Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXVII, No. 1 — page 86: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

90 Old Hugh's Look-off. cried, eagerly. “I don't want you to be wear- ing out your life for me in this fashion. Let me go on board some of the fishing-smacks, and earn my own living, and something besides to help you.” She put her two thin hands to her pale face and shut her eyes @ moment, and a strange feeling of awe fell upon me, because I knew that she was praying. When at length she opened her eyes, she took both my hands in hers and said, in an appealing voice: “ Maury, you know your mother loves you better than all the rest of the world, don’t you 2” “ Yes, mother,” answered I, feeling the mist creeping into my eyes. “You trust her thoroughly, don’t you, as meaning to do everything for your best interest ?” “ Yes, mother,” answered I, again, my voice getting still huskier. “And you love me,darling boy ; you know that I have had a good deal of trouble and sorrow, and much care, but that for your sake I have borne up cheerfully? You would do every- thing in your power to save me from further pain, wouldn’t you 2?” “Yes, mother.” And now I was sobbing outright. My mother put both arms around my neck and kissed me, her tears mingling with mine as she whispered: “Then you'll be my own brave boy, and you will have manliness and dignity enough to throw off their wnkind looks and words. You wont let them cheat you out of this edu- cation your mother so ardently desires for you. You will go back to the academy to- morrow, dear Maurice ?” QO, it was terrible for me to give the answer she desired. For a minute it seemed to me that I could not, but her tears conquered. My own sweet, patient, unselfish mother! Should I deny her this earnest desire? She knew better than I why it was so imperative. I ground down my distress. I choked back the hard sob in my-throat, and returning her kiss, | answered : “ Yes, mother, I will go.” ’ Her tender caress, her grateful joy, was sufficient recompense. We had a pleasant supper after that. She brought out all her store of delicacies, and treated me as if I were some grand visitor, and then she told me stories of famous men who had conquered stubborn circumstances, and grown strong through surmounting of ub- stacles. And then she took the Bible and read to me the wise proverb of the wise o.d king, “that he who rweth his own spirit is mnizhtier than he who taketh a city.” And a grand courage came to me, and I said to myself, and I told her, that I was arined with a coat of mail, and none of Regi- nald Motley’s shafts should have power to wound me. She smiled, but warned me that, in the enthusiasm of the new resolution, it is always very easy to be brave, but the true hero is-he who abides patiently the continued shock of battle. ' While we were talking, there came a knock. at the door, and my mother, sitting nearer it than I, went over and opened it. “Is Master Maury in doors, marm?” asked Joe Stephens’s voice. I went to the door at once w here Joe stood tarpaulin in hand. “What's wanting, Joe? here I am.” “T’ve got to run down to the point in my boat. The smack is laying there waiting for me to bring down some things Jake Scranton forgot, and I want a hand to help a little, for the breeze is pretty stiff, and she'll want lively handlimg. ‘We shall get back by twelve o'clock, and IW give you a silver dollar for the job.” “It’s a glorious. moonlight, and ‘will be splendid sailing. O mother, you’ Jet me go, wont you?” exclaimed I, for a sail with Joe was one of the irresistible temptations for me. My mother stepped out the door and looked up at the sky. “Tt looks a little squally, Joe,” anxiously. ; “Yes’m,” answered Joe, respectfully, “it will be pretty lively sailing, but Lord bless you, there aint no danger for them as knows enough to keep their eyes open and not carry sail right in the eye of the squall. Id trust Maury all alone to manage the boat, and sure you wont think an old salt like me is going to let her get into harm!” : “No, I don’t think you will, Joe,” answered my mother, with another glance at the sky, and then as she came back into the room she said, smilingly: “But I am dreadfully jealous of you and your boat, Joe Stephens. You have altogether too strong a fascination for my boy. I can't Jet you make a sailor of him.” “Bless your good heart, marm,” answered Joe, scraping and bowing in his honest, but loutish fashion. “ What’s in the bones already, don’t have to be put there. . There aint a COMMIC WOO said iin So om