Vermont telegraph. [volume] (Brandon [Vt.]) 1828-1843, 1840-10-21


ing the very thing which he dare not do
alone, on his own responsibility !? Where
does he find the rule that warrants him as a
christian thus to proceed2
Readers will recognize the initials at
tached to the article below. need not tell
them that it is from the pen to which the
Telegraph is under great obligations for d.
vers pieces Of poetry of no ordinary caste.
This piece of prose itself is full of poetic
effusion. s1u
For the Telegraph. ..=.. =.
HOME. <s-
There is something in the word home,
that wakes the kindliest feelings of the
heart 1t is not merely friends and kind
red that render that place SO dear; but
the very hills and rocks and rivu!ets
throw charm around the place of ones
nativity. 1t is no wonder that the Hottest
harps have been tuned to sing of home,
|"sweet home" The rose, that blooms
in the garden where one has wandered in
early years, thoughtless child, careless
in innocence, is lovely in its bloom and
loveller in It's decay. No songs are sweet
like those we heard among the boughs
that shade parents dwelling, when the
morning or the evening hour found US gay
as the birds that warbled over US. No
waters are bright like the clear silver
streams that winds among the flower
decked knobs where in childhood we have
often strayed to pluck the violet, or the
lily or Irvine garland for some loved
school-mate. We may wander away, and
mingle in the " worlds fierce strife," and
form new associations and friendships,
and fancy we have almost forgotten the
land of our birth; but at some evening
hour, as we listen perchance to the Au-
tumn-winds, the remembrance of other
days comes over the soul, and fancy bears
us back to chilchoods scenes, and we
roam again the old familiar haunts, and
press the hands of companions long since
cold in the grave,-and listen to voices
we shall hear on earth no more. 1t is
then feeling of melancholy steals over
u.s. which, like Ossian's music, is pleas
ant though mournful to the soul. The
Swiss General-who leads his army into
10 foreign land, must not suffer the sweet
lairs of Switzerland to be sung in the hear.
| ing of his soldiers; for at the thrilling
sound, they would leave the camp, and
| fly away TO their own green hills. The
African-torn from his willow-br braided
hut, and borne away to the land of char
tiers and of chains, Weeps as he thinks Of
home, and signs and pines for the Cocoa.
land beyond the waters of the sea. Years
may have passed over him, and stripes
and toll may have crushed his Spiritual
his kindred may have found graves upon
the corals of ocean; yet were ne free
how soon would he seek the shores ant
skies of his boyhood dreams. The New
England mariner-amid the ice-bergs 0
the northern seas, or breathing the spicy
, gales of the green Isles, or coastins
along the shore of the Pacific, though tn
: hand of time may have blanched his raw
) en- locks, and care have ploughed dee
burrows on his brow, and his heart hav
! been chilled by the storms of ocean, Ill
4 the fountains of his love had almost ceas
!. ed to gush with the Heavenly current
: vet upon some summers evening as h
n looks out upon the sun sinking behind tn
e western wave, he will think of home, an
+ his heart will yearn for the loved of othe
e days, and his tears flow like the summe
} rain. How does the heart of the wander
er, after long years Of absence beat, an
his eye fill as he catches glimpse of tn
. hills Of his nativity; and when he ha
, pressed the lip of a mother or a siste1
how soon does he hasten to see if the ga
g den, and the orchard, and the stream loo
1t as in days gone BY We may find clims
{ as beautiful, and skies as bright, an
J, friends as devoted; but they will nj
!; tusurp the place of Home.
!. There is one spot where none vii. sig
. for home. The flowers that blosso
Id there will never fade; the crystal waite
Il that wind along those verdant wales wi