The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1866-12-06

one Gay the Willard carriage went by
and the neighbors said it was going t,
G''bcrt's wedding in the city. Tha,
night how 1 tried to turn him ont n
my heart and forget the past! AL
n'gnt my eyes never closed, and in thf
morning my face was white and h.g
saro but mother never knew-sbe
'noug"t me ailing, and told me I must
get oack my roses before Robert should
come. WheD the New Year came
h0oert s'd 1 stood up, and my lying
lips said over the holy words, and thert
was nothing left but to make the hes,
Of my bargain.
We went away to the city, and faith.
er ana mother threw an old shoe after
U.s. "9or luck,' they said, and at tina,
we tried to laugh, but it choked US. ]
never loved my country home as I did
when took my goodbye look at it.
with father and mother standing in the
ooor looking after US, shading their
eyes with their hands.
la ny new home 1 sometimes met
Gilbert and Mary; and she seemed So
light hearted and merry, but l fancied
Gilbert seemed growing old fast, and
his eyes bad lost some of their olden
sparkle.
Ten years went by, and Robert was
kind, and l loved him much as ] nigh,
have loved an elder brother; but I had
rot forgotten Gilbert nor the old times.
Sometimes 1 found him watching me
with something in his face l could no,
understand, only it vas look of loss
and I would be kinder to him, so he
should never miss the whole love I
could not give him.
ana then f.obert was sick, and grew
weaker and weaker, and the doctor said
he mnst leave the city and go where
he could get breath of fresher air and
a bit Of warmer sunshine.
s We went to Florida-to St. Angus
tine.
How soft and warm the air was =
but it only seemed to stiAe him. We
would stay all day in the house, with
the curtains drawn close to keep out
the scorching air, and only after the
sun had dipped down into the sea
would We leave our rooms and 20 out
into the sweet.scented air. There was
a stone wall, shaped like half moon,
and on it We took our walk, and gay
crowd passed up and down, while the
band played, till midnight: The stones
Of the wall were worn smooth with the
dasbing Of the waves against them for
more than three hundred years.
I don't know which was gayest, the
bright feathered birds, or the flowers
they swung in! Robert loved the
great magnolia blossoms, and would
put one in dish, and the room would
be so sweet with only one.
But the air seemed to shorten his
breath and clog up his life, and one
day he called me and said:
"Mattie, will you be lonesome when
I go?"
And I never loved him as I did
when he lay there so white and wasted,
and 1 thoughtof the great wrong I had
done him, and got down on my knees
and cried out IT,:
"Oh! Robert don't say that-didn't
we come here so you could live? God
won't leave me alone" And a great
light came into his face, and he put his
weak hand on my head and said II
"Mattie, I didn't know--I had thought
sometimes you didn't care for me as
I did for you" This hurt me, and
said 1;
"Robert, tue world will be so dark
if you are gone;" He shut his eyes
so wearily, and just whispered, "God
will light it up, Matte" and those
we're the last words be ever spoke.
He died that night, and his eyes fol-
lowed me eagerly and lovingly, but he
could not speak. And in the morning
they told me I must bury him before
the sun went down.
How I hated them for this way of
hurryiug people into their graves. So
he sleeps in the cid burying ground,
where the moss has crept overt the graves
covered with quaint Spanish cypher-
ings, tor over three hundred years
where so many rest who come to find
health and lite.
Then l went back North and found
mother alone; father had been cold in
his grave a twelvemonth, and mother
said he used to call, "Mat, Mat, come
back before I dic,"-and he never
knew mother bending over him when
he went to his long rest. 1t was hard
for mother, so took her back with me
to the city, and she grieved for father
till the day sho died, and 1 had her laid
beside him.
And I lived alone in my beautiful
home, for Robert had lett me that and
dollars enough to live on in comfort,
and l saw little Of tho gay world around
me. Sometimes 1 passed Gilbert VIII
lard, an old man with iron grey hair,
aud but little Lett of the Gilbert of
old. "
People said his wife's life was scarce
lp worth the having, for at times she
lost her mind, and would make the
house ring with the wild laughter and
cries for her little Alice who died in
her arms. But for that she was harm
less a. a child.
| Ona dau tho hearse went hv. and I