Year: 1865

COMING AND GOING.


Sunshine and shadow comes and goes alter
nately, or with mingled influence CHECKER the
rceue of life. The first coming of a child in
to the household is more than the advent o
an angel A divine messenger might mort
surprise us, might play upon our wonder and
fear, or give food for reflection by his mes
sage.


But a child comes from as mysterious and
strange a land as the unknown sky. Every
day the little thing fills us with questions and
wonders of thought. One child is a whole
population. What is it! What will it be-
come! How shall we rear it? What is il
doing to us and within US? These thoughts
come and go, in light and shadow, in hope
and fear, ia gladnsss or sorrow, with footballs
as numerous as if whole host, and not one
little babe, were the subject of them. But
of the coming Of these little ones, poets and
parents have written abundantly.


What about their going? When they go
out to return no more we believe that the
door of the Fathers house was opened, and
they are safely at home. We weep. But it
is not that they are going, but that we are
left. We weep, not because they are inside Of
the gate, but because we are outside and the
door iS shut,


But there are other gOiDgs beside these
upward and heavenly ones. Children grow
up. Nothing on earth grows so fast as chill
dFsn, 1t was but yesterday, and that lad was
playing with tops, buoyant boy. He is a
man and gone now His foot is in the field,
his hand upon the sword. There is no more
for for ifo has alo
him. When a beginning is made, it is like
FaVsling stocking, stitch by stitch gives way
till all are gone. The house has not child
in it. There is no more noise in the hall
boys rushing pell nell it is very orderly now.
There are no more skates or sleds, bat balls
or strings, left scattered about. Things are
neat enough now.


There is no delay Of breakfast for sleepy
folks there is no longer any task before you
lie down, Of looking after anybody, and tuck
ing up the bed-clothes. There are no disputes
to settle, nobody to get off to school, nc COM
plants 40 opportunities, for impossible things,
no rips o,pend, no fingers to tie up, no faces
to be washed, or collars TO be arranged 1t
would sound like music to have some feet cat-
ter down the front stairs! Oh for some chill
dren's noise.


What used to all us that we were hushing
their loud laugh, checking their noisy frOlic,
and reproving their saming and banging the
doors? We wish our neighbors would lend US
an urchin or two to make a little noise in
these premises. A home without children
II is like a lantern and no candle; garden and
no flowers vine and no grapes; brook and
no water gurgling and rushing in its chaunelk
We want to be tried, to be vexed, to be run
over, to hear child-lile at work with all its va.
rieties.


During the secular days, this is enough
marked. But it is Sunday that puts homes 20
the proof. That is the Christian family day.
The intervales of public worship are long
spaces of peace. The family seems made up
on that day. The children are at home
You can lay your hand on their heads. They
seeR to recognize the greater aud lesser love-
10 God and to friends. The house is peaceful
but not still. There is a low melodious trilI
of children in it. But Sunday comes too still
NOW. There is a silence that aches in the ear.
There is too much room at the table, too
knpch at the hearth. The bedrooms are a
WOrld too orderly. There is too much leisure
and too little care.


Alss3 what mean these thingsi Is some
body growing old? Are these signs and to-
kens? Is life BaniDg?


All summer long the great full-breasted
tree has covered his branches with numberless
leaves, and whirIed them in the wind for mu-
sic, and covered the little birds from sight
that sung and builded within. 1t was green,
and strong, and musical. At length single
leaf hangs 10 the tree with a brilliant color
You look at it and sigh, at is the first l
have seen this summer there will now be
more such.' Tomorrow it falls. Others
ripen and follow. Ere long the lice grows
thin. Every wind lifts many Of them, and
hands them down to the ground. Every day
there is less sound in the tree-every day more
of rustling leaves along the fence. At length,
after rain and windy bufeting, the tree
holds out its barren arms, and there are no.
where leaves upon them. Wait, o treel-
There are buds and leaves yet. Only between
thee and them is sleep, burial, resurrection
Winter is come, but so also is Spring coming.
-IHsnry Ward Beecher.


PRIM PEOPLE.