Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1867-05-23
T0WANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA, MAY o. 1867

How can you say he is changed?
said my mother, gently. "To be
sure, he looks older and graver, and
more like man than when he went
away but his eyes and smile are
the same as ever. 1t is that heavy
beard which SO changes him. He is
my boy still"
Yes, mother, am your boy still.
God help me ! at this moment
felt like boy. and it would have
been blessed relief to have wept
upon her bosom as | had done in my
infancy. But l kept down the beat.
ing of my heart and the tremor OF
my heart and the tremor of my lip,
and answered quietly as l looked in
his full, handsome face:
You have changed too, Frank,
but l think for the better"
"Oh, yes, | thank you for that
compliment my wife tells me l grow
handsome every day live."
His wife ! Could hear that name,
and keep still
"And have you seen my little
girl Z" he added, lifting the infant in
his arms and kissing it's crimson
cheek. 81 tell you, Harry, there is
not another like her in the United
States. Don't you think she looks
very much like her mother used to ?''
Very much," faltered.
"Hallo !" said Frank, with sud-
denness that made me start violent
ly. ~ had forgotten to introduce
you to my wife-I believe she and
you used to be playmates in your
young days, eh, Harry?" and he slap
ped me on the back. For the sake
of old times, and because you were
not at the wedding, L will give you
leave to kiss her once /; but mind, old
fellow, don't you repeat the ceremo-
ny. Come, hsre she is, and for once
| will manage those ferocious nous
taches of yours in the operation"
He pushed Lizzie, laughing and
blushing, toward me. A CLEAN of
light and hope, almost too dazzling
to bear, came over me, and | cried
out before thinking, Not Mary I"
| must have betrayed my secret to
every one i'll the room, but nothing
was said even Frank was this time
silent | kissed the fair cheek of the
young wife and hurried to the silent
figure looking out of the window.
"Mary-Mary Moore" said l in a
low voice, "have you alone no well
come to give the wanderer ?"
She turned and laid her hand in
mine, and murmured hrriedly:
| am glad to see you, Harry"
Simple words-and yet how blest
they made me ! | would not have
yielded up that moment for an En-.
peror's crown. There was the hap
py home group, and the dear fire.
side, and theEe sweet Mary Moore |!
the eyes had dreamed of by night
and by day we've falling before the
ardent gaze of mine, and the sweet
face had so long prayed to see, was
there before Inc, more beautiful than
before | never till that moment
knew the meaning of real happiness.
Many years have passed since that
happy night, and the hair that was
then dark and glossy, is now turning
grey. | am growing to be an old
man, and l can look back to long,
happy, and well-spent life. And yet,
sweet as it has been, l would not re-
call single day, for the love that
made my manhood so bright shines
also upon me in my white hairs An
old man? Can this be SO? At heart
| am as young as ever. And Mary,
with her bright hair parted smoothly
from that has slight furrow in it, is
still the Mary of my early days. To
me she can never grow old or change.
The heart which held her infancy and
sheltered her piously ia the flush of
womanhood can never cast her out
till life shall cease to warm it. Nor
even then, for love still lives in Hea-
ven.