Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1858-07-17

I
pie heavens, radinnt with the smiles Of the
Creator love; to the green earth, ever
ministering to their myriad wants. Above
all, let us teach them, gently and kindly,
chat SOrrosC is q friend to Us All; that she
is an angel, come down from the bosom Of
God, to chasten our hearts, TO develop our
immortality, TO prepare us for that infinite
life within whose mysterious portals we al.
ready stand
Abundant win be our reward, If we
gladden. one aching heart, IL VIC rouse one
desponding spirit, TO the dignity and Joy
worthy Of a soul created in the image Of
its God.
We sometimes meet persons who are
habitually out Of humor. We grow very
weary Of trying to render them happy
Our hearts may be seen with unkind words,
and the friction Of ceaseless complaints.
If we consider the circumstances which
render even such people what they are, IN
most cases we shall pity more than bIame.
No person who is perfectly well is babi-
tuaIly irritable. The tendency Of disease
is TO render people unamiable. Aud those
vino are so are almost always the victims
Of chronic complaints, whose worn and
aching bodies rasp and corrode the spirit.
When the nerves are distorted or dead-
ened by disease, how much Of the enjoy
ment of life is losti Even the food, which
should replenish the wasting fountains Of
life, becomes source of misery The me-
lodious music which fills other hearts with
rapture, CRATES harshly upon nerves quiver-
ing with pain The glorious face of nature
has but few charms for eyes weary with the
agony Of sleepless nights. The aroma Of
flowers, the richer odor upspringing from
loving hearts, fail TO impart to the sufferer
that ecstatic joy which fllls the soul revell-
ing in exhuberant life.
How many sufferers we meet How
many, who inheriting diseased bodies from
their parents, in whole lifetime scarcely
know an hour free from pain Yet, Of all
sufferers these meet with the least sympa-
thy. We grow so used with the sad face,
to the wasted form, to the trembulous
voice, to the old story Of aches, that we
have but little compassion. 1t is tire
some to hear people always complaining"
we say, forgetful OF the greater WEAKNESS
that years of suffering must bring.
Perchance the currents of lifedance glad.
ly in our veins. Our hearts beat proudly
with energy and hope Nothing stays our
tireless feet, as we rove through the glor-
ious universe. Nothing detracts from our
fullest enjoyment Of sensuous and intellec-
tual happiness How we wonder at the
tagging steps Of the invalid, at the slight
interest which he feels in the affairs of life,
at the nervous irritation which he manifests
upon oil occasions of annoyance. We say
that it Is energy and patience whicha he
needs, forgetting that the elements which
formed these facnlties are gone.
We would not be unjust, we do not
mean to be unkind, and yet we are both.
Drop by drop We pour the bitterness Of
our own souls into the overGowing cup of
sorrow But the time comes when the
wan face, the faltering voice, and sad com
plant, troubles US no more; when the weary
pilgrimage is ended; when the wearier spir-
It Is at rest Then rise the spectres of un-
kind words, hauating our memory aud
darkening our past. We weep when we
think of little acts of kindness which we
aerer performed, and loving words which
were aerer spoken! We think if we could
call them to earth again how kind we would
be, how gentle we would smooth their path
to the grave. But these better thoughts
bring no reilef, for they come Zoo late!
There are those who give largely to
benevolent institutions. who write elaborate
ly and speak eloqucntly in defense Of truth
whom the world eaIss great and good
and yet the light which radates from their
spirits is cold as the sheen of an iceburg.
that glitters and freezes in the sun. They
have no golden s:ailes. no kindly words to
pour upon the ignorant aud the lowly who
cross their daily paths. They are strangers
TO the beautiful charities of life, which fall
upon the hungry and ever-yearuing soul
fresh and sweet and pure, as mamma from
the heart of heaven.
And of what worth is the homage OF the
world if those who breathe the order oi
our inner life are neither gladdesed. re
rreshed, nor purified 2 A pleasant word
we call little thing, but can we call any
thing httis which affects for veal or woe fhs
destiny of an immortal creature
We sigh for the Impossible. We pine e
be martyrs and heroes, to astonish the world
with great reforms, and refuse to use simpl,
uIQ lttoitNtAttito tOt 0OiA5 BOpA
which God has placed in the hands of all
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A TEIEeRAPHIo BLuxDER. The othet
day the Assistant Superintendent Of thI
Niagara Falls branch Of the Central H. r
at this place, received dispatch, dated a
the Falls, which read "Send down b!
6.15 p. NJ. train four coaches for Mrs. O.
Our FREUD thought rather uuusual, but Tn
dispatch was explicit After some dubita
tion, he concluded that the lsdy mentione
was probably about to give grand pic-ni
excursion, aud treat oil her dear five hnI
dred friends to ride upon rail TO SON
pleasant spot, and be hospltahle with ver
geance. -Four handsome passengers caI
were accordingly dispatched to the Falls.
When they arrived there the wonde
ment of the depot officials was excited b
: the arrival Of such train, and the thin
remained mystery until little more tel
graphing established the fact that the lad
J in question had swelled face, and ha
5 sent to Buffalo for four lseehes, which ha
Iko... .....,o.ted late. fNnp nooohaa NV III