Should I not be content?
[Illustration: Here comes the Baby!]
I dreamed a beautiful dream in my youth, and I awoke and found
it true. My silver bride they called her just now. The frost is
upon my head, indeed; hers winter has not touched with its softest
breath. Her footfall is the lightest, her laugh the merriest in
the house. The boys are all in love with their mother; the girls
tyrannize and worship her together. The cadet corps elects her
an honorary member, for no stouter champion of the flag is in the
land. Sometimes when she sings with the children I sit and listen,
and with her voice there comes to me as an echo of the long past
the words in her letter, that blessed first letter in which she
wrote down the text of all my after-life: "We will strive together
for all that is noble and good." So she saw her duty as a true
American, and aye! she has kept the pledge.
But here comes our daughter with little Virginia to visit her
grandpapa. Oh, the little vixen! Then where is his peace? God bless
the child!
* * * * *
I have told the story of the making of an American.
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