The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1870-07-15

i she had not heard from him 70
= months. And there had l beer
2 consulting with her about M
: sleeves!
And you support them all-chil
dren and grandchildren? l asked
, making believe to search for a spoo
t 1of cotton, for 1 felt too fdgety tC
sew.
Yes, deary, mostly (she had Civ
, en- me this name on the second day.
'Annie's laid up with her side most
of the time; and what with grieving
and taking charge of the little ones
while I'm off worl1in,' poor Esther
don't earn much, though she's fur
maker by trade. Now, ma'am, Pm
ready for this shoulder again
! (How blithely she spoke! 1 had
been rather low spirited of late-I
with my one illumined sorrow, she
with her load of crowding cares! J
AS soon as the shoulder was arrang-
ed, went into the entry to speak
with Kitty concerning dinner. When
l reopened the door 1 saw that mys-
terious movement again. My dress
maker was slipping something into
her basket.
| 'Ohp she said, with slight jump,
what little thing starts me, was
just reading my little song.
Your little song
Yes: its a bit Of writing I've had
five OF six years, the greatest com
fort of my life. almost and she low
cred her voice, like my Bible. It
keeps me up when l do believe no
thing else would. She said this in
such CHEEKY way, while picking out
the basting threads, that 1 hardly
knew how to reply. But at last 1
said, stupidity enough:
Don't you ever yet sick, Mrs.
BondY
No, not often; leastwise, not
enough to make me loose my day.
Thank you, deary. I'll go on with
that sleeve if you haint finished it,
and you can take up the cording.'
It's wonderful I said, tacitly fol
lowing her direction, really wonder
ful, to think Of you supporting all
your family so, on two dollars day
Sometimes 1 do WONDER she said
quietly, how I do it; but God helps
us, and then you know, 1 have my
little song. I'll take them black
hooks, please
We sat silently working for a few
moments. At last 1 said, softly and
reverently:
Mrs. Bond, will you teach me
your little songY
She looked up with a surprised
What dearyP
That little song you were speak
ing of. It would do me good, too, 1
am sure. viii you teach it to meY
You, child! You don't need it
young, bright and happy. It's only
for tired old ladies like me-
.Ahl but perhaps 1 do I persist
ed; life is very vexing to me some
times
She bent down, and, lifting her
little basket, slowly raised the lid,
then took out q folded sheet of pa
per, worn and dingy. She opened
it tenderly as she handed it to me.
This is my little song, deary. 1
know all it says, but it always helps
me to read it, especially when things
come into my mind that oughtn't to-
I had expected to find one of the
sweet old hymns that tell Of comfort
and joy to come as a reward for sor-
row suffered here. But the verses
that I saw surprised me.
where did you find this poemP
I asked.
i didn't find it, The Lord sent
it to me sort of mysterious. A
young girl read it out once in a
room where l was sewing, and, when
I had a chance, l asked her to write
1t down for me. 1 don't take to
such things generally, but this song
is kind O. by itself
And so it was. For the poem was
Adelaide ProctoTs One by One
4 have a whole book of verses.
written by the same lady, I said,
still looking at the paper; shall 1
bring it and read you few Of them?
Nc, deary, I thank you kindly;
but most like 1 wouldn't understood
'em. This little song'n last me out
well enough. As you're looking at
it, deary, would you mind saying it
for me out loudP
For the first time during our con-
versation, she laid down her work
and leaned back in her chair, while
I read in q voice that tried not to
tremble;
"One by one the sands are flowing,
One by one the moments fall;
Some are coming, some are going,
Do not strive to grasp them all,
zone by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each;
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach.
"one by one bright gifts from Heaven,
joys are sent thee here below
Take them readily when given,
Readily, too, let them go.
zone by one thy griefs shall meet thee,
Do not fear an armed hand:
One will fade as others greet thee,
Shadows passing through the land.
"DO not look at HFs's long sOrrOw;
See how small each moments span;
God will help thee for tomorrow,
So each day begin again.
Every hour that fleets 50 slowly
Has its tasks to do or bear,
Luminous the crown and holy,
If thou set each gem with care
'Do not iDger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond;
Nor, the daily toll forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.
"Hours are golden links, Gods token,
Reaching Heaven; but one by one
Take them, lest the chain be broken
Ere the pilgrimage be done"
I looked. up Mrs. Bond was
busily sewing, her whole strength
going to the present duty, her little
wrinkled mouth pursed intently as
usual, her gray eyebrows arched !
mildly above her spectacles, and her
sweet old face more paliid than ever.
Adelaide Proctor is with the an
gels now. The tumult of this busy |
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