fretting about anything that could not be helped. My only consolation
from her was, "'Cast your burden on the Lord.' _My_ husband is down
South, and I don't know where he is; he may be dead; he may be alive;
he may be happy and comfortable; he may be kicked, abused and
half-starved. _Your_ husband, honey, is in heaven; and mine--God only
knows where he is!"

In those few words, I knew her burden was heavier than mine, for I had
been taught that there was hope beyond the grave, but hope was left
behind when sold "down souf"; and so I resolved to conceal my grief,
and devote myself to my mother, who had done so much and suffered so
much for me.

We then returned to St. Louis, and took up the old life, minus the
contentment which had always buoyed us up in our daily trials, and
with an added sorrow which cast a sadness over us. But Time, the great
healer, taught us patience and resignation, and once more we were

"Waiting when fortune sheds brightly her smile,
There always is something to wait for the while."




CHAPTER VII.


Four years afterward, I became the wife of Zachariah Delaney, of
Cincinnati, with whom I have had a happy married life, continuing
forty-two years. Four children were born to us, and many were the