The Morristown gazette. [volume] (Morristown, Tenn.) 1867-1920, 1878-03-13
HUMPHREY MARSHALL IN
THE HOME CIRCLE. sl-7
BY NELLY MARSHALL MAZE.
From the Louisville Commercial.

/ From the Louisville Commercial.
1t has always been au accepted
theory of mine that where the heart
feels most the lips are slowcst TO
utter it, which conviction upon my
| part is directly at variance wi. h Ra-
cine's avowal: g I9ou-s de mon
co9ur ma bouche est rtnterprete." ]
have never written line about my
father fer the public, Ny own fam
lily have more than once reproached
me for my strange reticence, saying
i" You write elegantly and tenderlJ
of others; Of him you say-nothing. "
My unyarying response has been, Il
feel too much To the few who
knew him best, my answer was suiii-
cient; to those who knew him least,
it was ambiguous and unsatisfactory
When the proposition first came to
me 10 write an article which would
portray in living colors a picture of
the man in those happier hours,
when the world knew him not, / re-
ceived it with a vague but nameless
sense of pain. In the twilight when
| sat at nay piano the slow tears
came, with thoughts that set them
selves to the harmony of silver
sounding chords:
| They careless ask me for some words
OF him who left US long ago, lbioom'd
| On whose lone grave the flowers have
| And on it laid the winters snow
| They know not what it costs my heart
OF sadness and of pain,
| To bid those blessed mem'ries rise
| And live tor me again
To talk to those who knew him best
In happy, by-gone days,
| Who gave him with such lavish love
| Their fondest need of praise,
We're easy task for me to do,
Despite the falling tear
| For they, with me, have wept full sore
| Above his shadowy bier. .5.
But, oh to talk in tear-full tones,
For stranger ears to hear,
OF one who was to my proud heart
Beyond expression dear,
Would cause too much of anguish keen,
Too sad and wild a pain
| dare not bid those mem 'rics rise
And live for me again
No let them keep their holy watch
Beside the lonely grave
4 aTTV - Al,
The hraYest of the brave
Full we'll we know, tho he lies low
And silent in the dust,
The star-like soul that shone 'mong men,
NOao shines amid the JUST
Rnt after the first impulse Of sor-
row came another thought: The world
knew him not. Rather should thank
the warm and sympathetic heart for
the opportunity, like Isis, to lift the
veil from The memory of one long
since gone into the Outer Night.
And so | write:
At home he was artIess and happy
and loving as a child. At times he
had all the uncurbed impatience
which belongs to the and irritation
Of children, but he never harhored
ill.will. and his frowns and smiles
came and went so close together that
before we could find lime to tremble
at the one we were greeting the 9th.
er with faces as sunny as his own.
He was full of love and sympathy
for every living thing. At home we
adored him; only /, of all the house
hold band, had the temerity to see
fault in him-and l only-because
to me he was SO much grander and
truer and nobler than others that
little fault in him seemed gross and
objectionable, which in another !
should not have noticed st all. Ills
home associations were simply de-
lightful. The happiest and bright~
est memories of my youth are all
intimately connected with him. The
merry romps we children have had
with HMM which he was the gay
est of the gay-playing Blind Mans
Buff" "Puss in the Corner" "Hide
the Slipper" and Base" with the
blithest of us Z The long, pleasant
walks in the evening. when he would
talk to us OF the dews, and the stars,
the influence darkness had on birds,
the flowers, the grasses. and the
fruits the charming wanderings
through the meadows and over the
sunny uplands and by the sandy
river shore. where he would instruct
us in his gentle, persuasive way, as
if in the most ordinary conversation,
and we would learn great truths
about God, and nature, and men.
down to the tiniest insect that few
about on rainbow wings. and the
worm of the dust that crept out of
sight into darkness and mold-truths
which we never forgot! The happy
fishing parties the pawpaw and per-
simmon hunts the lissom dances;
the gay card parties the lovely eve-
nings around the freside, when sto-
ries were told and songs were sung,
and merry spelling for prizes was
done OH where have those dear
old times gone? Why, when reach
out my longing arms, Go they leave
ihern 80 enn.v and me co hrolcan