This event was
the death of Dr. Dulan, his kind uncle and benefactor. All thoughts of
the church had now to be relinquished, and present employment, by
which to support his mother, to be sought. * * * It was twelve o'clock
at night, about three months after the death of Dr. Dulan. The mother
of William, by her hearth, still plied her needle, now the only means
of their support. Her son sat by her side, as of old. He had been
engaged some hours in reading to her. At length, throwing down the
book, he exclaimed:
"Dearest, dearest mother, lay by that work. It shames my manhood, it
breaks my heart, to see you thus coining your very health and life
into pence for our support; while I! oh, mother, I feel like a human
vampire, preying upon your slender strength!"
The widow looked into the face of her son, saw the distress, the
almost agony of his countenance, and, quickly folding up her work,
said gently:
"I am not sewing so much from necessity, now, dear William, as because
I was not sleepy, being so much interested in your book."
The morning succeeding this little scene, William, as was his wont,
arose early, and going into the parlor, made up the fire, hung the
kettle on, and was engaged in setting the room in order, when his
mother entered, who, observing his occupation, said:
"Ever since your return from school, William, you have anticipated me
in this morning labor.
Pages:
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263