Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1859-01-06
"No Sorrow Like Nine. -

/ h'hB 81 ooou-Oys
"No Sorrow Like Mine" e4f.
"ft seems. so hard. SO cruel!",. said the
young mother, and here sob broke into her
voice; she clasped her ban 10 over her eyes
and tears broke through her fngers-such
salt. bitter tears as could only break ny
from mother. hearts mother robbed Of
!mr irst-borb! p. -.
+ Two weeks ago that very day he had been
with her in the chamber where, the young
mother now sat IN darkness and desol.rion,
the little joyous head fultering about the
room, the little glad voice breaking up in
quick shouts of laus shter, or lisping out
those pretty broken words and enlrea,ies
which are such sweet music to a moth RS
heart; and, now ~! 49, -,
There stood in the corner the little crib.
with its pretty lace curtains, ank over it
hung the snowy apron and embroidered
merino dress he had Iast worn, at the foot
lay the little morocco slippers that the
mother couldn't have removed from her
sight, though the feet that had worn them
now lay folded close together, and down so
deep under the grass no warmth of the sun
shine could ever reach them. s1a Cos
"Do1't. Mary, don't! 1t nigh. have been
worse. Remember there are sorrows great
er than yours said the soft. plying voice
of Mrs. Howard, the lady,s arust Intimate
tecad, who was passing the rssrning with
her. tll
-, efzl Es.s, So. "a =
The stricken woman looked up in credui-
Gus astonishment, that checked for. mo
ment the fow Of her tesrs. "How can you
~ EsNthis n elsa.ss she ssyelaiusG f--.>
voice broken with grief and wounded feel
ing; she was my only boy, my little Harry,
with but two years and Eve months over his
golden head; and loved him so; and then,
don't believe there ever was another quite
SO pretty and bright child.
"You Know. too, how my very heart was
bound uo in him; how, If ever ran out for
an hour, was never easy till got back to
him again; and how I used to stand and
watch him alter he'd got to sleep in the
crib there, With one little chubby hand
wrapped up Ike lily under his cheek, and
the smiles erfnping up his red lip; and then,
just to think of lis pretty. frolicksome, teas
ing way, Ihat made me stop every other
minute and hug him Up 10 my heart. and
cover his face with kisses. o. Harry, my
baby, my precious baby! shall never see
You again! Surely. Heller, there never was
sorrow Ike unto my Sorrow" and the sobs I
broke out ag ain. a. t'i'''t 1881
s.Xaa M.rv
sard's selenn tones checked the tears of
her friend II know. ofa sorrow with
whose bittert ess yours bears no compari-
son, and II, has come into our family, unto
my own and only sister, for her pride, her
idol, her Herbert is in prison!'
, 30, Helen!" cried Mrs. Sprague, spring
ing up from her chair with a shudder, while
she looked at the pale, working features OF
her friend, show you horrify me.'' -.
81 can ncttalk Of it, Mary, or it will
drive me-, as it his his mother, frantic You
saw him in his childhood, and can semem-
Der what a beautiful, promising boy he was;
but he was mpstnous. and fond of society,
and all sorts of fun, and his mother was
dotiDg and isdulgent; and SO he grew up 20
his seventeenth birthday, reckless and self
willed, though he was too kind hearted to
be ever malicious. -.
~ must make the story short-hs fell in
10 bad company and bad habits; and one
night, when quite intoxicated, he was per.
suaded 70 join some incendiaries. The ring
leaders were detected, and the boy was
sentenced TO a year in the penitcnt;ary,
which might have beensten, only his youth
pleaded hard with the kind hearted jadge;
and now he lies down at night in felun's
ce II, while lis poor brokeu-hearted mother
PAGES her room, with the tears streaming
down her wasted cheeks as she means over !
aud over these words: 'lf he had but died
when he was baby. if he had but died |
them" .tv- 0s.
And Mrs. Sprague listened to this story
with mingled horror and sympathy, which !
made her forge, her own grief, and at its
close she said solemnly; Yes. Helen, her |
sorrow is greater than mine, had ten
thousand times rather Harry had died than
live for this $500. 4f !
And for you, o. stricken mother, who
nave tdiu uPWn, win eucn nedrt-dcnes ~
God best knowcth, the child Of your love,
do write this story. .5.,..
There is SORROW that is heavier than
deaths, the sorrow Of ,in aud shame; and |
from this the little one, over whose bosom
is set the green seal of the summer grass.
is forever delivered. The child wslks in
that blessed country where no Disgrace
shall ever scar its soul or crimson its cheek,
and bitter as is the cup app intcd ycu to,
drink, it will not bring 70 your soul that
sting which sometimes causes mother to
cry out for her child: 'would he had disd.'
BE comfor,ed, you who have givenup the
sweet fragrant blossoms Of your lives to
sdorn the garden Of your God. II may be.
Il your hands could roll away the eur;ains
Of the future year. so that you could behold
what awaited your beloved on earth. you
would say; u, 10 better 'bs, God called
them