Year: 1860




"Old. fashioned mothers" have nearly
all passed away, with the blue check and
homespun woollen OF a simpler but purcr
time. Here and there one remains, truly
accomplished, in heart and life, for the
sphere of home. Old-iashioned mothers
God bless them who followed US with
heart and prayer all over the world; lived
in our lives and sorrOwcd in our gricfs
who knew more about patching than poe
try; spoke no dialect but that Of love
never preached nor wandered; "madc
melody with their hearts :" and sent forth
no books but living volumes that honOrcd
their authors and blessed the world. IL
woman have o broader mission now, in
Heavens name let her fulfill it If she
have aught to sing, like the daughters Of
Judah, let her sit down by the waters Of
Babel, and the world shall weep; like Mi
riaD, let her trumpet strain float glorious
ly over crushed bnt giant wrong, and the
world shall hear but let the trumpet aud
lament issue, as did the Oraclcs Of old,
from behind the veil that cannot be rent
the Inner temple" Of sacred Home.
Within it should be Cnslrincd the divinity
of the place. Here, and here only, would
we find woman here imprison her
nlpriSon her! Aye, as the lighthouse ray,
that flows out, pure as an angels pulse,
into the night aud darkness OF the world
"a star beneath the cloud but brightest
there - warmcst thcrc--always there
where Heaven did kindlc it, within the
precinct, the very altar.placc of home! 1t
is related Of Madam Lucciola, renowned
vocalist, that she ruined splendid tenor
voice by her efforts to initiate male Sing
ing. Many sweet voice and gentle in
tluencc in the social harmony has been lost
to the world in the same manner. There
is nothing more potent than a woman's
voice, if heard, not in the field or forum,
but at home. The song bird of eastern
story, borne from its native isle, grew
dumb and languiShcd. Seldom did it sing,
and only when it saw dweler from its
distant land, or to its drowsy perch there
came a tone heard long ago in its own
woods. So with the song that woman
sings-best heard within Homes sacred
temple. Elsewhere, trumpet tone, per-
hapS an elation cry-but the lute.likc
voice has fled the meszO soprano is lost
in the discords Of earth. The old home
stead wish could paint it for you as
it is-no, no, dare not say as it iS-as it
was; that we could go together tonight,
from room to room, sit by the old hearth,
found which that circle of. light and love
once swept, and there linger till oil those
simpler, purer times returned and then
we should grow young again. And how
can we leave that spot, without remcIn-
bcring one form that occupied, in days
gone by, 1.-the old arm chair"-that old
fashioned mother !-one in all the world,
the law of whose life was love; one who
was the divinity Of our infancy, and the
sacred presence in the shrine of our first
earthly idolatry one whose heart is far
below the frostS that gather SO thickly on
her brow one to whom we never grow
old, but in the "plumed troop" or grave
council, are children still one who well
coined US coming, blessed us going, and
never forgetS us-nevcr And when, in
some closet, some drawer, some corner, she
finds garment or toy that once was
yours, how does she weep as she thinks
you may be suffering or sad. And when
spring "leaves her robe on the trees" !"
does she not remember your tree, and wish
you were there to see 1t in its glory p
Nothing is far" and nothing "lOng," to
her; she Girdles the glance with tincturc
of love; she encircles her child if he be on
the face of the earth. Think you, as she
sits in that we'll remembered corner TO-
night, she dreams her trembling arm is
less strong to protect him now, stalwart
man though he is, than when it clasped
him, an infant, to her bosom2 Does the
battle of life drive the wandcrer to the old
homestead at last Her hand is upon his
shoulder; her dim and fading eyes arc
kindlcd with something of "thc light Of
other days." as she gazcs upon his brow
"Be Of stout heart, my sonl No harm
can reach thee here! Surely, there is but
one heaven, one mother, and one God!"