The home journal. [volume] (Winchester, Tenn.) 1857-1857, 1857-02-27
Written for the Homo Journal.
A LEAF FROM THE VOLUME OF
MEMORY.
NUMBER TWO.
NUMBER TWO.
BY MRS. ADELIA c. GRAVES.

Turn it over, the precious, quain, old
volume, in the long winter evenings,
while the fire burns brightly on the hearth.
the cat lies contentedly puring on the
rug, and the lamp throws a ruddier light
upon the crimson curtains draping the
windows In the summers twilight
cleaning. too, when all the busy sounds
OF day are hushed, or subdued, thumb
the consecrated pages, some scarcely cut
apart, still clean and white, for the rec.
objections there are dimly, almost illegi.
bly, written, the memories Of but little
value, but there are others, that from
frequent and careful perusal have as.
sumed a deeper shade; yet are they not
defaced, but only grown brighter, more
distinct, more precious from each subse.
quent perusal. Very dear are the records
of those pleasant leaves, cheering by
their calm, soothing membranes, ma.
ny an otherwise lonely hour.
There are others, none the less dear, it
may be, but stained, worn, tear.blistered,
read with weeping, laid aside with sob.
bling, over whose tear. stained records the
severed affections bleed with newly probed
wounds and yearn with faithful. deathless
love.
Heart'pictures, too, are drawn upon
its pages, with the skill of more than
mortal Inner, fresh and unfading in col.
or, and truthful and life like in feature.
They are Of the dear ores of in(an.
cy, Of childhood, youth and ripper age
Their lineaments embellsh the volume
and cause us to linger long at times in
contemplation Of the we'll remembered
countenances.
There were few who visited the old,
brown house upon the hill, few save
friends and relatives, for it was at dis.
lance from neighbors and stood back
from the road, so, though many passed
along the highway and were attracted to
look at the pointed gables, and long and
shaded wings, few entered for casual
call, for its very appearance, large, SUBJ
stantial and dgnifed as it was, seemed
to invite no idle curiosity. 1t had lone.
ly look, too, from the road, so high the
roof, so long the shaded wings, with doors,
even in summer closely shut, and win,
dows rarely opened towards the street,
But hospitality and frendliness were the
presiding spirits within, and cold and
cheerless as the view from the highway
seemed to strangers, warm, sunny and
cheerful looked the house 10 the dear
ones within.
1t was truly home for its own hearts,
beside its own hearth. stone-an abiding
place--a refuge from all the storms with.
out. Not caravansera for nights rest
and the resuming Of tolsome journey
in the morning, but the hearts own rest.
ing place.
Beside our Cousin Charley, whose con.
slant home was there, we were two, that
at intervals nestled beside The warm
hearth.stone, reading, by the light Of the
tall candle on the little stand, the same
simple story from the same pictured page;
with difficulty suppressing our merriment
at the tales we read or told each other,
till Grandmother, knitting in hand, point
ed her seam needle at US and shaking her
warning head, tried to look stern, while
we, bursting with merriment and regard.
less Of consequences, laughed outright at
the funny words in Cousin Charles les.
sons. Woe to poor little transgressors
then, when such irrelevant sounds escap.
ed our lips. Slowly laying down the
ponderous volume which had engaged his
attention, and peerng over his spectacles,
as if he had never before found occasion
for so signal rebuke, (though between
you and me, reader, he had done the
same thing every night for a month, at
least, Sundays excepted,) Grandfather
brade US, for couple Of good.for. noughts,
"Be STILL"
Audible sounds were OF course for q
while suppressed, but soon commenced
such whispering Of secrets, momentous
ones to US, such as the discovery Of a
newly made hen's.nest in the spacious
barn, or under the currant bushes, or a
robbins little family in the cherry tree