Mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado Co., Cal.) 1854-1860, 1858-02-06
g So Tired. "


HeATy OF Her an DO-bue OF Iffe'J N0.
Weary Of Ito troubles and its cares
Willing TO rert-because 20 well know
What draughtS the hand Of passion StH prepares.
$50 tircd!"
A little child came painting in from play,
TIE other night, and climbing intoi its mo-
theirs lap, laid its head upon her bosom,
and uttered those two words. saw the
fond mother brush the golden hair from
the darling's moist forehead, and pressing
her lips again and again TO the flushed
cheek. The shadows Of evening were
falling fast around us, and birds had al
ready sang themselves TO sleep. Little
shoes and stockings were drawn off and
laid asidc-little weary feet bathed and
coolcd--a little night dress took the place
Of pretty blue frock and white apron,
and the boy was quiet. With sigh of
satisfaction, he nestled closer in her arms,
his blue eyes closed, and her cradle songs
grew lower and slower as bisbreath came
longer and more regular through his par
ted lips. Happy sleep of childhood -
She arose and went softly to her own
room, to lay him in his little crib and !
was left alone. Heaven knows what men,
ory Of time when !, too, was Graded
upon loving breast-when the dead mo-
ther, whose face I can remember, sung to
mo in the twilight-came over me as /
took up the infant cry.
$50 tired!
A man of business whose name is
bond on Wall street. Why should helean
his head upon his hand and sigh a. the
words fall from his lips? Tired of his
gay and busy life, Of his elegant home,
his fair daughters and his fashionable
wife? Tired Of these and longing for the
little red farm house up among the hills
of his native home, where he used to play,
a bare footed, light hearted boy? Even
81, strange as it may seem! Yet not so
much for the farm house as for the hap
piI c,s and innocence that stand behind
it, and which he can never hope to find in
his dusty Office, or splendid home.
$50 tired "
She has been loving wife and indul-
gent mother. Six strong sons had she
reared beside that cottage hearth but
the grave had claimed them oil but two,
and those the world has taken. The hus-
band Of her youth died long ago, and to.
night, her Sixtieth birthday, she sits
alone in the deserted homestead.
To her boys she is the "old woman,
to the brilliant wives, "a good thing, but
so oil f>hioneJ," to their homes and
their children almost q stranger. Her
tears fall ss she thinks of them in the
distant city, gay, prosperous, wealthy and
happy, vet not remembering her on this
day, even line to say. "Dear mother,
| love you. This is her reward for
years Of toll, care and anxiety. She has
outlived her generation, and when she
dies she will hardly be missed by those to
whom she has given health and strength,
and even life iISelf. Poor, lonely old wo-
man! Well may the bitter tears fall fast
well may you long to die For this is
often the love and devotion which has
outwatchcd the stars and seen the moon
grow pale.
$50 tircd!"
Yes, turn from the brilliant crowd that
listens eagerly for every word you utter,
fair songstrcss, and heed what your heart
is saying Words Of fire may fall from
your rapid pcn-your wild soul may
stamp its impression on the page before
you-thc world may place the crown OF
laurel upon your bowed head-but it will
be dadem of thornS. In the height OF
triumph, in the fever Of success-there
will come sudden pause, and the iron
will enter your soul as you remember
that one voice was silent, and one face
still, calm and cold. Fame, wealth, sue
cesS-oh! what are these to happiness! !!
Vanity, vanity all and "vcxation Of spir-
it" and you bow your head and weep to
think it should he SO!
80 tired T."
Oh! little child not yet released from
thy mothers care, it would bc better for
thee to sleep in tranquil sleep of death,
within the shelter of her arms, then to
tread the path which We are treading -
There are sharp thorns hidden among the
faireSt flowers - there are the trcachcr.
Gus quicksands in the sweetest Valleys
God help thee, boy, for only hand from
heaven can lead thee safely there. The
golden hair will turn to silver, it may be,
and til. blue eye will wear an anxious
look, before the painful journey is half
done, and evil shapes will mock thee,
when thy steps are faint.
My boy, cling close to thy mothers
breast! for day will surely como when
thy lips will utter these same words, and
she will not be beside thee to hush thee
into forgctfulness of all thy trouble. -
God help thee, then, and lead thee to the
only refuge, where the wicked cease
from troubling and the weary are at
rest.