Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1874-03-18
Going Home.

II was scarcely more than an hours drive
along quiet country road. For a mile or
two the reluctant village struggled after.
Then we passed solitary larm.houses and
laborers' cottages, a vineyard, an old grave.
yard, and the rugged sides Of a rocky bill.
And tehn little belt Of wooded swamp
lands stretched out its arms Of fir and pine
and hemlocks, full Of spicy odors, and
merry little birds, aud squirrels and grey
rabbits, all the summer long. In the win
ter this was the place where the fairies
hung out their washngs, and sometimes
their pearls aud diamonds Beyond. the
road grew rougher and narrower, winding
up hill and down hill, over tumbling brooks
aud noisy river.
But every rod Of the way was as familiar
as our fathers house. We knew where and
when to look for the waxen cups of shining
laurel, for pink azaleas, for the earliest May
flowers, and the latest trails Of cematis
and swinging southern moss. We knew,
too, when a meadow fence had been built or
mended, and saw, with ready interest, every
patch of new shingles on waysde house
or barn. We noted whose haying as com.
ing on earliest, whose woodpile was largest,
and whose corn promised best while every
face we met was the face Of a friend. SO
with many nod and smile, and word Of
neighborly greeting, we drove at last faster,
as we came to the end of our journey up to
our fathers door.
They had heard from within the sound
Of our coming wheels, and there on the
threshold stood our mother, smiling and
stretching out her hands. Presently from
across the street and across the garden, one
and another of our friends came in, always
so glad to see us Had to see us for our
selves, and glad for the ripple of outside
life we brought to the quiet neighborhood.
The table was laid with the choicest of farm
and dairy the little family troubles were
brought out for consideration and sympa.
thy, as well as the family joys and for our
brief stay we were the center of the house.
hold and neighborhood.
But of all the pleasures of the welcome
home, the smiling mother with the out.
stretched hands is the dearest symbol now.
1t is eight years since the eager hands
were folded for their rest under the grass
on the hillside. Folded forever We 20
and come, and come and 60, but they beckon
us nevermore We SEQ the white head
stone that says SO little and yet SO much,
from the windows Of the room that was hers,
but we see nothing besides.
Has that loving heart forgotten, then ?
Are the hands to be stretched out to us
mover again2 Are the swift feet STAYED
forever in their coming2 No! no 1t is
only that our journey home is not yet ac-
This empty, hungry, aching
" mother-want" will be one day satisfied.
We are on our journey, up hill, down
hill, aud in all sorts of weather. Along
familiar scenes and among friendly faces.
Nearer and nearer, faster aud faster. Al
ready they within the veil may have heard
the sound Of our coming, and be pressing to
meet us with outstretching welcome. The
things which God hath prepared have not
entered into the heart Of man. but we have
each our own thought and expectation of
heaven. Aud for me, my heaven is always
as a going home. Aud as the heavens are
higher than the earth, so will be the 10y of
that home coming higher than the JOY of this.
Christian Union