Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1856-08-28
81 Love Youl''
Who do you suppose said iil


No. She was very beautiful, with her cheel /
or rose hue, and the curling auburn tresses
that the wind sports with so gallantly-tui
she did no. say it. Not that bright creature,
by whose side stands a lover, looking SO
tenderly into those glorious eyes. Ncr vet
the dimpled babe, with cherub face, lifted to
the more mature, but not less innocently
sweet features with the Foly light of mother
glorifying every smile.
Then who DO you suppose said it,
Wrong again. Not that newly welded
husband, whose home for few feet months
he has aptly called heaven-full of smiles
and tenderness, and oft repeated VOWS fit
ting like birds of paradise in rainbow plumage;
whose pretty white-robed being, with girlish
matronly air, gides about the neat kitchen,
making with her own hands the snowy bread
where, when the odious shop is closed, he
can come home with bounding heart, and
sitting with her hand in his, rove with
pair of brown eyes over "Daiiy," every
little while STOPPING to snatch kiss from
the red lips so close to his cheek. Although
he whispered many times of love, yet this Il
love you" was not whispered then nor there.
A tired woman sits hushing to sleep her
nesting babe. Beauty once made that face
radiant, perhaps, but all that beauty has gone
now. The blue eye is dim and faded-The
whole expression is sorrowful-the pale
brow covered with lines Of care. Perhaps,
with that far-Dfr look of hers, she sees three
little graves, green with as many summers.
Her home is very humble-all day she has
toiled: and the fainting spirit almost surren-
bers to fatigue-the downcast eyes tremble
in tears, she is so weary. Ard every nerve
tingles when the boys come home hungry
from school some with weeping and tears of
sorrow thai mother must hear.
And after they are hushed with kisses or
chiding, it is time to get supper for seven
hungry mouths, and then the accustomed
never-ending routine Of putting away and
clearing up, till the worn out creature Won
ders with sigh, if there will really ever
come rest to her--an eternal rest.
At last she can seat her weary limbs in
the old corner rocking-chair. The babe,
whose close eyes ftfully to a low lullaby,ies
in his fathers lap. He is plain man, that
good father, with an honest face, and great
heart, that would, IL it could, take in all the
care and sorrow of his household.
The babe sleeps With rude gentleness
he lays it on his mothers bosom. and as the
rude fre-light plays over her careworn tea-
lures, he looks upon her with eyes suddenly
grown lustrous and beautiful He lifts his |
great hand softly, till i, rests on her shouI- |
ders, as he says:
81 love you, dear Mary!"
How the poor heart leaps into love, light |
and resli How vanish the cares that trod |
upon her very soGlI She no more remembers |
that toilsome washing. She reflects not !
that the pretty babe, with its pi3k flushed |
cheek against her breast. has worn her pa
thence thread bare with its'constant tears and |
unrest. She forgets that the broth was
burnt--that the children leased her--that |
the line broke, and that every limb in her
frame ached with fatigue.
What was there in comparison with the |
steadfast love that had burned for eighteen
years in the sunlight Of happiness, through |
the clouds of despair, when beauty made her
had gone, and the freshness of her youth |
departed forever. What cared she for aught
outside her home, though she had many sor-
rows, while such words thrilled her whole /
being.
81 love you, dear Mary"
All, you long married husbands who exact |
every attention as duty-how much would |
it cost you to make your home thus beautiful
with all its cares!
I tell you one word of love will loosen
great burdens from the shoulders of the toll
ing woman you call wife. Try it! Go home
some night, and look upon her with the eyes
of long ago. For one little moment think
how great trials she took upon her when
she married you. Then tenderly clasp her
hand and as she looks with wonder-opened
eyes, say to her in a low and steady voice,
not carelessly nor sportively but earnestly
81 love you!'
Trust me, it will be to her and to you both,
"better than diamonds. - Evening Post