Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-11-23

,, days that brighten as the distance be-
tween me and them grows WIDER and
darker. / remember his face as I met
him at the door. It was only "Mother =
and ooh, Willie - Only close clasp
ing and long kiss. All that day [ could
not see him except through thick falling
tears-happy tears [ called them; yet
now L can read and prophesy Of their
pain. God did nottell me that he would
not come home to his mother again: but
] knew it-from the moment he crossed
the threshold 1 knew it.
And here was the day staring me in
the face. What will you think of me If
L say that in my children's prattle that
night saw for myself no reproof; that
indeed / was almost vexed with their
thoughtless joy; their merry voices
stung me; [ shrauk away from their lit
tie plays and laughter. 1t was the
silence only that I heard. He-he was
my first born, and [ loved him.
To live through to-morrow's festival
without hin; to fill it with the old glad
customs and the old rejoicings; to come
to the table and see only that Que vacant
chair; to watch the children play about
the fire, where he had played among
them; to sit and worship and give thanks
in the church to which he had walked
with us In company, and from which we
had borne him to his rest; to keep eyes
free from tears and lips from quivering.
"Mary," said voice beside me.
My husband had come in from his
study, and was pacing the room in his
restless way
"Wel 90
81 suppose you have been preparing
for tomorrow ?"
''The children shall have their dinner;
what else can | do?'
"We do not want them to have a
gloomy day of it, Mary"
81 cannot, cannot help it. John, you
know"
He came up and laid his hand upon
my bowed head.
81 know, Mary, 1 know. I am
stronger to bear it than you. [ will try
soon be over.'
That was just like him; all my bur-
dens were his own; all my pain doubly
his. [ might have known how it would
be. Was this sorrow making me forget
full of my husband? Could it be that?
"Oh, John, / am so selfish but you
know I loved HIM so-if I could be
brighter, John %
81 understand it all. Why, Mary ?"
He took me in his arms as [ broke in
to sobbing, he took me in his arms like
a child, and sitting there beside the fire
we talked long time. [ cannot tell
you what we said. This, our child,
whom the Lord had taken, was as dear
to him as to me; for him, as for me, the
path we trod was very dark.
But when at last he left me we under
stood one another, as in every trouble
we always had understood.
We could bear anything together.
heard him take his hat, go out of the
ball door and close the door behind him.
/ went to the window, which the frost
was painting thicked and thicked with
its cold, clear pictures, and through it L
saw a solitary figure passing over the
moonllt snow and into the shadow of the
church. 1t was as [ supposed.
AS [ went back to the fire some sleigh
ing party, in the street shot by, singing
merry Thanksgiving song.
l expect only those who mourn to I'M
derstand how / listened to it. It was
little thing to hurt me; but it did.
Thanksgiving / could have laughed at
the word. Should [ give thanks? For
this desolated Preside, for that vacant
chair and silent voice, for the vanished
smile and touch and household blessing,
for those few d1mmed letters and the
heart ache of that lock of shining hair
a71n 10 !, 4ha
should [ give thanks for these?
So many memories crowded into the
words; so many pictures came and went,
as | sat there alone in the freight. The
boy sitting just here at my feet-he was
the only one then-cracking his nuts,
and stealing the raisins from my pocket
after dinner, looking up into my eyes
with the pretty mischief bright in his, so
great and dark and full; no one ever had
eyes like Wilhe's.
He was such a pretty baby, and so
dear; you see, he taught me the word
mother; it was his little upt turned face,
and the touch of his tiny fingers, in
which [ first read the beauty of its holt
ness. How could I help it that he was
what he was to me? What should [ do
heart for one and twenty years?
Another picture. How the years went
and came! He was the Only one no
longer; but IN the group Of happy faces
his always STOOD alone to me. It was he
who stllled the little ones at their quar-
rels or when the plays grew rough; it
was he who made the beautiful Thanks
giving days so bright to them; it was he
who watched my steps about the room
and drew my chair up to the fire, and
followed me with his little sm1le-such a
beautiful smile 1t always was! Why,
somehow all the festival days are lighted
with 1t far down the faint and fading
years. I see it. When the school-boy.
affecting all the little appearances of the
Bucollcs and the first Xenophon lesson,
was not ashamed to come out in the
kitchen and help me stone the raisins.
L see it at the merry dinner table, and
the twinkle in his eye, and the laugh,
and the Jest, his face all aglow with de-
light. l think it was beautiful face