Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1857-07-01

many moons" says the old wife, cheer
fully, "and 1 thank God that he has suf-
fered us TO wear out so nearly in the
service of what is good and true"
'I thank him, also, deep in my heart
of hearts, that he gave me the un-
appropriated loveliness of Ruth Seymour,
when the golden clouds of manhood's
dawn hung over me that we together
began the stately revel of life, and have
kept undying and immortal, amid NOR
tality, the pure love of husband and
wife,"
Now, though age has sown a sill
very harvest among The brown girl-locks.
and made wrinkles where once smile
played bo-peep to smile among dimples,
she is still dear as in the first years of
married life still beautiful, still my Nj
non D 'Enclos. 1 love her for the mem
ory of what she has been to me through
the devious pathway of circling days
for the freely-given trust, the perfect
confidence, the unasked obedience of
love and faith.
We can now talk fearlessly of the
poverty days. Days. when we ate SPAR
ingly, that the noble children God gave
US, might climb over the rugged heights
more easily.
1--WE shall yet reap bountifully, Jack, "
said Ruth-and believed her. "Have
we not reaped a plentiful harvest? Rob-
ert blessses his grey-haired parents
every day, for the education he won by
their self-denial-our Robert, the orator
and statesman"
"Mother!"- always call her ''moth-
err" when 1 speak of her children-"our
boy has made another speech-shall I
read it for yoa?"
Then the proud smile creeps over the
wrinkled cheek, and lights up the fading
eye. and as 1 read slowly and carefully,
the burning words of the young politician,
Ruth comes closely to my side and steals
her shrunken fingers between my own,
her foot tapping the floor nervously, as l
speak of applauding crowds and eagerly
excited multitudes. Sometimes a tear
slides down the thin cheek, tear
of gratitude, L know, and she knows,
gratitude that all our efferts were not in
vain.
There is Paul, too, the artist and poet
-belove by ihe noble and the great
He came, last summer, with the odor of
laurels about him, here to The old home
stead, with its gables and queer roofs;
its gnarled oaks and wide-spreading or
chards, came to blend, in unfading col
ors, upon the canvas, the bent forms and
whitened hair of Ruth and 1. God bless
the boy. How the old wife gazed on
the pictured couple, with their weight of
years, their wrinkles and their fading
eyes. Perhaps she saw backward over
the purple hills, the twain who danced
merrily in many a reel, when youth fred
their hearts with happy dreams, and all
the band of girls and boys, that has for
years been broken; saw them gathered
again in festal mirth, rosy train, with
smiling lips and laughing voices. Per-
haps, too, she looked forward over the
white sea, to that crowd of forms wait
ing among the brightness and glory for
US, their comrades of old.
"We shall renew youth which will
be eternal" said softly, as she turned
away from the canvas. "By and-by We
shall quaff from the fountain for which
Ponce de Leon sought, and sought in
vein. Thankful ought we 10 be rather,
that our growing old has made our chill
dren what they are" A soft smile
foated over the pale worn face, and ]
saw for a moment how she would lool
hereafter.
For our son in the city, the ever hur.
rying city of New York, L think Ruth
has warmer place in her heart, thar
for rest; not even our daughter-dark
haired Sara-whose home is with us, ant
whose children shout and sing about oul
door every hour in the day, has the
deep sympathy that Graham shares il
that mothers heart. It's strange to me
but know she knows best the wants o.
her children, and try not to wonder.
When he comes home to the roof tree
full of cares and business, talking earn
estly with Edward, Sara's husband, up.
on the rise of stock, the fall of cotton
the news from Europe, and a hundred
other things all at once - when he
reads with frowning brow, the lis
of failures among merchants, pitying
this, condemning that-when he tears
open business letters and runs them
through in twinkle, always hurried,
always hurrying, 1 can see the mother:
eyes watching every careless movement,
with sad, sweet sympathy in them
why is this?
Sometimes, when Robert brings hi:
beautiful young wife home, and Paul
dalIies with the curls of his adored bride,
her head in his lap; when Sara sits down
on the footstoOl by her husband and
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