The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1859-03-30
A blind Heart,a storv.

nature ana OF ART; Dlue SKY and wlnd-SWept
fields; and, above all, dear faces-faces whose
very memory lightened my night-time-my
father, my gentle mother, my young dark eyed
brother There was another, too, mot of our
! blood, whose face / saw oftener than any.
This was strange, for Leona Ashland, the
daughter of my mothers most intimate friend,
was but a child o. ten-six years younger than
myself. She was, however younger, very dear
to me- She had been in and out of our house
as familiar as daughter. She was the pet of
every one save me; but, child as she was, my
own feelings for her was TOO tender and reve-
rent TO admit of gay familiarity. | had never
heard any one call her beautiful: but to me her
face always seemed like that of an angel. I
used to tremble, lest some day she should be
taken from us forever; her features, framed in
those long brown curls, seemed so spiritual, SO
delicate When / looked into her thoughtful
eyes, life seemed holier, more earnest thing.
But the time came when could see them no
longer.
For fifteen years the world was visible to me,
with its beauty, its mystery, its romance. Then
darkness began to steal gradually over me. L
was whole year before the last ray of ligh
lad faded. l was stone blind at sixteen
was thankful that it was not sudden stroke
Day after day had sought in vain for somt
'herished object of vision. Once it had been
he far off hills; again, the familiar outline of >
'istant tree After time the darkness came
nearer. Day after day some tender grace
would fade out from beloved face, and could
only reproduce it in fancy. Atlength | seemed
to dwell in world Of shadows; shades, whose
dim outline / could only family catch, foated
by me; still | could tell day from night-still
heavens blessed light was welcome But
what shall l say of the anguish of desoation
when the last ray was gone? when they told
me the midday sun was shining clear and
bright, and l, alas! sat in blindest, deepest
midnight?-no light, no hope!
I had so much to give up, it was not alone
the Joy Of sight, the dear faces, the beautiful
world; but all my high hopes, my plans for the
future, my ambition, my pride. | had had
visions of fame in the profession | had chosen.
There were months Of storming, surging dis
content, before could settle calmly down to
my destiny. I secluded myself from those
learest to me on earth. The very sound of
their voices maddened me, for it made more
intense the longing to look upon their faces.
Day after day sat alone in my room, where
| had besought them to not come to me,
Sometimes my mother, who loved me more
than ever in my sorrow and my helplessness,
would steal into my room, and sit for an hour
beside me in silence She was so still could
scarcely hear her breathe; but know at those
times she wept much. Once, in an irresistible
impulse Of maternal tenderness, she folded her
arms around me- and drew my head to her
bosom ooh, my child! my dear child, be
comforted! Believe there is something left in
life, or this blow will kill US BOTH" she cried
But my rebellious spirit would not struggle
with its despair, even though / felt il was
breaking my mothers heart
Once-and | think this did me more good
than anything-Leona came to me. She haC
so LONG entreated me to see me that at length
mother consented She came to my side She
laid her hand, her little child's hand, upor
mine. | knew as well as if | had seen it, the
sorrowful pity with which her eyes were lifted
to nv face. She seemed striving to gather
sell-command enough to speak calmly. A
length, low and quiet, yet earnest, her word;
fell upon my ear, ooh, Allen, the book say;
our heavenly father knows what is best fol
every one! He is our father; and he does no
make us unhappy. This is the passage Mr.
Green told me to repeat to you: Like as
father pitieth his children, SO the Lord pitiett
| them that fear him.
Her childish voice had deepened into thrill
ING energy as she recited the words of inspira
ton Then she turned to leave me; but l de
tanned her Already she had comforted me.
Chow came Mr.. Green to tell you to repeal
those words to me?'' asked.
"You are not vexed, Aen?" she said.
"No, am grateful, replied. 81 only
wish to know how it happened"
He was at our house last night and he spoke
of you. He pitied you very much; be said you
had great deal in life yet, if you would moi
despair. After while my mother left the
room, and told him you was very good to me
and | wanted to tell you something to make you
feel better. Then he said might repeat thai
verse to you Does it do you good?" said she
"Much good, blessed child Your words
have helped me more than you can ever know, ="
replied.
She left me then. did not strive to detain
reverenuy the light, brighter than earthly
dawning, which was rising upon my spirit.
Her words had thrilled me, as if they had come
from some angels lips. "A great deal left for
me yet in life!" And as repeated these words,
my blessings seemed to rise up before me and
reproach me. For me, Hagar's prayer had
been answered. | had neither poverty nor
riches; but a competence was mine in my own
right, which would secure me against want.
had health and strength and many friends.
The paths to our little village were all familiar
to me. could traverse them without guide;
| could feel the free winds sweep my brow; |
could inhale the sweet breath Of the flowers;
could hear the beloved voices of home. Verify
nv heavenly father had not forsaken me. |
had been willfulIy shutting his merces out OF
nv heart. l kneIt now, and thanked them for
what had been left-prayed him to teach me
to bear patiently the loss Of what had been
taken.
When the tea bell rang rose, and went
quietly down stairs They gave no noisy greet
ing to the son who had not sat beside them
there since the spring flowers had blossomed,
though, now the summer lay green and luxu-
rient upon hill and woodland. But | under
stood nv fathers welcone-the unutterable
tenderness which deepened my mothers voice
the eager grasp in which my brother Richard
held my hand / found my chair in its old
place. After that | never secluded myself