The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1879-12-25


NV grandfatber's house, the freight
fickers on the cleaning bras, and
throws fitful reflections on the carved
woods, dark with age. Nothing here be-
longs TO the present, but everything,
even to the tall, straight chair on which
/ am sitting, speaks Of long forgotten
past. Strange stories might these an
tique relics tell, il speech were given
them, of lives begun and ended within
these ancient wails-lives whose Joys
and sorrows the cold calm of the grave
has quieted long ago. How many scenes
and faces has that Old mirror reflected
bright eyes tender with loves young
dream, and sad, sad eyes, perhaps the
same that shone so brightly in youth,
whose light Of life was quenched in
tears. Often, it may ie, in this very
room, has b, en- breathed to willing ears
the old, old story, ever new to each
young player in the changing drama of
life.
is this the history Of life, I Wonder
this clasped volume that | have taken
from the old escritoire, whose drawers
and pigeop-holes my mother has told
me IL was her delight to explore
in her youth? She told me before |
came ON this first visit to her early home
that would find here many carefully
preserved records of our dead ancestors.
This must be one of them-how strangei
the name upon the fy-leaf is the same
as my owni The Journal of Ruth"
The ink is faded and the leaves yellow
with age, and the date was written
when the century began-1800. Surely
there can be no violation Of privacy i'm
giving to the world q chapter from a
manuscript written so long ago.
FROM THE JOURNAL OF RUTH-1800.
December IL wonder if the reality
is ever equal to the anticipation? 1t
has never been so for me. For years
the thought of seeing Roger Sheldon
again has haunted me, and often, in i'm
agination, my hands have touched his
again, and have seen in his eyes the
look knew 80 well. But it il over;
we have met and that is all. No, not
all. Am disappointed in him? No,
no; far from that; he is grander, nobler
than when saw him last. The change
Is in me. did not realize there was
change till / went to the glass after
he had left me and tried to look at my
selfimpartially, as with unfamiliar eyes.
Yes, It Is sadly changed face that Isee,
not much like the one he looked at long
ago, when / was fair girl of twenty.
| know | was fair then; | may say it
now, when the grave sedateness of mid
die age is coming to me so fast, hurried
on by the ten hard years that have
passed since he saw me last.
They have been hard years for me.
After fathers death, when we found our
money was gone, there was no one
" take care of mother and little
Annie but me. have done the best
could. / know they have been COM
Portable and happy, and even now am
not sorry that answered Rogers letter
as | did. Let me think: that was five
years ago; he wanted me 10 be his
wife, he said. and offered Annie home
with us; but could not help imagin-
ing that it was out Of pity he asked me !;
besides, did not like to burden him !;
no, without explaining my reasons (I
knew he would not listen to me if did),
] told him il could not be. No doubt
my letter sounded cold. though God
knows there was anything but CO dness
in my heart. / kept hoping he would
write again, but he never did. might
have remembered how proud he was.
Still have never given up the hope OF
seeing him. 1t has been the one thing
to which have looked forward. So
was not much surprised this afternoon,
when Annie came running up to my
room in such haste, to see his name on
the card ia her hand. / knew he would
come some time. 1t was not until was
in his ,.raanpaa n1 mn uy <ba lo,Lr ,f 80
prise that came over his face when he
saw me, that | realized how much had
changed. He recovered himself in a
moment, and We talked like old friends,
nothing more. suppose should have
been satisfied with that; but, as ] said
at first, the reality did not quite fulfil
the anticipation. Anyway, my dream
Is ended, and must take up the burden
of life again-this time with nothing be-
fore M 10 brighten the prospect. But
psbawl how foolish and wicked am;
have work to do, and will not mourn
over what might have been.
December 14.-The days glide away Sc
rapidly that l can hardly find a mo.
ment in which to fill these blank pages
Since Roger has been here parties,
sleigh-rides and excursions to the city
have followed each other so fast that we
do not get rested from one before an
other is proposed. The neighbors seen
determined to make his visit pleasant
one. He was always a favorite, anc
these Ten years, that have taken so much
from me, have but added dignity and {
aquiet self-pnssession TO him, which hi
fun-Ioving boy hood lacked. From man,
of these merrymakinls | have excused
myself on the plea of not having time
find the old trouble likely to reasser
itself IL allow 1t too much latitude
/ did look longingly after the gay part,
that started out this mourning afte
evergreens with which to decorate tn
house on Christmas. The weather
perfectly delightful for the time of tn
year. It seems more like Indian sum
mer than anything else. Roger an,
Annie brought up the rear as usual
How pretty the dear child looked in tn
new cloak sat up SO late last night I
finish. ! was well repaid for the loss o
a few hours sleep when i saw no,
pleased she was TO find it done thi
morning. She dearly loves prett
clothes, and she should have them
What difference would they make in
middle-aged woman? Whati tear
again. must be getting childish.
is high time | put up my pen
December 20.-G thought had ha
trouble enough and really felt as If
could not endure any more, but sur
pose can. have discovered that Ami
and Roger love each other. They hlv
not said so, IL is true, but can zee il 8
plainly ~ If they had am lit,l
surprised that Annie has not spoken {
IL 10 ne, for generally am the recipier
Of all her condolences, but this, | SUI
pose, IL different. At first could nc
realize that she was anything but
child; why, ten years ago she was onl
. little girl seven years old, aud yet