Du Buque visitor. [volume] (Dubuque, Lead Mines, Wisconsin Territory) 1836-1837, 1836-11-02

dried up, as we'll as the whole race OF
. spectators be driven from the field,
and sent home to work theland, instead
of attempting to monopolize it.
THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME
And what is home! It is the rest
ing place of the heart-the centre Of
affections. Fin early life our destiny
compels us to leave the paternal roof,
how does the heart yearn for home
when little sorrows arise. Then the inn
agination pictures the sympathising
countenance Of a dear mother; and we
long to hear the kind voice ofour fath-
err saying child be comforted.' Tho
friends may pity & endeavor to soothe
us, there is no consolation like that
which is known in the sympathy Of
those who compose that dear circle, our
family. And in the hour of youthful
|glee, one half Of our enjoyment is lost,
if not participated by those dear ones,
who cluster around the family board
and hearth. No music is half SO sweet
as the voice Of parents, or brothers and
sisters, speaking in the terms of deep
affection. In manhood, too, when we
have long left the home Of our child
hood, and wandered, many weary
day, our thoughts often turn to that
sweet spot.-Then we long once more
to hear the kind counsel of dear mos
Their ora beloved father, or the soothing
voice of one loved even as our own
life. When the waves of affection roll
over us, we long for the rest of home,
and feel that there is no other place on
earth where we can find that res, (which
the weary ones enjoy there. If sue
cess crown the plans of our life, if we
rise to eminence in public esteem, and
grow rich in honor-if we are hailed
with applause among our associates,
there is kind of satisfaction in it. But
the heart, even when we are honored
and applauded, will, in its loneliness,
long for some dear ones to share the
honor, and the joy. And here again
the heart turns to home as its resting
place, even in its joyfulness.
The longest life does not destroy
the love of home. 1t seems even to in
crease with length of years; and home
becomes doubly the resting place Of
him who has long walked the weary
way of life. But there are times when
we are not perfectly happy even in
our homes-when the soul will not
feel at rest even there. There are sor-
rows which no earthly friend has pows
err to lleviate.-Butis there no resting
place for their souls. Is there no home
Of rest for the immortal spirit? Is there
no being where power and sympathy
can render it perfect and happy Does
not voice within us answer, there isl
And do we not turn from the abodes Of
men; even from the homes ofour earth
ly affection, and look to heaven as the
home of our souls? and to our God -
the Father Of our spirits? 1t is there
wetind that perfectrest which is known
only. to the child Of God. If there is
joy to the poor. wanderer, when after
long years Of absence, hereturns to the
home Of childhood, and iswelcomed
by the dear ones there-if there IL CON-
ISOLATION in the kind terms Of affection,
there is still purer, holier JOY ie!t
by the trusting one, who turns from ~
earthly things in his God, and relies
with humble confidence on him tor
protection-and sweet the return e.
| the soul, after having gone far astr1y
| in the ways of sin, to the bosom s. our
heavenly Father. And happy Nh oar
Iof forgiveness to the returning one