Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1852-1859, 1857-08-31
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sBNpIMEMT-NO. Q.

old Ulln Is ueslE NtltO lttS q,
IIj. III. is a weary one lie can but think
tfl,a the JOYS that arcp past, and will never icarl
,I,n sweet lessons which sOTToW and suffering
,yora infended to teach Alas! he will not be
Ii.Se HAT in this dreary world there are any
flowers of joy, waiting 70 bloom IN the daFSeS
heart -, -.,1.-,
but hath behind it glorious light; nor any ocelr
60 dern and gloomy, without beautiful shell:
and si,urklinsy gems to illuminate its cioudef
deptils. nor any heart whose closed and sepui
chred chambers may not open to the music o.
love and the light of Httectlon,-he VIII "u'
smile and call us-ssatlmenfaE
sunlight that surrounds him, nor hear the meio
DIV of nature about him, nor feel the touch o
oarth,s sweetest mourning arms that encompass
INN He tells us we arc too fond OF no"eFs
and music and poctry,-and 1T may be that we
are-thOugh heaven knows we Wou'" nc sorry
to love them less
Bat while we talk, there comes sounding
through the night and darkness, the shneEins
whistle of some departing train. The old man.
hardly waiting till the echo has died away,
turns, with a smile upon his aged face, to ASK u
we .'can find seRtih'egf in that unearthiy noise!
It's the thoughtful hour of night. The beau
Iif1l moon, from sIuulber aroused, is just step
ming DER the threshold Of her ether, door, into
the broad chamber OF the world. Her sentinel
stars 20 one by one, to their distant homes
BEHIND 5Rp elopdy 9StS Sf hsays1 I Us
as from out the little window of that crowded
car, we look drraInily into the dim distance C
eternal sky, that lies beyond and above us.
But while VIC ponder, full of fear, and stTarg
est wonder there rings ont upon the quiet night
the shrieking whistles noisy shout, and bound
ing against the rugged hills of Virginia, It's
echoed over the beautiful river, into the grassy
plains of Ohio. But e'cr its voice is buried in
the grave of distance, NC are moving, with light
uingspee.l over THERON road, and while the noisy
wheels keep time To the engines mighty pulse,
we sit down to ponder for moment on the
faces that surround US.
Before Sus sits sweet-facel Bride. This
morning we saw her before the altnr's sacred
front pouring out her soul of love, IN holy
promises and sacred VOWS How beautiful she
looked! Her eyes were bright, her smile was
liovful. and the tones of her voice, though low
and trembling, seemed born of happiness and
faith. Bnt now there are tears in her eyes and
n paiencss on her cheeks that seem strangely
out of place with one SO happy and so young.
I Alas! she is thinking now of the sweet and
holy pnSt. She is thinking of the m0sheF WHO
/ hung upon her neck tonight, and the father,
whose trembling hands and feeble voice, told OF
! thu dark sUrTOE her going forth would leave
behind. Oh! how the tones of that shrnl
whistle arc ringing throul III her troubled heart;
how like it sounds to the wild shrieking cry of
little Mary, when they tore her from her depart
ing sisters arms.
She feels now, this beautiful Bride, that earth
brightest pictures of happiness must ever be
shaded with sorrow. She is leaving now, it
NAV be forever. the home of her life and nope,
and contcntment. and affection, for the world OF
strangers, aud the love of one heart. Her mem
orv is laden with images of the past, and her
soul grieveS already for amothers tirclcSs breast
Oh! how that old home comes looming up be-
4, sg,t fINFSrr tn
and walks again beneath the shady trees, clus-
tcring in the green and scented yard; she Is
bending beside her mothers knee as of o!d, aud
feels again her fathers kisses ON her brow, aud
the sweet winnings of little Mary arinS about
her neck, and poor Jesse, who but year
lag,-iS it strange that the Bride should weep?
And now the husband. 50 young aDdso hand
some, twines his arm closer about her waist,
and resting her sweet face, with its golden hair
clustering like halo round it, upon his manly
( breast, whispers sweetest words of love and
/ hone And then the shrieking whistles di$cor-
/ tlant tones arc changed into shouts of joy;
+ her heart is lift up with the glorious dreams of
coming happiness. She feels, that dear and
worshipped as the loved ones are at home to her
soul, yet thercis beside her another heart, whose
Ibeatings of affection will never cease, save with
the life that ends them. Oh! how sweet 10 be
his wife! how haPpylis the Bride!
And that gentleman over by the dOor-what
of him? How pale is his handsome face, and
how tremulous are his hands, and how anxious.
ly peers he ont into the night Look he can
not sit still for a moment, and when overcome
10y sleep his lips move as If he spoke, and the
dark sorrow on his brow tells of pain. All,
that man is suffering as you perhaps never sui
fered.
Take that paper from his trembling hand
while lac sleeps-that paper which he has look
ed at an hundred times tonight; open it quietly
and turning to the dim lamp, read with a start
" Come home, .AleL1Ule Is dying" Now you
may understand the sutferingS Of the man be
fore you; now you may look on his pale face,
and for very pity weep.
What are power and riches anil glory and
praise to him, when the wife who has nestled
him to he. warm breast, through all the storms
+ of life, is dylng-and he far, far away! How
he welcomes every Shrek of the whistle that
tells him he is nearer home; how he trembles nj
every tone of that whistle, which seems in Its
thrilling cry to initiate the wailing of grief
And then the dying wife, lies weeping OH her
couch; weeping not for fear of death, but be
cause Clarence does not como. How she listens
for the whistle that will tell her OF his approach
How she beSeccheS heaven to spare her for an
other hour. Alas tisall in vain. He viii never,
never meet thee eye to eye, oh! thou beloved
wife, again on earth.
Open the door OF the saloon; be not afraid
It's only the coffin of little child. In that dark
velvet case is nesting mothers jewel Twas
NIL the child she bad, and her great heart went
out in all the rich fullneSs OF a mothers love-
Sweet little Hally! lie needs not, in his quiet
sleep, the noisy whistle that tells the weeping
one in her home upOnthe hill, of her little boys
farewell The mother, too sick and weary with
many watcEings, cannot 90 to the graveyard so
faraway, where her own mother lies in the
sweet sleep of death.
The father is with little Hally though and
his strong arm has grown so tremuIouS that lac
sbruEen lps lie Sits down beside the coffin
OF his darling boy, aud with the memory of Il
weeping, hraTt-brOScn mother before him, and
the shrill noise of the moaning whistle ringing
through his soul, drops his head upon the cof
fin OF his child, aid whispering, pyays for
strength to drink the cup.
Poor Mother! Poor Father Happy little