The Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, Ohio) 1853-1861, 1856-10-16
Original
L E T T z K S
York, N. Y. May. 1855.
w Z NJ.

He who says that " Letters are it'll quad
rangular mysteries" must have b en- Pos
Master. He did not know the heart that wa,
iu those letters,-he did not know the Joy Oh
the sorrow that they brought on II, ir wings
he could not tell the blight that they might
occasion, or the new gro~th they might give
to some refreshed spirit. oh, Post Master
letters are more than little mys cries Thank
God for mail bags
Far out in some dense forest. where the
neigh Of the iron horse is never heard-Shat
are letters there? Coming from that blessed
land of the sunrise, how eagerly they are
watched for They bring back sweet memo
ries Of The East, Of the brown ancestral home.
OF the lilacs that guard the front gate,-of
the gravel walk that leads TO the low porch
where the grey cid dog groWls and sleeps,
and sleeps and growls-forever in the sun.
shine. Whatever clouds there may be in the
western sky,-howev,r asst the rain drops
patter, or the snow fl ,kes fall--still in the
heart, the Eastern paradise stands forth, a
bright, large spot Of light that never grows
dim. that no distance can diminish bat
needs no telescope of hope to brighten it.
Some lonely heart that has left its parents
shelteri1g roof-tree, that has crushed back its
sorrow in the glad, joyful Il ought of a reun-
ion on some bright summer day in the far dis
tance, this heart grows larger and beats loud
er, when the letter comes. There-his fathers
trembling hand wrote woods of encourage
ment, and OF confidence in Lis absent child, =
here, his sister coquettishly laughed at him
about some fair lady that he had carried to
school, in those bright, winter days that would
never come back t. him,-here was fearful
supplication from his mother, that she might
once more see him,-here was Growlers
mark that he had unintentionally made, by
rubbing against the writer's arm,--what a
glad letter! All so full of love and of truth,
that this heart could not stray into forbidden
paths, whel it was so guarded by affection
and by home ties.
And to another, with the light of two
bright eyes deep in his soul, and the sound of
singing voice in Lis ear, and the clasp of
small hand still warm in his, is there not wait
ing. and longing, and hoping, and sometimes
disappointment? Oh, this waiting-wailing
-waiting-how it crushes out hope from the
heart, and takes the strength hom the arm,
and brings clouds to hide the sunlight that
lay on the fair forehead
Out on the sea, where the green waves
dance in Gods smile, or darken to reflect
His form, where there is the scream of the
petrol. and the roar Of many waters, and the
light lau h of the mermaids down under the
deep, where the huge whale turns himself in
the sun. and the bright corolla Of some ocean
born flower drinks in the sunshine,-here, to
some floating ship, are letters coming. The
captain has a splendid home in the city,
whence his wife writes 10 him on satin paper.
There are rich Aowered carpets. and long gilt
tering mirrors. and easy chairs with their
crimson Innings The cabin boy has moth
fr. in little cottage, with hop-vine ing
over it. and tall trees growing round it. She