The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1856-04-16

my hiothei tears. uOuOt whether she
saw or heard them. Her heart was in
the coffin with the dead man, and what
to her was unpaid interest, or promises of
far-off goodl
MY father was buried and my uncle
lorc-closed the mortgage. He was sorry
for us, he said, but lie was a poor man,
and 1t behooved him to look after his own.
lie concluded his hypocrisy by bidding
my mother trust in God. She told him
some unpleasant truths On the OCCASION,
and all intercourse was broken off between
them. We were turned out of house and
home. My mother rented a small cot
tage in the village, and kept the two
youngest children the rest Of us were
put "ut to places in different parts of
The country. 1t is common story, sir"
said John in conclusion "and needn't
relate it. There is nothing interesting in
The every day privations Of the poor. 1t
is bitter thing for them to have death
in the family"
"fod have described the feelings Of a
child on the death Of parent said T.,
turning to John; sand you, my dear
Mrs. Simpkins," turning to Johns wife,
" the feelings Of a parent on the death of
child. But who shall describe the an
gush of husband or wife, when the other
and dearcr half is taken away!
II have habit of projecting myself
INTO imaginary existences, and living ideal
lives OF joy and sorrow. When these
moods of mind are on me sometimes
fancy myself a widower, whose wife is
not loag dead. And truly there is
enough in common between widowers
and bachelors for the latter TO divine in
part the suiferings Of their more miserable
brethren.
That dear dead wife of minc-no one
suesses how | mourn for her! seldom
speak OF her, even 20 my most intimate
irquds, for it seems almost sacriIege to
name her name, now she is gone. |
scarcely know how | feel about her, ey.
cept that have continual sense of loss.
An utter absence of delight. My life is
still but deep river of grief. When
wake in the morning / miss her from my
side. Shaking OFF my heavy dreams re.
new life's heavier reality alone. 81, at
the silent breakfast table, a.d pour out INV
coffee, and help myself to the s,one-coId
rolls. eat my breakfast forgelfully, and
buttoning up my coat in dream wait for
my usual morning kiss before | 20 down
town. Away dreamer! there are no kiss
es for thee!
The cool wind and blue sky rouse me
awhile, and | walk on briskIv and uncon.
sciously. But ty and bye | see face
which reminds me Of her, and it poes
home 20 my heart like dagger. She
mng'es with my thoughts, more or less,
all day, ana makes me soberer than of old.
bending over tie legcr-one whole page
OF which is in her hand writing, recall
her winning words and ways. have "A
little note Of hers in my desk, and some
times when 20 ose can see me draw it
out and press it TO my lips! But when
the store is closed for tic hi ght, and saup.
ter along in the lighted dusk, laggard
amid the thousands who are huI Iryiny
home, | think it is impossible for me 10
bear my sorrow longer. lnger and lin
ger, for why should | hurry homel
have no home. Ny wife is dead / miss
her bright face at the door, smiling wei
come; | miss her sweet arms around my
neck. ! miss her at the smoking urn.
pouring out the fragrant tea, and passing
the buttered toast. And when | sit by
the tiIe and read The newspaper, or the
last new novel, miss her work-basket on
the stand, and the motion OF her busy fin
gers. stare in the CRATE, aud think, and
think, until l am glad to read again.
Anything 10 escape the memory Of my
loss Sometimes try to forget it in
sleep. ALI those long dark nights alone
| shut my eyes reso!uteiy and strive not
TO think; but my brain is like q wat.l,
just wound up--it must run. endeavor
10 sleep, but grow wakeful every minute.
| turn and turn resllessly. shifting the pill
lows and the bcdclothes, but rest there is
none. Ihe bed becomes a rack at last
the room, is reopled with strange shapes,
and my poor brain throbs like tie sea in a
storm. The walls of the room enclose me,
gradually drawing nearer and nearer; the
ceiling sinks lower and lower. These are
mere physical terrors, and learn to bear
them; but the awful silence of the night, q
silence so profound that can hearmy heart
beat-the weird and terrible darkness
the desolalion around and within me--oll
God, why cannot die tool Come back
dear wife, come back!'
John looked at Martha, and Martha a,
John, wondering whether I, were really a
bachelor OF, not. i feigned not to sce
taem, but pulled out my watch, and de.
clated it was time TO 90 TO the funeral
John rose, and kissed his wife, and We
started.
The friends Of Mr.. Patrick Flynn, the
deceased hod carrier, were giving tha,
worthy grand funeral, for we.saw the
hearse containing his body, and three o,
four old hacks around his shanty in Pow,
erty Row. Before they started, the mour
ners got up fight tmong themselves, Tn,
result Of disagreement at Mr.. Flynn,
wake, and while some Of them we're ,nm
bling into their seats, others werc Lc;r,