Year: 1863

d.


BY EANA ?. PRADr.


Roll backward oh tide Of years; lei
me hear again the happy voices that are
revibrating in the corridors Of the Past
NY heart is weary oh ! 90 weary Of life's
hustle, din and turmoil. Oh! to once
again shut out the din and tumult, and be
= child-a careless, free and happy child
who rich in spirits and health revelled in
an unbroken sunshine Of happiness.


There is little log cabin, reader, in q
cozy forest glen and that lovely spot is
hallowed by some Of the happiest and
brightest CLEANS which have illumined my
life. While yet an infant my mother lef
this wilderness below, and went to dwell
in the celestial city. Ny father desirous
Of fleeing from the scene his sorrow and
desolation, placed me in the care Of the dear
old couple, and sought employment in q
distant city, and thus it was that I, the
little motherless infant, became as thei'
own. My first remcmbrances arc Of the
dear old front room with its white muslin
curtains, its neat, rag carpet and flag hot
toned chairs the mantle over which hung
the pictures Of "Burns and his Highland
Mary" and Presidents, with Washington
in the centre. Then the sitting room, with
the old clock whose friendly tic.tack, told
the quiet moments as they peacefully Gid
ed by. That old clock was great marvel
to me, for upon its door was paintings Of
fashionable beaux and bellies Of ifty years
ago, with bonnets that rose high and grand
in front "a little worse than the present
style) and sleeves that looked as though
they might have contained pillow or so.
Then "Grandma' would tell how she once
had dress made Of beautiful French calico
and how she wore it to corn husking the
first time.


Then there was the old cherry table,
whereon Iwrote my first essay for the vii
Iage school, the dresser in the marv slously
neat kitchen, with its row Of bright pans
upon it, and within the blue ware with
such beautiful pictures on them. I'd rather
drink tea to-day from enc Of those cups,
reader, than one Of the most costly China,
and the cherry table would be far more val
liable to me than the most elegant marble.
topped mahogany. can remember dis
tinctly my per happiness when in the
long quiet summer afternoons Grandma
sat with her work basket before Ter fixing
something for "that dear child' while
sat on Grandpa's knee in the vine covered
porch reading to him, for he had been per.
fect'y blind many years. Long weary
years have passed since then and in distant
clmes have wandered: have gathered
to my heart many dear friends, but no
voice has ever fallen on my heart so sweet.
ly as the voices of the old couple praying
"God to bless that dear child" know
now that thsir hearts were true and no
need Of praise or word Of adulation can
ever sound as sweet as the Ginning of the
whispering the fond prayer,
"Qed bless that dear child :"


They still live, reader the old cottage is
still just about the same with few i'm.
provements. Nothing scarcely is changed
except the gay happy child of fifteen years
ago. She has grown from the careless
child to the woIld-weary, care-worn wo-
man life's bright flowers faded and
the glad leaping joy fountains dried. Oh !!
for one hour Of that blessed childhood,
when the heart might forget its burden Of
care and the hollowness and decet of the
world and enjoy the love Of the true hearts
that blessed me then.


MADISON, Wis, Sept 7th, 1868.