, 1876-03-03
The Wanderer.

derers from home and kindred, anu as We
| look at this one or that we try to pic
ture to ourselves the very circumstances
of his leaving home. Here is one, who
from love of adventure left the home of his
bovhood. Ran away. perhaps, with an
his worldly goods on his back and his
mind filed with the glorious freedom OF a
sailors life which he has CLEANED from the
exciting stories of some sensational news
paper. But alas, poor boy! romance De
comes stern reality when he Is shlppeu IN
some outward-bound vessel and finds him
self fairly out in the boundless ocean, TOO
sick to know or care what is going on
around him. But this is finally thing OF
the past with him, and instead OF the al
venturous youth we now see the ruddy-
faced, broad-shOuldered man. In the
meantime he has paid many visits to the
old folks at home who, perhaps, never
| having been far from the homestead look
up with much pride to their sailor boy who
( has been all over the world.
Here is middle-aged man; ask him
how he came to be here and he will tel
YOU to better himself financially. There
seemed to be no opening for him at home
so, when quite youth, he bade father and
/ x
speedy return with untold riches. But
| the scale of fortune turns not as he would
have 1t; his efforts are not always success
full; he finds it uphill work, as fortunes
are not as easily made as his youthful i'm
aginatiOn fancied. The years come and
90 and the now aged parents are longing
| to see their boy. 81 am coming soon, {"
he writes, and day after day they watch
and wait. "Hope deferred, maketh the
heart sick" and the aged couple, totter-
ing along hand in hand to the grave,
quietly fall asleep on its brink ere their
hearts wash Is realized.
From another and an older man-one
whose dark hair is plentifully sp-inkled
with gray-we hear the assertion so en-
phatically made; "Next year am going
home Ihave been away so long l am
tired rowing about. Poor, weary wander
er! He went home before the next year
came-hOme to his fathers house in the
skies. Strangers milistered to him while
the fever burned In his veins, and friendly
hands robed him for the burial. Neither
parent, sister or brother to stlnd around
that open grave, but strangers with un-
covered heads reverently lower the body
and pile the sOds above it.
But, ah sadder than all, to tell, In the
reeling form before US we behold the too
common effect Of wandering life. One
look at the face now so marrnd by intem-
perance tells us that nature had endowed
the man with more than ordinary ability.
Yes, and some will tells he was once not
only the pride of loving mothers heart.
but of all who knew him. In the glow. of
youthful manhood he started out to see
the world, as he expressed It; drifted
along until almost beyond the pale Of civ
ilization. For a long time there Is a
chance In "roughing It" among the wilds
Of new country, but 1t soon becomes
monotonOus and, away from society,
among strangers, little or nothing to do,
how gladly anything Is welcomed TO pass
away the time, and too often card-playing
and drinking are the principal features Of
an evenings entertainment. otis only
for pleasure-it will not hurt me-" he
says, but before he knows It intemperance
has fastened its clutches upon him, aud
without friendly hand to guide him, he
goes down lower and lowernntil they call
him soT. He tries to drown the past in
perfect oblivion but there are times when
memory's gate will open In spite OF his ef-
forts to the contrary, and his mind goes
back over the years Of his wanderings
taTd 6gAin he sees himself a man. respected
by men. Again, he feels his mothers
hand as she smooths the hair from his
brow, reaching up to kiss him and calling
him her bonny boy" and he meets her
eyes with look as pure as her own. But
now as he goes to the glass he looks on
carc-worn face-aged before Its time
at the gray hairs, the dull sunken eyes,
and glancing down he sees the shabby
kl.4- ~ l.. l.
bitterness Of his spirit he cries out "Oh,
my mother, II you could only save your
boy but 1t Is too late." Poor wreck Of
humanity The cold, hard world will do
nothing 10 save you. 1t will only try to
hold you down, now you are down. Its
broad mantle OF charity Is only IN name.
Its opinion Is loudly proclaimed - he's
nothing but q drunkard, let him 90, YOU
can't make anything out Of him-and they
pass by on the other side.
Here Is a maiden who has taken her
flight from the home-nest, delighted at
first with the idea Of trying her wings.
Al occasional glimpse ofthe world through
books has given the young innocent heart
a longing to enter and see for Itself.
What hurry, rush and hustle In getting
things ready, only stopping long enough
to do or say some absurdly funny thing
to drive the blues away. What wonder
that the mother, with arms closely folded
around her child, talks long and earnestly
to her. Her love has thus far shielded
her girl from the blights Of the world,
and now she must let her go and find out
by sad. experience how empty and false Its
ways are. Now she can only shield her
by prayers to tile nll-wise Father. Soon
all Is ready; the long, lingering goodbye
Is said and In few short days thousands
ofmiles are between those dear ones.
And thus we find them on all sides old
and young, rich and poor, of every cline,
wanderers In strange land. To the end
Of time friends will part with friends
some to meet in this world again and some
never till they meet In the land above.
Few are the homes In which no one Is
missed from the circle" whose home
coming Is looked forward to with all the
joy the heart is capable of. ADRIPT.
Coupeville, Feb. II, 1873.