Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1878-01-04
AFragment to Mary.

Leaving the carriage to go around
bv the main road, I took the path
through the fields to the cottage
half mile distant. The rude gate
gave familiar creek as it opened to
admit me into the beautiful mead
ows. There to the right was the lit
house where "Aunt Sally" lived so
man years ga lone lorn widow" to
the left the apple tree where the red
spitzenbergs grew, and further Oh
the bridge somewhat gone to decay;
hut the path wound up the hill just
as when we girls trooped over 1t so
gaily. l found the cottage, where
you, dear Mary, were born, closed,
and the spring neglected. As |
passed it with half averted gaze l
tried to bring back the old picture
of black Keyed Molly, with rosy
cheeks lifting the brilnming pitcher
from its sparkling waters; bu it was
of no nse, | could not cheat myself
thus. But here, sitting in the twi-
light shadows, l can fancy you are
beside me as in the Olden time. Look,
is not everything as it used to be?
The roses Chamber over the low par
lor window just the same, and lean
ing from my chamber / can still
gather nv hands full of blossoms.
Where ''Dick's" cage used to hang
in the sunshine, is now wire basket
with bright leaves and vines trailing
to the ground. Here beside the porch
is the same oney-suckle which she,
the dear mother, tended with such
loving care. Strange hands have
pruned and tied it up ailthese years,
and now it climbs higher, creeping
close under the caves.
At MONDAY the sunshine fickers
through the branches of the naples,
just as it used to flicker upon the
gray hair of the fond old father, tax
ing his midday rest; and at evening
the light breeze stirs their leaves
softly as in the old time when we sat
here, you and l, talking over the tri
f1es of the day, while the girls one
by one joined us. Then our circle
complete, how gaily the talk went
on, how merrily the light laugh rip
pied through it all-until the careful
mother called, "girls the dew is fall
ing"
All, is this dew falling upon my
hand? And is it the night air that
chiIls me so? o, Mary, l am alone
in the home of my childhood, and
my heart cries out for the dear ones
gone. / listen for the old familiar
footsteps, and strange ones fall
harshly upon my, l look up Icng-
ing to meet some one of the glad
faces that in the old time were bright
living pictures fitting here and there
through the house, but strange eyes
look coldly into mine. Snatehes of
song come floating upon the air, but
find no echo in my heart-for 1t is
not her voice, that is hushed to NOR
tai ears, and none will sing so sweet
ly any more. Footsteps may come,
footsteps may go, they are nothing
to me.
1 peer into the faces of the har-
vesters coming home from their
work. They are all strangers, not a
familiar form among them. go to
the milking yard, and "Belle" an
swers not to her name, and "Benty"
looks wonderingly, and shakes her
head scornfully at my eall-even the
house-dog las forgotten me, and
turns coldly from my greeting. Alas,
rude hands have been at work. the
household goods are all removed.
Strange pictures hang upon the walls,
the gh-backed chair is gone from
its corner, and the tick of the man
tie clock has a haunting, tormenting
sound. The long grass grows rank
ly, leaving no trace of the childreD's
path to the swing, and the children
whose young feet kept down the
tender blades, where are they.
Softly, softly feet of mine,
Lest the echoes wake and call
Through the bare and empty rooms,
Through the long deserted hall,
Up the naked stairs and slow,
Follow gently Mary-friend-
Howsoe'er the moments go
Sooner, later comes the end.
In this room where warmest falls
Sunshine from the Winter skies,
Here my blessed babies all
Opened first their wondering eyes.
Here they frolicked all day long,
Happy with their tops and toys
Echo, wake that buried song
Laughter OF my girls and boys.
All, hear the soft wind signing
Like human-hearted thing,
And in answer to my crying
Only this the echoes bring
"All Observation-Disclosures linger-
Round the old deserted nest?
Babes have grown to men and women,
Weary ones found sweetest rest i
Grieye not-thus it seemeth best.
- - - E.
1TRIP TO FLORIDA.
Eds. TeI:-After remaining few days