with rapture o'er the darkness . gone. ' ' . Wait for the morning, O thou smitten child, Scorned, scourged and persecuted and re viled., ' Athir.it and famishing, non pitying thee, Crowned with the twisted thorn of agony o faintest gleam of sunlight through the dense . Infinity of gloom to lead thee thence Wait for the morning, it will come indeed As surely as the night hath given need. T Eunice's Pension-Money. ."I do declare for't, Eunice, them pesky hens hain't laid but six eggs !" ex claimed Mrs.; Martin, entering the kitchen door y hi oh, led to the shed. ""I've a good mind to wring every one o' their necks, au' then get some o'Mis' Eben Morse's chickens; hern air always master-hands to lay. Guess you'll hev to go down I to the store an' git me a dozen o' eggs; we've got none but these, an' they .won't make no kind of a cake. " "I'd better stop to the postoffie too, badn'tl? The mail must a' come in by now,'! replied Eunice IlillVer, Mrs. Mar tin's hired girl, and second cousion also-. . In this part of our land, servants, so called, were unknown; if i, farmer's wife could not do all her ow i work, some neighbor's daughter was hired to help her ;.; but though she bargained for a weekly stipend, she did not thereby lose pay for himself there came increased comfort almost luxury, to their simple testes for the loved ones: Then, in the awful Wilderness, j a bullet whizzed through the air, and Captain Basil H:ll yer, after but a fewjsecondsof suffering, passed into the better land; and there was mourning in l$he little farmhouse where he was born. And now, beside deep srrief, the trouble of poverty came to Mrs. Hillyer and her little daughter. The former was not ktrong, and the 'aid that ten-year-old Eunice could give wag slight, so the two struggled along, hopeless of better days, until at last news came to their ears that a soldier's mother, a dependent upon him during his lifetime, was entitled to a pension.! The law grantinuch pension had, been in force .before Mrs. Hillyer heard of it, and then weary months were consumed in obtaining all the apparently needless information which the Pension Office insisted upon. Now. and then j a fellow-townsman actually did get a pension; in one case a widow (just preparing to take to herself a second husband) was well known to have got nearly a thousand dollars; this possibly was something tangible to live and hope fcr. At j last apiece of good fortune came quite 'near home. Mrs. Hillyer's cousin's daughter, one Julia Perkins, received a little over twelve hundred dollars pension-money. which should have come to Mrs. Per king, but that she died a few weeks be fore her case was acted Upon at the office in Washington. j : Just about the time that that spur was given to her hope, Mrs. Hillyer received an unusually explicit letter from the Pen sion Office, which said, without very much circumlocution, that the one evi dence now needed was some proof, eithr by letters from the dead soldier or by sworn statements from responsible per sons who paid or saw paid to her money ; which her son sent her before and during his service in the army, that she was ac tual! v dependent1 1 upon Captain Basil jTHillyer for her maintenance. Many such letters h;.d been received; some of them had been lost or destroyed, but Mrs. ! Hillyer was very certain tnat at least a ! ; dozen of them, tied together with a bit caste; she ate with the family who eih- !jof tape; had been put in that very indet ploved her, entered into all their plans ! inite place somewhere. And as the son J A 1 1 , "I auu amusenenrs, ana not seldom mar Tied the farmer's son or brother. "Yes, I would if I was you. Mebbe yourn, ''If so you a git tnat pension o -Mrs. Martin, laughingly. you're .ever to get it, that; is." "Julia Perkins was waitin' years, but hers come at last said he's three "That's so. Well, 'patient waitin', no losinv the savin is. An', oh. Eunice! as ycu come home, spos'n you pick some o' them round woodberries; they'd look Jkind b' nice on the parlor mantel-, shelf." ' After a brief absence Eunice came ack, -without any letters, but with the eggs and a huge bunch of the brilliant .scarlet berries of the rowan-tree, which .Mrs. Martin and her neighbors called ""round woodberries." As she handed rihe latter to Mrsf Martin, she said: "'Do you remember that big, .