The dollar weekly bulletin. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1862-1864, 1863-08-27


DEAR MoTHER.-But Just now our eye
fellupon these precious words, the sole in
scrption of stray scrap of paper on the
desk Of our 'sanctum' Who wrote them,
matters not-they may have been the
heading Of letter, written, or one attended
to be written, but thrown aside ere It was
begun. Magical words-the tsnderest and
hottest Of our tender, yet sturdy Saxon
tongue, which, among all the tongues spo-
ken, is pre-em iBently rich in tender and
loving words. Magical words-uttered by
every son and daughter of man since Adam
walked in paradise. Who cannot dwell
upon them with the rapture Of living Low @,
or the delight Of sacred remem brance?-
Dear Motherl 1t is the fond plant of the
helpless nursliug-the gushing cry of
childhood and youth-the earnest utterance
of manhood, and among the fairest m en-
cries of old age. ~
Dear Motherl Whether present or alb
sent-and though absent or dead, yet ever
present-how have those words, inspired
by the tie that links her most affectionate-
ly to the human race, rung over the earth
in hottest of joy and triumph, or in chords
Of sorrow and anguish. How have they
brooded in the deep places of the heart,
begettipg the hottest emotions, the purest
thoughts, the sweetest recollections.-
From the SOD, away on the deep, olasping
her parting gift, the Bible. to his breast, or
his own parting gift, the Bible, to his breast,
or his own heavy hands to fevered brow,
how have the words, Dear Mother sped
over lands and seas, until they found, and
nestled, in the mothers heart. From the
daughter, parted from her home By that
other tender love, which babe her forsake
father and mother to follow the young lord
OF her heart, how fondly the Dear mother
has posted back to the home hearth, burth-
ened with the fragrance of affection. From
beds of sickness, from goals of crime, from
depths of misery, shame and remorse, how
increasingly have come up those precious
words, Dear Mother How many a war
rior's soul has breathed them oct on tho
battle field; low many felon has uttered
them out from the prison cell; how many
son and daughter have sped them joy
fully to announce a fruition of desire, o
goal Of triumph.
Whatever the path and whatever the
fortune, the Dear NJ other has shared, in all
the destinies of her children. She has
nursed them, she has trained them she has
been loved, and mourned, and rem en- hered
by them. The father may have lapsed from
the child's memory, but the Mother, new er !!
Humble or high, the tie has been equally
tender No soul could supplant her, no
being fill her place. 1t was the blood cry
ing unto blood, with deathless yearning-
with longing which noyears could satiate.
Dear Mother on earth or in heaVen-and
II not on earth, in heaven thou surely art,
beautiful among the sngels-to thee, thy
love and thy virtues, may our hearts be
eternal monuments. Enduring ALL forgiv-
Ing all, never hopeless, never wearied. but
loving on and loving ever, amid sorrow and
shame. as in joy, and gIadness, and glory,
thou art worthy of the fond phrase Dear
Mother-worthy of the affection and rev.
erence which have made thee an idol on
the consecrated shrine of home, and wher-
ever human pulse throbs throughout the
universe of God.