Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1900-01-03
THE CLOCK SPEAKS.
Written for THE AMERICAN by Georgia ID.
Huson Moore. surry, Maine


life. In Westminster abbey there is
bell that chimes this stanza,-
"All through this hour,
Lord, be my guide,
And through Thy power
No foot shall slide"
No beautiful chime vas given me. NY
part was TO count correctly the seconds,
and to announce clearly and promptly
each hour. must seem cold hearted in
my walnut case, the same expression ever
on my face and singing always the same
song; rtheless my heart often beats
wildly at the scenes before me, for / must
"face" the world.
The first time that struck the hour OF
four had just been set up in my home.
My master and his bride stood before me
admiring me, and, my tongue spoke
the hour OF four, she lighted the fire for
the first meal in the new home. How I
enjoyed watching their loving play Her
girlish bushes made her pretty, aud the
wonsnIy air with W hicb she went about
her work, lent pleasing charm to her
being. Theirs seemed ideal love. |
was hen very young and inex perienc, d !,
and one thought held sway in my mind:
VIII ii last?
One. twol three! four! l spoke it eau
tiousiy, almost tremb lngiy. Ispoke the
advent OF one little flower into Gods
great garden. The thought Of her frailty
aud OF the power around her, made me
fear lest she be crushed. God tilis, and
prunes, and twines around His strong
arm he frailest flowers. Often when baby
was sleeping in the cradle, and the even
ing lamps were low the fat her and mot her
would sit beside the open fire, and talk
softly ottheir Joy. Her hand would slip
into his, and clasping 1t, he would say, SO
softly that had to hush my ticking to
hear: al love you, darling, far more than
when first told you OF my love. Every
day proves to me that you are my ideal
woman. May the little heaven-sent one
grow 10 be like you, dear one, and l shall
be satisfied"
Days and month passed peacefully.
Little Marion had a tiny brother who
could jast lisp papa" and toddle around
by the furniture. Many happy scenes
passed with the days. At twilight, the
playing done, the children would sit be-
fore The open fire and talk OF what the
day had brought them. Then, as the
little eyes grew heavy, IN the quiet, broken
only by my ticking, they would lisp their
evening prayer. As mother left Henry
little bed lie would say, sieepily ~ love
90, mama. COS good TO Henry
One, two. three. tourl The doctor had
gone, the house was quiet except for the
sobs of the heartbroken mother. The
dawn had just broken little Henry's
pure soul went to join the multitude OF
child angels For days he had tossed
about in terrible fever, but, at last, had
entered the rosy dawn OF the long, bliss
fui morrow. The friends came to comfort
the sorrowing parents and to prepare
what WAS earthly OF little Henry for
burial. Love unlimited was bestowed
on the tiny frame in a vain attempt to
lessen he grief OF parting, but no relief
came except in the thought that Henry
was now beyond anything that could
harm him, V lille here, with the tempest OF
woridiiuess around him, he might have
fallen.
One! two, three. four, The measured
tread OF light feet on the stair aroused
me from my dreaming, and when l was
fairly awake saw the bridal couple stand
ing before the gray haired pastor. 1t
was no surprise to me, for / knew that
the noble Frank was always welcomed
cordially, and Marion's soft gIances had
betrayed her. Near them stood the
father and the mother, showing signs OF
age. but looking beautiful in their pride
and content. Friends and relatives enter,
and slowly he aged pastor read the ritual.
Marion's face WAS unusually beautiful,
illumined by trust in the man beside her,
and by her faith that the future, Christ
directed, would be peaceful. All | could
do was to tick away. But what more Is
there in life? | have faced life many
years, and believe that life is not wort IA
that,
Each tomorrow
Finds US farther than today"
Difficulties may present themselves, but
with strong purpose, binding the best in
man to heaven, lives may tick on peace
fully.
One! two! three! four! The bell in the
old church tower is tolling its farewell to
my master, and add to 1t my old-time
note. From the window l see the process
sion slowly winding up the hill to the old
cemetery. Last June, when the odor of
the roses was sweetest, and peace WAS
natures charm, the gentle spirit of my
mistress passed through the gates to live
forever in heavens perfect June. Now,
in the autumn peace, following the FROST
sting, my master Is with his sweet heart
where no frosts come.
Eciftx, 1 b tiatroa tLia