The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1857-07-18

the boy. How the old wife gazyd on the
pictured couple, with their weight of years
| their wrinkles and their fading ewes. Per-
haps she saw backward over the purple hills.
the twain Who danced merrily in many A
reel when voutl, feed their hearts with hanpy
dreams. ami all the bands of GIRLS and hovS.
that has for wears been broken: saw them
gathered again in frstal mir,h. rosy train
with smiling lips and laughing voices. Per.
haps. too, she looked toward over the white
sea, to that crowd of forms waiting among the
brightness and glory for us. their comrades
| of old
I'VE shall renew youth which will be
eternal. " said softly. as she turned away
from the canvass "By.audb by we Shall o,,nU'
from that fountain for which Ponce de con
sought. and sought in vain. Thankful OUGHT
we TO be rather. that our growing old has
male our children what they are \ soft
smile tloa!cd over the pale worn face. and
saw for moment how she would look here
qtirr.
For our son in the city the ever hurrving
city Of New York, I think Ruth has war
mcr place in her heat, than for the rest not
even our daughter the dark haired Sarah
whose home Is with us, aud whose children
shout and sing about our door every hour in
the day has the deep sympathy that Graham
shares in that mother s heart 1t is strange to
me, but | know she knows best the wants Of
her children. and try not to wonder.
W hen he com,s home to the rooftrec full Of
cares and business, talking earnestly with
Edward, Sarah's husband, upon the rise of
stocks the fall of cotton. the news from Eu-
rope, and hunlrel other things at once
when he reads with a frowning brow. the list
of failures among the mcrCblnts ptyipr this
condcmning that-whcn the tears open busi-
ness letters and runs them through in n twin
king always hurried, always hurrvinp. I
can see the mothers ewes watching every
careless movement. with n sad, sweet sympa
thy in them why is iti
Sometimes. when Robert brings his bean.
,iiul young wife home, and Paul dallics with
the curs of his alorcd bride, when Sarah sits
down ON the f,atStool bv her husband and
laugbincly tumbles the hair of her first born
Som ctlmcS. say, when Graham helps to
make up the family party. and chattes of the
markets, of politics. of the fine arts and of
the farm | have seen silent tears fall from the
quiet eyes of Ruth, as if all this hurry and
worry Of her lov was mask. PERHAPS it is
Ruth told once ola fair Young being whose
soul was ,wined with the soul of Graham, -
How the changing years carried her away to
sleep in green grave and left the boy alone
Maybe, memory is goadine him TO incessant
action. this constant labnr Who knows :
We all have a name written somewhere and
among the records of the heart, dparcr than all
other ma cS beside-a name that brings with
it either pure enoymen or bitter, bitter yearn-
ings.
1t must BE so with Graham. for have seen
him stand, silcnt as the frozen snow for
hours leaning over the hannistus ard eaziur
.on a simple picture hung in the hall, with
the name of 'Ro>amond" written underneath
it. "RoSc Of the world and vet tie world
knew only as much of her beauty as had ri.
pcned under fifteen summers suns. She was
my cousin, and a faircr face never bloomed
out Or the winter air of New England, bat
was not permitted to marve! at her exceed.
ing loneliness long. for God took her. and the
supple picture and an old man's memory arc
all that remain Of her now. PeriDgS. | only
say perhaps, the rare visions hat steals
through Graham's silent hours. and even
gldos between him and the 1ustlinr ledger,
bore the name of Rosamond: if she did or if
my cousin face bears faint likeness to his
lost one, I wonder not that the boy loves to-
lngcr on the Stairs and watch the ca ste: n rcd
sunlight steal in and glow suddenly all over
the bright, bcaning count aancc. How sad
AMI how strange that so many OF our best
beloved memories arc scented with pelfunc
of cypress and Of shrouds.
Ruth says the reason of this is because
suriI memories would lose their sweetness.
had we the power of making til, III oft rccur-
ring. Those we love 90 home to their Father.
when we remember only what is beautiful of
Them years of long life might rob them of
what makes us cherish their memory so f1n-
dly: now their beauty will remain unfadcd
through the long lapse of an unlapsing etemi.
ty, and no STAN on their purity can make us
love them less" She has whispered the same
words to Graham in the tw,lieht's purple
hush and he has gone back to his city home
more chceriully; all. ! ]. dare to say he has ga.
zcd down memory's long gallery with less
regret as his eye drinks the beauty of his
beautiful Rose lie thinks Of the changless
years beyond the narrow sea, and of the
changeleSs form watching beside its banks
Tor nm. lie has often closed the day book
and ledger, doubt not, with the unuttercd
wish that he might step across that narrow
sea as easily as he can cross the busy sreets.
Ruth and have whole troop of love
ly and much loved grand children, who
she persists in spelling. and whom persist
in bringing ND as they should be brOupht nm