The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1894-09-12
THE OID HOME.

never 70 return again. 10 you see
that unused gate 10 the right, al
most covered with woodbine2
Through it Icame, thirty years ago,
a bride. The house was not as pre-
tentiOus then as it is now. Edwin
bad built and furnished itunknown
to me, and as ne stepped across the
threshold, he said, aWelcome homo,
darling.
AS we passed through the sim
pie furnished rooms, | felt that our
home was to be to us haven ofref-
nge, set in the midst of troublous
world; that here, with Edwin by my
side, l could brave the frowns ofad-
verse fortune; and though storms
should rage around US, here should.
be peace and quietness of soul for
ever. Things did not look much as
they do now. There was no orch
ard back of the house, and these
tall cottonwoods, lining either side
of the driveway, were small slips,
just set ont, shall miss those old
trees. On summer days, when tired
and heated, how have watched for
the CLINT of the sunlight ON their
dancing leaves. 1t seemed SO cool;
the sensation produced upon me.
was the same as that caused by the
sight ofsparkling water.
"Well, in the process of time the
brides filed the nest to overflow
ing, and it was enlarged to its pres
ent dimensions All, WE'LL the fee.
BILE wings have long since grown
strong, and their owners taken
fight. Sometimes the old place
seems desolate without them, and
even Edwin cannot always dispel
tho loneliness that comes over me.
But, thank God for the memories
that nothing can take away.
"There is hardly spot, indoors
or ont, that is not associated with
some tender recollection. You may
have noticed that play house in the
corner of the yard, and wondered at
its presence. Fifteen years ago, ]
helped my two youngest children
make it. 1t was lovely autumnal
day, and l was passing busily from
table to stove, humming song the
while. The mellow sunshine steam
ed across the white floor, and /.
could not forbear an occasional.
glance through the window at the
cottonwoods. The effect of their
mingled green and gold drapery
was very pleasing, and distinctly I
remember thinking, that, though
the leaves were decaying, yet they
futtered and laughed as gaily as
ever, and that they would go to
their graves with a song upon their
lips. must have been rather fan
ciful that morning.
Soon my two girls burst eagerly
into the room and begged me TO
come out and help them make a
playhouse. 1 could not resist their
pleading faces, nor indeed had L
any desire to do SO. What long,
happy hour I spent with theml
Happier than I realized it to be
That shelf in The corner was nailed
there by me, and together we hunt.
ed up those bits of broken croclkeIy
and placed them upon it. 1 ar
ranged the bricks forming the tiny
oven, over which they clapped
their hands in delight. But enough,
L cannot look any longer. That
very night, Mary, the youngest
darling, was taken sick, and died
within a week. Do you wonder
now that the spot over in the corner
is to me holy ground2 sit strange
that / shriek from the thought of
sacrilegions hands tearing down
that which have so sacredly pre-
scrved9
But Edwin and / have reason to
be grateful that death has taken
only one lamb from our fold.
Though we have had some dark
days, yet we do not forget the bright
ones, which SO greatly outnumber
them. The bay window on this
side of the house looks out from the
dining room. Many merry gath
ering of friends and relatives has
assembled around the long dining
table. IF the walls had the power
of recording upon themselves all
the pleasantries and words of love
and sympathy that have been ut
tered there, they would be filed
with healthful reading for the mel
ancholy.
You see the upstairs window, fur
thest to the right, framed in a net
work of vines? You are much
i