Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1886-06-17

| hind her. Her dress was cheap DlacK
print, and the man when be met her
had on his shabby coat scrap of rusty
black Grape by way of mourning.
After this they showed even more
plainly the pinch of poverty, and could
we'll fancy how their little board had
dwindled with the expenses of the baby s
illness, death and funeral. The poor
young mother began to shrink and
dwiLdle rapidly also. and seemed almost
to vanish away like the snow in spring
time. She came very seldom now to
meet her husband, and when she did
she leaned heavily upon bic arm and
walked slowly and wealily, and the face
was drawn and white which had so late
ly been wreathed with smiles and dim
pies.
And very soon she came no more to
meet him. l saw him almost daily, but
he had suddenly grown old and STOPPING.
His youth seemed to have dropped away
from him like garment. His hair
grew gray and scanty almost in night
season, and his face which had long been
so pathetic, now appeared TO nae almost
sublime in its pain and patience. No
youthful comeIiness could have seemed
to me half so touching or beautiful as
that worn face with its deep lines of
enaar;no opd f0rtifnda
know that this was but very SIM
pie, every day tragedy which had been
watching. Just a common working
mans love and heart break, with nothr
ing more terrible in it than a sickly ba.
by's dying and poor young woman's
wasting away in consumption, but, after
all, the great truths of love aid death,
the agony of passion, despair and heart
break are much the same to one and all
of Us. dare say no knight of old loved
better or more truly than did my shabby
workingman, or fought more valiantly
against the monster that beset him, or
felt a keener pang than he did when his
life lay in ruins about him. l almost
think the poor mans sorrow must have
been the keener.
What must it have been to him to
have seen his dear one slipping away
from him while be had not even the
ability to supply little luxury to smooth
her path dowDward-to see that her
mortal pangs and dying were rendered
even more bitter by the constant pain
and pressure of pecGhiary anxieties.
What must he not have suffered when
forced by the constant necessities of
daily toll to give up the last golden
hours he might have spent in her sweet
presence? No wonder his face grew
to have the look of a martyrs, and, each
day, as 1 watched its changing, my heart
bled for pity.
1t is long now since have seen my
unknown friends face He has vanish
ed from his old places, and l have never
known the name he bore nor what was
bis end or destiny. About the time that
he disappeared from nay vision chanc>
ed to read in daily paper a brief &C
count of a workingman who bravely
saved little child from trampling
households, but received himself blow
of which he died soon afterward.
like to believe that this was my
friend and that be thus went home to
his wife and little one. 1t is pleasant
to believe that for this good soldier. the
battle, though sharp, was brief, and the
rest and reward certain. His simple
heart would. am sure. marvel greatly
could he know the many thoughts l
have had concerning him, or could he be
brought to realize the half which his
strong and patient countenanee has
sometimes been to me. Life is full of
obscure battle-felds, and it is not the
magnitude of the strife which matters,
but the way in which We bear ourselves.
and the side upon which we are found
lighting. AS for the rest, it is of very
small importance whether the world
looks on sdmiring or whether only God
and ourselves know where and how we
meet and face the enemy.-"TEeedora"
in Detroit Free Press.