Huntington advertiser. [volume] (Huntington, W. Va.) 1874-1921, 1875-03-11
Written for the ADvER7fsKR.l
Shadowed SunshiHe.
BY ECLAN.

BY EcILAN.
All me Dust lies so thick in Wall
Street, and I sit here in my Office
day after day, and note the fluctua-
tions in gold, gold, for which many
have gone down to the grave ungain-
ed and yearningly wished for. The
| drowsy flies hum a dreary, monoto>
nous song, as they fit through the
sultry room. / am weary, but the
tide is in my favor, and | must not
doze moment here, or | may lose
"the food that bears me on to for
tune" Fortune forsooth ! and | revel
in the glory of knowing | have cool
million for nest-egg. and I'm sure
Arina and Kathie will know how to
spend it too Little Kathie, dear lit
tie elf, so like my sainted mother, as
| can remember her when | was a
child. Mother, Mother; there is mag
ic in that sound, it carries me back to
my happy childhood. and in fancy |
can see the dear old farmhouse with
its moss. grown gabled roof, can hear
the busy hum of bees, the singing
birds, the lowing of cattle, and the
reapers mid the hay. Again. can
feel myself the cherry-hearted boy,
that eagerly chased the butterflies and
glow>worms at even-tide in front of
the vine-wreathed porch, where sat
my Mother with her knitting, and
my Father close by her side, gazing
in her lovely face, with the same look
of tenderness he always wore when
in the sunshine of her presence. All I!
| sigh as I think how differently pass
es my children's youth, from my own.
Reared in stately mansion, dressed
and redressed and attended by hired
companions, how can they ever know
the gladsome delight of wading
through cool.leaved clover, chasing
butterflies, sailing miniature boats on
babbling streams, and best and most
glorious of all, the companionship Of
a mother. O, my children! | can
give you jewels and fine laces, can
give you gold, and every thing that
gold can buy, but it is not in my pow
er to give YOU the careless abandon
of country child>life. The tyrants
Fashion and Society, claim your
Mother. She has no time to sing to
you, when the day is done, those
sweet old nursery rhymes that no
time can ever make old or less de-
lightsome to tender minds. She has
no time for a walk in the sunny days,
or pleasant game in the cool grass
No time to teach your little hands to
clasp above her knees at even'tide and
softly say, "Now | law me down to
Sleep" as | was taught to say until
dear child>hood's days had passed
away, and left me a man, with no
thought save gold, gold. That ambi-
ton is sated now, and | find it only a
mockery of happiness. | would give
all gladly this moment to be the bare
footed boy once more, wading over
the smooth pebbles, in the clear
brook, that ran through the old Spring
House. at Locust Farm. 10 hear my
Mother read the blessed old fairy
tale of Cinderella, 20 ride old Dolly,
bare-backed, to the water pond, or TO
gather up the fresh lain eggs in the
barn>yarl. o, Mother take me in
my dreams to night, once more to
your breast. and kiss my forehead in
YOUR dear old way. | am weary OF
life, weary of all the strife and con
fict and fain would sleep, while you
rock me once again.
The banker brushed tear from his
handsome face, but felt not less man
" because of his reverie. He looked
shade weary that night as he sat by
his beautiful wife at the Opera, and
as the orchestra, as though by ir-
stiuct. launched out on the exquls-
ite strains of "Home sweet Home" J"
the millionaire bowed his head on
his hands and wept bitter tears, but
the gay world was none the wiser, for
rs he passed out to his carriage, he
was the same staid, digniiied man
that the world knew before he began
to realize that "Sordid dust cannot
satisfy the heart"
AM.NnAyII KAN Co March. 1s-5.