The Abbeville banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1847-1869, 1857-06-11
From the Boston, Olive Branck. i.
THE HEARTHsTONE.

not, though the stick and the swab tied
round it, and the cup of mixture with which
the good wifo was wont to "fedd up" the
broad Fireplace, are gone, perhaps forever,
yet there is an ideal hearthstone, "sacrcd 10
the memory" though departed from our
sight. Families still gather around and
call it blessed the lamp is still trimmed,
the table drawn out, the laugh and the jest
yet linger, and the family group halow it
us Of old. See the pleasant gathering yon-
der. The clock ticks on the mantcl.piece,
the lights slime over the little ornaments
moulded in plaster, and glance broadly in
the faces Of the happy group gathered about
the hearthstone. 1t is u f,mily complete,
such rs we do not often see. The old gran
dame is there with her knitting, her snowy
cap border, her well patched apron, her
placid brow, and her universal smile. The
grandfather, with knees crossed and hands
folded, mods as he talks, until some burst of
childish laughter sets his dim blue ewes
wide open again, when he smiles, pats the
nearest rogue upon the head, and dozcs
again. The father sits hy the table where
his wife is busy with her mcnding, now
reading aloud, now convcrsing with mother,
son or daughter. Slate pencils arc scratch
ing, needles glance in and out, thoughtful
brows bend over the history, and the babe
sleeps gently in its straw cradle by the side
OF the wife and mother whose gently glances
are often beguiled that way. 1t is the old
but daily romance of the hearthstone-thc
Mecca of the poets imagination-the we'll
Of refreshing for the weary man of business :;
The spot sacred to tho most hallowcd lovcs,
emotions, and prophcsies of the hcart-the
beautiful garden in the descrt-the cluster
Of palms and dates in the else barren waste
of life.
Not only the happy family circle that
numbers its members by the half score,
know The blessing and beauty of the hearth
stone. No, for we will take you to this
lowly cottage where the vine grows over
tho wall and roses bloom without and with
in-over the neat threshold, through the
beautiful hall, and you will find a hearth
stone here, although there are but two to
dwell before it. They are both in middle
age, and they sit side by side under the
clear light whose jets proceed from long
drawn tubes, and from dark avenues under
the earth. lie has one arm about her
waist-a book half closed rests on his knee
-of Which they are talking. No children
have blessed their union still they are hap
py, for they know that children are an
"heritage Of the Lord" and if he has with
held them it is for some good purpose. So
they lavish yet the more love upon each
other, and thank God that they can have
hearthstone on which to erect an altar, be-
fore which to bow, and from which to dis
pense blessings and charities to the home
less and tire needy, even if the singing
voices of little children are denied them.
And will show you another hearthstono
as blessed as this. No youthful shouts are
heard around it, seldom the sound of melo-
dy or joy, for only one poor woman kindIes
the fire upon it. From morning till night
she sits and sews, no husband 10 press kiss
upon her uncomely check, no mother to
smile upon her labor, no father to say "My
clhld." She is alone, without ties or kim
dred, ,and yet she has her happy hearth
stone. 1t is her home, that ono room, sa-
cred to her silent communings. What if
they call her an old maid, and laugh at her
odd ways? She is much more blessed
than her neighbor whose husband raves in
the delirium Of strong drink day after day,
and who weeps from dawn till night that
she was ever a wife: She is happier than
the widow opposite, whose eldest son is in
Jail for forgery, and whose youngest is a
pest to the neighbofhood, and entirely un-
manageable by hismother. She sees fami-
lies in poverty here, and children in rags
and squaller there, and her little, quiet
home looks dear to her. She has the COM
panionslip Of God and angels, and can af.
ford to be despised. They love her, al
though her plain face and reserved deport-
ment have never won for her the love of
selfish sshe has her Bible, her little
fire, her choice books, her quiet communings
with heaven-yet, the hearthstone is sacred
there.
And yet another, where age trembles on
the verge offthe grave, where only little
handmaid comss:ia at morning and eve
ming to place the Goals on the hearth and
wheel the easy chair round. Oldand lone
ly, yet taking delight in her Own fireside,
her own hearthstone. Spending her little
annuity for the sake Of living in what is
homo to her, preferring it tn dependence
upon relatives and misunderstanding while
- al .,o,,obeo coo tl,;e t>xb bo. o~~ook oos l.