Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-05-14
For The Tfibane and Telegraph.l
Memory's Chimes.
M FLORA rARRAK.


Away down through the dim winding aisles 0
tie past come the sad thrilling chimes, of Memory
Now they steal with quiet beauty and joy DER my
spirit, and again they break forth in sounds Of
Iwoe Away back from my childhood they come
gathering up the smiles and buds of childhood thu
blossoms of grlhooG and the sweet and bitter fruit
/ of womanhood, and bringing with them those tha
clustered round me there. They bring the gentle
cares and caresses OF my mother in childhood the
dear and blessed communion Of brothers and sisters
in girhood, and that dearly dearly cherished frienJ
that still fingered with when all others had gone
and left me alone 10 guard tho hearthstone around
which had played many years before, g wee bii
OF thing" Still the chimes of memory are swell
ing with saddening peas through my soul--sadden
Ing from their strange contrast to the present-and
ruling the waters that have been quiet for years
and awakening an echo that shall rsverberate for.
ever and never die away. They tell NE that my
friend that had been with for, OH so long time
was finally wooed and won and carried far away to
a sunny empowered home in Georgia
| As sit here by the window alone, the cleal
strong sunbeams of MONDAY playing with my pen.
Gil, aad making light and shade ON my paper>-usi
| as our lives are shaded, now CLEAN of sunshine
and peace, and then broad dark belt of darkness
and sorrow-Memory faithfully chimes down TO me-
the light and shade in the life of that dear friend
Hoping she viii chime slowly and distinctly, III
strive to catch each strain ere it nel. away and
| race it here
Marys childhood was bright-whcse was no:
when fostered and snoothcd by tender parents
| even as bright as my own But ere mine had
scarcely fled wept Ter the graves Of my parents.
and when ours We're grlhood's deepening thou ghts.
they laid Mays parents by the side Of mine, and
those thatlived side by side, sleep sideby side in
death. Then Mary came TO live with US and for
sixteen Years the same roof sheltered us, and we
grew to womanhood one. Brothers and sisters
all left The old home but we lived there still, and
here of we vowed we'd be what the world points
al scensully-old maids, and ever live thus happi
Is tige.her. sAnd surely, we happy then, and
since then have never known happiness so sweet.
NJ, never! though some happiness has been mine
that mortals rarely possess. But when our tweuty-
third summer had passed, and autumn deepen li..
hues were gathering round northern home, u
stranger from the ever sunny South came 70 our
village 10 spend the winter, that he might see ur
| northern madeIIs and the earth for once robed III
white.
lie had been in village scarce month ere
he knew and loved Mary. Did tell You Mary was
beauiiil.ll Then II not III not defame my Idol
by saying that mere external beauty was hers but
II speak of the holiness OF her soal CT the grea,
| intellect that one could almost see in that broad
Whine brow OF hers and the purity and depth OF
thought that beamed in the softemed darkness of
her eye. No, she beautiful she was more
| han beautiful she good, learned and pure
hearted. We had studied together, but Mary al
ways learned her task first, and then taught lac
.nne. And loved her gentle teachings, and loveC
| ner' too, with my whole beng. But Die -entle
southern stsUuset-Atthur Hardea-loved Mary
DID she love him les, she loved hun as a strong
minded, intellectual woman loves a man she con
! aidegs her superior-with her whole beng So, in
,..o spring tinle whom April's sunny showers were
aakipg tic earth warmer they sere ytedded-tLey
made one-anl he took her to his home that
My needed the presence of dear wife 20 make it
cery happy-and was left atone. Oh how drear
'eie the first few weeks after they were gone The
ecy air seemed loaded with their memory and was
oppressive. Even now, as | look back on those
days, they the darkest / lave ever krown.
There not near then to cheer my loneliness,
| no sunbeams to drive away the clouds. But one
day a sister of my mother came to NE. She was
for she spoke of my mothers youthful days, and i'll
listening to her quaint tales of olden times the sum
nor passed aud autumn we'll nigh, VIXEN a letter
came from Mary, summoning me to her. for she
sad, " Sorrow is mine" Quickly commenced my
! long journey to her. for vague and underlined fear
as to The of her SORROW oppressed me- and as
rode along just at dusk, two weeks from tie time
| started although assured that fifteen minutes
would ind me with her, | could hardly bido Their
| passing. But even iInpatienee must come to A..
end, so | was soon in her once glad presence bur
| then no longer glad Oh how changed was she
| from the light hearted being that was the Mary OF
former days. Who had wrought this change? Who
had scattered bitterness in her life current or soHn
seeds OF sorrow in her heart 2 Her husband He
pad become gambler. All the affection that had
! gone out to meet her had died away, seemingly,
aud the springs of love seemed dried up by the
| breath Of fouluess sin. Size knew that he was
cold and harsh, and that all The affection evineed
by him in the days of their courtship seemed now
her to have been unreal and her spirit had tired
Of its cold letters and she wished to win him back
u die They no longer sought the Joyous throng OF
| tho high minded and the gifted, but spout their
evenings apart, she at home aud he at the gambling
saloon. She must win him back or die, and she had
sent lor me to help her regain her happiness. Ali
mis- she told me with her arms pressed closely
| around my necl, and her cheek against mine ere
| / had laid aside my travelling garments. She then
showed me to room that her loving kindness had
! saased TO be arranged just as sho knew l would
ike IL and seeing that everything was for my COM
| logt Ion inc to rest Thea how my very heart
burned with Indignation that Arthur Harden should
! light rich boon as 1Iarys faithful love that
rIiat many had sought for in vain TO cherish
forever should have been denied them and given to
ono that priced it not.
Presently heard step By my door; il passsd
on down the hall, through the front door, and
heard i. ringing the gravel wall, TO the gate Ii
was Arthur Hardons iootstep. The gamblers foot
sep passing onward TO its accustomed place of bar
tering away home joys, trusting hearts and ths
wiie's trust Passing onward to wiring with anguish
young heart, bring shame 10 his own brow, and
lifelong misery and poverty TO all that was ever
dear to him-hs home of happier days and his
young wife's love. He fingered long away from
home aAd the gentle one there watching for him
that night, and the noon Of nigh. had long passed
ere l heard that footstep in the hall again Mary
| gently chided him when he came and by kind rea-
sonng tried TO wiring lrom him promise to never
| again look within the doors where lie had lately
spent his nights. Mary, said he. ''you aud | are
beggars. have gambled away all II yours and
mine, and we are 5eggars, REGGARs, BEGGARS.' .
ani covering his face with his hands lie wrtbed IL
torture, meuJal torture, the keenest OF all, and more
.aan agony. Mary tried to sooth him in her own
/ beautiful oay, telling him that she left him,
/ ind loved him ever, and not one sigh would she
Reave ii in the Place of the wealth that gone lie
would give her back again his affections. He
caught her to bis breast and said Ny noble wife,
md was gone. She aed TO NE, and together we
ratehed for his coming. But he came not with the
morning light, nor at MONDAY neither came he at