The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1872-11-09
For The Ceci, Wing
For II
AN OLD SHOE.

tive topic.
When the old philosopher enumerated
the best old things to burn, 1 am glad he
did not mention old shoes.
What is more pleasant or makes one feel
happy all over, than coming home late at
night to have your loving little wife run
and bring you, your comfortable old slip
pers, they are any thing else but handsome,
but beauty is only skin deep, and like every
thing else, they have faded on the surface,
but tell you old slippers certainly afford
one lot of pleasure.
Did you ever notice Miss L, as she
promenades our avenue, and see her be-
witching little foot. with a little boot, fit
ting snug as glove. all Of us admire its
beauty, but when Charlie passes, she gives
an extra finch, which one would mistake
for graceful movement of the Grecan
Bend, but in reality is the source of exqui.
| site pain. She is anxious to show the
world the lovely outside, but when she
gets home in her little boudoir she gives
the instruments of torture a fling first one
way and then another, and then luxurates
in her old splay-footed slippers, they are
desirable affairs, and ere she takes off an
other article of dress, she exchanges the
suffering of show for the comfort of pri-
vacy.
Shortly after she is married to Charlie;
he sees her tiny comedy foot, plump and
fair as a baby's, and she can then afford to
laugh at the squeezing, pinching, doubling
and twisting they had undergone, when
peeping out from under all those ruff1es
and feunces for his special benefit.
All we bear many sorts of coverings over
the long and weary road of life.
know of dear little pair of tiny shoes,
with two little holes in the.toe, which you
have carefully treasured under a lock in
your bureau drawer, how often do you take
them up, and press them to your lips, han
die them carefully and you gaze wistfully
on the faded, worn, unlovely little things,
worthless to every body else, but oh, how
dear to a mother
see the stray trembling tears which you
try to wipe away, as the image of your gol
den headed darling rises fresh before you,
she who wore them comes in all bygone
beauty, and you realize they will never be
worn again, toddling by your side, the lit
tie feet once encased therein, will never
again tread lfe's stony walks, they have
rested on their early march, never to be
resumed.
Oh no W many of us, as we travel on life's
weary pilgrimage, would be glad to have
buckled on no other shoe, than the first
shoe of infancy.
Did you say my subject was a vulgar
one? Why it opens to me hopes, dreams,
fears, cares and joys of life-passing before
me. Jennie do you remember those we'd
ding slippers Of yours, quite a contrast
between those and the slip-shod ones, be-
fore me now. How you fitted them on so
joyfully preparatory to the journey on
which you were about to start. Oh, how
long from your blooming youth, to your
wrinkled age-and you then think they
Will leuldiu Will you loHSCi thou al
others, and last the distance through?
Many persons live to garner up and
cherish mementoes of the dead, long ago
buried were the gay tinted visions of those
first days of the journey. Go and get them
for me now, and let me take look at them
now. Why my goodness, laugh at them
ha! ha! la! did you ever see such looking
things? Is it possible you ever thought
those old fashioned things pretty? Is it
possible those dingy, shapeless, affairs
could have borne you up to the empyrean;
yes, they went with you to the circle of joy
and your husband thought them the love
Hest things he ever saw, and would kiss
them as reverently as an ardent Catholic
would the Papal toe, but now, we'll, put
them away. 1t will not do to examine too
closely the relics of departed joys, they
have sad, sad, old time, faded, shrunken,
look, they belong to the past, when they
had reality and meaning. But now the
young folks laugh at them, they are SO
strange and quaint. But what do they
know of the sweet faces, the warm hearts,
the dear joys they have out lived, but of
which they yet serve as tender memorials.
Perhaps we have out lived the wild emo
tons, the throbbing joys, the rosy dreams
they seemed to cherish.
We will not give away our wedding slip
pers, to us they have value.
There are roses in our path, sweet, blush
ing roses, and we actually stride over them
intoxicated with their beauty and odor,
needless tread, we inhale the exciting fra
GRANGE that arises round our bewildered
senses, and when we have passed on, and
awaken from the inebriation, we find that
their thorns have pierced through and
through, and we go limping on lfe's jour
ney which permits no tarrying rest.
Who of us has not felt an old peg prick
ing in our soul?
Blondin disport himself on tight rope
must know before commencing his daring
feat, and wonderful journey chalks the
sole of his Shoes and then stands safe and
firm, oh how many falls we would escape
in life, if we would only look and have our
soles well chalked.
The audience of the world is continually
looking, on at our passage through life, and
few of them care for our danger or seem
interested in our success. OF one we are
sure whose heart beats high, and whose
fearful eyes are strained to watch our pro-
gress, her breath comes quickly as we move
on lifes pilgrimage and our mothers pray
ers are earnestly offered upfor our safety.
hope all my dear readers are we'll shod
for the thorny pathway of life.
The soft steps on the nursery floor, the
joyous bound on the youths play ground,
the proud steps of selfsupporting manhood,
and the careful tread of timid age-all have
their fitting support.
Some OF our friends glide apparently
through the boudoirs of beauty with slip