Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1854-10-11
The Charms of Married Life.

LII in that chair yonde:, not the one your
feet lie upon, but the other beside you, clo-
ser yet, where seated sweet faced girl with
pretty little foot lying out upon the hearth,
bit of lace running round the swelling
throat, the hair parted to charm over
forehead fair as any of your dreams; and
you could reach an arm round that chair
back, without fear of giving offence, and
suffer your fingers to play idly with those
curls that escape down tile neck, and if you
qaitltae qaitltae eJlfefo thezGaaA tApse little
temptingly within reach, and so, talk softly
and low in the presence Of the blaze, while
the hours slip without knowledge, and the
winter winds whistle uucared for; if, in short,
you were no bachelor, but The husband Of
some sweet image, Cdream call it rather,)
would it not be far pleasanter than cold,
single night-sitting, counting the sticks, reck-
oning the length Of tue blaze, and the height
of the falling snow.
] Surely imagination would be stronger and
purer, if it could have the playful faueies of
dawning womanhood TO delight it. All toll
would be torn from mind labo:, if but another
heart gre into this present soil, quickening
, it. warming it, bidisg it every God speed.
, Her face would make a halo, rich as a
rainbow, atop of all such noisome things as
. we lonely souls call trouble. Her smiles
: would illumine the blackest of crowded cares,
. and darkness that now seats you Respondent
in your solitary chair for two days together
: weaving bitter fancies, dreaming bitte1
dreams, would grow light and thin, and
spread and float away, chased by that beloved
smile. .-....
Your friend, poor fellow! dies-nevel
IS mind !; that gentle clasp of her fingers, al
n she steals behind you, telling you not t.
% weep-is worth ten friends!
I. Your sister, sweet one, is dead-baried
E The worms are busy with her fairness
x How it makes you think earth nothing bu
ID spot 10 dig graves upon!
10 It is more she says she will be a sister
and the waving curls. as she leans upo
:. yoV shoulder, touch your cheek and you
. wet eyes turn TO meet those other eyes-Go
- has sent his angel, surely
aa Your mother, alas for it, she is gone
there any bitterness to a youth, alone an
homeless, like this?
nS But you are not homeless; you are n
an alone she is there; her tears softening your
her smile lighting yours. her grief KILN
yours and you live again to assuage th
kind of sorrow of hers.
i'll Then, these children, rosy, fair haired
no, they DO not disturb you with pratt
now-they are yours. Toss away there,
the green sward; never mind the hyacinth
the snow drops, the violets, if so be any a
he there the perfume of their healthful Ii
de- is worth all the flowers in the world. I
'ay need now to gather wild boquets to 10
and cherish; flower, tree, gun, are all de
re- things. livelier hold your soul.
ing And she, the mother, sweetest and fair
md of all, watching, tending, caressiEg, lovil
de- till your own heart grows panied with t.
pre- derest jealousy and curses itself W
pom loving.
led. You have no need now of cold lect
ons 10 teach thankfulness your heart is full
,nce it. No need now, as once, of burst
will blossoms of trees taking leaf, and greenn,
lasp to turn thought kindly and thankfully /;
and ever beside you there is bloom, and g
YER beside you there is fruit for which eye,
and soul, are full of unknown, unspoke1
you because unspeakable-thank offerings.