Daily national era. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1854, 1854-01-28
For tho National Era.
REcoLLsc1Iosso OF ny GRAHDFATHER's HOME
CHAP. III.
First Recollections.

RECOLLECTIOHsO OF MY GRANDFATHER'SH HOME.
CHAP. H.
First Recollections.
Beings ofethereal birth.
Near us glide, sometimes on eartn.''
What dust.stained traveller on LIES road
has not strained his eyes betime to catch n
glimpse Of the goal from whence he started !
Behind fixed scenes and firm impressions, there
lies in the mind d vague and dreary realm
whence start up half-filled landscapes and
skeleton forms But here and there remem-
brance fnds, in first early joys or SORROWS, q
firm resting place; pcrchance the dying bed OF
q 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 straining eyes catch glimpse
Of some well-defned objects But the sight Of
these fills me with sadness, for, though few
golden clouds hover round, they mostly lie in
shadow. II 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 hein-pourings Of our
natural aliment; but when, by accident, these
flowed in q muddy stream, the rough current
chafed, and left its mark
First, back in lie's journey, tarried at the
deeth-bed of my little brother oily The
misty indistinctness of babyhood was fast pass
ing away and !, a lisper of monosyllables, was
beginning to treasure up passing events when
death first crossed my fathers threshold
There were four of rs Celia, the eldest !;
my darling Benny, the sharer of all my joys
and sorrows; little Oliver, or Oily, as we used
to cell him, made, with myself the quartette
Oily had almost finished his second year !; n
beautiful child, very fair, with deep blne 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 toy
with bis little mow-white, dimpled hands
From how many household has such vision
passed away! God sends them to earth to
make as wiser and better They are guide
boards to Heaven There is nothing of Gods
creation so beautiful, 80 worthy Of homage 50
like his own image, as the form of a fair Young
ohlld- Beauty in its highest realisation, with
lips free from guile, heart unspotted, pure
from the hands Of it's Maker-who does not
love lifsle childi There is no confidence like
child's confidence It's actnated by NO world
~ motive-puro, unselfsh. Who has not felt
9 throb OF delight at the words Of affection,
isped with infantile accent; for who can meas
ure hart better than q guileless child and
who has not felt his selfesteem abated, when
the same innocence has repulsed his caresses
But oh! who has not bcheld, with deep sorrow,
the first scar from the worlds touch on that
came young heart! Can we not oil remember
the first great sin Of our childhoodi Pcrchance
q blow struck; an unkind word spoken to
father or mother; and all surely there clings
20 every conscience the first falsehood Twas
then the stamp Of G5dhead fed fom us and
we left forever behind us our guileless purity.
Deep in shadow, in that mystic land, lic such
wsymarks 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 ! crepts 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 latc. But we loved each other,
aud played together years after, and the little
difference was vel nigh forgotten; yet when
the eye ceased its chances, and the lips their
words of affection, and his form lay sbrouded
IN its coffin, then the bitter remembrance Of
that moment pierced me like an arrow. With
his dear image In my heart chung also 10 my
conscience that one blow. For months and
years over il was dropped the silent tear-aye,
and even now the mist gaihersl
But yet darker ciond hangs over another
childhood landmark. To my conscience there
still clines the first falsehood. In dark COR
ner Of the garnet, mouldy and worm eaten, lies
the map, whose defacing ] had not the moral
courage to confess a'Twas done by chance
suggested ono 10 tho inquiring parent; but no
shook his head, and, ia few moments, sadly
lsfs IA, 70 be gone long, long while. wan.
dered about the house all day, q wretched,
guilty thing-but when at night, I alay 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
IN eonfession. Many, many times since, when
tsapted BY trying emergencies 10 like devil
stion, the remembrance Of that nights expert
soos has kept me in the path Of truth. Aye
and when, grown to womanhood, in rummaging
in the dark attic, the offending parchment
came 70 light my cheeks tingled with shame
Let the sorrowful remcmbranoce pass
around OIly's death bed the golden clouds
hover malignant. fever found lie way to
orr village, and Oily was iis first victim. We
children missed tho toy Of our sports we could
NOS play, and wc idled the hours sadly away
beneath Olly's window, whispering to each
oe1sr over his winsoine, baby ways. Days and
nights wore away the doctor came and went
end we listened Of the door Of the sick room,
oud heard 0Ily's means, but could not ace him,
~ they told ms we ITO might be sick What
voe ckiIdssh fears 10 N, II IL the selfshness
Of zsanhood that contagion keeps from the sick
r0omi Heaven bless those noble Souls, who, in
tuvest philanthropy, give themselves up holo-
causts n humanity
Dal ~ ooaId not ny disease. A few days
bon6 ~ al thsee stretched upop sick bed
'TV&> bsjghs summer day when Celia, Benny,
sd I. met f)r the FIRST time since the doctor
oama v 81 as We looked from the open win
dow, ont On tho groen fields, gcmmed with
yellow bulter-cups; saw the sunlight dance