Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1856-01-02
Gkoiet MlisetILang.
BEN BOLT &SWEET ALICE.

"oh, donf you remember sweet Alice. Ren Bolt7
Sweet Alice, whose hair brown,
Who blushed with delight when you gave her smile,
And trenbled with fear your frown.
q In the old church yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In corner obscure and alone,
They have fitted slab of the granite so gray,
And sEeet Alice lies under the stone"
"Don't you remember ?" Are those
three magic words--a key wherewith We
may unlock the foodgates of the heart,
and send the sweet waters of the past
over the plains and down the hills of that
fair land known in our hearts experience
rs by-gone? Even so. There rise be-
fore our visions of time when the bright,
deep eyes of the young spring gazed sly
ly upon US from beneath the ermine
mantle of winter-when the blue violets
stole their first tint from the azure sky
sbove-when cowslips of sunny May,
and the golden hearted buttercup first
jeweled the slender blades of grass and
the hawthorn grew white with its bios
soms-when we rcamed the woods the
whole of that long, warm, loveable June
holiday. weaving garlands, and listen
ing to the concert of birds in that dark,
mistleio wreathed, oaken forest There
was one in years agone that prayed,
-"Lord, keep my memory green;' and
the clinging tendrils OF our hearts goes
back ever yearningly to this prayer.
But green and fresh as the poets pray
er, had the heart of Ben Bolt been kept.
From his early boyhood to the hour he
sat by his old friend, and listened TO the
by-gone days. Not through the glass.
darkly, did he review those scenes of
The boy heart. 10 others of childhood.
There was little old red schoolhouse,
with its dusty windows. and desk that
had been nicked many time trying pen
knives its tall stern looking teacher,
whose stern voice caused the youngest
ones to tremble; its rows of boys and
girls with their heads bent attentively
downward to their books and states, the
wild winter wind sang and whisled with
out, and some few childish hearts tried to
find words for its mournful notes. They
were TOO young and happy to know in its
wall, yet did they learn it in after years.
Then there came few light, round
snow balls, SO tiny that it must have been
the sport of the snow spirits, in their eld-
rich revels, changing by and by to fealh-
cry fakes that danced about ever gaily
How the children's eyes grew bright as
they looked at one another, and thought
of the merry rides down hill, and the
snow balling that would make the play
ground ring again. The last lessons
were said, books and states put aside,
and in the place of silence reigned gay.
glad voices Kate Ashley shook her
pretty ringlets, and laughed as she gave
Jamie Marvin that bit of curl he had
teased SO long for, because she knew
that Jamie had the prettiest sled in the
whole school. All, bit of a coquette
was the same gleeful, romping Kate
And there was Sophia Dale, looking as
demure as kitten walking from pan
of new milk and playful as kitten,
too, was she, in spite of her quiet looks
and the stately Elizabeth-Queen Bess
they called her-and question if Eng |
lands queen had laughter carriage
But apart from these, who were eagerly
looking for friends to take them home,
stood Alice May-sweet Alice. Very
beautiful and loveable was she, with her
winsome, childish face, blue eyes. and |
soft brown curls. She was SO delicate
and fragile, you might almost imagine
her snow child, or lost fairy babe.
Nearly all the children had departed,
amid the joyful shouts and jingling bells, |
and yet the little child stood alone, un-
til rich boyish voice startled her, say
ing: