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True American. (Steubenville, [Ohio]) 1855-1861, April 24, 1855, Image 1

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57, .51
' From Peterwn's MgMin
i v,..: THE BABTOFS.- -
', , (CONCLUDED.) ,
t .:v) v; CHAPTER IL;", v' J
Th windows of large, handaomely
furnished ctambcr were thrown open to the
oft breezes of May, which, " toying with
the light lace" curtains, admitted the gold
en day beams m picturcsquo alternation
with cool, deep shadows. From the garden
beneath the sweet fragrance of early flow
rs came floating 'on the pure, balmy air,
end from the clustering foliage of trees
lose by, the "ravishing notes of bird song
filled the apartment with melody. Sepa
rated from Ihe .'neighboring dwellings by
' ita spacious garden, shut in amid shade
trees' clambeHng vinos, and blooming
plants, the house theugh remarkable neith
er for design nor architectural beauty,
presented an attractive aspect, which seem
ed to denote it the abode . of simple and
unpretending happiness; and the admira
tion of the passer by was doubtless often
clouded by an emotion of envy toward the
fortunate occupants.' ; " f f ,
''Ah ! how seldom can wo judge rightly
. by afWances ! j ' r..-..
: In tyt inost, dismal haunts of penury,
in the dilapidated hovels which one passes
f ouiciriv.wiiaa snuaaeroi puy auu uisyuei,
ed with real heart grief than the sad, tear
ful woman , who," sitting in that pleasant
room, surrounded by gladsome sights and
sounds, sees but one object the suffering
i occupant of the couch by which she watch
es with patience that never wearies with
- love stronger than death with agony that
, Wrings every fibre of her maternal heart.
Not alono the unutterable anguish of the
mother hovering o'er.: her suffering dying
fhild is hers there is another feeling that
renders more - acute every pang very
trial. . ;.;.,.);-; -r .,:
' - How often during the delirium of fever
did the. piteous :bcseechingS of the little
patient for a joy that could "never more be
r his, fall on her shuddering ears I ' How
v ofton afterreturning consciousness would
f bo thin; wasted fingers tighten, about hers
-the' blue eyes,' now unnaturally large
f v -and brilliant, be raised imploringly to her
enxious .face whilethe plaintive words,
"Mamm, won't you send for papa to see
. Charlie oh,:, when, will he come home
' egain V wpuld wake a ! new.throb of.n
guiBh. ' Then would she clasp him convul
sively in her arms with passionate caresses,
whiaperiug the -while Bweet wprds 16 com:
fort the affectionate ohild, while on her own
wan brew the lines ef care and sorrow al
ready tracod, grew deeper and more leg!-
. . . ,,f, . . ti j . . i
Few months had passod einco she. was
moving in conscious pride amid gay and
- fashionable associates, yet how few of them
eould have recognized the lively and bloom
ing Emily Barton . in that sad, spiritless
woman, wasted by secret sorrow infl ma
ternal solioitude ? tFor many weary weeks
little Charlie had been, an invalid j hope
Alternately rose, and fell in the anxious pa
rent ; now the last glimmer- of hope had
faded ,from sinking soul, and the unclpud;
ed glory ot advancing spring the beauty
of that lovely, 4ay iinockod hor with its
cheerfulness, for , s fearful presentiment
liaunted hr through the rosy hours, that
with the fall, of iiight on nature's glories
the darkness of -bereavement Would envel-
: ope hor in gloomy' clouds. .And it was to
'te so. Eor when the animation . with
which the little invalid, so. Jong confined
to a sick bed, hailed the fair scene he had
pined to look upon, had passed, the Quick
ened ejilsn as if exhausted by its transient
-animation grev feebler and lowgr- a chill
"pallor took-the: place of the' momentary
' flush of joyana the signs of approach.
ing; dissolution became more fearfully evi-
' dent; :'VtifW--.;- ..i ti :'
.w"Tia'fcft6r. long, restless ep that
" the child suddenly Btarted 'up and bent
eagerly forward in a waiting posture, his
dilated Jos. .fixed with '.iW intensity on
. , the doorway, the .bmth coming, quickly
and withjdifficulty through the parted lips.
A domestic with cautious tread entered the
room; . xne cnua ieu DacK upon nis piuow
with a sigh of disappointment, the light
faded from his changing features; and with
slow gathering tears he murmured, "Oh,
I thought it was papa ! Oh,"why doh t
he come? mamma won't you send for him?','
and checking his sobs he looked up to her
with? yearning, eager expression .peculiar
to the dying. A sharp cry broke involun
tarily from the wretehed parent, and the
wild burst of grief that would not longer
bo stayed, for a momcnt,'compelled her to
turn fromthe bed. It was the first time
since early morning that he had uttered
the words, which, all through that long,
wasting sickness, had expressed his child
ish longings, and the mother's heart seem
ed breaking as she caught this pitiful re
quest.' Alas 1 the wide ocean rolled be
tween the father and his dying child.
The affectionate little follow saw her
grief; his lip quivered again, and with his
damp brow laying, close to her cheek, he
murmured softly, "Don'tcry, dear mamma,
don't cry 1" till suddenly starting up with
a new thought, he said eagerly, "papa will
como home some time, won't you tell him
Charlie was a good boy, and loved him so
much,' oh, so much." "Again his little
strength was exhausted, he fell back rubing
his tiny hand over his mother's tear-bedewed
face, as he continued whispering
half unconsciously, "don't cry, my own
sweet mammal'' , ' '
. But the mother wept tm long and bitter
ly without fear of disturbing the loving
child, who lay unoonscious alike of her
tears and carcs&es. Time passed on count
ing out the last hours of that brief young
life; and from that death like stupor little
Charile awoke amid the angels hosts of
heaven. , V . . . '..
Convinced at last that it was but the in
animate ' remains of her precious one on
which sho gazed with mournful intensity,
the mother gently withdrew her arm from
the dear head it had pillowed, and pressing
one long kiss on . the marble brow, bowed
her head upon her clasped hands in silent
prayer. . Long had she prayed for strength
in her impending trial; with-agonized fer
vor had supplicated Him who holds death
and Jife in His hands to spare her darling,'
or enable ber to give mm up uncomplain
ingly to a love' deeper, fonder than even
her yearning tenderness. ': During that
long season of sorrow she had lived over
much of her former life, realizing the sin
fulness of the discontent she had indulged
when surrounded by undesorved blessings;
and the retrospect while it filled her with
shame and remorse, awoke also the bettor
feelings of her nature, which had so long
lain useless and almost extinct beneath the
rank weeds of pride and petulcnce. Hence,
in this hour of darkness, when her attend
ants, knowing with what a passionate fond
ness she had regarded hor fair and gentle
boy,.cxpeoted to seelier overwhelmed with
frantic grief her sorrow deep and agoni
zing1 as it was, was yet tempered with
Christian resignation and hopei ? v
y The beautiful remains of tho angel Char-1
lie were laid in the 'quiet church yard not
far from her dwelling, 'and thither would
the bereaved, mother often repair to weep
and muse above the hallowed spot.
Of a fine summer' afternoon she would
takQ her little "Emily, "now a sprightly,
winning child, whose lisping prattle wiled
many a weary hour; and they would wan
der through the shady precincts of the 'city
of the dead;'' or while sitting beside Char
lie'fl jgrave tho mother, would talk of her
lost angel to the little . one, who with her
Jiead loaning on "mamma's" lap, and her
large bright eyes filled with wondering
thoughtfulness, Vould listen with unwea
ried interest to the oft - told tale. '.' But
when autumn came with "changing skies,"
the mother often deemed it prudent to leave
Emily at home, and her visits to the gravo
yard were now more sad and suggestive of
mournful Reflections, as sho drew neat1 the
little mound from" whioh the bright flowers
she had planted were fast fading away."
One afternoon, it was toward the close of
Potober, her steps wore directed to her ao
cUNtomed. haunt.' Two days tad passod
since Ltii Ukl visit, aud tho heavy nin that
bad fallen .aluiost continually duriug the
pterin) had robbed the grave yard pf the
emnants of summer beauty; and k the
v f.rt - -.vVteW; ,y
passed slowly through the damp leaf strewn
paths she trembled with grief and nervous
ness, when her eyes rested on the spot so
dear to her maternal heart. There, more
than anywhere else, she thought,5were the
ravages, of the chilling storm; and she
wept more disconsolately than since the
first days of breavement as she bent over
the faded mound her face bowed upon
her hands as Vas usual with her in seasons
of great anguish. She continued thus in
dulging her grief, till startled by an ap
proaching footstep, and looking up beheld
a gentleman almost at her side. With a
wild scream she threw her arms about him
sobbing convulsively, "Ob, Gustavus, our
Charlie's gone I our own darling, darling
little Charlie I" ,-. ; -
The gentleman was indeed Gustavus
Barton. Vainly had he sought in foreign
climes the' peaceful happiness he had reck
lessly shipwrecked, and returningto his na
tive.city was told of his son's death.
Stunned and heart stricken he had set out
to visit the grave, and wandoring through
the church yard had witnessed his wife's
anguish, which softened still more his re
lenting feelings, i Tears streamed over the
faoe of the proud man, as tenderly support
ing his distressed wife, he knelt with her
beside the grave where rep'osod the remains
of him who had been so dear -to both the
erring parents. He could not speak, and
Emily also wept in silence, till at length
as tho night shadows deepened they fose
sadly, and together proceeded to her quiet
dwelling, where the only remaining object
of parental tenderness was clasped in the
fond embrace of a father of whom her in
fant mind retained no remembrance. The
sight of hor recallod nioro vividly her bro
ther's, image, and he exclaimed mournfully
"My bright, beautiful boy; I told him he
would , never see me again but oh, I
thought not of death !" '
In the city where the first years of their
married life .were spent, Mr. and Mrs.
Barton now reside, less gay, but more re
ally happy than in tho time to which both
look back with painful self upbraiding.
But the lessons of the stern teacW afflic
tion havb not been vain, they have learned
mental forbearance, which renders lasting
the reconciliation tacitly made at the grave
of little Charlie. .
' , .-. Striking Thoughts.
Solitary thought corrodes tho mind, if it
be not blended with social activity; and
social activity produces a restless craving
for excitement, if it bo not blended with
solitary thought. ,
Almpst all knowledge is interesting, if
presented in an interesting manner. -."
Many a great man resembles Herod in
tho theatre, shining and groaning at once.
. ' Every day well spent, lessons tho task
that God has set us. ' '. .: .7 -
It is useless to recommend to people a
course which they have not judgement
enough to pursue. ; ' v -
How ignoble most men's lives would ap
pear to themselves, if described m tho lives
of Others! - -
A' Turkish proverb says, "The devil
tempts other men, but idle men tempt the
devil." ".
'A? Spanish proverb, "What the fool
docs in tho end, the wise man docs in the
beginning."vv;V ; , - ,'-o.v .; v
The more man is envied, the less he is
spared,;- v ... ', '
The ardent reformer moves the multi
tude, but tho calm philosopher moves the
ardent reformer. '
" The following is a rendering of Martial's
famous couplet? - v T V :
V'They who excel in strength, are not
moRt likely to show ' contempt of weakness
A man docs not dospise tho weakness of 1
child.'', iW' " ; ' v-V i' ) ,('
If a good act benefits' no one olse, it
benefits the doer. ' ? '' :
...... - ' ' ' ' - l-
Money is well spent in purchasing tran
quility of mind. ,.. ; . 1
Difficulties' dissolve before a cheerful
spirit, like snow drifts before the sun. ' '
n. The Italians say, "Timo is a silent file."
(We learn a little, of God'a ways,, but
very little of ni purposes.' ' ' '
HIQ,: .mlY,IirjliLp55S:ES
. .. ... 1 t .... . ...)..''
As the day came up struggling with the
gloom of clouds, the vanguard had given
alarm of that onslaught, which before the
day was done, should make Inkermann sec
ond only to Waterloo. Through the fog
gy drizzly dark, had burst tho blasts of bu.
gles, and drums, and fifes, and rattling mus-
rketry; and the transition from sleep to
battle had bepn a transient interval of con
sternation : not the consternation of cow
ardice, however, but of sudden surprise.
To arms ! To the summoning martial
music drums whose hurried roll, and fifes
whose thrilling shrieks, make the blood beat
surge in the veins to the glorious martial
musio, man after man, column after col
umn, company after company, they wheel
into amy.' Swiftly and mightily, as though
hurled by the power of thunder, horse and
plumed rider sweep over the field, and along
the' lines, bearing the hoarse, loud com
mand ; and quick as thought there follow
charges and evolutions, and sublime prep
arations for blood'
'Oh I the battle of Inkermann would
have been a splendid sight to see in abroad
field and a bright sun. , But the nature of
the ground, and the darkness of the day,
rendered it impossible to take in more than
a small scene of the grand and terrible dra
ma at one view. Many 4 heroic deed was
performed that day in obscure and solitary
Dlaces. that left nv r"rd.but death; If
1 1 JL '
you found. j some gloonQ glen, a flush
harvest of carnage corpse lying thick as
sheaves after the sickles you know there
had been great achievements there ; but
they will not illume the pages of history,
for their memory sleeps in the burial trench
es with those who died enacting them.
Thirst of glory, such as is slaked by
blood had lured young Cecil Gray from
his happy home in old England, to the
camp and the field. He was an officer in
the fifth Dragoons j and as we have an in
terest in him now. let us watch the per
formance of the fifth, on that day of In
kermann. . v
Is it not they, yonder on the height?
Let us go nearer them ; for this dismal day
is so like twilight that we cannot distin
guish the figure on their buttons. Yes, it
is five. What noble fellows 1 How proud
ly they sit on , their horses 1 With an air
of impatience they lean forward, as the bat
tle's din increases ! How their nostrils di-
ato with tho delay of opportunity ! .
Which of them is Cecil Gray f Do you
see yonder at the right, that tall, noble
young officer, who is gaziog with looks
of unspeakable tendernessr upon a locket
miniature which he has just drawn from
his bosom f That is ho ; and the minia
ture is of the name would choke his ut
terance, if he attempted to speak it; for he
is thinking of the time not many months
ago, but ob. how long 1 when the original
of that picture sobbed on his breast, and
lung to him wtih love's desperation, kis
sing him with the most impassioned kisses,
and pleading with him in' God's name not
to go-oh, not to go I
His lip quivers ; he closes the locket and
replaces it iu his bosom. . If he were not
agonizingly prayed for . with her every
breath, of whom he is now thinking we
would say, oh God I let him not sink on
the battle-field to-day I ' .
Tho Fifth has' lost most of their infan
try in the beginning of the battle; for the
Turkish foot, their main support, had fled,
at the first onset; and there remained to
them now only a small division of the High
landers', a number quite insufficient to bus
tain them. Yet, as the cannons thundered,
and the muskets hailed the death around,
the trave fellows felt it like a shame to sit
there idle while their comrades were win.
ning glory ; and every moment they grew
more eager, even wuuou tug euppor ot iw
fantry, for an' occasion to act. - , .
Hark t the tramp of cavalry. .Every
rein is" tightened, and every horseman's
breath' is quilled with expectation. Up
they come at a fierce gallop, as though they
meant to sweep theheight clear at a single
pasaV . It Is the Muscovites 1 Their heavy
rusbW' LilloWo'f horse, dash full upon
the Highlanders, and are shocked back by
the shore of bayonets.' They rally, and
advance more slowly and determinedly.
' Then the bugles of the fifth sounded,
and the fiery horses ore wheeled into order
for the onset. ' .;.. .
