CHAPTER XVIII.
"There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new born babe beside her lies;
Oh, heaven of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With the rapture a mother only knows." Henry Ware, jr.
Tuesday, April 19th, 1836.
Dearest Mother,—Though it has been many a long month since I have had the heart to write in my journal, I cannot let the anniversary of my marriage and departure from home pass away, without at least a few words to the dear family at home. My breath comes quickly, and my tears blind me when I think, they may be my last. Often my heart sinks, and my spirit faints, as I look forward with an undefined sense of dread to the future. Sometimes I am enabled to look up with trust and confidence to "Him who doeth all things well;" and by faith to take hold of the precious promises peculiarly addressed to me.
I am blessed with a devoted husband; a watchful and tender mother, and an affectionate sister. When I think of these mercies, I can only say, "surely my cup runneth over."
Dear mother, I need not ask your prayers for your daughter. I know that I am remembered whenever you approach the throne of grace——
My pen dropped from my hand. I was with you in spirit at the hour of family prayer. I saw again my own loved and honored father in his arm chair, near the table, where open before him lies the sacred page. Near by sit my dear mother and sisters, while on the opposite side of the room, are our faithful Jennie and her associates, waiting for the daily instruction, they are in the habit of receiving. When all is still, a chapter is read. Isabel strikes softly the notes of the organ, while all join in a hymn of praise; then my dear father in a simple, trustful manner, lays the wants of each one of the bowed circle before our Heavenly Father.
"The voices of my home! I hear them still!
They have been with me through the dreamy night—
The blessed household voices, wont to fill
My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight."
Ah! beloved mother, my spirit melts as I feel assured that I am not forgotten; the dear child who has gone out from the shelter of the parental roof, who lives beyond the mighty waters; for her and her husband, are invoked the choicest of heaven's blessings; strength, support, and comfort, for every hour of need. Thus let me feel, your prayers ever ascend. Father, mother, sisters, farewell!
"Crawford, May 2d, 1836.
"Honored Parents,
"I am most happy to inform you that after a protracted, and somewhat dangerous illness, my dear wife gave birth to a fine boy, at half past six this morning. My heart is full of gratitude for the mercy which has spared the life of my beloved Cora, and given us so precious a treasure.
"Dutifully and affectionately your son,
"Frank Lenox."
"P.S., May 6th,—Mother and child are doing well. Cora looks very smiling, as she lies gazing at her sleeping babe. She says, tell them I am very, very happy."
Thursday, November 10th.
Beloved mother, how I long to exhibit to you and to all at home, my beautiful boy, my chubby, rosy Walter. He is everything a mother's heart could desire, gifted with every faculty of body and mind, to make him a useful member of society. Yet when I realize that I have given birth to one whose soul can never die, I shrink from the fearful responsibility. Yet I am not alone. There is a fountain of wisdom and knowledge from which I am permitted freely to draw.
I am almost too happy. I have a dear husband whose steps become more quick and elastic; whose eye grows more bright whenever he approaches his home, his wife, his sweet little daughter Pauline, and his darling, frolicsome boy-baby. Walter knows his father's step right well, and almost springs out of my arms as he opens the door and advances to take him from me.
Nothing can be more tender than Pauline's fondness for her little brother. Without a word, she yields her choicest toys, or stands for him to pull her curls. This is master Lenox's richest sport. It is sport, however, which I have forbidden. He must learn, even thus early in life, to respect the rights of his yielding sister, or he will tyrannize over her. I prophesy no small trouble from this source, for not only is she willing to be deprived of whatever she has in her hand, but if I say "No, Walter, that is sister's," the affectionate child, in her rich musical voice, pleads, "Please, mamma, let Pauline give brother. Pauline don't want now."
Mother, and sister, are very proud of the young Lenox, who, they fondly imagine, will add much to the honor of their name. Indeed he is a true Lenox, and already asserts his authority over every one of the family, most of whom yield obedience to him far too readily.
Friday, December 30th.
For a few days Pauline has not been well. I feel quite anxious; she has heretofore enjoyed uniform health. She coughed very hard last night. Her father thinks she has taken a cold which will soon pass away. I have allowed Ann to take most of the care of Walter, so that I can devote myself to my little girl.
Walter has gained a great victory over Ann, of which he does not fail to make the most. He now appears to realize that she is completely under his control, and insists upon having his own way whenever with her. I wish she were more decided with him. She would have far less trouble. When his wishes conflict with mine, he yields at once. Instead of the loud crying, and throwing his head back, which so frightens his nurse, he looks in my face to see if I am in earnest, and then pleasantly turns to something else. I have been telling Frank, it is high time for him to assert his authority; but he begs off. He drives into the yard, springs up the stairs to the nursery, catches up his boy and gives him a ride upon his shoulder, or upon his back, gets him into a great frolic, and then he is off. Sometimes it takes me half an hour to restore quiet. Frank says his mother always managed him, and he thinks such duties belong to the mother.
I told him, I really believed he dared not make the attempt for fear he could not carry it out. He only laughed and went out of the room, saying he would try his skill on Pauline. Dear child, she loves her father so dearly that the thought of displeasing or disobeying him, would never enter her heart. She is now quietly sleeping, and I hope will awake refreshed.