Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1883-06-13
Loves Labor Lest.

A family living in this city possessed
one child, a bright boy of four years,
who during the past winter fell victim
to the frightful epidemic of diphthera
and after brief illness died. Both
parents were crushed by the blow, but it
seemed as if the young mother never
would rally. AT last friends suggested
that she make tour South to visit rela-
tiyes, and assisted her to get ready.
More dead than alive, she left home, and
accompanied only by her mother went
off on her mournful journey in search of
health if not of happiness.
The husband meanwhile was left
alone; he was obliged to go every day to
his business; TO buy and sell and minglc
with other men, and keep back the tears
which it would have been unmanly to
shed, but which would rise in his heart
whenever he thought of his beautiful
boy; he was doubly bereaved in also
losing the society of his wife, but he
tried to bear it as best he might.
And then the thought occurred to him
that he might fill up his time and also
create a pleasant diversion for his wife
on her return by making some changes
in their pretty home, so that she would
not be reminded at every glance of the
dear lost child; and he called in paper
hangers, bought new furniture, remod-
eled the old, and had the happiness of
having it all ready and waiting when
his wife returned. IL had literally been
labor of love with him, and as he met
his wife, and heard her express her sin
cere wish for home, he smiled in the
arla Of l,o. M; n.
pated relief. The house was dimly
lighted when she entered, but the pretty
sitting-room was illuminated, and the
new wall-hangings. the bright furniture
shonc resplendent rs she saw them
there. Her husband waited for her first
words of approval.
"What is this?" she asked in faint
cold voice. "This is not home, where
have you taken me, CharlcP'
at is home, DEAR" answered her hus-
band, kindly. Il made the changes to
surprise you. | knew you could not
bear TO see it just as il was when-when
you went away. Everything is new and
different
Her answer was n low heart-broken
cry.
80, Charlie! how could YOU" she
sobbed Where is the dear old rocker
that used TO rock little BERTHE 10 sleep
in every night of his life oh what have
you done with that, and the place on the
wall where | measured him every year,
and the mark that his dear little high
chair made, and the notches he cut in the
window-sill, and the marks of his little
feet on the chairrungs, and his own nail
to hang his cap and scarf onp Why,
Charlie, could not sleep for thinking of
them. hurried home to them-they
were all had! they were all | hadr'
Grief is selfish; cold, cruel and selfish
TO the living, but something in the look
her husband gave her made the young
wife stop and say gently: "Never mind!
| will get used to the new things--they
are very pretty. Thank you, dear"
But oh the lost photographs on the
wall, the trace of sunny head, the inn
press of restless little fingers, now for
ever stilled, the mark of boyish heel on
the door-sill, the magnetism of a living
presence; these were gone never to re-
turn, there was nothing left except this:
To remember that the daily comfort and
happiness of one human soul is worth
more than all the tears that affection can
shed over one who is gone, one who no
longer needs ''our poor protection, who
would bid us dry our tears, and look up
up TO that Heaven, where all mourn
ers shall be comforted. Detroit PoSt and
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