Richland beacon., 1873-05-24

And you know the end!-how mist would clog
my boodshot waking eyes;
And circles quiver about the lights in dazzling
rainbow dyes;
Then strange, dim blur of letters and lines, and
then-all darkness there!
And poor blind man upon his knees, in an
agony of prayer.
Oh, Jack, dear brother! twas hard-'twas hard!
so young in sorrow and strife,
To be left sightless burden, old man, for all my
useless life!
Never to the or the flowers, nor the starry
heavens above,
Nor look in the dear home faces again, so full OF
pity and love!
| know that Kate wrote to you, lad; but she
coudn't I tell, dear heart,
of her soothing words and patient help, and
tender and sisterly part;
Nor how the dear old mother would say, while
her pityng tears would fall,
Poor boy, his home must be always here,
there's more than enough for all!''
But must be a burden on them, ! knew, as
bitterly felt at times,
And by and by took again TO weaving stories
and rhymes;
And Katie would write them out for me, and
somehow they seem'd TO take -
For did my best Heaven knows, for her and
the mothers sake.
And quiet and peace at last came down, in gra-
ciOus answer to prayer;
The Christening Hand that had dealt the blow
helped the mourner to bear;
And ! came to think, with "A heart resign'd Il OF
even the brief love-dream
That had brighten'd and blighted my by-gone
life with its tickle and ileeting CLEAN.
would rankle still,
But l,d hear of her almost every day from either
Katie or Will;
And when they talked of a legacy that had lefl
know.
My broken prayers went up to God for her happi-
ness below.
But it CHANGED, as sat and brooded alone, one
summer afternoon
BY the pleasant warmth and the scent o. the
flowers knew it was "leafy june
Kate came and coaX'd me 10 take her arm, and
walk ont with her 10 call
At the rectory house, or our friends would think
I'd quite forgotten them all.
And Bessie was there. | could not see her
wlnsome, welcome face,
But the very sense of her presence seemed to
glorify the place;
And trembled and fush'd in the foolish way
that lovers understand,
At the gentle sound of her pitying voice, and
the touch of her dainty hand.
We sat in the quaint old parlor-ah, how Well l
knew ii of old!-
And the good old rector prosed away, about his
The parish schools. and the state of the roads,
and the probable price of hay,
Till Bessie at last jump'd up from her chair, in
her old impulsive way.
Come who's for my summer house?' she
said; ''for it is so hot in here!
What! none of you speak? Then Charlie here
shall be my cavalier.
Mamma, dear, where is that magazine? o, here
it is, | see:
want to read him the poem, you know, mat 50
delighted me!''
Then she took my arm and led pe out with n
tender, sisterly care,
To the dear old garden, so dark to me, TO her so
blooming and fair,
Till we came to the arbOr, the scene of some of
my happest hours o. life,
Ere I'd put from my heart it, crowning hope of
calling ner my wife.
Twas Tennyson's very last poem she read, and
it may have been very fine,
But somehow her sweet voice trembled SO much
could hardly follow a line;
And at last she gave il up with sigh, and laid
the book away.
"I think it must be the heat, I" she said, "but
cannot read to-day!''
Then there came pause-a dreamy pause-when
in fancy l could see
The fair flushed face of the gentle friend so full of
pity for me;
Then she laid her dainty hand on mine-her hand
that trembled sol
And the tears We're in her tender voice as she
whispered soft and low:
"Charlie, We two are such old old friends, that
you mustn't think me bold
II ask you to tell me u secret that else would
ever be untold:
What was il you wanted to say TO me that
evening by the mere:
Come, Pm sure you'll tell me, won't you now
for should like to hear!
What you dare NOT tell me, you say !-ah, well
| think can guess!-
And, Charlie, dear, Pm sure you know my
| answer would have been 'Yes!'
You know loved you, without the need of either
| promise or vow;
And yet-how cruel how cruel,-you thought
should turn away from you nOtr!
| Now, when your poor dark life has need of
| tender and trusty guide,
Now, when Pm prouder of your love than o
| aught in the world beside;
And did you think that this was the time shoul'
| choose to coldly part?
All, tits little indeed you men can know of tn
depths of a weman's heart!
Charlie, don't think me unwomanly, dear-un
| wOmanly and weak
Because 1 give voice to the love know yo
| would never speak!
IT'S better so than that both our lives should b
fOrlorn and lone;
And soft you care to have me, dear-you ma
take me for your own''
What need to tell of my answer, Jack-of m
hearts ecstatic bliss,
And my lips sought hers, and We sealed our loN
with first warm, passionate kiss;
While my silent thanks went up to God on tf
Jacobs Ladder of prayer
The God who had brghtend my life with u 10
that seem'd to great too bear!
And so We were married-Besse and Ian
every hour of my life
I'd cause to bless the happy day that brought m
my darling wife:
Such true and tender helpmeet, she-so patient
and ready, and kind,
She almost made me think at times twas bles:
ing to be blind!