The Opelousas journal. [volume] (Opelousas, La.) 1868-1878, 1874-04-10

/ tthN UACA my AUUucc ttuU InOGIleF SprduS
toward me and welcomed me home
with heartfelt tears.
Oh, strange and passing sweet is such
q greeting to the Way-worn traveller
And as held my dear old mother to
my heart, and glasped my fathers
hand, while Lizzie c1ung beside me, ]
felt that all was not yet lost; and al
though another had secured life's most
chOlcest blessing, many q joy remained
Tor me IN the dear sanctuary of home.
There were four inmates of the room,
| Who had risen on my sudden entrance.
One was the blue-eyed child whom !
had already seen, and who now stood
beside Frank Chester, clinging to his
hand. Near by stood Lizzie Moore,
Mary's eldest sister, and in distant
corner, to which she had hurriedly re-
treated when my name was spoken,
stood tall and slender figure, half hid
den by the heavy window curtains that
fell to the floor.
When the first rapturous greeting
was over, Lizzie led me forward with a
tlmld grace, and Frank Chester clasped
welcome home, my boy!n he said,
with the loud, cheerful tones | remem-
bered so we'll. You have changed so
that / never would have known you,
but no matter about that, your heart is
In the right place, / know.n
How can you say that he is changed g"
said my mother, gently. "To be sure
he looks older and graver, and more
but:hls eyes and smile are the same as
ever. 1t is a heavy heart that changes
him: He is my boy STILL" -
"Aye, mother" I answered sadly,
II am your boy still"
Heaven help me! at that moment |
felt like q boy, and it would have been
a blessed relief to have wept upon her
bosom as | had done in my infancy.
But l Kept down the tremOr of my lips,
and answered quickly, as looked into
his full, handsome face.
1Ou have changed, too, Frank, but
think for the better" .-u
"Oh, yes-thank you for the compli-
ment," he answered with a hearty laugh.
F" My wife tells me I grow handsomer
ever day" -. ~
His wife! Could l hear that name
and keep silent still.
u" And have you seen my little girl ~
he added, lifting the infant in his arms,
and kissing her crimsoned cheek. II
tell you, Harry, there is no such other
in the world. DON'T you think she
looks very much like her mother used
to?"
Every much" faltered.
Hallow cried Frank, with a sudden
ness which made me start violently,
" have forgotten to introduce you to
my wife! / believe you and she used to
be playmates in your younger days
yes, Harry" and he slapped me on the
be ek-" for the sake Of old times, and
because you were not at the wedding,
will give you leave to kiss her once,
but mird, old fellow, you are never
to repeat the ceremony. Come, here
she IS; for one want to see how you
will manage those ferocious mustaches
OF yours in the operation"
He pushed Lizzie, laughing and
toward me. A gleam of
light and hope almost too dazzling to
bear, came over me, and cried out be-
fore thought, "Not Mary"
must have betrayed my secret to
every one in the room. But nothing
was said even Frank, in general so
obtuse, was this time silent. I kissed
the fair cheek of the young wife, and
hurried to the silent figure looking out
Of the window. 5.. -..a
Mary-Mary Moore!' / said in
low eager tone, "have you no welcome
to give the wanderer ?n n ~ d'
She turned, and laid her hand in
mine and said hurriedly--
am glad to see you here, Harry"
Simple words and yet how blessed
they made me. would not have
yielded her up at the moment for an
crown. For there was the |
happy hymn group and dear home fire. |
side, sweet Mary Moore! The eyes |
had dreamed of day and night were
falling beneath the ardent2gaze of |
mine, and the sweet face / had SO long
prayed to see was there beside me. l |
never knew the meaning of happiness |
until that moment.
s Many years have passed since the |
happy night, and the hair that was |
lark and glossy is fast turning gray, |
am now grown to be an old man, and |
IAN look back to a happy, and hope o |
veil spent life. And vet, sweet as it |
las been, / would not recall q single |
lay, for the love that made my man /
1ood so bright, shines also upon my
white hairs. s
An old man! Can this be SO /? At |
leart, l am as Young as ever. Aud |
Mary, with her bright hair narted /
from q brow that has a slight I
;urTow upon it, is still the Mary of /
'ther days. To me she can never grow
I'D or changed. The heart that held I
Ter in infancy and sheltered her in the /
lush and beauty of womanhood can |
lever cast her out till life shall cease to I
warm it,