Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-04-09
"OIdLetters.n
BY MIss AMELIA rnRoPP.


| d.. --
BY MISS AMELIA THROPP.
am alone in my chamber now; no
sound breaks the stiffness but the patter Of
rain against my window-pane; I 60 to the
window and look abroad into the misty
spacei return and seat myself at the
hearth; all IS curtained, closed and warm.
I take from drawer packet Of "old
letters" orumpled and tanned, tied with
faded blue ribbons. l seat myself by the
hearth, the ruddy flames leap into fantas.
tic shapes, and lose themselves at last in
TO wavy masses Of smoke. / open first
the letters in the clear, beautiful hand
writing. The dear one who penned them
now lies coflined and solitary, only the
wet earth protecting her from the storm.
read them over and over again, with
their aifectionate words, the good advice
aud cheerful encouragement, the tender
messages and loving, happy phrases, until
memory carries me back TO the pleasant
by1gone hours, and / cry out from the
depths Of a troubled heart--will they never
come againp The "old lettersp bring Wis
ions OF the past before me, and imaginR-
ton carries me back to the valley OF my
home. see the old home as IL used to be;
the birds fancy singing by the meadow
brook, whilst the violets and daisies are
seen spangling the grass by the sunny
stream where my tboughtloss childhood
straYed. The old home is not what IL used
to be-, stand bewildered upon the rustic
porch where are the flowers | loved and
tended? And the merry band of brothers
and sisters that made the halls echo With
their glee? Let me peep through the half
open door where the sunbeams are linger-
ing. VIII she come TO meet me with her
sweet SMILE and bid me welcome home
again. my motherl How I listen no an
gel voice sounds on the air, no footstep
echoes on the stair. The birds sing gaily
10y the meadow brook Have they no pity
those winged messengers? The air, laden
with fragrance. is bourne through the open
window; the bees hum from flower TO
Hover; the only solitude is my solitary
heart. .,..... ,.t .,rs... ,.....,.. ,....... b..
Earthly homes, what ore they2 A rest
| ing place for little while; then all Is over,
The old home is no dwelling for me. The
home Of strangers henceforthJ it must be.
| The truant band that made glad its happy
hearth are scattered, and memory Is all
thdt3i is claimed Of the old familiar place.
take up another. II is from him whose
blue eyes sleep midst the coral reefs
hastily written, carelessly penned, but
what tale it tells of one fair and loving,
whose sunny nature and noble deeds strsw.
ed life'spathway forhin thick with friends.
Alas, that he should have been taken, the
young man OF great promise, with SO many
blossoms Of success bursting at his feet.
Ambitious, energetic, he carved out in Inn
pgination high destiny, but the treapher-
Gus main had no pity; amidst the pearls Of
the deep his fair form sleeps, aud nothing
Is LETT Of his beautiful life but a memory
hind. . ~ r '.'''. - " I.'I
These, with their beautiful feminine
handwriting, are from Lilly; she makes
with her sweet girlish nature a home hap
lpy,lh FAR distant land Strangers have
welcomed her 10 their hearts and home;
her smiles, her joys, her pleasures are shhr-
cd by othets far away; but there IS cor
her ii Iilly'sheartl ofwhith she never keeps
measure by rule or Square, for those she
left behind, and / know IN the solitary
hours which will come to all, hillyin heart
is homo again. We have given her our
| llblessiug, and when liie's chain inf events
unfold one by one, making the golden links
Of love aud friendship more closely united.
II We should never meet her on earth again
we pEqg 70 meet her ina fairer land than
this-7a hpme in heaven, o,Lt .a,,.c.,,,, =,
These with their crooked as and dotted
fs, are from little Nellie. who, with her
blue eyes and golden curly, was like sun
shiheu gladdsning the hearts ot all, Who
could have thohght She Would have been
taken, she was 60 gay and ehatterlhg. God
leallsthem earliest whom he loYes best.
Nellie, fair and love With her stendef
sensitive nahne ~ tFnaht from the
fheavenly bandwandered on earth'R little
while then joumeyed back telHeaven. Her
grave is neither deepn6r vida, but the sum
Fhno loves to play through thoimatted
grass and the birds sing softly 10 thelittle
sleeper beneRth thesods 1t isRliltle grave
4 but LWord-wido hoResn are buried there,
| leaving an aebipgYoid which theworld cam
/ lpot tlH, These letters crpmpled end torn
are Al that aye left me q dear little Nell,
4 So the old letter. have o story % tell OF
| hopes bligbted, 3 home, deseiate, heart
aches and heatt-breaks. The dear ones
1 wh6 penned th6n, little thought of their
leighihcanee.h | ti6 them up again with
their ernlhpled leaves and faded ribbons,
4 memory ~ The past, and yielding tothb
4 kush Of tears | bow my hehd tb'Ween an
Vi" "H