The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1870-01-13
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Mothers The.ghts On Christnas.

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ED1ron Joun.A1: fors spostss pa
and an artist's fancy to paint the beauties
Of my Lakeside home, this gloriopsc Christ
mas morning Il Laususseifsila to pss4r.t:
the beautiful, grand; dad even 6 sublime
panorama, which Dame Nsturs,, Win The
assistance Of Jack Frost. has spread before
US this lovely morning. AsIst.ad,ia ny.
cabin door, my gaze FIRST wandefs north
and east, where = forest Of oak and maple
stretches out until the stately trees seem to
loom up against the sky beyond, lifting the
King Of Day fro n one branch to another
until he bursts forth in al his splendor far
above their tallest tops. To the west il q
rolling prairie, with here and there few
trees, and the "mounds' seen in tho dis
lance look like the snow-topped peaks Of
some mountain range. To the south is our
beautiful like, seen through the branches
Of half circle Of trees upon its shore,
and its smooth surface relieved by here and
there IN island, filed with beautiful trees
and shrubhery, loaded with pure white
glittering gems darling back "Old SOILS"
rays, and with every breath Of ;''Boreas''
filing the air with feathery, fantastic gems
And then, to crown all, here are the giant
old oaks, standing at each corner Of our
log cabin, clasping their huge arms pro-
tectingly above its low roof. and filed by
Jack Frost with more bright, daz.ling Or
nsments than ever Christmas tree was I'LL
ed before. ( :::. p =, =
Christmas morning! Merry Christnas
And yet how many Of the readers Of THE
JOURNAL are far FROM. merry to-dayl How
many sad and weary hearts! How many
eyes are weeping as they never wept be-
fore! This snow, so bright, so pure, Gov
ers the forms Of loved ones gone from US
forever. When We think Of it Is lying up
on their graves. it seems cruelty cold, and
the sorrow-stricken heart 6, les out in re-
bellion. As I wrote this last line. my eye
caught the name Of "Little Nettie," in
THE JOURNAL. All, yes, another angel
was wanted in heaven, and "Little Nettie''
has gone. Oh, if could say one word to
cheer that grief-stricken mother! If but
for moment I could bring her from the
dark shadows Of despair into Gods glori-
Gus sunshine! It would be happy Christ
mas indeed for me, for too have been
through the FIRE. know that word Of
sympathy even frsm an unknown writer ID
precious. Although it may not dry the
tear-dimmed eye. it may render the heart
less bitter: Weep on, poor mother. Well,
I know the tears must fall. But in after
years. when LIES pathway is toughest, you
may thank the All-Father that "Netie" is
at rest. :,.: =, }st.:
The JOURNAL seems to me like link in
IN invisible chain binding its readers to
each other. There are the letters of the
different correspondents talking to US
there are the marriages )" the notices O.
different amusements, telling Of the happy
there are notices Of church serv1oes; telling
that "God is everywhere; ~ aud there af'
tho ''deaths," bidding US sweep viii
those that weep" Yet, although We 81
read the same words, how different are on
thoughts! BITTER SWEET.