Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1855-08-10
Only a few Words.

Words are little things, but they some
times strike hard. We WELD them SO cas-
lily that We are apt to forget their hidden
power. Fifty spoken, they fall Ike sun
shine, the dew and fertilizing raiu-bui
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.. Win
klemsn. 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. Winkle-
man, whose health was feeble, found her
self in weak, nervous state. 1t was only
by an effort that she could rise above the
morbid irritability that afflicted her Ear
Destly did she strive to repress the disturb
ed bestings of her heart, but she stroye in
vain. And it seemed to her as it often
does in such cases, that everything went
wrong. The children were fretful, the
cook diatory and cross, and Mr.. Winkle-
man Impatient because sundry little mat
ters belonging to his wardrobe we're not
Just 10 his mind
Eight O'Clock and no breakfast yet"
said Mr.. Winkleman, as he drew out his
watch on completing his own toilet Mrs.
Winkleman was in the act Of dressing the
last of FIVE children, all Of whom had pass
ed under her hands. Each had been cap
tious or cross, or unruly, sorely trying :he
mothers patience Twice had she been in
the kitchen to see how breakfast was pro-
crossing, and to enjoin the careful prepara-
ton of favorite dish with which she had
proposed to surprise her husband.
alt will be ready in few inmates, said
Mrs. Winkleman, "tbe FIRE hasn't burned
very freely this morning"
"If it isn't one thing, il is another" groBl-
ed the husband. "I'm tired Of this irregu-
larity. Thsre'd soon be no breakfast to
get if were always behind time in busin-
ess matters"
Mrs Winkleman bent low over the child
she was dressing, to conceal the expression
of her face. What pain now throbbed
through her temples. MIR. Winkleman
commenced walking the floor impatiently,
little imagining that every jarring football
fell Ike blow on the sensitive aching
brain of his wife.
"Too bad, too bad!' he just calculated
when the bell rang.
AT last" be muttered. and strobe TO-
wards the breakfast room. The children
followed in considerable disorder and Mrs
after arranging her hair and |
puItingon morning cap, joined them at the
table. 1t took some moments 10 restore or
der among the little ones.
The dish which Mrs Winklemau had |
been at considerable pains TO provide for
her husband was set beside his plate. 1t
was his favorite among many, and bis wife
ooked for pleased recognition, therefore
and lighting up Of his clouded brow
But he did not seem to notice it After
the children Mr.. Winklemarhelp /
ID bimselfin silence. Atlhe first mouthful
lie threw down his knife and fork, and push
ID the plate from him.
"What is the matter 2" inquired his wife.
"You didn't trust Bridget to cook this, | I
lope," was the response.
"Wbat ails it 90 Mrs. Winkleman's eyes
gere filing with tears. {
"0h, It's Of no consequences, answered !