Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1857-02-19
From the Pennsy lvanis Inquirer.
Sounds. from Home.
REyERIE- OF THE PAST, By An oLo MAN.

Sounds from Home.
REVERE OF THE PAST, By IN oLo MAN
The fire burns brightly on the wide heart
before me. The red flames rush whistling
singing, up the great black chimney, tha
swallows them carelessly, and gapes 70
more. have seen youth as bright ant
sparkling as those flames, rush ike then
into the black gulf Of ruin. aud Ike them
too, leave behind them naught but ashes
but the ashes, alas. of blasted hopes. ant
fond hearts stricken by despair | am al
old man; have run my race allotted by
Heaven TO ali of earth. Ny head is bowe5
down towards the dust, which will soon
| claim NE as its own. | should be alone,
alone in this great iron world, had not one
good faithful friend, who thank God hum
! bly,, is still spared me. o! it were worse
than death, worse, worse thousand times
| 10 lose that friend. Men call il memory
| call it good angel, for it brings back to
me those whom loved and lost.
As sit before the wild flames, that throw
a StOUptHE ofi1tOW OH tAS a Ais
this spirit one is singing in my ears strains,
sweet though sad, the uelodiesof by-gone
days. Oh dearly DO / love to hear that
song, to listen 70 those Sounds from Home :
What sound from the home or M boyhooi
is floating ioundsne now Have you ever
heard village church bell fill the quiet air
with its sweet plaintive sound. on one of
khose fair summer evenings, when all round
there is such still and holy cain, that it
seems as il heaven itself were slumbering on
earthl Such TO me this sound has alwavs
been. know il well; it is my mothers.
voice. ] had : mother once, and loved her
too vhs does mol, remainder. when a
siitile child, fitried 10 pray. frst would
think Of her. to Gil my heart with logeto
God. She was my stepping Stone from
earth to heaven. Oh. what is there Ike a.
smothers iovei or wE5re the love So pure as
thatws bear to her. When we are fresh
from God. then Il is strongest; for as we.
grow older. and the cold and sneering devil,
caile the sworl nssssslses- on ia its rank
w5thering breath then does our. love for hes
who gasesas 5uth wander amid 80. many
sIzfcs ki4ss4 passions b { their bisek sasd-
Sws dim sis trfsh ness, tu' stlfit bufts
within ar bearts, and we confess il. 100.
when dsath. is in our homes and we are
motherless 3. : 'siss seassSl
But Meparys restes sp rit, sings nox y
me smother stt5ia. hesr another sound
from home This time it Is a simple stain
sung :bysons who was dearer 10 M, tiian all
the world besides Long years asp there
crossed my path IN life a giriizh form; some
called it pretty--perhaps it ~az; never
thought of that. Il was. very fair, with
delicate frame, and voice. in which was
strain as musical as the notes OF harp,
which once had when chld,s the chords
Of which were moved by the w:ndas i pass
ed over them. By Glow degrees this girlish |
form grew pewerfuifn its mastery over me.
t.srhs,s sasd >. a,ockso 4,ye,: nssS found in i.
1 master n snruggied against This new-
born power. for was yonng, and these
whom loved. and WHO loved me, would have
turned TO other things 1t IS an Old story that
| am telling. | called her wife, and then
there burst on me the anger Of u parent and
FIR a time left my fathers house. and wan
dered tar from il But she, the one whose
voice | still hear, WAS at my side, aud in
her love was happy. She died. See there,
where the moon beams rest on plain mar
be stone, as If they 1--we t. wbtcI, over the
grave OF one as pure as themselves. She
lies there, and am rot at FER side, For
awhile my bosom, on which her head was
wont to rest, was as bold as the earth OF
which she now slumbers. But Time is
Il friend indeed, for he-yes. he comforttG
me.
Pshaw, what is this dream we call love,
after all! toy to while away an hour, :
theme for boys and girls IT, Prattle about. |
dreamed like other foo!s once, but nov /
have learned to stare reality in the { and
bear unfiinchly its cold hard gaze. But
must talk Of her. She died, aud led when
we were poor, and cursed mysel; that
had taken her from her home, and had no
hope to give her. j. was selfish, was it noil
But selfishnFss holds the KEEP OF all meas
hearts; yes, was selfish TO love her a. |
did. She died, and died blessing me. Well,
well, it what wise and good men say be true,
| shall see her again; that this may be, is
my constant prayer to heaven. Another
sound from home-sn infants cry. The
tiny voice Of my first born is ringing in my
ears Alas. that sound from home had been
stilled. Heaven toJk what it had given me.
ere earth had time to wither it mith its ac-
cursed breath. Taere is more than one
5 'eepiug beneath that cod white stone. The
baby is lying in its mothers aFms, and tie
moon beams watch orer my lost treasures.
am alone in The world, alone with memory,
alone with the thought of the past Oh,
mother, wife, and child. your voices come
to me like messengers from the dead 10 the
living. Sill do they come to NE, sounds
from far off, happy home, home beyond
the grave!