-quatty blue vase in the attic? I mean the one iJncle Jce brougtit home from Chiny an' iv' to mother, the very last voyage be fore he was wrecked. I see one som$ thin' like' it, only not- near so handsome, -when I was down to Augusty last week ; a neighbor o' Mis' Parker's had it settin' 1 on her hearth, full of flowers. Spo3'n I' .git mine to put these berries in?" "I would. But what a creetur you be :fur idees, Eunice ! :Now I'd never a' tcok note o' such a, thing." So Eunice went up to thje attic and presently returned with a large aqd val uable china jar which her mother had,! ior many year.-, used as a sort of catch-; all. When, after Mrs. Hillyer's death,; the little house and all its furniture were sold to pay the funeral expenses, doctor's bill, etc., this jar was put aside for Eu-i nice among the few things she might keep for he: self, because it was old and useless, save as a memento of - former days. . . ; : The Hillyers were once in comfortable circumstances, but when Eunice's father ydied, his widow sold the farmlands be- cause there was no one to attend to them. Basil, the only son, had no taste !. for farming; he preferred to work in one of the many sawmills-near Bangor, and was v doing well when the war broke out. He bad always given a liberal share of hi$ j "wages to his mother, and when, shortly after he enlisted in the army, he received a commission as second Lieutenant, his pride and joy were more on account of the widowed mother and little sister at "home than for himself. Twice afterward iie was promoted, and with increased had always been so careless s.s to send his money directly to her in a banknote, there were no witnesses to any payments by him. ' .,. " During the search for the lost letters death came to Mrs. Hilyer and ended all her; anxieties and privations. In the ! general overhauling incident upon the sale and the removal of her own effects, Eunice could find no trace of the much desired letters; !so she concluded that her mother had unconsciously destroyed them; and now she spoke of her pension much as one speaks of one's ship that is to "come in, but which, so rarely ever does make port. ' i As she was emptying the jar of the bits of old string and ,torn newspapers which it contained, she said to Mrs. Mar tin : " i I - - "Be you goin' campin' with Ezry K.nisrht's folks V1 f 'Well, I dunno; I kind o' thought I sh'd like to; we ain't so very drove jus now. I wonder if they've made up their minds where s best, to so?" answered Mrs. Martin, pausing in her work of beat ins: esss. "I see Ida when I was to" the store, an' she says they've about decided to go to SunkHaze Medder; 'tain't so very far. Morse's folks is all goin'-" "Then, of couise, you be, too; so I'll hev to go to keep an dye on you1 an' Eben." "There's a good lot o' nice strong twine in this jar," said Eunice, irrele vantly. "Eben's as good a feller as ever trod shoe-leather, continues Mis. Martin, not to be arretted in her remarks by Eunice's twine. "He ain't so awful smart as some folks, mebb?, but 'cuteness ain't all one looks for in a husband. I s pose he can't help his natur' ; , 'twan't his choosin' that he was born o', that money-lovin' Morse tribe ; there never was a Morse that wouldn't squeeze a cent till it hollered! Ah, Eunice, if you'd only git, that pen sion, Eben 'd marry you quick enough then ! Well, you might easy git a wuss man, if he is onej Why, Eunice, what's the matter?" r The last words were caused by the un wonted sight of Eunice in tears; the girl had dropped into a chair beside the table. and, holding a letter m her nana, was weeping bitterly, sobbintr as if her heart would brenk. j 1 i ' 'Look ."' said she, with a sob ; 'one of Basil's letters'. I found them m the jar!" i "Sho now!'' exclaimed Mrs. Martin, sympathetically. "Poor asil"f Then suddenly remembering the' importance of these letters, she added, excitedly : ''Not his army letters" that youfve ben a searchin' for? Well, well, but I be glai! Now you'll git your pension and Eben, too!" :-. j :.. No one who knew the Morates was at all surprised that Eben, who had planned a lone visit to relatives in Fniladelphia, should offer to