Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1858-10-13
An Original Skettb.
Written for the Advertiser. 6
Dear Lord, we thank Thee for the
MINER RAIN!

0 the rain the rain the summer rain The
rustling of the leaves, and the murmurings OF
the rain! Kind Father, we thank thee for the
summer rain! The parched earth, and the
blue sky; the hearts of the flowers, and of all the
dear old Farmers, are beautifully refreshed, and
so we. Poor, dear Papa Lindsay has been
praying for these showers throughout the month
of June; and last night whilst Paul Randall and
Meta Morris sat talking, so cozily, behind the
vines, they overheard him say to neighbor who
was passing by,
80, you must look up. up, Brother Pollard,
there's bright day coming, yet and you may
lay aside your long face, for we will, most as
suredly, have rain before morning. Tell Parson
Childers as you pass by, that he may put q
great many rejoicings in his sermon for next
Sunday"
Paul and Meta both ran to the edge of the
piazza to see the approaching storm but strange
to say, not cloud was TO be seen, and Of course
they thought that Papa Lindsay was either crazy
or dreaming. However, I do not know but they
were too happy to see clouds just then. Sweet,
sweet words had been spoken, and their whole
inner world was a-glow with sunlight, and star.
light the soul.6res burned so beautifully upon
their altars, that no shadows were to be seen,
neither in the heavens above them, nor in their
bright spiritual land. Even two hours later
when they bade each other adieu in the doorway,
land Paul kissed both her hands too, but don't
you tell Papa Lindsay, for he will think that his
little Meta loves Paul too well-though Of course
she don't)-yes, even two hours later, as we
started to say, there were millions Of stars out
around the young moon, and all looked so bright,
that no one, am very sure, excepting Papa
Lindsay, or some other old fogy of q weather.
prophet, would have thought Of rain. However,
the old mans words were really prophetic of the
times for before morning dawned, most
refreshing shower had fallen, which made the
little world round about Happy Farm" radiant
with freshness and verdurc. Even Paul as he
came in, early in the morning with his fishing
tackle, according to promise, to take Meta with
him upon the streams for the day, looked as if
he might have had sound drenching, so re.
freshed did he appear. Meta told him so; and
he replied, "you are the sole cause, ma belle
Cousin of all the droughts in my soul so you
must not complain if you find NE at all sutry."
But Paul is dear clever fellow and never
gets in ugly h6mour sto frighten one out of ones
wits, don't you hate people who get in bad hu
mours? However, we left sunlight and dew
drops upon the meadows, and we were talking
about little Meta Morris and Paul, and the pleas.
ant weather, and not about ugly and ill-natured
people.
"And you thank God for dreary, drizzling
rain," say you? O, thou poor little denizen of
the sitting City, hast thou no cottage home deep
in the green woods, where thou mayest repair
at least once year, that thy heart may be made
to rejoice because of summer showers? Hearth
II do we pity thee! No home but in the public
highways; no walks but those in the crowded
thoroughfares no pleasant singing birds save
those in the ironbound cage above your door
no pure and unde6ed air of heaven to awaken
life il your soul! o, verify, verify! I believe /
should die if had no country home!
Ay, when the seventh enthusiasm is we'll nigh
dead within us, and the days are come when
darkness shall envelope our spiritual land, me-
thinks there will still be little era of love and
happiness so interviewer with the green woods
and the blue sky that the bare remembrance of
it will be all sufficient to cause new spring to
burst in upon our life,-with
"What scenes Of delight what sweet visions she
brings
Of freshness, of gladness and mirth-
Of fair sunny glades whore the butter-cup
springs,
OF cool, gushing fountains, Of tinted wings,
Of birds, bees and blossoms, all beautiful things,
Whose brightness rejoices the earth.'
Yea, when we are grown into a little, shrivel-
ed, gray-headed old woman; when we are COM
PEELED to sit for whole days, quietly, in the cor
ners by the hearhstone, and there is no pleasure
for us, save in remembrance, there will still re-
main in the chambers of memory little picture,
painted in hues of eternal brightness, upon which
we can turn with "a Joy 70, ver.'
O, be thou fadeless and everlasting, sweet
memory of youthful days md loves! Sweet
memory of Happy Farm" Of the broad-sided,
quaint looking Farm House, ans the radiant
spirits within; Of the sunlighted and joy-givng
mornings, and its more calm and peaceful eve.
ming hours, which are made as beautiful with
song and love " as dream Of hearen!'
o, fadeless and pure be the remembrance of
the very birl.songs that fall upoa the ear; of the
tall and hundred-yeared oaks, and the younger
grown elms that shut US in from the world of
the broad shady meadow beyond the woodland
and the little plot of sedge just by the thicket
of pines of the tiny vine'covered Dairy and
the deliciousy cool spring at the foot of the old
tulip tree ! of the roses and honey-suckles, and
yiolets and iasmines, that grow before the door
way! 0, yes, o, yes! in thrice repeated words,
we pray, that fadeless and sweet, may be the
remembrance of these.
Aye, little maiden, we do indeed heave sigh
fr thee if thou hast no country home-if thou
knowest not of the blessings of the summer
rains. Fancy thyself Farmers daughter, like
into ourself living amidst fields of yellow grain
n ii rnstling corn; know that these are the pride
anl boast Of some dear gray.headed old sire like
our PApH Lindsay ;-hear him night and morn
beseecI ing the good Lord for plenteous showers