The Athens post. [volume] (Athens, Tenn.) 1848-1917, 1855-05-11
A MOTHERS INFLUENCE.

cred around poor Norah, whose simplicity Of
speech and half.crazed vagacies afforded them
ample scope for amusement. A manly little
fellow, just stepping into his teens, stood
silently by, and we could see the warm blood
almost breaking through his sun-burned
cheeks, as his ear caught the cruel jests of
some one who seemed to be the senior of
the party: ..
"Halo, Fred W., what has nettled youf-
Norah is nothing to you reckon" the boy
questioned.
"No, but had mother once" was the sad
answer, and something in the tone, more per-
haps than in the words, appeared to carry the
appeal home to every heart.
The thoughtless group silently dispersed,
as if abashed at their selfshness, and Fred.
w. passed up the street. Blessings on his
noble, manly hearth will venture to say
that he will one day be a good man, if not a
great one. For nature moulds the nobleman
Of such materials as his composition.
81 had mother once, albeit the living eye
no longer closed, and the gentle hand moul-
dering in the silence of the grave, memory
had treasured up as precious incense sweet
lessons taught at morn and even, beside that
mothers knee; and the bread east upon the
waters hath been gathered after many days,
in the noble impulse which prompted the
boyish heart to interpOse for the weak and
the weary ones thrown in his pathway.
The truth of the beautiful sentiment sends
its appeal pleadingly home to our hearts in
behalf of Gods lonely and desolate children,
who wander up and down the world, vainly
striving through lifetime to catch glimpse
Of sunshine and songs which may be over
flowing our own life cup.
You look upon that cold, stern man, over
whose fair name crime and guilt have cast
their hideous shadow: lfyour eye, and not
God'seould penetrate into the depths of that
granite nature, you would imagine every
spark of good and gentle thought, of high
ard generous impulse, had been long cut out
with his rude jostlings with the world. You
look, and you scarcely believe that some
mother loved him once; that far back in the
guitless days of infancy some kind heart
touched his cradle as softly as you do that of
your first born tonight; that some fond eye
watched his out goings with love and pride,
and grew brighter at his coming; that bless
ings and prayers followed him out into the
world, but that the world seized him, as the
grea; angry ocean seizes upon its prey, and
lured him on like lake-charmed bird, to for
get the nest where his sunny years were
rocked; but recall that mothers memory,
speak as she spoke, and see if the angel with
in does not shine through the, rallousness
and darkness of man 's'nature, and then tell
me if the memory os a mother is not the most
precious thing the heart can cling to, next to
the worship of God. The beggar in my path
the frail child of shame-the emigrant
whose home is over the blue sea-what the
little ones that clustered around your hearth
are to you, so were they once to some hearts;
but the world has rough paths, and they lost
their way.
81 had mother once" and so had we,
sweet boy; and though the dust and ashes of
the lonely grave have long lain lightly on the
bosom we worshpped, the matron's cap and
silver hair are ever more sacred for her sake,
and even the lips that can smile at the oddi-
ties of those upon whose path the miie.stones
are well nigh passed, must have forgotten
the heart upon which his own were Graded.
and which, through sunshine and storm, beset
to no sweeter music than the voices of her
loved ones at home.