The weekly Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1854-1861, 1857-08-06
My Old Wife andI.

pictures, indistinct and dreamy. Years ago,
my Ruth whispered to me in the purple twi.
light Of a midsummer evening, "Whither
thou goest l will go"-and trustfully has the
promise been kept.
Sometimes, when the winter fire burns low
and the Goals grow blood red in the broad
open chimney, take her withered hand in
mine, and we talk with hushed voices of those
buried days, and of the buried deud, who dan.
ced with us in the hey dey of youth. Voices
silent, hearts pulseless, and eyes closely
.veiIed.-Ruth and are gladly looking for.
ward 10 the hour when we shall see the band
of dear, departed ones, beyond the golden
gates OF the city "Beaui(ul."
ave shall go soon, jack" says the tran,
quill voice; and answered hopefully, "very
soon." Then she strikes the sweet melody
of Summer" and the tones of our trem.
bling voices ring through the quiet room,
like The echoes of far away song, sung by
a group of forms known and loved in the
past.
In the warm summer nights we sat each
by the other, on the yerandah that
a view of the heaving sea, and the white sail
ed ships that glide thither with their great
white wings.
:, Life is like the billowy ocean," say to
the mild face and dim eyes, "covered with
countless burks, S, me filled with everything
rich and glorious. laden with the wealth and
beauty OF other lands; others idle and bare.
with gaping seams and tattered sails. They
fl at sercnely on the blue depths, tossed,
unharmed by the tickle winds; while nobIy
laden ones, freighted with the hopes of liv-
ng friends, go down even in the soft moon
light and the l;shtest breeze. Yonder two
fairy sails, side by side, like old companions,
happy if the winds do not drive them asun.
der. So we rocked by the pillows, waited
by prosperous breezes-ha,e kept closely
Together till our barks have grown almost
unseaworthy.
"The pilot will come for us Jack, before
mpnv moons," says the old wife checrfully,
sand thank God that he has suffered US to
wea- cut so nearly in the service Of what is
good and true" 4..
II thank him, also, deepin my heart of
hearts, that he gave me the unappropriated
lovliness Of Ruth Seymour, when the golden
clouds Of nanhood'o dawn hung over me-
that we together begun the stately reve! of
life, and have Kept nndying ana immortal
amid mortality, the pare love Of husband and
wife" 49,
Now, though age has sown a silveTy har-
vest among the brown girls locks. and made
wrinkles " here once smiles played bo. peep
to smiles among dimples, she is still dear as
in the first days of married life-stll beauti-
full, still my Ninon D'Enclos. 1 love her
fo- the memory Of what she has been to me
through the the devious pathway Of crcllng
days-for the freely given trust, the perfect
confidence, the unmasked obedience of love
and faith.
We can now talk fearlessly of the power
ty days. Days, when we ate sparingly, that
the noble children God gave us might climb
over the rugged heights more easily.
eve shall yet reap bountifuly, Jack"
said Ruth-and | believed her. "Have we
not reaped a plentiful harvest9 Robert
blessed his gray haired parents every day
for the education he won by their self denial
our Robert the orator Gnd statesman"
! "Mother!"-I always call her "mother,"
when I speak of her childrcn--"our boy
has made another spcech-shal read it to
you?' ~ r
Then the proud smile creeps over the
wrinkled cheek, and lights up the luded eye,
and as Tread slowly and carefully, the burn
ing words of the young politician, Ruth comes
closely to my side and steals her shunken
fingers between my own, her foot tapping
the foor>nervously, cs speak of applaud.
ing multitudes. Sometimes tear steals
down the thin cheek, a tear Of gratitude that
all our efforts were not in vain.
There is Paul, too, the trtist and poet
beloved by the noble and great. He came
home last summer, with the cdor Of laurels
about him, to the old homestead, with its
gables and queer roofs; its gnnrled oaks and
wide spreading orchards--came to blend, in
unfading coIors, upon the canvass, the bent
forms and whitenened hair of Ruth and T.
God bless the boy. How the old wife gazed
on the pictured couple, with their weight OF
years, their wrinkles and faded eyes. Per.
haps she saw backward over thepurple hills
the twain who danced merrily in many areel,
when youth fired the hearts with happy
dreams, and all the band OF happy girls and
boys, that has for years been broken; saw
them gathering again in festal mirth, rosy
train, with smiling lips and laughing voices.
Perhaps too, she looked far over the white
sea, to that crowd Of forms waiting among
the brightness and glory for ue, their com.
rades of old.
/ ,@We shall renew youth which would be
eternal,"I SAID softly, as she turned from
the canvass. 'sBy and by we shall quaff
from the fountain from which the Ponce de
Leon sought and sought in vain. Thankful
ought we to be rather, that our growing old
has:made our children what they are" A
soft smile fioated over the pale, worn face,