Smyrna times., 1870-01-26
The Charms of Married Life.


If in that chair yonder-not the one your
feet lie upon, but the one beside you closer
yet-were seated a sweet-faced glrl, with
pretty little foot lying out upon the hearth,
bit of lace running round the swelling throat,
the hair parted to a charm over a forehead fair
as any OF your dreams; and if you could reach
an arm around that chairs back without tea:
of giving Offense, and suffer your fingers to
play idly with those curls that escape down
the neck, and if you could clasp with your
hand those little white taper fingers OF hers,
which lie so temptingly within reach, and talk
softly and low in the presence OF the blaze,
while the hours slip without knowledge and the
winter winds whistle uncared for; if in short.
you were no bachelor but the husband Of
some sweet image, would it not be far more
pleasant than cold, single night, sitting count
ing the sticks, reckoning the length Of the
blaze, and the height of the falling snow
Surely imagination would be stronger and purer
if it could have the playful fan@es Of dawning
womanhOOd to delight it. All toll would be
torn from mind-labOr if but another heart grew
into this present soul quickening it, charming
it, bidding it ever Godspeed. Her face would
make a halo rich as rainbow, stop OF all
such nolsOme things as we lonely souls Call
trouble. Her smile would illumine the black
est of crowded cares, and darkness that now
seats you Respondent in your solitary chair for
! days together, weaving bitter tancies, dream
ing bitter dreams, would grow light and thin,
aud spread and float away, chased by that
beloved smile. Your friend, poor fellow, dies
never mind that gentle clasp of her fingers,
as she steals behind you, telling you not to
weep, is worth ten friends. Your sister, sweet
one, is dcad-buied. The worms are busy
| with all her fairness How it makes you think
earth nothing but spot to dig graves upon.
1t is more; she says she will be sister, and
the waving curs, as she leans upon your shoul-
der, touch your cheek, and your eyes turn tC
meet those other eyes-God has sent His angel
surely. Your mother alas she is gomez Ii
there any bitterness to a youth alone anC
friendless, like this? But you are not home
less, you are not alone-she is there, her tear
softening yours, her grief killing yours anC
you live again to assuage that kind sorrow o
hers Then these children-rosy, fair-haired
no. they do not disturb you with their prattl
now-they are yours. Toss away there ON th
green -sward; never mind the hyacinth, th
SnOw-drops, the violets, if so be any are there
the perfume Of these healthful lips is worth al
the flowers in the world No need to gathe
wild boquets to love and cherish; flowers, tree
gun, are all dead things things livelier holt
your soul. And she, the mother, sweetest ant
fairest Of all, watching, tending, csressing. an,
loving till our own heart grows panied viii
tenderest jealousy, and cures itself with low
ing. You have no need of 3 cold lecture I
teach thankfulness your heart is full OF II
No need now, as once Of bursting blossoms, 0
trees taking leaf and greennesS, turnin
, thought kindly and thankfully; forever besid
you there is bloom, and ever beside you ther
E is Fl uit, for which eye, heart and soul are fu
! of unknown, unspoken-hecause unspeskabl
thank offerings.