Look at Cecil Gray ! he has forgotten
the miniature; he has forgotten ijs origi
nal ; he has forgotten the little cottage by
the Thames, where she is singing prayers
to Heaven for him now; ho thinks only of
glory. His breast heaves and pants, and
his hand clutches his hilt, waiting for the
next signal twang. c ' ' , ' . T
Another blast of the bugles, and the
whole Fifth, instantly bristling all over
with swords', like a single being,)spring into
the pat de charge. A thundering hurri
cane of battle, they swoop right down on
the advauoing foe with the speed of the
wind. God of heavcnl what a spectaolel
With what a sublimely terrific shock the
two hostile masses of men and hones crash
together! Sword clangs on sword; horse
and rider sink; tho sea of combat surges
over them. ' ' ' ' ' . .
. The Fifth cut foe through and through;
and when their bugles sound the rally,
they disregard the signal, . determined to
fight still , they", clear the field or die.
Horse against horse, with onset and repulse,
Saxon and Cossack, they cleave one anoth
er down, swaying to and fro like a stormy
sea. .... - .
Where : is Cecil Gray? Yonder in his
plume. Watch it. It tosses about the
thick of the fight, as if it were alive with
glory. There, it loses itself in tho smoke
nistols. It emerges. .We lose sight of
t .again. . iouJoi once more it bioa alnng
he field, liko some splendid bird f prey
hat kills its "quarry, but "tops not to de
vour. Swords leap up above and about it;
other plumes nod and sink around it, rid
erless horses whirl away from it, and roll
down, and surge and die in the overwhel
ming billows of battle. But that plume,
and the sword that goes with it, cease not
for an instant in their sublime career. .
The wounded French Chasseur who re
clines on his elbow here nigh us, watching
that plume, forgets his pain, and ejaculates,
"Cestsuperbel" and it is superb; it is glor
ious. - .
But now that plume , is the dreadful
centre of a vortex of foes, which dashes
upon it, as upon a lone sail the foam cap
ped whirlpool in the sea. Other plumes -fly
to the rescue. Sabres flash up thick and
fast, and chop down into fiery brains, and
cross, and thrust, and stab, and mix in hor
rible turmoil of heroic desperation.
We close our eyes tightly, with a shud
dering sickness, and when we open, them
on the scene again the Russians aro in to
tal rout, "and the gallant Fifth in, rally,
with shout and hurra. But the plume of
Cecil Gray? ; It is gone! ' The prayers
which have kept going up to Heaven from
tho cottage by the Thames have not been
answered. That plume bowed to death,
and went down while we were shutting our
eyes. . .
How gloriously he died! On the field
they found him tho evening of that day,
with a monumbnt of slaughtered heroes
piled up to his glory. And as his sum
vinar comrades spaded him a grave and
wrapped his cloak around him, and laid him
tohisrcBt, they talked antimatedly of his
horoism and then they spoke falteringly of
onowho. ' 1 -; ' ' ' ''
"No more of that, my comradel" said he
who had been his bosom friend, in a choking
voice "There," he had taken the locket
from the neck of the dead, clipped, with his
sword, a lock from the hero's hair, and shut
it over, the miniature; "that-shall bo her ti
dings! -and may God pity and-comfort
her!.''- -',.'': Vr a - r '.''.
The big, blinding tears streamed down
those stern cheeks: they filled .up the
grave, breathing hard w'th the rush of home
dear .emotions, but speaking not another
word '7' JV.'V' y ;.-),'', ;
A CottageJbt TnETnAM3.
Inkerman has boon fought, and the news
kas gone'through England. In that cottage
Minnie Gray sit sobbing and wailing for
what sho knows possible, and yet hopes im
possible.' - Weep on Minnie:. the hour is at
hand when the blessed relief of tears will be
denied' her., .; - ; ,'. ., ;''.. I.
; "Willie, go to tho Vwn, and-and-Go!
Willie!" ., , , ' ''
Willie (roes; ho runs all the way. lie
brings back nothing but the newspaper,
"No letter, Willie?" ' . . . ,
"None.", ; ' V . '., .
She seizes the paper, and gropes tear-
blind through the long columns. But she
finds nothing, only that so many were killed
and so many were wounded, and the names ;
of a few 'great officers that Were slain.
the throbbing blood almost bursts from
her veins and her eyes grow dry, as she
reads a printed letter from one of the Fifth
Dragoons had been in glorious peril! ' ;
"Oh! my God! how can I bear this ago
ny of suspense!". . y - .