take the precious letter to Washington, and, if possible1, close up Lunice s business lor her. i j As soon as he arrived in Washington, Eben betook himself to the Pension Office (which was then in its old quarters on Pennsylvania avenue ', and oh being asked by a colored man who sat at the head of the long flight of stairs which led from the street to the Commissioners room, the lower part of :the buildingjbsing oc cupied by a store, what his ero-aud was, he said he had come to see about a pen sion for Mrs. Hillver. Cantain Hillver h mother. This was so much more luc:d and exhaustive an answer than the man usually. got to such questions, that he did not send I5asil very far, only to tne room of the Chief Clerk, directly behind him. Here too, Eben, being a man of few words and knowing just what he was after, in one sentence stated his errand ;so clearly, j that he was told to whom to go for exar t information. i I Through one or two swinging-doors, up three or four steps, through a narrow and crooked passageway, andjthen down three or four steps, he went with a mes senger, till at la t be was ushered into a small room where four clerks sat, proba bly at work, though three of them were listening to some quotations from the lie- vised Statutes which the other, a spare, upright old gentleman, was reading aloud. On making his errand known to the clerk who sat nearest the loor, Eben was directe 1 to a fatherly-looking man, with snow-white hair and beard, who sat by a window. I I tie answered various questions put by this cl rk, who presently said: "Oh, I see! The dependent mother 13 dead, you say?" i "les, sir; she died in March, 1882, on to two years ao. "What papers are those which you have? The doctor's bill and- V "No, 'sir ; the lett rs which! you wrote so many times for letters frbm Captain Hillyer when he sent moiiey to his mother." j ; ' "Ah, yes : . the evidence ?of mainte nance. They'll have to go to the Auditor, of course. Let me see, continued the clerk, consulting several ledgers while he spoke ; "no, the Hillyer case has not yet gone to the Auditor, so I will take those letters. You haven't sent on the bills yet, have you?" ' . "Bills! What bills, sir?" ( "The undertaker's, the doctor's "But. Captain Hillyer didn't need no doctor, poor fellow! . He was shot through the head in the Wilderness, an' died where he fell." l . . "The soldier? Oh, yes, that evidence is all right. Now, what we wan is the bills for the mother's last sickhe83 and burial; this is an accrued pension case, you know.-' j ! - "A what, sir?" asked puzzied Eben. "If Mrs. Hillyer were alive she would receive twenty dollars a month pension, with back pay from the datd of the sol dier's death. But she beiqg dead the money reverts to the government, who. however, will pay all properly certified bills for the mothers funeral, also bills for her board, nursing, medical attend ance, etc," , : i "Do you mean that her daughter can't have this monev?" I ! "Only in payment of those bills?" waitin for this money; she died from sheer anxiety and overwork. If she'd had a quarter part of what was owing to her, she'd be alive now !" and with these words Eben took his. leave. ; ; . .. A rich golden hate was in the air, and a sense of rest and contentment of feei ingthat it was afternoon and the day's work was done, and even the busiest might sit idle for a brief period came over Eunice Hillyer the day- before Thanksgiving. Mr. Martin's buttery was full to " overflowing with spicy mince! pies. Yellow custard, golden pumpkin, deep-red cranberry, and numerous othei pies, were ranged in tempting rows on the shelves; in the stone jarS below were cookies and doughnuts enough to have fed a regiment .of hungry boys ; in the deep drawers were loaf after loaf of cake fruiti pound, cup, caramel, wainut, nish "Other . folks' daughters' have got tneir mothers' pensions "Oh, yes, that ued to befthe custom; but the Third Auditor has decided that the law did not so intend dependent parents' pensions ; that such were 'pay- not to his able only to the parent, and dependent or her heir, except m case a father had left a second wife "Then a soldier's step-mother could draw bis pension money eveh if he never saw her, or hated her like poison, while