The Arizona sentinel., 1900-04-04
YUMA, ARIZONA, WEDNESDAY. APRIL. 4, 1900
THE OLD CHiTR.

All day naO Gne snow IaIlen; anC in the gathering shades of night the landscape presented Q ghostly appearance.
 In the place of the unpaintec gate post, stood silent sentinels il white, guarding the entrance to ; certain loWly thatched cottage with it's roof sloping down, within whose walls, before a cheerful fire in a wide mouth fire place, an aged couple sat, he with stopped form and hair whitened by the fro$ts of many winters; she with trembling hard, and face bearing the scars oi life's battles; while on the brow of each was written in unmistakable characters, peace born of inward piety, Christian fortitude and gen. tie submission.
 The wind howled and moaned through the trees, nigh on to a cen tury old, whose broad spreading branches reached far out into the night and lifted their heads high towards heaven.
 We'll might the storm sob and wall, for on it's wings tonight an other year was to take its flight. Three hundred and sixty-fve days and nights, each with it's measure of joy and sorrow; success or fail- ure, hope or disappointment,
 "John sent me that fine chair wonder for Christmas, he was too busy to come himself; and that was sent to take the place of this one, because this is worn out-Yes, it's worn out-We wore out together, old chair-You and I-So l feel more at home with you than with the new one.
 Ut sings the same song to me tonight, father, that it dld years ago, when 1 held John, a baby, on my arms-ah! yes, home was his world then and mother the axis upon which it turnod-now an oc- casional flying visit from the city must satisfy an old mothers heart.
 'Then there was Mary-I can see her sunny head, as 1 rocked my baby and rocked away, she would put her lips to my ear and whisper, I love you mother'-Oh, the echo still fingers around this old chair but Mary Las her hands full with a large family, away out west-the sun seems to shine brighter and the birds to sing sweeter when letter comes from Mary-I can see her, father, in her little white gown, here at my knee before this chair, as she whispered, 'Our Father
 And Henry-my Henry!-he went down with the Naine-here's bis last letter, father, saying, I want to come home soon for 8 visit he went home-he was honor ably discharged-his commander called him in
 "Murmur? An no, dear, He doeth ali things well.
 "One day our last and our baby came-the one with your clear blue eye and the golden hair that wouldn't curl--Oh! twas heaven, when they laid her beside me with hearty God bless the child'-I put nay finger near her and she grasped it with her soft baby fin gers-I feel them yet sometimes and she grew to know us-held her little arms out to you, and greeted ne with smile whenever 1 came near-I had feeling akin to sorrow when the long clothes were exchanged for shorter ones-but we still had our baby-I prayed | God to keep her-but one day the Reaper came and He took her-I thought I couldn't live without her-I wished I hadn't any heart, it ached so-but for your faithful love and the everlasting arms un- derneath' I couldn't have stood it, We have our May, my darling,
 And our roses long ago;
 But the time of the year
 l. coming, my dear,
 For the silent night and the snow.
 "Exchange this old chair tor a new one? Not while memory lasts nor while the voices that are still charm us with their eloquent silence.
 "We've nearly completed the cir cle, father, a little further on we will meet them-Henry and our hn ln,1 = nrer Nnnder- where tha