The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-02-09
For the National Era.
RECoLLECTIoHsO OF MY aRANDFATHER'sH HOME.
CHAP. II.
First RecoliectionS.

Beings OF etnoreai birth.
Near us glide, sometimes, earth
What duststained traveller on lifes road
has not strained his eyes betime to catch a
glimpse of the goal from whence he started
Behind fixed scenes and firm impressions, there
lies in the mind vague and dreary realm
whence start up half-flled landscapes aud
skeleton FORMS But here and there rcmem-
brance finds, in first early joys or SORROWS,
firm resting place perchance the dying bed of
a brother or sister, or the last look of fond
mother. So, when in retrospect | reach that
mystic boundary, ever and anon, in the mist
and darkness, my stsaining eyes catch a glimpse
Of some welldefned objects. But the sight of
these fills me with sadness, for, though q few
golden clouds hover round, they mostly lie in
shadow. 1t is true that petty griefs, and
not joys, make their first impress on our minds
and yet not strange for when we came, pure,
untarnished from the hands of our Maker were
we not little vessels, to be filed with gladness
And we remembered not the in pouripgs of our
natural alment; but when, by accident, these
flowed in a muddy stream the rough current
chafed and left its mark
First, back in lifes Journey | tarried at the
deatiI-bcd of my little brother Oily The
misty indistinctness of babyhood was fast pass
ing away; and l. G lsper of monosyllables, was
beginning to treasure up passing events, when
death first crossed my fathers threshold
There were four of US then-Cela, the eldest
my darling Benny, tho sharer Of all my joys
and sorrows little Oliver, or Oily, as we used
to call him, made, with myself, the quartette
Oily had almost finished his second year; q
beautiful child, very fair, with deep blue eyes
like little wells, and soft yellow hair. He was
the Joy and pet of the house. How we chill
dren loved to stroke his velvet checks. and TOW
with his little snow-white, dmp'ed hands
L I. L., ILL L..
passed away God sends them to earth to
make US wiser and better They are guide
boards to Heaven. There is nothing of Gods
creation so beautiful, so worthy of homage, so
like his own image, as the form of fair young
child. Beauty in its highest realization, with
lips free from guile O heart unspotted, pure
from the hands of its Maker-who does not
love little child? There is no confidence like
q child's confidence; tits actuated by no world
ly motive-purc, unselfsh Who has not felt
a throb of delight at the words of affection,
lisped with infantile accent; for who can meas
ure a hart better than a guileless child and
who has not felt his selEesteem aba.ed. when
the same innocence has repulsed his caresses
But all who has not beheld, with deep sorrow,
the first scar from the worlds touch on that
same young heart! Can we not all remember
the first great sin of our childhood? Perchance
blow struck; an unkind word spoken to
father or mother and all surely there clngs
to every conscience the first falsehood Twas
then the stamp of Godhead fled fom us, and
we left forever behind US our guileless purity.
Deep in shadow, in that mystic land lie such
waymarks before my minds eye The hand
that pens these lines was once raised in anger
over the head of my darling Benny! O. what
bitter agony followed that blow How stealth
lily | crept, at midnight, to his room, to ask
forgiveness; for strange fancies troubled me in
the night hours. and feared lest the morning
might be too late. But we loved each other,
and played together years after, and the little
difference was well nigh forgotten; vet when
the eye ceased it's glances, and the lips their
words of affection, and his form lay shroudcd
in its coffin, then the bitter remembrance of
that moment pierced me like an arrow With
his dear image in my heart chung also to my
conscience that one blow. For months and
years over it was dropped the silent tear-aye,
and even now the mist gathers.
But yet darker cloud hangs over another
childhood landmark. To my conscience there
still clngs the first falsehood. In dark cor
ner of the garrett mouldy and worm eaten, lies
the map, whose dcfacing had not the moral
courage to confess "'Twas done by chance
suggested one to the inquring parent; but he |
shook his head and, in few moments, sadly
left US, to be gone a long, long while. wan
dered about the house all day. wretched, |
guilty thing-but when, at night | clay me |
down to Sleep" and tried to repeat my nursery
prayer, and was alone, in darkness, with my |
Maker, twas more than could bear, and |
FASTENED to pour into my mothers ear my child |
ish confession. Many, many times since, when |
tempted by trying emergencies to a like devi- |
alton, the remembrance of that nights expert |
ence has kept me in the path of truth. Aye |
and when, grown to womanhood in rummaging |
in the dark attic, the offending parchment
came to light, my cheeks tingled with shame.
Let the sorrowful remembrances pass /;
around Olly's death bed the golden clouds
hover malignant fever found it's way to |
our village, and Oily was it's first victim. We
children missed the toy Of our sports we could
not play, and we idled the hours sadly away |
beneath Olly's window, whispering to each
other over his winsome, baby ways. Days and |
nights wore away the doctor came and went
and we listened at the door of the sick room. |
and heard OIy's means, but could not see him
for they told us we too might be sick. What |
were childish fears TO us! 1t is the seIfishness