The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1869-09-17
Saturday Night-The Worth Of Woman,S
Love.
Only another weeki

How snort it has been-seven days
seven chapters of light and happiness-of
joys and sorrows-of hopes and fears-of
trials and conquests-of births and mar
riages-of sickness and of health. But q
littlething is week-but it is life to
some, in the results it doth bring.
Tonight we were made to feel sad, yet
happy. On the way home we passed
woman in calico leading by the arm a
weak, tottering, trembling old man. His
step was hardly step-he could hardly
lift his feet from the pavement-his face
was wrinkled with the lines of ninety-one
winters, while his scattered hairs were
silky and white as the purest snow.
And the woman was past fifty. Her face
was kind-her eye told volumes. The
hurried by to let the old man toddle on.
"Good evening, good woman-can we
help your"
"Oh, no, thank you" And she looked
so kindly at us. eve are almost home-a
few steps farther, and you are in hurry
going home too, perhaps"
Almost home!
Yes-that old man who little needed the
crowd and who looked with mazed and
puzzled gaze on the busy scene was almost
home A few more Saturday nights and
he will be there with Him, and then he
can walk, and run without stumbling or
other support than He.
And we passed on to think, and think.
and we thought of woman's love, and the
worth of it. How she cared for him-we
should think her father. Perhaps he was
cross and petulant years ago, if not now,
yet she was kind to him, and with care
steadied his steps lest he fall and the busy
crowd trample him under feet. And we
thought of thousands and thousands of
good women in different places who love,
are good, and true, and pure, and kind
who deserve happiness here and Heaven
hereafter.
All over the land we saw them as we
walked home. The entire line of clouds
seemed to be rolled back by some great
hand as somebody said, Look at them
everywhere"
And we did look into thousands of
homes. By the farmers fire and in the
woodlands cabin. By the sick bed and
kneeling with grief-laden hearts and tear
wet faces, beside corpses and collins. We
saw them in calico and homespun by thou
sands, and they all told of woman's worth,
love and devotion.
Little do men know of woman's sor-
rows, heart-aches, hungerings for love,
temptations and resistings. Men go and
come. They are busy. Avenues of labor
and amusement are open to them, for they
have the power to open to suit themselves.
They plunge into business, engage in en-
terprises, hunt, fish, sport, idle, dissipate,
go and come, mixing, talking, eager to be
interested. When tired they rest, but
woman's work is never done, and she must
labor on, prisoner within close walls,
like Gagged bird seeing tie world but not
mixing Herewith lest she be lost
We know of a home where woman
works cheerfully, for those she loves
works like u.s. She wears calico, and
knows nothing of opera. Her heart is in
her home, her loved ones, she is happy
for they all live for her as she does for
them. And oh, the wonderous depth of
her love- She is by the bedside, the table,
the chair, everywhere. She is monarch of
home, queen of hearts, and willing tributes
do her subjects pay.
Her hand stills pain, her lips greet with
such pure, earnest, loving kisses. Her
words are ever so kind and gentle, while
her life is not lost in selfshness. She is
not vain beauty, cold as marble, indif-
ferent to others, caring only for herself
for position and the outward adornment
of her person, tyranniZing over hearts,
compelled by the ukase of society to pay
vows where none are due. But she is a
good woman, loving woman, a loving
atfectionate, gentle, caressing woman a
man always loves, and is willing to care
for, protect and defend.
We love good, warm hearted woman
Not one of these simple beauties who are
gay, painted, padded, befrixed and befriz-
zled adornings of fashion without heart OF
true worth. Such are very nice to look
upon good to flirt with-nice to take to
the opera, the races, the theatre, or to Skin
mish with when the coast is clear and
willing ones seek for adventure, but they
don't wear for keeps like the good, plain
sensible women who have hearts and
whose worth is more than pen or tongue
can tell
Women would be better and happier il
men loved them better and were more
true to them. If men would strive al
much to make home happy as they do to
seek happiness elsewhere, the world weuld
be better.
Hours do come when men admit the
power, the worth of woman. Not in sun
shine so much as in shade and storm
When engrossed with business and rolling
on the sea of success, we too often forge
the ones without whom life would be &
blank, and only fly to the Ravens and shell
ters-the love and gentle caresses of wo
) man-when the waves are high and to re
!, main abroad is to perish.
: Then comes the hour when all admit tn,
power of the weak. 1t is the care of wO
, man which makes millions ofhomes beauti
,, full, and makes loves palaces of laborer'
cottages 1t is the love we have for wo
? man-the love they have for us men, tina
drives us ahead to conquests and victories
The words kindly spoken, the smile o
those we love, the commentator of thos
!, we respect of women, make men of all win
: are not debased, and draw our hearts t.
= them with irresistible power. And as W
= see them day after day patiently, earnestl
- toiling to help others walk, as we see then
y leading the weak, aiding the unfortunate
and by the wondrous power of their Go
given love, and the magic of their smile:
caresses, and prayers, we wonder that a
men do not pay more tribute to the wort
> CT woman's love.-Neao York Democrat.
y What an Eclipse Might Be.