The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-08-08
One Woman's Wrongs.
BY nErrHA pAYNF.


gushing and hyperbolic manner possi-
bic upon introduction to her? She had
such winsome blue eyes, this dainty lit
tie lassie; such a sweet, little, puckered-
I'D mouth, she would disarm life of its
sternness with the rarest of kisses.
Such a complexiOn-white lily borrow
ing a blush from the damask rose; such
an enchanting little voice, with its un-
welded yllables-a-go-oo-o -oo-nan-nan-
nan, with no shadow of human reason
in their inarticulate form, yet echoing
the music of heaven to loving hearts.
And such an artful little witch as she
wasi 1t wasn't enough for her insatia-
BILE love of conquest, her thirst of do
minion and lust of power that the whole
household lay in spiritual prostration at
her feet. No; she seemed determined
never to cease her wiles till the whole
world was her captive. Therefore, no
matter whose face bent over her as she
lay in her cradle or upon her mothers
lap, whether countenance of kindred or
stranger, all her small allurements were
put into operation for the observer COM
plete subjugation.
She was indeed queen of hearts; and
the invisible scepter that those puffy
little fists welded extended over a
kingdom that could never be measured.
For who has ever fixed boundaries to
the love of human hearts, the love that
stretches in glorious embodiment from
the finite object to the Infinite One?
Such a marvel of love hung like q
bright halo always about her, that she
was as often the subject of our conver-
sation, as if she had been q conspicuous
acter in the great theater of life. We
used to sit often by her cradle, her fair
haired young mother and /, aud specu-
late upon the mystery of her destiny, the
shifting scenes OF the drama of life Just
opening for her; and her young moth
er's lips would falter, as we thought, and
say, "a drama that may be tragedy;
only God knows"
But that little mother had such a
beautiful faith, the faith as well as the
love that easteth out fear, i'm her Father,
her God, that the shadows of futurity
which drifted athwart her sunshine
were but fleeting ones. "Whatever it
may be-" she would say, sit will be
Gods will, and will try never to muir
muir; yet" and the sorrow in her eyes
but dimly shadowed the anguish of her
heart, "He cannot bind upon my heart
heavier cross than to force me to witness
the blight of disappointment and sorrow
upon this blessed little one"
All, poor young mother, would that
we all had thy holy faith. Yet what
can we do, we faithless ones who drift
anchorless over life's troubled sea In
the fibre of some natures the far-re-
moved growth from some ancestral root
Of scepticism and Goddess pessimism,
faithlessness is engrained, aud we pray
vainly who pray that a warp of our ma
lures may be removed, which came in
the natural sequence of generation.
Babie Blossom was only sixteen
months old when her brave father went
to the war. How handsome he looked
that bright Spring morning in his Off
GERS uniform, the pallOr of grief at
parting from his darlings, struggling
with the crimson glow of patriotic pride
upon his face. The echos of Sumter's IS
guns rolling over the land, had found
him among the first to do his country
needed service, and now, ere those echoes
had fairly ceased, he bade us goodbye.
"Don't cry, love-" he whispered to
her, who clung to him rs If in losing
him sue lost her life. "Don't cry so.
Its only three months at farthest, and
/ feel sure We will bring those traitors to
cry quarter in half that time. Keep
up good heart, darling, be merry and
happy with little Blossom, and l shall
be back again before you have fairly
realized my absence"
Back again? Yes, so he was. But il
was back again only for another good
bye. For He, whose absolute wisdom
works with both just and unjust, had
/ hardened the Southern heart; and
though the time of our brave boys who
volunteered for three months was over,
the end was not yet.
! So Lieut.. Harry came home, unscathed
by the battles through which he had
passed, to fondle Babie Blossom with
the old idolatrous love, to comfort and
caress his even dearer treasure-Babie's
pale mamma, and again was gone.
Gone! oh, Father! gone with the dew
and fragrance Of youth not yet departed
from his proud manhood Gone, tC
feel the horrible monster which devas'
tated our land, made hearthstones desc
late, dispersed families, and hid Goo
from us in thick clouds of battle smoke
and the din of conflict. Gone, to b'
shot down at the front, to be lost in the
tumult of temporary defeat, to b'
I trampled upon by iron hOOfs, the silvel
cord severed which bound his fresh
pure soul to its beautiful body, amid
surrounding shrieks and groans, prayer
and eursings, then hurrying feet crush
ing all human comeliness from him
with mutilated form and features unrec
ognizable, to be at last taken up anC
buried with the unknown dead.
Crouching in the awful storm whicl
swept across our country, the binding
benumbing, pitiless storm of auguisl
which followed the battle of Pittsbury
Landing, l found poor Mary. He
l white lips moved slightly as she saw
me, as if she would speak, but it was a
IL woe had stricken her dumb, for no
even q moan came forth. Her eye
were fearless, for the wound gaped to,
deep for tears, her face, but for its wide
open, agonized eyes, was the face of tn
dead.
| did net try to comfort her. l coul,
not even point her to the God she wor
shiped; for / knew that not even Go,
himself could pour balm into the woun'
ere vet the cruel weapon which cleft i
is withdrawn. There is no comfort 70
the widowed in the freshness of tn
hurt; nor faith, nor hope, nor love dar
offer ministratiOns then; life has no sol
ace, and heaven no power of healing
there is nothing for the stricken but I,
cover before the blast, to agonize will
the hurt, and to wait for death or lif
to bring an Opiate.
In the midst of 1t all-this TRACED.
, which was to overshadow her younl
: days, Babie Blossom prattled innocently
with the happy unconsciousness OF spir
itual straits, which is blessedness
childhood. She tottered across the hoo
to greet me, as | sat weeping AM
speechless by Mary's side, and lipsed;
/ uMamn,a donit sav sOmesin to he
baby, guess she are too hungie."
Hungry? Yes; poor little mamma
the days will never come that she vii