Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1870-10-29
d Mother, Home and Heaven.

How closely associated in the mind are the
names, Mother, Home demonstrating up in
the soul kindred feelings, and awakening the
most innocent and soothing emotions. Soper-
feet IS their union in our thoughts, that the
conception of the one is incomplete without
the other. 1t is when we think ofmother that
all the tender emotions of the heart are awak
cned, and oil the pleasing remembrances of
her who was our guardian and protector du-
ring our infancy, come trooping up to the
mind in countless numbers. With what de-
votion docs the heart still cherish her image!
And in after years, how tcnderly and closely
docs the heart cling to all the tender rcmem-
brances that bring up to the mind her beloved
form and features With what variety of
emotions does the soul mediate on the happy
hours spent in her society 1t was then that
the heart in its innocence drank deep of the
fountain of mirth and joy. 1t was she who
instllcd into our minds the Importance of
mental culture, and that we must lay up those
treasures of. knowledge that last through all
the changes and vicissitudes of life, and in the
darkest hours afford us comfort and joy. Ii is
the mothers prcrogatve to subdue our evil
passions, and endeavor to render us kind, obe-
dien! and gentle. For every act of unkind.
ness and disobcdence, how bitter the repent
ance, and how burning the tears, wrung from
the agonized soul, as a just retribution for the
violation of natures most holy law. She sup
piled our childish wants, and no one was hap
pier, when she saw us cheerful and buoyant.-
1t is a mother that throws charm around the
place we call home she Is the ruling spirit of
the domestic circle, inspiring nll with gentle
ness and love-the star whose light cndcars
every object on which it falls. There is a
mysterious charm i'm the word home that
wakes the kindliest feeling of the heart. The
interest we feel in the place where we have
passed the morning of our existence, is, no
doubt, the reflection of the affection we feel to-
ward the dear ones that have rendered it a
paradise but it soon becomes intrinsic, and
the very hills, rocks and rivulets throw acharm
around the spot of our nativity. The lofticst
harps have been tuned to sing of home, sweet
home; the rose that unfolds its fair petals in
the garden where one has been accustomed to
wander in early years, is far dearcr to him
than all the roses; no songs are as sweet as
those we heard warbled among the boughs at
parents dwelling no waters are like the
dear silver stream that winds along the flower
decked knolls, at q short distance from the
dwelling, and where we have often strayed
and plucked the modest violet or fair lilly, to
twine garland for some kind friend or loved
school-mato Wcmay wander far away, and
mngle in the worlds fierce srifes, and form
new associations and new friendships, ana fan
cy we have almost forgotten the place Of our
nativity, but, at some evening hour, when all
is calm and serene, and the stiffness of which
is broken only by the requiem of the autumn
Winds the remembrance of other days steals
over our souls like amagic spell, aud fancy bears
us back TO childhood scenes, and we roam a.
mid the familiar haunts, and press the hand OF
companion long since cold in the grave, and
listen to the voice of those we shall see no
more. it's then that q sensation of melancholy
steals over us, which is pleasant yet mournful
to the soul How does the heart of the wan.
derer beat, and his eyes fiil with tears, as he
catches glance at the hills of his nativity
and when he has pressed the lips of kind
father and mother, he hastens 10 see If the gar.
den, orchard and streams look as they did in
days Of yore, But this, our earthly home
must Gro long, fade and vanish away and
our dear parents, relations and friends, bound
d TO us by the holiest ties of affection. must be
laid in the cold and silent grave. But there il
one home where there is no sickness nor sor-
rpw, pain nor death, and the bright beings
that inhabit the delightful region, dwell il
endless bliss and happiness. The flowers tha
blossom there will never fade; the crystal wa
ters that wind along those verdant plains viii
never cease toisend up their heavenly music
and the little blooms scattered along its run
ming banks, aIe decked with Immortal ,hues
here most glOrlously blend In one--Mother
Home and Heaven. - RasA vilLe Advocate! sisfJ