* * * * *
In the village where dwelt Jacob Newell and his wife, an old man, lame and totally blind, had been for over thirty years employed by the town to ring the meetinghouse-bell at noon, and at nine o'clock in the evening. For this service, the salary fixed generations before was five dollars, and summer and winter, rain or shine, he was always at his post at the instant.
When the old man rang the evening-bell on the Thanksgiving-Day whereof I write, he aroused Jacob and his wife from deep reverie.
"Oh, Jacob!" said the latter, "such a waking dream as I have had! I thought they all stood before me,—all,—every one,—none missing! And they were little children again, and had come to say their prayers before going to bed! They were all there, and I could not drive it from my heart that I loved Samson best!"
His name had hardly been mentioned between them for fifteen years.
Jacob Newell, with a strange look, as though he were gazing at some dimly defined object afar off, slowly spoke,—
"I have thought sometimes that I should like to know where he lies, if he is dead,—or how he lives, if he be living. Shall we meet him? Shall we meet him? Five goodly spirits await us in heaven; will he be there, also? Oh, no! he was a bad, bad, bad son, and he broke his father's heart!"
"He was a bad son, Jacob, giddy and light-headed, but not wholly bad.
Oh, he was so strong, so handsome, so bright and brave! If he is living,
I pray God that he may come back to see us for a little, before we
follow our other lost ones!"
"If he should come back," said Jacob, turning very white, but speaking clearly and distinctly, "I would drive him from my door, and tell him to be gone forever! A wine-bibber, dissolute, passionate, headstrong, having no reverence for God or man, no love for his mother, no sense of duty towards his father; I have disowned him, once and forever, and utterly cast him out! Let him beware and not come back to tempt me to curse him!"
Still from the distance, overpowering and drowning the headlong rush of passion, came the soft booming of the evening-bell.