Marshall County Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1855-1859, 1858-06-03


look lingeringly across the wide ocean and
sigh for home. The power and beauty of
that word few can realize who have not at
Some time lived in other lands, far away
from the associations of early childhood,
and from the sweet by-lanes all fragrant
with the primrose, the daisy and the bri-
er-lanes where children gathered in joy
full gambol of mirth. sacred now to the
heart of ripened manhood.
1t is some years since first thought OF
wandering into distant parts, and gathering
up the romance of enchanted localities, to
return laden with associations that should
make me happy. and lend halo of glory
to my homely freside.
Man sets out in the morning, all-suff
cient in his enthusiasm, and chanting hi.
merry notes thinks so to pass through the
turmoil and contention of life, in the mids
of his journey he wavers and stagers oft
without knowing which way to 60. See
bim-a look backward and look forward
mammon is struggling with him, while af
fection is presenting to his view the child
at its play. and the ripping brook where
he was won't to watch the bubbles, as they
kissed tine lilies in the evening tide-ac
cents gently say: Home. Home
Our calculations startle many; they view
us with astonishment: they are dim. shad
owy, and often incoherent; often in talk
the heart is wandering and unstable, whore
it should be fixed and abiding.
OH this indecision of purpose, this
gnawing at the heart, that will not let us
rest; all the day long we are binding our.
selves to the bidding of expediencY, and al
the night unraveling these very things
by the force of affection.
Awhile we have quiet conscience.
build up friendships, and think what 9th.
er years will do, if Con spares US, to ce
ment those ties; but suddenly little trivi
al incident unmans us, the music tina
swels the hearts of our fellow worker.
finds us in tears. Yes! that is a song
mother used to sing; we remember be-
gentle voice; that sweet benigusnt face We
must see again.
Our resolutions of yester- hour are gone
Once again we start on new life; we tall
to our friends of going home, resigning al
our prospects. and gladdening the old fire
side by our presence; and yet we do not ge
away, the struggle goes on; we are no
consistent; we are as changing as the wa
vering wind: so say those wo know us out
wardly. Man do you understand tn
struggle that is going on? Do you under
stand the human heart? Accuse us no
harshly.
When letters 60 to tell those at bom
We are well, they are written with sa,
heart; with all our seeming cheerfulnes
and desire to make absent ones think W
are happy. little word unconsciousl
glides in; wishes and joys and hopes ar
not strangers in such connections, and new
er will be until the heart becomes uncon
sc,ous of life.
Mother thinks our absence long; broth
ers look forward with delight to happ
reunion; sisters feel the separation on bri
dal day.
Was it for bread that we came away
then if we return can we find the means q
support for ourselves in society in whicl
we have no distinct identity? Here W
live and have every intellectual grati6ca
ton. There we may sit and revel in tn
warm affections of kindred and friends. bu
We lack the bread; we do not possess tn
ability to apply ourselves to the old rou
line. Does not mistrast dim our vision?
Let affection be but our guide. an
though humble our cottage-fare, words q
content are on our lips, children gathe
around our knees. the church bell sound
through the dell, and before the night
rest songs of JOY are heard to ascend o
high
The meandering river that our littl
bark gayly glided on is ever present to us
we see its green banks in the twilight
Here we gently hoated down the stream a
the evening sun went to rest on the top {
the distant hills, and we sang merry r1s
tics song.
The coy young maidens sat on the wa
ter's banks, and pleasant looked each on
as we shouted hearty 'Hurrabl' The
we would pull our boat on shore, laugh a
the wild stare Of the cattle, dance in tn
woods till all the children put on our gesl
ures. and bashfa! girls gave glances of ap
proval. and once again row away and sim
1.-The boatman's song.
BY the home freside we lent ourselve
to romance and dreamy imaginativeness
told tales of giants craving the blood 9