The Union. [volume] (Georgetown, Del.) 1863-1866, 1864-03-11
geIisiuu, asturals, geIle gettres.


nately, or with mingled influence checker
the scenes of life. The first coming of a child
into the household is more than the advent of
an angel. A divine messenger might more
surprise us, might play upon our wonder and
fear, or give food for reflection by his mes
sage. 81 a.s-
But child comes from as mysterious and
strange land as the unknown sky. Every
day the little thing fills us with questions
and wonders of thought. Ono child is a
whole population. What is it? what will it
become? how shall we rear it? what is it do
ing to us, and within us? these thoughts
come and go, in light and shadow, in hope
and fear, in gladness or sorrow, with footballs
as numerous as if whole host, and not one
little babe, were the subject of them. But
of the coming of these little ones, poets have
written abundantly. A"A
What about their going? When they 60
out to return no more, we believe that the
door of the Fathers house has opened, and
that they are safely at home. We weep, but
it is not that they are gone--but that we are
left We weep--not because they are inside
of the Gate--but because we are on the out
side, and tho door is shut. i'ny Ao.s-
! But there are other goings ssesideSaese up
ward and heavenly ones. Children grow up
Nothing grows 30 fast "a eiliiiissesa. Is''stss
but yesterday, and that lad'was playing with
tops, buoyant boy. He is man, and gone
now His foot is in the field his hand upon
the sword. There is no more childhood for
him or for us. Life has claimed him. When
beginning is made, it is like raveling
stitch by stitch gives way, till all are gone.
The house has not child in it. There is no
more noise in the hall-boys rushing in pell-
mell--it is very orderly now. There are no
more skates or sleds, bats, balls or strings,
left scattered about. Things are neat enough
now e-
There is no delay of breakfast for sleepy
folks; there is no longer any task before you
lie down of looking after any body, and tuck
! ing up the bedclothes. There are no dis
putes to settle. nobody to get off to school, nc
| opportunities for impossible things, no rips
to mend, no fingers to tic up, no faces to bt
: washed, or collars to be a5nfangedi There
was never such peace in the house! 1t would
sound like music TO have some feet clattei
down the front stairsl Oh, for some child
ren's noise!
What used to all us, that we were hushins
their loud laugh-checking their noisy froli'
/ and reproving their slamming and bang
!, ing the doors? We wish our neighbor
l would only lend us an urchin or two to max
a little noise in these premises. A@hous
e without children? 1t is like lantern apt
no candle; garden and no flowers; vim
i and no grapes; brook with no water gur
Cling and rushing in its channel, We wan
to be tired, to be vexed, to be run over, t
Il hear child-life at work with all its varities
During the secular days, this is enougl
e marked. But it is Sunday that puts al
t American home to proof. That is the Chris
tian family day. The intervals ef publ
d worship are long spaces of peace. The fam
d lily seems made up on that day. The child
J. rem are at home. You can lay your hand o.
u their heads. Thoy seem to recognize tn
o greater and the Lesser LoyeAto3God and I
friends. The house is peaceful, but not still
! There is a low and melodious thrill of chile
J rem in it. But Sunday comes too still nov
: There is silence that aches in the ear
|. There is too much room at the table, tco nnuc
b at the hearth. The bedrooms are worl
n too orderly. There is too much leisure an
too little care
e Alasi what mean these things7 Is sona
II body growing olda Are these signs and :
n kens7 Is life waning2 ~ -. y.
e All summer long the great full: breasts
y ! tree has covered. its branches by nunberle
: : leaves, and whirled theni in the wind for M
= sic, and covered the little birds frc-n sigl
that sung or buildsd therein. 1t was gree
Y and strong, and musical At lhngth a sing
Z. leaf hangs in the tree with-s brilhant colo
n Il You LOOK at it and Sigh 8 It is the FIRST tn
- - I have seen this summer; there viii now
a. more sach." Tomorrow IL falls. Others
ID pen and follow. Ere long the tree gro'
id thin. Every wind lifta many Of them, al
K. hands them down to the ground. Every d
p- there is less sound in the treej ctery d