Ellsworth American., 1863-06-12

s' Suppose the sun shsss siways bright
We should not heed his ray,
Oar brightest moments Of delight,
Are Oftsn fettered by delay.
(For the precious bit of philosophy we are
indebted to cur romantic friend Tom my
Noore.) All our real eajoyments in this
world are purchased with pain. temporary
and seemingly fruitless struggle for the at
tainment Of some darling purpose. otherwise
We should not know how to appreciate
fayors received from kind Providence nor
experience the delights of gratitude. All
tha, is good must be toiIed lUr-all that Is
best must be suffered for. - We are all
spoiled children, who soon grow weary OF
the treasures bestowed upon US by our
grim guardian fate, and cry for something
new, until that much berated personags ny
way of administering little saiutary dis
cipline withdraws her unappreciatci gifts,
by which course she soon brings Us back to
our senses, teaching US the value Of our lost
blessing. and setting US crying for their res
toration and vowing in our hearts that once
regained they will nevermore be unprised
Z" uome-home sweet, sweet home there is
no place like home" o the Seet plaintive
words Of that wonderfully affecting melody
hallowed by time and touching all hearts
with it's Irresistible pathos, yst only heart
sick wandercr can realize its full significance
How it goes thrilling through our hearts
when exiles from home, and full oil homesck
longings We hear it sung by strangers.
strangers to u. and yet they are at home,
surrounded by friends and acquaintance.
and the Land which seems so strange and
unloyable to Us is dear and familiar to them.
The sweet words have new meaning for US
and we turn away to hide the tears which
force themselves to our eyes as vivid pic
ture Of the home we have left with its tarnll-
liar scenes and faces, its tranquil joys and
priceless privelegs rises before our mental
visions aud like storm beaten birds We would
fiy back to the old nest and nestle there in
peace.
+" The strangers hcart-o vouni it not
A yearniRg anguish in its lot,
Beneath the SHADOW Of thy tree
The stran ger finds no rest with thee
Alas John Howard PANE. poor homeless
wonderer SO faithfully porsrayins the sweet
home blessing thou never could enjoy an
unquiei heart was ,ha, which dictated the
words of ,ha: song of home. swee,er and
more plaintive than the notes Of the dying
swan Let US trus. that in a better and
brighter world thoa has. found . hJm9
.weeter even than thy fond Imagination could
picture as existing on Earth, from which
nJne who reach 1t are ever exiled am at
home o the deliciou. feeling Of rep0se,
the sweet sense OF security the inef .ble
spirit Of contensment, the luxurious delight
0: Tasting the eyes upon the dear old famil-
lar scenery, Of seeing familiar face. around
US, aad hearing the dear old familiar voices,
none can understand this except be has cx.
perenced i wanderers wearines. aud unpa
tence q. a long and plinfal absence from
home. Still it is sad - par. from those Who
have becn kind 10 u. 10 our wan d.ADGs, the
pain Of parting with them minsIes with cur
joyful au,icipations OF welcome at home, bu.
analloyed pleasure is not Tor the world
- II. sweet TO rt6ec, that wherever rove
We are sute to fad .oms;ai5s welcoms and dear,
But Alas Tor those weary ones af Earth who
know no. the meaning Of the swee, word
heme
" Iclfy June" is making good her title
Of tia, afpellation, The trees appear IN all
;hc glory Of green leaves. blossoms pink
and white ad9rn the sturdy apple trees,
the liLacs difilsc their fragrance and Nature
dorned her iavorle robe Of festive green
o beautiful June queen Of months crown.
e! With roses and green leaves with thy genial
skies aud eefs balmy breezes, we couldwi-h
To keep thee with Us forever q wha, is
50 rare as day in June But the baImy
June day ia drawing to It's close and So mus,
be my hastily scritbied let;er. Good bye.
H.