Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1853-1862, 1854-07-02

eve OF my departure came. y OW, as Slt' mere
writing, my memory goes back, over all those thou
inds of miles, over the European poprlous cities
over that wida and indomitable main, where the
white sails glance rarely, to the pleasant drawing
room in that dear old white house. | hear the
measured soughing of the wind through the toss
ing trees: the bark of the distant watch dog, an
swered from the hearth rug by ashort stifed groul
of my Newfoundland; the high notes of aquaint
Irish song, audibly by fits, from the kitchen, and
the click of Forys netting needles, she finishes
the purse which l am 10 carry away in the morn
ing. $3.50
Every thing is packed up and gone since three
o'clock down to the vessel, my travelling dress is
already upon me, my plaid lies over the back of
the chair my letters and passports in the breast
pocket of my coat My mother sits in her elbow
chair beside her work table, and I, as though
were boy again, am low stool at her feet,
with my head upon her knees
Paul. she says, by this time tomorrow night
| you will, if you have fair wind, be out at sea,
and your home viii be invisible to you. Florry
and will be very sad, my boy, when we sit alone
here tomorrow
There is slight trembling in Der voice, and Flor
ry bends down more over her netting while put
up my hands and take hold of that which is living
on my head, and pull it around my neck and hold
it there
1T is very grand and wonderful world, that old
Europe that you are going to, and you will see
much to amuse you and instruct you but amid the
stately palaces the grand old churches the glorious
galleries of art and the pomp of advanced civiliza
ton, know that you will not forget the green
woods and hills, and the warm beauty of home,
will you, Paul? g
try to say never but as it does not come very
easily keep silent.
| You propose to be absent three or four years
In that time we do not know what our Heavenly
Father may determine for us. Young as you and
Florry are, you may both die or what is more like
| ly in the course of nature, may be called away,
and never see your face on earth again
Florry is now crying quietly, and | feel as tho
| were choking, but the tears do not come vet
Paul, my dear son. we will hope to meet again
even here. But if it may not be so, then in the
presence of God hereafter. Paal. whatsoever may
be your temptations, whether they come from the
enemies of religion, or from your own observation
of the faults and shortcomings of its ministers and
professors hold fast steadfastly in your faith The
faith in which yo4 have been nurtured and In which
| your mother will die. This was given me by your
father and has never left my bosom now, Paul,
promise that it shall never leave yours. Then be-
sides its own holier signifcation, it will always
| keep the memory Of your parelts fresh in your
| heart
She takes small golden cross from her bosom
passes the cord of it about my neck and slips the
cross under my Orayat.
| DO you promise, Paul?'
Yes, mamma, on my honor, it shall never be ia
ken by me from where you place it now.
| Fortunately she continues, Il can allow Won
abundance of money to carry ont your designs
/ You will probably have more than majority of
! your fellow students. But be careful to avoid any
ostentation-it is unworthy of you; and as you are
gentleman, is entirely unnecessary to procure you
any station that you may desire. Be generous
but not prodigal; whatsoever you have aboye your
own needs, yOn only hold in trust for such as are
| poorer than yourself. Make as many family ac-
| quaintances as you can. OF course at your age
| you will naturally be drawn into friendship with
young men of your age bat choose carefully. Seek
especially the society of ladies; their refining in
| huence is necessary to all men, and pass much
time as possible in family circles, that home in
Huenee5 may never become unpleasant nor unfarni-
lar to you. And may God our Father bless and
preserve my darling boy, keep him from every evil
and restore him TO his mother and his sister, I'M
stained and improved by his absence"
As my mother speaks the last sentence l slip
from my stool upon my knees, and bow my head
down on her lap; and now the tears stream freely.
And now, my son. it is bed time kiss your sister
and retire. for you must rise early tomorrow morn
ing
Then 1 take Florry in my arms and cover her
| with kisses, and go to my room. But after mid
night, as lie, thinking, hear the door open soft
! ", and my mother comes in with a candle in her
! hand. She is weeping silently. | know that this
visit is too sacred even for me to know of and
pretend to be asleep. So she sets the candle down
near the door, and comes and kneels down by my
bedside, and prays there for ten minutes and then
rises and looks at me for while stcadfastlv Then
with fingers soft and gentle she lifts lock of my
hair and cuts it off; and then bows down and drops
! light, fond kiss upon my cheek, and blesses me
| silently and so goes away. And lie STILL lest any
movement should disturb her tears, which feel
are lying on my face.
A restless night brightens into dawn and the
grey uaWN PIES IliLO liSc anu uTGcS lily
self, commend my soul to the protection of Heav-
en-, and go down stairs.
Breakfast is a sad affair, but soon overland
carriage is at the door. Old Soc comes in to say
good bye" My mother gives him purse of
money and stout silver watch and he kisses her
hand without speaking.
'YOu will take care of Paul, won't you, Soc?
Soc does not reply, but his lips twiteh and trem-
bic. Then Florry goes up to him and puts round
his neck great worsted comforter, and says,
Il knitted that for you myself, Soc. Good bye
| He takes her hand, but she says
"Here old Soc, and holds out her sweet fresh
cheek to him.
Old Soc looks astonshed for moment, then
bends and kisses the fair cheek and blubbers,
Cora mighty bless Miss Florry and Missus, and
so goes crying from the roOm
Then FIorry gives me her purse. There is some
thing round and hard in one end of it, and know
that when | shall examine it to-night-far, far
from home--I shall find locket with mamma S
hair and her own in it.
Then the last kiss and the last blessing, and the
boy goes forth from his home-from his loving
mother and sister-from his dreamy childhood, out
over the great sea- into the stormy world; there to
battle to enjoy, to suffer, with what patient cour-
age God shall give him.