Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1877-06-22
STARLIGHT AND LAMPLIGHT.

"Stand up, Philip, my lad, and show
the gentleman your book. He's right
clever lad, Sir James, is my Philip, and
I'll not say but what I'm proud of him."
Sir James put on his spcctacles, and took
the copy book from the child's hands to
examine it more closely. Presently he
put it down, really surprised, and turned
TO Dame Leigh, who was standing quiet
ly near, with her hand on Philips head.
" It's wonderfully good, Mrs. Leigh" he
said, "and his father no scholar either.
Why, the lad will be genius"
Mrs. Leigh blushed and smiled and
courtesied, smoothing her book out be-
tween her wQrk.worn hands, and Sir
James took hissepectaclcs off carefully
again and put them in his pocket; but
little Philip, shaking himself free from
p hts mothers hand, did strange thing;
he threw himself down across the table
: and tore the copy-boo across and across,
sobbing out: ~ won't be a geniusl /
won't write copies any more all my life,
because | don't want TO be II genius"
Sir James was startled; he was unused
to children and such foolish crying and
such foolish tempers annoyed him. He
said good-by to Mrs. Leigh, and went
out into the harvest fields, leaving the
torn copy-book and Philip and his mother
. to fight the battle out among them.
There was not much fight, however.
Mrs. Leigh was widow, and Philip was
her only son; so, though she scolded him
for his temper, and especially for show
ing it before old Sir James, she forgave
him after while, and Philip sat down u
nd a mi tn
for all that he kept his word. The les
sons which had been his delight he went
about in slovenly, ungracious manner
that veXed his mothers heart; and from
being bright and quick with his tasks,
he took to be so slow and Plodding that,
as the months passed on, the fact that
he had once been the head of the class
grew to be a mere faded memory to the
other scholars; for just as his mother,
pleased with Sir James words, had made
up her mind that her son should be a
scholar and genius, so Philip, in his ig-
norant heart, had determined to the con-
trary-and so, with careless hand, he
laid the first light foundation of the in
visible wall that lay between them for
awhile.
n Mrs. Leigh, or Dame Leigh, as they
called her in her own village, was the
pretty young widow of Sir James Gar
nets head groom. Her short married
life had been one dream of happiness
from the moment when, standing on the
village bridge, Philip had asked her to
be his wife, until she awakened one
autumn morning to the reality of q terri
BILE sorrow, which was to leave its i'm
press on her whole after-life. For they
brought Philip home, through the golden
broom on the common, still and white
and pale, with a little dark mark on his
left temple, that his wife covered with
her hand when she knelt down and laid
her soft cheek against his curly head;
"Philip," she said-" Philip, my dear,
are you dead?"
No, not dead but worse than dead, as
Dame Leigh used to sob sometimes, as
she knelt by the window and looked out
with glistening eyes on the harvest. field
that was bringing in such rich returns
the seeds that Philip had planted in the
spring time, in his leisure hours, but that
other hands would reap; for Philip, wan
dering helplessly from room to room,
with that black mark above his temple,
was walking toward the Valley of the
Shadow, through dark, still path, in
which he recognized nothing of his for.
mer life-not even the sweet face and
r. tender touch of his young wife. FoI
Philip had lost his reason--was "inno.
cent" as they call it, in a simple, beau.
tiful manner, in some parts of Ireland
and for eight months he walked among
them at Eversham, in world of his own,
and then the end came.
ha haA 10 hn L hu
the o.years-old, in whose box they
found him lying senseless, no one could
imagine, for better or safer man with
horses than Philip Leigh was not to be
found on the country side; but when the
end came, the explanation came with it
lie had been sitting brooding over the
fire all one summer afternoon, with his
head in his hands, and his wife Phoebe
knitting on stool before him, wheI
suddenly he cried out: Phoebe, PhebeP
and started up with both hands stretched
out toward her as if for help.
Phmbe rose hastily and put her knit,
ting aside, answering his cry with tender,
loving words and compassionate tears.
q - Do you know me, Philip" she said
Philip, my dear, look at me, and re-
member me once"
So she prayed, kneeling straight before
shim, with little Philip clinging to heI
dress, and the summer sunset creeping
toward them across the shining red OF
the kitchen floor, and Philip, lifting his
dim eyes, drew down her face and kissed
1.-THE first time for eight months.
80 her prayer was answered.
lie grew quiet again then, and pres
emily she persuaded him TO go TO bed
aud sat beside him holding his hand un
til he fell asleep. When he awoke II
was midnight, and the lamp had burned
low, but Phoebe was still sitting by his
side. He lay quiet for while, and then
he began TO talk in low, hurried tone,
and to move restlessly about. "Take
careP Phoebe heard him say presently, in
louder voice" not there, Philip-noI
near his heels; he's nTough young horse.
Then, with long sigh; "Thats right,
my lad, and safe, up near father-stand
back, Philip Ah-my Godp
lie dashed the bedclothes aside with
that wild cry, and started up; but Phoebe
with the instinct Of her love, was before
him. Stop, PhilipP she cried; sis il
the boy you meanS He's safe, thank
GOdp
"Thank Godl" breathed Philip, and he
let her lay him down again, and put heI
cool hand on his forehead, smoothing
back the curls that had grown 80 gray
since spring, and then they were both
still. Whether she fell asleep, or whether
she was only "dazed" by grief and pain
and weariness, Phoebe could never tell
but wheu they reused her in the morning
and her eyes turned instinctively TO where
lay Philips restless head, she saw that
he had entered into life." She wal
tended very gently and very lovingly by
the many who grieYed for her In the vii