In the shops of the silversmiths were seen
breastpins, watches, bracelets, pearl and diamond necklaces, which
their owners were obliged to part with for bread. "Could we have
traced," says a late writer, "the history of a set of pearls, we should
have been told of a fair bride, who had received them from a proud and
happy bridegroom; but whose life had been blighted in her youthful
happiness by the cruel blast of war--whose young husband was in the
service of his country--to whom stark poverty had continued to come,
until at last the wedding present from the dear one, went to purchase
food and raiment... A richly bound volume of poems, with here and there
a faint pencil-marked quotation, told perchance of a lover perished on
some bloody field; and the precious token was disposed of, or pawned,
when bread was at last needed for some suffering loved one."
You can see these poor women--can you not, reader? The bride looking at
her pearl necklace, with flushed cheeks and eyes full of tears,
murmuring:--"_He_ gave me this--placed it around my neck on my wedding
day--and I must _sell_ it!" You can see too, the fair girl, bending
down and dropping tears on the page marked by her dead lover; her bosom
heaving, her heart breaking, her lips whispering:--"_His_ hand touched
this--we read this page together--I hear his voice--see his smile--this
book brings back all to me--and now, I must go and sell it, to buy
bread for my little sister and brother, who are starving!"
That is dolorous, is it not, reader?--and strikes you to the heart.
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