The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1892-05-19
IF YOU LOVE HER TELL
.-- HER so. =.

life of many man and woman is
wretchedly barren and unattractive by
total lack of appreciation. 1t is not
that we really do not appreciate those
who help make our homes, but we are
very busy, and we have to think about
our work, and there is the first of the
month to meet, and, in short, our
loved ones ought to know that we love
them without perpetually being told
SO.
No wonder there is such a lovely
rose color over the days of courtship,
and no wonder it fades into very plain
and commonplace gray SO soon after
marriage. The lover is continually
telling his sweetheart how dear she
is to him, how he is happy only when
in her presence, and is wrecked when
she is gone. She has her little flut-
tering whisper, too. She loves him
so, and she is SO happy. Just to think
of spending long, long years by his
Side, of being always near him, until
they shall grow old together, perhaps
they will be allowed ooh, bliss supreme!)
to 60 down to the dark river to-
gether, and cross over to the other
side, hand in hand!
1t is the sober afterthought that
takes all the romance out of the case.
A husband coming home at night,
grim and taciturn, with no eyes for
anything but his paper, and no
thoughts for anything but his business
afairs-why, that's different, you see;
just as the irritable little woman in
the soiled wrapper is different from
the radiant girl who used to come
down and meet him in the most
charming dresses that ever captured
the heart of man. The fact is, you
couldn't expect her to remain radiant
long. She has worn herself out
planning little household economies,
and you read your paper while she
tries to tell you about them. She has
racked her brain devising dainty
dishes and setting an alluring table,
and you did not care enough to notice
what she had done. She has worn
out health and spirits in the care OF
your children, and you have done
your part by sending the children to
another room when you come home
because they make you nervous
Courtship, indeed! No wonder the
little woman looks back over the
sweet, trivial nothings of that happy
time, and wonders whether there is
such thing as love, after all, and what
it is like.
"My wife ought to know that I love
her without being told of it," retort:
the "man, proud man, dressed in a
little brief authority" How would
she know it, pray? You have been
known to caress your horse frequently
and your dog never comes about you
without receiving loving word or an
affectionate pat on the head. Yet the
heart of loving woman, your wife,
is wounded and sore under your long
Indifference. "Ifyou love her tell hel
So"
There is time to tell those thing!
you understand, and time when it j:
too late to tell them. The saddles
thing about bending over tired face
about to be shut away under a coffin
lid, is that the ears are closed, ane
would not hear agonized protestation
of love, though we shouted till on
T throats are rent. How willing we ar
|, to kiss the pallid lips, the marble
. forehead, but they thrill no NOR
, beneath our touch! what pity we di'
. not think to kiss them ofteser whe
5 the warm blood throbbed beneatl
. them! There will alway be plenty g
time for love, we thought, and then W
t were SO busy! But, ah, there was NO
plenty Of time.