Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1857-05-28

When he comes home to the r0of-tree full of
cares and business, talking earnestly with Ed
ward, Sara's husband, upon the rise of stocks,
the fall of cotton, the news from Europe, and a
hundred other things all at once when he reads
with frowning brow, the list of failures among
the merchants, plying this, condemning that !;
when he tears open business letters and runs
them through in twinkling, always hurrying,
can see the mothers eye watching every carless
movement with a sad, sweet sympathy in them
why is it
Sometimes, when Robert brings his beautiful
young wife home, and Paul dalies with the
curls of his adored bride, her head in his lap !;
when Sara sits down on the footstool by her hus-
band and laughingly tumbles the hair sof her
first born-sometimes / say, when Graham
helps to make up the family party. and chat
tiers of the markets, of politics, of the fine arts
and of the farm, have silent tears fall from
the quiet eyes of Ruth, as if all this hurry wor
ry of her boy was mask. Perhaps it is. Ruth
told me once of fair young being whose soul
was twined with the soul of Graham. How the
changing years carried her away to sleep in the
green grave, and left the boy alone May be,
memory is goading him to this incessant action,
this constant labor. Who knowsi We all have
name written somewhere among the records
of the heart, dearer that all other names beside
name that brings with it either pure enjoyment
or bitter, bitter yearnings.
IL HluSl Dc 80 WIFI GTdHaIll, IUT i nave seeu
him stand, silent as the frozen snow, for hours,
leaning over the banister and gazing on a sim
pie picture, hung in the hall, with the name of
'Rosamond written underneath it. Rose of the
world and yet the world knew only much
of her beauty as had ripened under fifteen sum-
mer's suns. She was my cousin, and fairer
face never bloomed out on the black winter airs
of New England, but was not suffered to mar
vel at her exceeding loneliness long, for God
nd ha 10 fur nd ap oil mn NJ
memory is all that remains of her now. Per
haps, l only say. perhaps, the rare vision that
steals through Grahams silent hours, and even
glides between him and the rustling ledger, bore
the fragrant name of Rosamond; if she did. or if
my young cousins face bears a faint likeness to
his lost one,' wonder not that the boy loves to
linger on the stairs and watch the eastern red
sunlight steal in and glow suddenly all over the
bright, beaming countenance. How sad and
how strange that so many of our best beloved
memories are scented with the perfume of cy
press and of shrouds.
Ruth saws the reason of this is because such
memories would lose their sweetness had we the
power to make them too oft recurring. Those
we love 90 home to their Father when we re-
member only what is beautiful of them years of
long life might rob them of what makes US cher
ish their memory so fondly; now their beauty will
remain unfading through the long lapse of an
unending eternity, and no stain their purity
can make us love them less She has whispered
the same words to Graham in the twihght's pur-
pie hush; and he has gone back to his city home
more cheerfully; all I'll dare to say he has gazed
down memory's long gallery with less regret as
his eve drinks in the beauty of his beautiful
Rose He thinks the changeless years be-
yond the narrow sea, and of the changeess form
watching beside its banks for him He has Of
ten closed his day-book and ledger, doubt not,
with the untutored wish that he might walk
across the busy streets.
Ruth and / have a whole troop of lovely and
much loved grand children whom she persists in
spelling, and whom persist in bringing up as
they should be brought up. Truly enough the
young rogues are always hunting my pockets
for sweetmeats and stray bits with which to buy
TOYS and my wife sometimes tells me am spoil
ing the whole troop, instead of herself
But children children and have too green
a memory not to know that plums and candies
are SO sweet to small lips. Dear children, they
are Jumps of pure gold, and cunning must the
artzan's hand be that can mould the pure gold
Alright.
Paul's young wife, with her azure eyes, and
amber curls, looks far too young and frail to
guide the stout youngster whose saucy black
eyes are for all the world the exact counterpart
of his old grandpapa's
Who, then, like Ruth and I, can feed small
lips and dandle baby limbsl Who, though her
hands have grown unsteady and weak, can fold
the tiny form in n drowsy robe like my wife7 All,
me! how wea re shutting out slowly this feeble
lamp of life By-and-by the Pickering light will
fall, and all of us-bits of poor worn clay-will
be borne by our children with tears and lamen-
tations to the end vault yonder on the hill over
looking the sea. Overlooking the sea? Aye,
even as we now in life are overlooking that white
sea with the purple shores and the far twilight
skirting it forever Dear old wife, how patient
ly we will wait the coming of messenger from
yonder shore, No need, then to pull down the
rumpled kerchief, to straighten the white locks
or grasp more firmly the stout cane; for angels
will minister to Us; and give to these feeble
limbs newness of life and Immortality of youth.
Will our children follow too?