Willie tried to soothe her, but she
could hear nothing but the soul-stunning
thunder of battle, see nothing through her
tears, but the charge of the Fifth Dra
goons!" '. : ' " ,;
"Go to the town, Willio, and come not
back till you have brought some word from
him!".. -:
The boy went sorrowfully. Minnie
Gray watched the clock and the road to the
town, all day, and all night, and all next
day till tho sun went down.
Willie was coming! The sight of him
made her dizzy and faint. , How did he
walk? Were there tidings in his step?
Yes 1 life . or death 1 He came hurriedly,
while he seemed to red under the weight
of his heart. It must be death 1 .Now,
God of mercy ! Thy helpiDg hand l She
staggers out to meet hhn, and gasps ;
, "Any word, Willie?" ( , , , ,
"No word, but " .,. . ,
She holds her breath and stores wildly
at him. as be draws forth the locket. He
places it quickly iu'tor ctynchlug hand
and turns his face away. ' She unclasps it
shudderingly, and the lock of hair springs
out and curls round her finger! 'A smoth
ered quivering cry, a stifled, choking wail
of agony that crushed the life but, and
Minnie Gray fell into her brother Willie's
arms. : .' ' . ""
In tho little village churchyard, there is
now a new-made grave, and over it a mar
bio slab, bearing this inscription. .
r In . Memory ; ; r
Of Cecil and Minnie Gray,
Whom Peace Married
' ; In Life, ; ;
mom War Wedded . '..'
In Death.
One Leaf from my Anadem.
Ah, what a holy sight! threo infantile
forms bowed at their mothers knee in prayer
How neat their snowy night-tVbes how
artlessly serious their faces how meekly
their tiny hands are clasped as they repeat
in childish earnestness, "Our Father."
That young mother, too! not the traco of a
furrow on her smooth polished brow not
a solitary thread of silver in her fair hair
yet her cheek is pale, and her eye looks np
sorrowfully. Can she have drained the
cup of woe thus early? ' Maik the uneasy
glance she ever and anon gives at the win
dowwhile the accents of those horison fall
like angel musio on her heart. Oh; if he
should come and profuno this holy mo
ment with his blasphemy this nioment-
a gleam of the rare hallowed light that
ouce illumined her maiden bower. : Her
atr and' feature tell of better dya, though
the plain appointments of her room might
suggoit anything else. ' Hark! the subdued
tones of the prayer is still heard, and the
amen is whispered with solemnity.,' Oh,
joy! there's been no unhallowed interrup
tionSomething then, is'' gained. n Poor
mother! can'st thy feeble arm .roll back
the tremendous tide of a father's, influence?
WilTbabcs be taught to bless. Him whom
their sire curseth? Faint not in thy efforts
Omnipotence Is - with the! v The" chords
htbu art touching shall vibrate joyfully for
ever.' f' ' Blanche Woodbdert.
: Ths. Beginning Of Eva A young
man was sentcnccd.to the South Carolina
penitentiary for four years. When he" was
about to bo sentenced, he stated publicly
that his downward course began iu disobe
dienco tj hia parents-r-that bo, thought he
knew as much of the world as his father
did, and needed not his aid or advice; but
that -as soon as he turned his back upon
his home, then temptations eame around
hiin like a drove of hyenas, and hurried him
VUMI(UII. 1 ... ., , ... . ! . .
I'rl'here are somo moments in cxis
tanca which comprise be mwer of years:
as thousands of roses are compressed into
a fow drops, of t'jeir t casence. . . t . ; '
; ' . J
1,-NUJlBEU 16. ;
- . V ' '
' You get very much put out with moth
er, sometimes, don't yon children, because -;
she won't let yon have your own way,
wnicn you ining me pest way r 1 es, we
know you do; and that you pout occasion; .
ally, and think yourselves Very badly used, v
Well, here is something on this very sub-
ject, which we find in the Portland Eclec- '
tic. ' Something about being angry with
mother. Read it, and resolve never to '
act like the little girl who is presented to, ,
your notice: . . ' ' . " ' ' '".''..
