Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1862-01-28
CHAPTER l,


flights of stairs, in a New York boarding
house. The bed was shut up in wardrobe
a few engraviDgs which we had brought
there with us hung upon the wall canary
in the window sang all day to red and
white rose below him; in the center of the
floor was table aanked by two easy chairs,
in one Uf which | was listlessly swaying to
and fro--in the other she had been wont to
sit, but, alas she could never sit there
again, save in fancy, by means Of which l
seemed TO see her slight wasted figure, her
pure, patient face, in the accustomed seat
A bright fire burned in the CRATE, and
by its glow, the room looked quite like a
parlor. had congratulated myself on this
six months before when / engaged it, and
reioiced that it would not seem to my mother
quite devoid of the comforts to which she
had been accustomed in her old home. She
was gone now, and l sat there alone,
homeless, friendless, had almost said hope
less, orphan, not quite eighteen.
Outside it was a wild October night. The
rain fell heavily, and upon the long, lament
ing blast seemed borne the wall of anguished
spirits, seeking rest and finding none,
shuddercd as l felt the rain drops splash
upon the pavement, for only the cold sod
was between her and the pitiless storm.
Does not every one who has lost dear
friend find it harder to leave them under
relentless sky, sobbing blast, a driving
rain, than if moon beam and star-beam
shone on the new-made grave like the visi-
bic promise of Fathers love?
1t would have boen a luxury to abandon
myself to my sorrow; to walk, in thought,
through the beloved and memory haunted
past, and gather up every word which had
H,11n L. 1,l
time, from the dear lips which Death had
frozen into eternal silence. But even in that
hour which should have been consecrated to
love and sorrow, the Future confronted me.
Stern and unsparing she looked into my
eyes and babe me talk with her. "Wait
little, only little L l cried out, trembling
before her; but the storm was not more pit
iless than she.
In March, after q long illness, my father
had died. He left us poor. He had been q
literary man, diligent, studious, and lily
paid. Perhaps the delicacy of his fancies,
The subtlety of his thoughts, failed to appeal
to the comprehension of those on whom he
depended for his fortune. We, at least-his
wife and daughter-believed his writings
above the times and the market; but we
may have been too partial judges. At all
events the pecuniary rewards Of his efforts
were not abundant, and we were in no dan
ger Of being led into temptation by super
fluffy of riches.
He had the refined and exigea,te tastes
peculiar to such sensitive organizations,
and we lived, though entirely aloof from So
ciety and the world, much more expensively
than the bare law of necessity demanded
His last hours were saddened by the knowl-
edge that he was leaving us lonely and des-
titute but he did not feel this so keenly
as it would have been his nature to feel it,
because God, who tempers the wind to the
shorn lamb, mercifully sent upon him that
sort Of lethargy, that prostration of the
reasoning faculties, which so often follows
their too constant and severe exercise.
Sometimes a terrible dread of the future for
us two helpless women would rack his heart,
but, as whole, he possessed the most thor
ough and childlike faith in the Almighty
and Eternal Father which have ever seen
His very last words as he held our hands in
his, and sought our faces with his loving,
longing eyes, were,
"The widow Coda Father to the father
Iess-the Bible says so! Trust, my dar-
1ings, trust"
Aud he lapsed into death peacefully, as
one might browse away into sleep, with O
smile upon his lips born of that serene trust
In God. 1t was there still when we buried
him-we shall know him by it in the resur-
rection.
1t is not necessary that should say how
we two--wife and daughter-had wor-
SHIPPED him; how we had reverenced his
genius, found rest in his strong heart, and
loved back his love. When we had left him
in the village churchyard and returned to
our. desolate home, we felt that for US the
sun of life had set forever. Stars might in
deed arise and make our night holy but
no matter how the stars shine, when the sun
is gone neither bird nor blossom has ever
forgot that it was night still, or been de-
luded into song or bloom.
Perhaps it was well that the stern neces-
stiles of life were upon us. The inevitable
fact that we must do something gave tone
and stimulus to our lives. BY the expenses
of my fathers illness and burial and the
mourning habiliments which we had pur-
chased, our little hoard in the bank was
more than half exhausted. There remained
10 us not quite three hundred dollars beside
the small sum likely to accrue from the sale
of our simple household furniture. The
lease of the cottage which we had occupied
would expire on the first of April and in
the two weeks intervening we must settle
upon some plan for the future.
1t seemed to me that my mother could
never endure to remain in Woodstock. To
keep house where we had been living was
simply impossible We had no means to
pay the rent; besides we could no longer
afford a servant, and neither of us had ever
been used to household labor. AS for board
ing there, / could see no way of obtaining
any employment for our support; and even
if could, thought it would kill my mother
to live on where he had died-where they
had passed so many happy years In this
extremity my thoughts turned to New York.
We had occasionally passed winter there
with my father, and knew more about it
than any other city. 1t seemed probable
there would be something in that vast in
dustrial hive which my hands could do
besides-and this reason had great weight
with mel should there be able to procure
for my mother the best Of medical advice
/ had already begun to see in her the same
symptoms which heralded my fathers de-
cay; and a terrible fear haunted me, which
stTove in vain to Danish, that she had not
watched over him so long and so lovingly
without inhaling from his lips the breath of
the Destroyer.
80 went to New York. l engaged there
the room have described, and returned to
woodstock to superintend the dissolution OF
our household, and the sale of our belong.
lngs. retained the engravings which my
father had collected from time 10 time and