Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1848-12-30
COMMUNICATION,
Fon rHs AMERIcAN.

a. OVJM M ~ O1Nl\JL-AAAN 4
M, .--,--r1 "a 4 ied, Fon THE AMrRIcAN.
siiii ,svx,,ssr come seain the swess south west
ss I. fosrotsen wind, and the strong earth a
- IA ssi6e iss mantle TO be bound -., +. ia
~ sAs fsoa fsstr--s -lnsla.a .t liiaiaa so
f9 . Your koaas ss,t s.fl 3 iat sl.n as'a
!, ~ HssA . tsu,ptatioa nows--" se ss sic si /
s,t The winter nights are beautiful, when the
'silvefy moonlight turns The fair pale snow,
insos sheet Of lucid pearl, and wreaths the
srsss like those in the garden Of Alladin's
lamp with circlets Of glowing gems, ..s
Even the child feels their magic and with
cheerful shout, crimsoned cheeks, and brigh-
tened eyes, bounds forth into the cold bracing
&ir. ~ a.sn y i,..t "A, ,-oa ASSN
"a, ."In The thick Of the storm how happy they
To welcome the 6rst deep snowy day!" saas
I'd Who has not some reminiscense Of his
childhood that sends the blood with warm-
er thrill through his heart, even if its cham
ben Of Joy, have been closed like the door
of the ark, by invisible hands? Who has
not tossed the pure white snow in feathery
fakes around him, or with busy hands mould
WCu IL IdiitdotiC iOtuiS, VI ShuCN
down the hill side in his mimic sled, then
painting and brea,hless drawn it 10 the top
again! .s raass .aaf
.sps ssMen offourscore did ye ever know
i0 Such sport % ye had in the drifting snow'"
% And when the day was over, who has for
gotten the fearful tragedy and ghost story
told in the witching hour of twilight, by the
winter fire, how the little group involuntarily
drew closer together, and timd eyes were
cast stealthily around, fearing that specter
might start upon them from the shadows of
the room. t.
There is holy rcpose in a winter night
that stirs with a strange power the fountains
Of the soul The earth in its 'sstainless robes
ofvelvet white," seems like a spirit-land, and
as we gaze upon its ETHEREAL beauty, throngs
of shadowy forms gather like wrcaihs of
'"round and with mournful eyes look in
rs of the heart, and with dirge-
,ach us for the clouds of guilt
surface
he gorgeous pageantry of
ar sky, its burning stars
thrown from the foun-
northern lights as they
of golden spires touched
the zenith to the earth,
:, while the angel which
cs of affection folds its ra-
nestless closer TO its altar
ice Of waters with bcguilng for the ear.
,rcsts and the meadows green
our feet away =
st 60 in and by y,ur cheerful FIRE
Wait for tho Offices OF love- and hear
Accents of human tendcrncss,''-
What nameless numberless influences spring
from the humblest hearth.stone, insensibly
moulding the character, and governing the
destiny of those who gather around
The Mother soothes TO slumber the babe
upon her bosom, and as the roseat hue deep
ems on the fair round cheek and the fnged
lids close over the soft dreamy eyes, muir
mnrs her gratitude for the well Of living ten
derness opened in her heart, and cheers her
lonely hours in weaving bright fantasies for
its future. But does she reflect that her idol
(which shuts within its heart n bloom for heaven,
May take blemsh from the breath Of love
And bear the blight forever"
That her own negligence may destroy the
flower committed to her keeping still bathed
in the dew of heaven-
Could she look through the dim vista of
futurity, at the entrance of which hope now
stands with brow of light, and voice of pro-
mise, she would perhaps pray that she might
fold the dimpled hands upon the silent bo-
som, lay the fair curls around the marble
brow, and press the last kiss upon the cold
lips Of her babe
We shudder at the cruelty of the Hirdoo
mother, who tears from her neck the clinging
arms OF her infant, and dashes il beneath the
wheels of the juggernaut, or while it smiles
con6dingly in her face casts il into the GAM
ges, but how much more unnatural the chris
nian parent, who suffers her child TO enter the
vortex of the world without the moral strength
ao.bufIet its waves
Who can doubt the strength Of lilial love
which ever spans the heart like the bow of
promise! It is the Mothers name that is
first lisped. To her the little arms are all
stretched, and her bosom is ever the chosen
,resting place. How often has the heart, in
sensible to every other feeling of human ma
'ture, yielded Coriolanus-like TO the tears of a
Mother! How often has the guilty one been
checked in his career of crime by the recol-
lection of some sweet passage of his child
lhood-perhaps the prayer his little lips were
taught to utter, the simple lay they sang a.
round the winter fire, or the kiss and blessing
ere they parted for the night, comes back
and guides the wanderer, like the star of the
east, TO new and holier life!
The Mother may send forth her children
asa scourge upon the earth, destroying God S
image in themselves and others, and then
I'm her desolate old age, when no loving eye