Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-11-09
NOV. s..
GltaHings frurl Buuks.

ance Tales aud Hearth Stone hever1es by
Thurlow w. Brown Derby & Miller, Pub
/. fishers, Auburn, N. Y. we select thefol-
lowing fOrcoful story illustrative Of Mater
nal Influence
IF my Mother had lived, I should
never have been here"
A thin slect WIS coating the sidewalks,
and cutting keenly into the face, as late at
night we left our Office and turned home
ward. The sky was dark with cookbook
ing clouds, and the gls-lamps fared dimly
out upon the solitude of tho deserted streets.
Every thing was desolate and cold. The
wind moaned dismally as it swept in ftful
gusts around the corners, and died away
ike the spectre-whisperings of the lost.
Turning a corner, we stumbled against
some obstruction upon the walk, and fell
forward at full length. As our right hand
struck out to save the severity Of the fall,
it fell upon n human face. A smothered
curse greeted the act, and we found our
self in the company of a miserable object,
too drunk to rise from where he had fallen.
His hands were numb and nearly frozen,
while his bloated face was burning with
tho accursed feyerhood which he had swal-
lOWeus Win muCH CuOIb VIC IdioCu ~
poor fellow upon his feet, drunk as he was.
AS the lamp-light fell upon our faces, he
knew US. 40 Brown" said he, in I'M
steady yet touching tones, off my mother
had lived, | should never have been here.
God father, mother, sister-all dead! wife
and children at the poor-house, and l drunk
in the gutter! 1t want so once, believe
me, Sir" No, it was not so once. We
could believe the wretched slave, for we
knew he uttered but the truth. Our own
eyes were flooded as were the drunkard's-
the hardened wept as a broken-hearted child
would weep.
His few words revealed a bitter history.
His mother and sister dead, his own family
heart of the city. Every word he said was
the language of desolation. He had grasped
Mt the bubbles upon the breakers brim,
and learned to love their shadows. The
deccitful tide Of habit had borne him on,
until every bcacon-light of hope and home
had faded out in the distance, and he found
himself without friend on earth, a wreck
on the ocean waste.
The words Of the drunken man made a
deep impression upon our mind. They re-
vealed the strength and lasting influence of
n mothers teachings and u mother memo
ry. Alone, houseless, homeless, and hope
less, the hayward wanderer of the winter
night remembered the Preside of his boy
hood, and the guardian form which presi
dcd there. The flames of THE demon-draught
through long years Of degradation, had no
burned that sacred vision from his heart
Like a faint, lingering light of bliss for eve
lost, it chung to the broken affairs of hi
manhood. That holy love-lightw which beam
ed over his cradle did not die out when a
else that was good and pure was forgotten
IL fingered over .the wreck of all, like
bright, blessed dream of the past. I'll
heartshrine was cast down aud broken we
like the ivy-upon the crumbled ruin, Il
remembrance Of a better dream was che
ished to the last.
The mother little dreams of the lastir
impress she casts upon a creature of immo
tality. She may pass away and leave Ii
children behind her. That circle may
scattered up and down the earth, but Il
memory ofa mother goes with them. III
death-cup and the maniac revel may for
moment obscure a mothers memory, b.
tho holy vision will live, aud in the sti
hours return like the spirit of a better angC
We once addressed a few words to Il
%convicts of the - Prison, in their chap
We spoke of the redeeming influence
home and friends where wives, sisters, al
mothers were quick to cheer and comfort
trouble, and to administer in sickness. '
spoke of those who were early thrown o
upon the world without the blessed guide
u mothers counsel. How many of the
clothed in the garb of infamy, and shut
from society for their crimes, who, hai
mother lived to counsel and guard their 1
wary ~steppings, might have been virtuor
useful, aud honored! How many are wretC
ed for the want of early friends, and a 60
education at home How many wanC
from a mothers grave to a life of vice a
crime! How many are now degraded wi
but for the greatest of earthly losses, wo,
have been numbered among the good a
the true How many now treading in
pride Of honorable manhood, who, if S,
jccted to tho sam early loss, would b;
trod the pathway of dishonor! How ma
n fair one, now beautiful and pure, but
the existence of q mother and home, wo,
have gone down to the abodes of infau
Think Of these things, and tread ligh
upon tlre ashes of the erring, for they W
your kinsmen and kinswomen, and, W
equal advantages, might have trod as h
a pathway as yourselves.
GAN that's good in me l owe to
mother" said the " Old Man Eloqueu
a tear gathering in his eye, as he st
where he afterwards died-at his post
How eloquent the tribute to the inhuc
Of the mother from one Of the creates
earth 1t stands proudly in the histor
John Q. Adams. Napoleon, while fete'
the nobility Of conquered Austria, and
rounded by the courtesans of n cor
court, turned n deaf ear to their seduC
plots for he remembered his mother,
virtues, and her holy teachings. 81
proud should a mother be of such a SC
once said friend to one of the most q
of American orators, at the c~onclusiC
one Of those electric harangues which
never been surpassed for fiery aud inn
Gus eloquence. The eagle eye Of the
ted orator melted into tenderness as h
piled, 4" Rather say, Sir, how proud a
ought to be Of snch a mother !" The
qucnt and soaring Prentiss is in his e