"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.