New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1854-05-11
THURSDAY MORNING, MAY H. 1854
DAILY CRESCENT
The Blind Mans Wreath.

The Blind Mans Wreath.
ttMy boy, my poor blind hoyt' .@..
This sorrowful exclamation broke from the
lips OF Mrs Owen, as she lay upon the couch
to which long and wasting illness had confined
her, and whence she well knew she was never
more to rise ~ "
Her son, the only child of her widowed
hearth, the sole object of her cares and affec-
tions, knelt beside her, his face bowed upon her
pillow, for now only, in moment of solemn
communion with his mother had she revealed
the fatal truth, and told him she must soon die
He had watched. and hoped, aud trembled for
many weary months, but never yet had he ad-
mitted to himself the possibility of losing her :
her fading cheek and sunken eye could not
reveal to him the progress of decay, and SO long
as the loved voice maintained its music to his
ear and cheered him with promise of improve
ment, so long as her hand still clasped his, he
had hoped she would recoyer
He had been blind since he was three years
old; stricken by lightning, he had totally lost
his sight. A dim remembrance Of his widowed
mothers face. her smoothly braided hair, and
flowing white dress, was one of the few recollee-
tlons entwined with the period before all became
dark to him
The boy grew up, tall, slender, delicate, with
dark pensive eyes which bore no trace of the
calamity that had destroyed their powers of
vision; grave, though not sad; dreamy, enthu-
siastic, and requiting his mothers care with the
deepest veneration and tenderness In the first
years of his childhood, and also whenever his
education did not take them to London and else
where, they had resided near town on the
sea. coast, IN one OF the prettiest parts of Eng
land.
Independently of the natural kindness which
very rarely fails to be shown towards any per-
son who is blind, there was that about both the
widow and her son which invariably rendered
them acceptable guests; for their Intellectual
resources and powers of conversation were
equally diversified and uncommon Mrs. Owen
had studied much in order to teach her son, and
thus, by improving her natural abilities, had
become person of no common stamp: her intel
Sfectuality, however, being always tsubservient
to, and fitly shadowed by, the superior feminine
attributes of love, gentleness and sympathy ;
for Heaven help the woman in whom these gifts
are not predominant over any mental endow-
ments whatsoever.
When they walked out together his mother
took his arm; hewas proud of that he liked to
fancy he was some support to her, and many
plying eyes used latterly to follow the figure of
the widow in the black dress she constantly
Wore, and the tall pale son on whom she leaned
conhdlngly, as if striving with sweet deception
to convince him that he was indeed the staff of
her declining strength But gradually the
mothers form grew bent, her step dragged wea-
rily along, and the expression of her face indi-
Gated increasing weakness. The walks were at
an end; and before long she was too feeble "a
leave her bed, excepting to be carried to g sum
mer parlor, where she lay upon a sofa beside
an open window, with flowers twining around
the easement, and the warm sunshine filling all
things with JOY, save her foreboding heart and
the anxious son who necessarily hung over her.
Friends often came to visit them, and turned
away with deep sadness as they noted the
progress of her malady, and heard the blind
man ask each time whether they did not think
her better--oh surely a little better-than when
they had last beheld herr
Among all these, no friend was so welcome or
brought such solace to the sick room as Mary
Parker, Joyous girl of nineteen, one of the
beauties of the county, and the admiration and
delight of all who knew her. Mrs Owen had
danced Mary upon her knee, and Edward used
to weave baskets and make garlands for her
when he was boy Of twelve, and she a little
fairy OF six years old or thereabouts stood be-
side him, praising his skill, and wondering how
ne could manage SO oleyerly though blind
None OF his childish companions ever led him so
carefully as Mary, or seemed SO much impressed
with his mental superiority she would leave
those games OF her playmates in which his
blindness prevented him from Joining, and
would listen for hours to the storieslzYith which
his memory was well stored, or which his own
Imagination enabled him to invent.
AS she grew up there was no change in the
frank and eontiding nature of their intercourse
Mary still made him the recipient of her girlish
secrets, and plans, and dreams, Just as she had
done OF her little griefs and joys in childhood; !;
asked him to quote his favorite passages of poet-
ry, or stationed herself near him at the, piano,
suggesting subjects for him to play, which he
extemporized at her bidding. Bright and bloom.
ing as Mary was, the life Of every party, beam
ing with animation and enjoyment, no attention
was capable OF rendering her unmndfuIof him
and she was known to sit out several dances in
an evening to talk to dear Edward Owen, who
would be sad if he thought himself neglected.
And now she daily visited the invalid; her
buoyant spirits tempered by sympathy for her
increasing sufferings but still diffusing such an
atmosphere OF sunshine and hope around her,
5hat gloom and dependency seemed to vanish at
her presence. Edwards sightless ewes were al.
ways raised to her bright face, as if he felt the
magic influence it timparted
bis mother had noted all this with mothers
watchfulness; and, on that day, when strong in
her love, she had undertaken to break to him
the fact which all others shrank from communi
eating, she spoke likewise of Mary, and of the
vague wild hope she had always cherished of one
day seeing her his wife.
A'os hhoeuSI, HOt tACldlLleu tHe Dllnu man,
Dearest mother, in this you are not true to
yourself? What? Would you wish to see her
in all her spring time of youth and beauty sac
riteed to such one as Ito see Mary, as you
have described her to me, as my soul tells me
she is, tied down to be the guide, and leader.
and support, of one who could not make one sten
in her defense whose helplessness alone, in the
eyes OF men. would be his means of sheltering
ndprotecting her! Would you hear her pitied,
onr bright eyed Mary pitied-as a Blind Mans
Wife, mother 7"
"Bnt, Edward--if she loves you, as am sure
she does"
g Love me, mother' Yes, as angels love NOR
tails, as sister loves a brother, as you love me,
And for this benignant love, this tender sympa-
thy, could kneel and kiss the ground she treads
upon; but, beyond this-were you to entreat
her to marry your blind and solitary son, and
she in pity answered Yes,--would accent her
on such terms, and rivet the chains she had con
sented to assumed Oh mother, mother, [ have
not studied you in vain, your life has been one
long self.sacrifee to me- its silent teaching shall
bear fruit Do not grieve so bitterly for me.
God was very m rciful in giving me such a
mother; let us trust him for the future r'
All, poor tortured heart, speaking so brayely
forth striving to cheer the mothers failing spir-
it, when all to him was dark, dark, dark!
She raised herself upon her pillow, and wound
her weak arms about his neck, and listened to
the expressions of ineffable love, and faith and
consolation, which her son found strength to
utter, to sustain her soul. Yea, in that hour
her reeompense had begun; in loneliness, in se-
cret tears, with Christian patience and endeayor,