The Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, Ohio) 1853-1861, 1854-09-23
For the Journal.
My Early Home.


Home of my childhood A thousand recol-
lections spring up, and every heartstring
vibrates at the sound of those words. They
exert magical power over me which | can
not shake off-nay, if could, l would not
break the spell which is thus thrown around
me. That sacred spot is craven deeply
alas too deeply upon the tablet of memory
ever to be effaced by the intervention of
miles, or the flight of time. MOI it cannot
be forgotten. The little hill where stood my
fathers cottage, and the pretty lawn in
front, where | have played away so many
hours of childish innocence, are all before
me now, as fair and lovely as they were the
morning we resigned that dear old home to
a strangers care, and with fearful eyes left it
forever. Those stately naples which cast
their shadows over our roof, were planted
by my fathers hand and grew up with me,
and often after fruitless chase to catch a
golden winged butterfly, or a vain attempt
to fetter some one of the feathered songsters
whose mellow notes had charmed my young
heart, or whose yariegated robe had fascina-
ted my eye, and made me wish for nearer
view; when heated by such exercise, have
thrown myself upon the grass beneath them
and in their shadows found refreshment and
repose. There was the chestnut grove where
| have gone day after day in autumn, and
watched and wished for the first hoar frost
TO interpose and put me in possession of the
luscious nuts.
Just below the house was the little brook,
In whose clear waters have gazed hours,
watching the graceful evolutions of the fin
ny tribe, as they gamboled in their instinc-
tive joy. Just beyond the brook was the
orchard, where in the golden autumn have
gathered and eaten as delicious fruits as ever
RECALLED the palate. There too was the green
grassy woodland where day after dav,
wandered in quest of the wild flowers, and
when wearied with roaming, or satisfied
with my treasure, would sit me down
under wide-spreading oak, and twine
wreaths or bind boquets, which were thrown
aside at the first appearance of decay and
their places supplied with fresh ones. Be-
side all these was the garden, where, with
my own hand planted the choicest shrubs
and flowers. There were violets and daffo-
dis, the iirst-bon of spring. aud following
in their train the host of the floral tribe, to
fascinate the eye, gladden. the heart, and
smile away the long bright days of summer.
Just by the house stood the well, and in it
the "moss- covered bucket once hung, but
1t was long since exchanged for the more
convenient pump. Oh, how often have |
drank of its cool waters and been refreshed
And last, though not least, was the old
school-house, those venerable walls, inside
of which my infant lips were taught to lisp
my 4 B c. see them all at glance, and
the picture is vivid one, and at the sight,
thoughts come crowding through my brain,
thoughts which my pen may not express.
Those wide-spreading naples have fallen be-
meath the axe-man's stroke; the returning
spring will bring again those flowers from
their wintry bed, but anosher shall gather
them; the next autumn will bring plenti-
full supply Of golden fruits, but Others shall
pluck and eat them, and strangers shall ira
verse those familiar halls. / may dream of
them and love them still, but they are mine
no more. Tears-bitter tears, are all that
are left me, for when would recall them,
echo answers, "No, neucr p
Sunny Hill, Wood CO., o.
There is to be a Baby Convention att