Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1861-03-27

Mr.. Harlow sauntered -hstlessly about
in his garden walks: the long summer twi
light was drawing to a close, and the
young moon had hung her silvery bow in
the east = The hour was beautiful, and
the place in which he walked one to delight
the heart But seeing, he saw not and
hearing. be heard not, for his mind was
with. his ledger and tangled business af-
fairs sss 80 =, 3 -.s.s sl.aa t=s-ls .s %
Mr. Harlow did business in Boston, and
resided in one of the adjoining suburban
towns. he had recently purchased pret-
ty little place. and his family rejOiced in
the exchange from a narrow, city street to
the lovely gardens surrounding their new
home. go. = -. - - ..---
At the foot of the garden was a little
woody dell, which had been purposely left
in its natural state A brook leaped
musicaliy down its rocky bed. and then tax
ing sudden turn, wound placidly through
a green meadow. Here the five children
of Mr.. Harlow were playing, and tbeir
shouts of glee rung out upon the evening
air. se- 80 -aEt4z
Papa -papaI cried sturdy little Harry,
appearing at the top Of the bank. come
and hear our echo. Ellen says it is the
sweetest echo she ever heard; We have call
&c toit again and again, and it answers
back Just what we say H
Mr.. Harlow followed his son smechani-
cally, but when he stood in the midst of the
laughing group of children, he came out of
his troubled reyerie,
oh, father we have found an echol' they
all cried together. 'Hark-it shall call
father said Susan. 'FatAer!' and the
echo answered .Fatherp
Isn't 1t pleasant said Ellen, the eldest
thoughtful girl of twelve years If We
stand in this spot, the echo speaks Just once,
clearly and distinctly; but a little to the
right or left it is repeated txO or three
times
I always Ike to hear an echo, said the
father with smile. $3.50 i
Halo. old echop shouted Harry, jump
ing up and down, and the responses made
him shout and laugh again.
Where do you liveg called Nelson.
Sweet echol sweet echop cried Susan,
and the wOOdland-sprite grew quite wild
in answering their merry calls.
What is it papa? asked Eddie, a three
year old pet, as he clung timidly to his
fathers side, who is it that speaks?"
1tis the nymyhs of the stream, or the
goddess of these woods said Nelson, with
a patronizing air, for he had been reading
mythology.
Don't you be afraid, Eddie said Ellen,
kindly taking her little brothers hand; sit
is only the sound Of our own voices coming
bacl1sto us -1s
The dew is falling let US go into the
house. said the father, and he turned from
the place, followed by his children. Ellen
walked by his side. sFather, the echo re-
minds me of something 1 read the other
day. 1t was a piece about moral echoes
it is said that if we speak kindly, almost
always We should hear the echo in kind
reply; and everything We do. or say awakens
echoes in our own hearts, and the hearts Of
those about US
Very true, dear Ellen: you are quite a
moralist.' a-sssz sr1s
In the society Of his family, the shadows
were charmed from Mr.. Harlow's brow,
but when he lay upon his pillow, busy,
troubled thoughts banished sleep. Hehad
been speculating somewhat, aside from his
regular business, and was eonsgduently
harasscd with too much care. AS the day
dawned, he sank into iitful slu1nber which
gave no refreshment to his 4wearied mind
and body.
A cheerful group gathered around the
breakfast table-fYe smiling, happy chill
dren and their gentle mother. But the
fathers brow was shaded and he had no
reply for the pleasant prattle of his chill
dren; 50 they subsidized into silence, chilled
by his stern aspect 1t might and should
have been an hour bright and beautiful
with domestic sunshine; and when Mr.
Harlow bade his family good By" for the
day, and felt that his wife's eve followed
him with. sad, inquiring glance, his
conscience smote him, for he had cloud
ed the sweet atmosphere of home.
On shisway to the depot, an importu.
4 1