"Dou t look so troubled, child: and - ,
every time you raise your eyes from your '
work, give your mother such a disdainful,' .
scornful look, bhe is your another, and . .-
not tine worst. woman that ever lived, eith- k
er. It is no use for you to wish she wis . '
anybody's mother but yours1. ; You have 5
broken her rules, and she has gently re-
rlmvnA vnn luifr vliat rf fKnf linn aim i
not a right to do bo? Must you get your
revenge in this sullen,' angry way, and try ',4
to make her feel , that she has done some .
very wicked thing by crossing your incli-- '
nation, and that sho will be sorry for it, 4
and come and ask your forgiveness? You - - ,
mistake her if you suppose any such things
She is as firm and decided as she is mild
and gentle ; and all the threats your litUo
naughty faoe expresses will not make her
change her purpose, for she knows you bet-'; 1 ,
ter than you know yourself. You may si- r
ntly threaten and menace, and vjhen sho '
asks you to come to dinner, give her a ta-' :
citNo! and make her feel, if you can
.t. - , w J . ,. V . ' ."
that sho needn't trouble herself in any ¬
way on your account. nen Airs. is.
comes in, be very smiling, pleasant and '
polite, just to show your mother what you .
can be ; when she withdraws, step right :
back into your old mood, to let her see
what you won't be! ; Take the time when ;
she goes to her sccnit place to pray to Him
who can soften the hardest heart, to take
a nice dinner and run in the garden and
orchard ; but be sure to bo in your chair, .
working as fast as your needle can fly, be ,
fore she returns. Fix up the same kind V
of face for her as before, to let her know , ,,
that, your purpose . is unalterable ; and , .
when sho agaiu . invites you to the table,,
decline as gently as before, thinking she .-j
will relent if you go to bed supperless.
But she loves you too deeply too tender-
ly for that. .Not this day only is before
her,, but your whole life, and for this she . ,
labors and endures. It wil. not always ;;
be so.. .. .. . .... i
f,'Let me hurry yoi over the rough pas-
onr.A tf o faur vaara Vnn KnvA triAil flia
world, you have . sought pleasure in your
own way s . You now look around for one ,..
true hoart, but in your agony thero seems ,,jf
to be none for you. Your fuce is troubled, (A
and anxious, but .not angry, and then, in
the bitterness of your soul, you exclaim,
"Oh, my , mother I my blessed mother t ,
would that I could lean on tho faithful , , .
love that I once scorned; but the heart
that was so true to mo has long ago ceased
to beat. ., Her spirit is where no angry ,
child can disturb tho pcacefulness of her
eternal home. But does she love me now ?
Docs she turn from, her blest rest to her
agonized, repentant child ? , Oh, if I only
all that this heart Buffers,' and . that she !;
would say, ,"Thou art forgiven, my child!"
But this is not permitted, I must live on ,v
with this great sorrow burning away in
my heort, ;that I oncef yea,' many times,
scorned, the Iovo that would now make me
so rich in happiness"--.,, , . ; ; , ij
? VThink of this, angry child, and go to ,
that dear motherl and ask her to forgivot;?
you while you may. ; Let not wicked pride ; V
keep you back, but obey the still voice that , j
whispers in your ear, "Thia is the way,
walk ye in it.''; 1
v We should walk through lifo as through'
tho Swiss mountaius, where a hasty word
may bring down an avalauche. .
;The only praise, that ought to-be rulied
on, comes from competent judges without
temptation to flatter.- . . , . -. ; '
Writers often muliiily wuvJo u
attempt to make clear to ethers v.-"!
not clear to themsolves.'
, . 11... I, .1
Wllg UUaCltc u.ua .u .v
luariiajjo head for tho news of the i.- .i.-.'..
filled "Latitt Jaoii uuma. j
' ' ' ' -.14 $ !.'. ;;; ,1
. 1

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