Vicksburg weekly herald. (Vicksburg, Miss.) 1868-1883, 1869-12-25


longings for home and love anC
family. And yet down 90 all thu
barriers of the sternest resolution
before the irresistible approach o
the Christmas holidays and theI
the "Merry Christmases" Of boy,
hood all come throngiDg along and
range themselves, mentally, In
row and, nOleus voleuS. we arr
counting them and welcoming then
and fairly re.liviDg them, unit
manhood melts into boyhood, for 4
tears do not wilfully blind oul
eyes and furrow. our cheek they &c
dripping inwardly upon the hear
and seem choking up every avenue
of the arterial system. What q
power that thought Of Home has
over us!
I'VE leave
Our home In youth-no mSttert1 what end
study-or strife-or pleasure. o what no ;
q coming In q few short years, We
Al az We left Il outside; the old elms,
Inc hon,e, the grass, Eate', and latchet's
SELF 50 me click;
But lit that latchet-. all iI eAaRg'd az doom.
Alas |! yes, everything grows old,
decays aud passes away but the
soul and that immortal page bears
forever, the ineffaceable inscription
Of home, family and boyhood once
seen and known and loved but nev.
err again 10 be realized-neyer-
never.
And what thought surges more
swiftly over the heart amid
thoughts OF Home than that of
MOTHER?
There i none
In al this cold ard hollow word, 70 Gount
VI deep, strong d'a,h!ess !ove, save that
within
4. N liher's hearth
Aud the gushing fullness Of that
fountain Of love ceases not even
when the grave has stolen her away
but like the sweet echoes Of an an
gels anthem permeates afar into life
and even across Its bleakest deserts,
lighting up the dreary way with,
now and then, flashes of remem-
bered love and tenderness.
my Mother l--ManhOod's anxious brow
And sierner cares have long been mine;
Yet turn ITO thee iondly now,
As when upon thy b0Som's shrine.
MY infatt griGls were fOnulY hushed TO rest,
And tiny low whispered prayers my slumbeis
blessed"
But years have passed-years of
varied fortune, years Of toll, years Of
sorrow, years Of moral mutiny,
and the star that has penetrated the
darkest cloud and pierced the low.
est debasements In search Of the err
riRg one, the brightest diadem IN
Memory's circlet, has ever been the
unforgotten love Of Mother.
would, Mother, thou eould'st hear me tell
How Oft, amid my brief career,
For sins and follles lov'd too wen,
Hath fallen the free, repentant tear"
Fathers, brothers and sisters are
dearly loved, but Mother Is the pre-
siding genius Of home, and she It is
whose presence, living, makes Us
cherish home, and whose memory,
dead, sanctifles II. None feel more
keenly how blessed is home than
those who know It not except by
the fervid recollections o youth.
Who does not know the story Of
poor Howard, the homeless wan
derer who died, almost Of starva.
ton in q foreign land, and who was
buta waif-a Responding, desper-
ate waif--upon the ocean of life
And he, the homeless and friend
less and hopeless could sing:
BE It ev r so humble,
There's no place Ike htme",-
a song, aye, an anthem, that has
subdued hearts stubbornly estrang-
ed, and brought tears to many eyes
that needed not to blush for It..
Home! How mighty the respon.
sibility devOlving upon parents to
make 1t happy? How important
that its atmosphere should be such
that the influence thereof should
extend throughout life
Oh, then we can lovingly recur
to its pleasant memories with ten
der throbbings Of the heart, and
in q new inspiration in those
momentary pauses in life.
We 20 away from home, per-
in youth, and wander for
thinking Of that coming time
We shall go back again, and
though our bodies go not, our
spirits do, and fondly mingle again,
and again with the loved, familiar
scenes. We are ever hoping that
our wanderings will bring us home
at last,-to that very same old
home that once we knew, never
once thinking Of the dismal change
that time may have brought. In
the words OF Goldsmith's traveller
in all my wandsrIngs round this world of
In all my griefs and God has given my
share
| still had hopes nv latest hours 10 crown,
Amidst those humble bOw'Ts TO lay me down;
To husband out lies taper at the close,
And keep the dame from wasting, by Iep0Se.
And, as q hare, whom hounds and horns
pursue
Pants 70 the place from whence at lrstshe
/ still ban hopes, my long yexations past
There 10 retuFn-And die Of home atlASt."
We pray God that many, many
are thinking Of homes they
haze, and Of dear ones they viii see
but soon and God comfort those
who have no such blissful thoughts
Ind ere homeless n The world
his cOMing ChriStmAs' Saturday