The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1852-01-22
For the Literary Echo.
Thoughts ON Visiting my Native

De my memories of thee, land of my
earliest years. I remember thee as the
home of my fathers, the place where my
mind first awoke to the realization of the
material world, the place where first
dawned my first recognition of mans social
relations and obligations. True, I was
born beneath humble roof but though
poverty often lifted our latch, rugged want
never entered neither did love ever for.
sake us, but the blossoms she nourshed in
our home circle, fourished like flowers
beneath southern sun.
Years passed on, and with them changes
not few occurred. Most of our family,
myself among the number, had emigrated
to the then" Western World" where hard
labor was necessary to supply food and
raiment, not Of the finest material, for
many of the facilities and inventions which
now, with the same labor, greatly increase
the amount earned, were not sufficiently
disseminated, or were yet undeveloped
ideas in the minds of their orig;nators.
Time tarried not-our family became
broken band-ncw homes and new families
succeeded, and myself quilted the paternal
roof and launched my life's boat on
sea-without name. hoped it would
be success; and surely fortune smiled,
guided as she was by industry and ccono-
my Thus far with me, life had been full
ofaction but l had drank of sorrows
cup, and still were its dregs to be drained
for me-
1t was after had seen the grass grow
green over fathers lowly bcd-after
"rising mound" and marble slab" be-
spoke mothers grave-and sister,
brother, and infant child had found one
common resting place, the tonb-aftcr
she, the affectionate wife, the noble,
generous, willing sharer of my joys and
Sorrows" had passed from my home, its
central light returned to spend a few
months in my "native land" Such an
opportunity I was then prepared to realize
Many, though changed, were the familiar
faces l met, and 9th rs grew to be familiar.
I walked in paths my childhood's feet had
trod-pc'chancc then sent by my mothers
command-now coursed at wilt scaled
the rocky heights as then-now leaped the
same sparkling rill, and anon laved my
limbs in the cooling waters of the same
beautiful river stood upon "o!d oceans
wave-washed shore," and listened to her
bursting melody-gazed with rcdoubled
animation upon old land marks, that had
so long escaped destroying hands-in short,
lived over my childhood days ; though not
as then my spirits, for over them now a
rnist Of sadness crept. To me how sacred
were those scanes-how bitter the thought
that soop 1 might behold them no more
forever.
Is it not true that the affections never
cling more firmly to the place of ones
nativity, than when return d after a sepa-
ration of many eventful years, and COM
p:llcd again to bid adieu to each cherished
scene, each consccrated spot For when
the flush Of health and animation tinged
the youthful cheek, then it was not thus
hard tn saw farewell since schemes of
future action, and "tiptoe" hopes of sue
cess filed the young mind, leaving scarce
place for sad reflection.
Now, with me, life's noon had passed !;
along the halls of the future hung few
enticing lights, and my heart instinctively
turned to the home Of my childhood.
Bitter was the farewell cup drank upon
quitting its shores. ID. A.
Alfred Center, N. Y, Jan I, 1852.
Os