The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1857-07-29

yow. Yet, forgive me, We wild asters,
which CLEAN SO sadly amid the fading
grass; forgive me, ye golden autumn flow
ers, which SO strive to reflect the plories
of the departing distant sun: and 70 sill
very flowers, whose moonlight eyes /
knew so well, forgive! Living and bloom
ing in your unchecked law, ye know moth
ing of the blights, the distortions, which
beset the human being and which at such
hours it would seem that no glolies of
free agency could even repay! =
Here is another extract from the same
volume, SO beautiful-so full Of eloquent
meaning, that we wish our readers to en-
JOY It With Us.
Ever memorable is the day on which
first took q volume of SHAkRpEARE in
my hand to read. 1t Vas on Sunday,
This day was punctilfously set apart in
our house. We had family prayers, for
which there was no time on other DAYS.
Our dinners were different, and our cloth
es. We went to church. My father put
some limitations on my reading, but
bless him for the gentleness whichh has left
me a pleasant feeling for the day-he did
not prescribe what was, but only what
was not to be done. And the liberty this
left was a large one. 81 You must not
read novel or play;' but all other
books, the worst or the best, were open
to me. The distinction was merely tech
nical. The day was pleasing to me, as
relieving me from the routine Of tasks and
Rotations; it gave me freer play than
usual, and there were fewer things occur
red in its course, which reminded me of
the divisions of time; still the church
going, where | heard nothing that had
any connection with my inward life, and
these rules, gave me associations with the
day of empty formalities, and arbitrary
restrictions; but though the forbidden
book or walk always seemed more charm
ing then, was seldom tempted to disobey.
This Sunday was only eight years
old took from the bookshelf volume
lettered SHAKESPEARE. It was not the
first time / had looked at it, but before |
had been deferred from attempting to read
by the broken appearance along the page,
and preferred smooth narrative. But this
time held in my hand Romeo and Jul
liet' long enough to get my eye fastened
to the page. 1t was cold winter after
noon. | took the book to the parlor fire,
and had there been seated an hour or two,
when my father looked up and asked what
was reading SO intcntly. shakespeare"
replied the child, merely raising her eye
from the page. "Shakspeare,-that
won't do; that's no book for Sunday; go
put it away and take another | went
as was bid, but took no other. Return
ing to my seat, the unfinished story, the
personagcs owhom | was but introduced
thronged and burnt my brain. i could
not bear it long; such a lure it was i'm
possible to resist. went and brought
the book again. There were several
guests present, and had got half through
the play before again attracted attention.
"What is that child about that she don't
hear word that's said to her e quoth
my aunt. s.What are you reading.' said
my father. Shakespeare, was again the
reply, in a clear, though somewhat impa-
tient, tone. "How z said my father
angrily,-then restraining himself before
his guests Give me the book and 90
directly to bed"
Into my little room no care. of his an
ger followed ne. Alone in the dark, I
thought only Of tho scene placed by the
poet before my eye, where the free flow
Of life, sudden and graceful dialogue, and
forms, whether grotesque or fair, seen in
the broad lustre of his imagination, gave
just what l wanted, and brought home
the life / seemed born to live. NV fancies
swarmed like bees, as 1 contriyed the rest
Of the story what all would do, what
say, where 60 Ny confinement tortured
me, could not 90 forth from this pris-
on to ask after these friends; / could not
make my pillow of the dreams about them
which yet could not forbear to frame
Thus was absorbed when my father en-
tered. Hc felt it right, before going to
rest, to reason with me about my disobe-
dience, shown in way, as he considered
so insolent. | listened but could not feel
interested in what he sid, nor turn my
mind from what engaged it. He went
away really grieyed at my Impotence,
and quite at loss to understand conduct
in me so unusual.
Often since | have seen the same mis-
understanding between parent and child,
the parent thrusting the morale, the
discipline, of life upon the child, when
just engrossed by some game Of real i'm
portance and great leadings to it. That
is only wooden horse to the father, the
child was careering to distant scenes of
conquest and crusade. through country
of elsewhere unimagined beauty. None
but poets remember their youth; but the
father who does not retain poetical APP
prehensions of the world, free and splen-
did as it stretches out before the child
who cannot read his natural history, and
follow OFT his intimations with reverence,
must bea tyrant in his home, and the
purest intentions will rot prevent his do
ing much to cramp him. Each new
child is a new Thought, and has bearings
and discernings, which the Thoughts older
in date know not yet, but must learn.
Nv. attention thus fixed on Shakespeare,
/ returned to him at every hour could
commend Here Was n sp,1utary,a;eaS 8,