Litchfield enquirer. [volume] (Litchfield, Conn.) 1829-current, 1854-12-07

Is seldom near TO smooth his pillow, o.
battle his feveFed cheek, or whisper oil
hope and cons station.
Can Is be that. she, with al her pre-.
tended regards for the best interests Of
humanity. even realizes her own respou-
sibility ? Alas We fear not.
Ask the feverish, complaining wife. Il
sbe has ever thought seriously Of this
matter. What . neat cosy little cottage
hers is How many comforts she has.
Her two noble looking boys. and their
fair sitter are rs beautiful ifio of chill.
dren as ever graced one household; her
husband is kind and indulgent. bnt her
frelful disposition win not allow her a
M ,ment's tranquility. She Is in r. rpet-
nal anxiety: sometimes 1t ia one thing
and agaiD smother that causes her inqui
eaude. blu, she is never NJ rest. The chill.
dren y.arn for the Sunshine which they
see IN The homes OF their playmates. and
invent ell kinds of excuses TO get away
from the troubles that haunt their moths
er. They have already learned that
pleasure cannot be found under their own
roof-tree. and the gambling hall. the the>
aife and the club room hold out tempta-
tons which they can sea, cely resist. Aye
think Of these solemn considerations and
be wis. -
"She always makes home happy" -
What more fitting Inscription can be en-,
craven on the tombstone OF the estimable
woman Of whom this was said Il will
st,nd, perchance, in some church- yard.
where birds MARBLE and flowers open their
starry eyes. all unmindful OF the swee.
sleepers below. Other monumental tab
let's viii rise around it, bsaring the high
sounding epitaph. but nothing there can
speak asweeier lesson than the brief SEN.
.ence, .'She always made home happy"
PowER or Music. One stormy night.
a few weeks since. We were vending our
way homeward near midnight. The
Storm ragged violently. and the streets
were almost deserted. Occupied with
our thoughts. we pIodded on, when The
sound Of music from . brilliantly illumi,
mated mansion for n moment arrested our
footsteps. A voice Of surprising sweet
mesa and brilliancy commenced a we'll
known air. We listened to lew strains
and were turning away. when roughly
dressed, miserably looking man brushed
rndely past us. But as the music reach.
ed his ear. he stopped and listened i'm
ten,ly, as il drinking in the melody. and
as the last sound died away, he burst
into tears. 1i.sAsi5f
We inquired the cause ofbis grief.
For moment emotion forbade utter.
ance. when he said /;
Thirty years ago my mother sang me
asleep with that song she has long been
dead, and I, once innocent and happy,
am--an out cast--a drunkard--"
IL know il is unmanly," he continued
after pause, in which he endeavered to
wipe away with his sleeve the lastly
gathering tears, II know il 10 unmanly
thus to give way. but the sweet tones
brought back wildly the thought Of
childhood. Her form seemed once more
before NELL cant stand til"
And before we could stop him, he
rushed on and entered tavern near by.
to drown remembrance In the intoxica-
ting bowl.
While tlled with sorrow for tho un-
fortunate man. we could not help reiiect-
ing upon the wonderful power OF music.
That simple strain. coming perchance,
from some gay. thonghiless girl, and sunny
TO others equally as ibougetIss,. still had
ito gentle mission. for II sti red deep feel
ing IN m out casts heart, bringing back
happy hours long gone by.-Altany
Kaitkerboeker.