Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1855-09-05
ONLY A FEW WORDS.


times strike hard. We WELD them so
easily that we are apt to forget their
hidden power. Fifty spoken, they fall
Ike sunshine, the dew and fertilizing
rain-but when unftly, like the frost, the
hail and the desolating tempest. Some
men speak as they think or feel, without
calculating the force of what they say,
and then seem very much surprised if
any one is hurt or offended. To this
class belonged Mr.. Winkleman. His
wife was loving, sincere woman. quick
to feel Words to her, were indeed
things. They never fell upon her ear
as idle sounds. How often was her poor
heart bruised by them.
On this particular morning, Mrs. Win
kleman, whose health was feeble, found
herself in a weak, nervous state. 1t was
only by an effort that she could rise
above the morbid irritability that afflicted
her. Earnestly did she strive 10 repress
the disturbed bealings of her heart, but
she strove in vain. And it seemed TO
her, a. it often does in such cases, that
every thing went wrong. The children
were fretful, the cook diiatory and cross
and Mr.. Winkleman i'm ,atient, because
sundry little matters belonging to his
wardrobe were not just to his mind.
Eight o'clock and no breakfast yet, .
said Mr.. Winkleman, as he drew out his
watch on completing his toilet. Mrs.
Winkleman was in the act of dressing
the last of five children, all of whom
had passed under her hands. Each had
been captious or cross, or unruly, sorely
trying the mothers patience. Twice
had she been in the kitchen to see how
breakfast was progressing, and to enjcin
the cal eful preparation of favorite dish
with which sfe had proposed to surprise
her husband.
"It will be ready in few minutes, :"
said Mrs. Winkleman, ''the fire hasn't
burned very freely this morning.
"If it isn't one thing it is another"
growled the husband. ''I'm tired of
this irregularily. There'd soon be no
breakfast to get if l were always behind
time in business matters"
Mrs. Winkleman bent low over the
child she was dressing, to conceal the
expression of her face. What a pain
now throbbed through her temples
Mr.. Winkleman commenced walking the
floor impatiently, little imagining that
every jarring football fell like blow on
the sensitive aching brain of his wife.
"Too bad, too bad !'' he just ejacula-
ted when the bell rang.
cat lasi," he muttered, and strobe
towards the breakfast room. The child
ren followed in considerable disorder,
and Mrs. Winkleman, after arran ging
her hair and putting on a morning cap,
joined them at the table. 1t took some
moments to restore order among the little
ones.
The dish which Ms. Winkleman had
been az considerable pains 10 provide for
hel husband was set beside his plate.-
1t was favorite among many, and his
wife looked for pleased recognition,
therefore, and lighting up of his cloud
ed brow. But he did not seem 10 notice
1t. After supplying the children, Mr..
Wlnklemdn helped himself in silence
AT the first mouthful Ire threw down his.
knife and fork, and pushed the plate from
linn.
"What is the matter % inquired his
wife.
"You didn't trust Bridget to cook
this, hope" was the response.
"What ails it ?" Mrs. Winkleman's
eyes were filling with tears.
"Oh, it's of no consequence, answer
ed Mr.. Winkleman, coldly, anything
will do for me'
james !" There was a touching
sadness blended with the rebuke in The
tones of his wife, and, as she uttered
his name, the pent up tears gushed forth
and ran down her checks.
Mr.. Winkleman didn't like tears
They always annoyed him. AT the
present time he was in no mood to beaI
with them. So en- the impulse of the
moment he arose from the table. and ia