The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1858-10-14

that fell on her budding Spring
time, but she mourned in spirit, more,
over the wreck of that once noble
and honored father--thc pleasantest
memory of her childhood, over the
neglected usefu lness and wasted hap
piness that might have been his, and
over the shipwreckcd hopes and aifec.
tions of saint-like mother whose
quivering wings We're almost lifted
for a flight to the peaceful spirit-land.
Nothing gave her so much pain as to
know that she had no power to pro.
tect, even her ever failing strength
against the constant unkindness and
reckless abuse Of the very man who
had vowed, when he led her to the al
tar, to love and cherish her in sickness
and in health. She shielded her, at
all times, however, and in all ways, as
much as was possible, ministering so
kindly and gently to the comfort of the
sufferer, that she sometimes succeed
ed in calling faint smile to the wan
and weary face, like struggling sun
beam lighting the grey clouds of win
try sky. Many a great grief she
pressed back into her own aching
heart, many an alllicton, ormortifying
circumstance, concealed, and many a
Frightening hope presented, which
she knew had no foundation in reali-
ty only that, for her, she might cheat
the weary hours Of few of their Bit
ter reflections and painful forebodings.
Talk Of martyrdom and all praise
to those that have thus perishcd daunt-
lessly by fire and sword, but there
have been those to look on, to wonder
at and admire their fortitudc, to laud
their constancy and transmit their
names to coming ages; but for the fire.
side martyr, whose hearts blood has
been wrung in secret, drop by drop
who has kept their record, Or written
their eulogy?
Talk of the trials of a sclf-sacrif.
cling missionary to heather lands =
There are often greater trials in the
seeming quiet of the home circle, be-
cause, severe as they are, they must
be borne in secret, apart from human
sympathy, unsolaced by human com,
miseration.
1t was thus with Madeleine. There
was no one to whom she could 20 for
aid and comfort, none to whom she
could make known her trials, no heart
on which she could lean for rest, for
the clinging tcndrils of her dearest
love had either been firmly put away
from where they might have fastened,
or, ruthlessly torn from their grasp by
a fathers hand, had been thrown back
to her, crushed and bleeding, to heal
as best she might.
And where, all this time, was the
friend of her school-days-thc boy
lover of her girlhood, and the cores.
pondent Of her after years! A com.
munication, worded in the same friend.
ly, allectionatc style, came now and
then, but they had almost ceased tc
give her pleasure.
Her shrinking, sensitive nature, now
the dark clouds of blighting sorrow
had gathered thickly DER the bright.
ness of her summer sky, now that dis.
grace had cast his blighting breath
upon her buds of promised hope and
pleasure, wrapped itself in the folds oI
maidenly reserve. She no longer dar.
ed to reply to his communications
fearing that something in them might
betray too great a freedom of manner
towards him, now everything for her
was so changed from what it was
when they had met in other days.
And so she ceased to write.
"Hcnry will hear ALL" said she to
herself as she read his last kind words
land if he cares for me, he will come,
or write explicitly" and with many a
pang she calmed the beating of hel
weary heart and turned to solace and
sustain her dropping mother.
The night had been a long and pain.
full one to the pale, meek sufferer
whose eyes, as morning dawncd over
the fearful April landscape, closed in
sleep. 1t had been no less painful to
the anxious watcher by the bedside
for she had felt to her hearts core, ev.
cry pain that racked the feeble, vast.
ing frame.
But as the crimson curtains of the
dawnins day were drawn aside, and
the glorious sunlight shot over the
Eastern sky its slant arrows of gold
they sunk to rest, Madeleine and hel
mother. Of it was refreshing, after
weary hours of suffering, and no less