his sister can't touch it?" ! :. "Yes." . . "I call that "an abominably unjust law!" exclaimed Eben, indignantly. "Perhaps Cn plain Hiilyer's sister can get a few y ears' pension as a dependent sister. How oid was she when he died?" "No offense to you, sir, but Eunice Hillyer '11 not have anything more to do with .a Government that fakes back the money it owed to her mother. " If I, or any one else, had owed money to Mrs. Hillyer, this very same j Government would make me pay my debt to her heirs. Pocroldlkdyt She ate her iieart out marble, spice, silver and gold, jelly and there was no cakemaker in town equal to Eunice. Mrs. Martin had said tc her that very morning. - . "Well, Eunice, as Eben got home yes terday, an' there ain't no word of your pension, I guess there's no hope of it.. It's an ill wind that blows nobody good, you know, an' what should a' done this Thanksgivin' without you to make mj cake I'm sure I don t knoW; for my cousins from Bath, who are to be here to-morrow, are famous cooks, an' I sh'd hate awfully not to have a mite of de cent cake to set before them; an' some how I do have a dretful eavy hand with dough of all sorts. So rt's a mercy to me there ain't no prospect of you mar ryin' Eben Morse." Which doubtless was a comfort to Mrs. Martin, but not so much so to Eunice. The girl was coming, slowly home from, the store, where she had been to make some last purchase for the morj row's festivities, and, recalling to mincf what Mrs. Martin had said, was sorely tempted to have a cry out there in the gathering darkness all by herself. She had been so sure that, now the missing , letters were in her hand, the long-foi 5 money would be hers. But she was not mercenary ; it was not the .coin s'r-c re gretted : it was those fair visions she had allowed her mental eyes to see, of a isnug home where, within another year, she ? and Eben should have their own Thanksgiving to keep, their own fat turkey to roast, their own buttery full ol appetizing danties. : She tried not to let herself say, even if only to herself, that there was little for her to give thanks for this year, ahd little for her to look forward, to which would ever . be worth remembering on any future, Thanksgiving Day. Of course Eben would not stay single for her sake; he was too fond of home-life to be will ing to go wifeless all his days, and there were at least two girls of her acquaint ance who.would gladly marry him. As she thus meditated, Eben's voice sounded in her ear: "Well," Eunice, here I am." "Had a pleasant journey, Eben?" was her calm reply. She did hope her eyes would not look red in this dim light. "Pretty good. But, Eunice, your pen sion is all a humbug." Eunice was not surprised, yet the news, so placidly told, was depressing. He went on to describe his adventures aad his interview with the clerk, adding: "Now, if you'd a' got your rights, you'd a had about, five thousand dollars pension money; an' that's a good deal, ain't Its Enough to make a girl worth marryin' for, ain't it?" ; At the reiterated question, Eunice felt obliged to answer : v "Yes, Eben." " 7 To herself she said: "Ah, well, he can't help his disposi tion, an' I can't helpbcin' poor." " "I hear,' continued Eben, slowly and emphatically, 4 'that the boys round town have been sayin' that soon's. you got youi pension I was goin' to askyou to ma'rrj me. You know's well as I do that we Morses have always been powerful money lovin', don't you?" t . "Yes," she said -again, with a little sigh. "Now,I never had no faith in this pen biou: uui uem a iorse. no one would a believed I was sure you'd never mi- it: now I am sure, an everybody knows it knows I amt after your , money now. Eunice, I've been waitin' oh you for nigh oh to two years, an' you've known me always; what's tohender our gittin" mar ried to-morrow, Thanksgivin' Day ?" , but Again Eunice said, " Yes, Eberl. " without a sigh. France E. Wardleihh Pinkerton men guard the bodv of H. Yanderbilt, day and night. W. in the New Dorp vault, White woodchucks have been seen the past summer in Redding township, Ind.
Siler City Leader (Siler City, N.C.)
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Oct. 9, 1886, edition 1
6
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