The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1880-01-24
WHOLE No. 1887

them law books yit. Things seems to be
gitten' inter shape somehow. I'll fetch
round there tomorrow night if Pm
spared, an visit with her a little" And
covering up the sugar carefully, Sam lei
| Paine took himself of to bed.
Poor Lucy was lonely, and NJ. Paine
made himself agreeable. He condolcd
! with her in good set terms-quoted Scrip
| ture, and threw in verses of DR.. Watts
in an appropriate manner: blew his nose
generously when Lucy cried little, and
thereby produced in her innocent mind
the impression that he was crying too.
| And after he had cheered her up little
with tender eNhortation not to give way
too much to her feelings, to remember
that man was made to mourn, that every
| body must die some time or other, and
that no doubt Squire Larkin Cor rather
"our dear departed friend y enjoyed the
hallelooyers of heaven much better
than his daughters society and keeping
post office, with other appropriate re-
marks of the same kind, he babe her
goodnight, tenderly squeezing her hand
as he left, and causing the poor little
woman to feel doubly lonely, and to wish
he would come back.
All. why do we try to comfort those
whom death has bereft? Why do we go
over these vain conventonalsms which
we know are futile? Can words like
| these bring back the smile, the voice, the
touch, for which we hunger with mad
| denins eagerness: Can it help us in our
hopeless longing TO know that others
suffer the same vital anguish , that to die
is the sure fate of all we love, sooner OF
later? OF that we must submit to these
solitudes and cryings and strong tears
because we can not help ourselves? No.
| ten thousand times no. There is but one
consolation of real virtue, and that is the
closer clinging of the soul to Him who
can not die. The rings that clasped these
broken supports must close on higher
branches, even on the Tree of Life; and
if human love takes us in its tender arms
and silently kisses away our tears. it may
bring us still nearer to the Divine: for if
we so love one another, shall not God,
who made u.s. love us eternally and in
finitely? But Lucy Larkin was one of
the bending sort of women who never
break under any blow. She went her
IL, Il,
did all her tranquil duties, and prayed
hard to be resigned. 1t made resigna-
ton easier to have Mr.. Paine come in
once or twice week; and when, after a
decent internal, he proposed to fill the
vacant place in her heart, the little smit-
| ten plant rose up mcekly and accepted
the palled sun shine with gentle surprise
and content. She was glad not to be
lonely any more, and so astonished that
such smart, pious man as Samuel Paine
should have thought to make her au offer
-" she that wasn't talented. nor good
lookin', nor real young"
Unworldly little soul. her twenty thou
sand dollars were more to this smart
man than the beauty of Helen. the gifts
of Sarpho, or the divine sparkle and fresh
ness of ideal girlhood: but she never
guessed it. So they were married just
year after her fathers death. Mrs. Bliss
was installed into the tenement over the
store, and Squire Larkin's handsome old
house being freshened up with paint and
set in thorough order, though without
any expense of new furnishings, seemed
to renew its youth. Perhaps when Mrs.
Paine learned to know her husband bet
ter, she did not experience all that super
human bliss which poets and romancers
depict as the result of matrimony: but
then who does? Most of us learn to be
content if we can rub along easily with
our life partners, and cultivate judi
cious blindness and deafness, in the wise
spirit of good old Bishop kens well
known hymn:
go that mine eyes might closed be
To what becomes me not TO see;
That deafness might possess mine ear
To what becomes ne not to hear.
Lucy was not consciously so wise as
this; but she had the greatest respect fol
her husbands piety and smartness, and
| if she could not understand certain OF
his manners and customs, she still
| thought IA man could not err who made
such long and fervent prayers at family
devotions, and who always had the gold
en- rule on his lips as Il professed rule o!
| life. She was not naturally demonstra-
tive: few New England women are. II
they We're as afraid of being angry, or
cross. Or peevish before people as they
are OF being aiiectiohate and tender, life
would be NIGHTLY swee,ened to many 0!
us: but when our sour but sublime old
| Puritan fathers made it Il legal offence
for man to kiss his wife on Sunday,
what wonder that their descendants
teeth should be set on edge?
But if Mrs. Paine was not caressne
and ailectionatc i'll manner, Mr.. Paine
was still less so; if he had any heart be-
idle the muscular organ of that name. he
had it yet to discover; certainly Lucy had
not awakened it any more than his last
investment in groceries. Things went Oh
very calmly with the pair for Il year OF
two: the only disturbance being sudden
and unreasonable crying fit of Lucy's, in
which Mr.. Paine detected her. comm.
home on an errand quite unexpectedly.
| Il ca-ca-can't help it, she sobbed,
Historically, when he sternly demanded:
"What on airth's the matter with We,
Loocy? Stop, now. right oii,-stop, tell
yc, an speak up.
"Oh. h, oh, husband. Miss Nancy
Tuttle's ben here; she's ben a-talkin'
awful She said she considered twas
her dooty to come an deal with me, be-
coZ-bccoZ-oh, oh, OH.
stop it. now, thunderin quick, Loocy!
| can't stan here all day
"O-h, she heerd LOT of talk against
YOU, husband, an she thought I'd ought
| to know it. so's't could use my influence
with you, an kinder persuade you to do
different
A grim smile twisted Samuel Paine's
stiff lips: Lucy sintluence with him, in
| deed