Year: 1864

little cniid came dancing in from play
the other night, and climbed into his mother 5
lap. laid its head upon her bosom. and then
uttered these two little words. | saw the
fond young mother brush the golden hair
from the darling's moist forehead, and press
her lips again to the flushed cheeks. The
shadows of evening were falling fast around
US, and the birds had already sung themselves
to sleep. Little shoes and stockings were
drawn off and laid aside-Gttle weary feet
bathed and cooled-a little night dress took
the place of the pretty blue frock and white
apron. and the boy was quiet. With sigh
OF satisfaction, be next laid closer in her arms
his blue eyes closed, and her cradle song grew
lower and lower as his breath came longer
and more regular through his parted lirs
Happy sleep of childhood She rose and
went softly to her own room. to lay him in
his little crib, and | was left alone. Heaven
knows what memory of time, when |, too,
was Graded upon loving breast-when the
dead mother, whose face | cannot remember,
sang to me in the twilight-came, over me as
| took up the infants cry.


$50 tired ~


A man of business--a man whose name is
bond on Wall street. Why should he lean
his head upon his hand and sigh as the words
fall from his lips? Tired his gay and busy
life. of his elegant home. his fair daughters
and his fashionable wife? Tired of all these,
and longing for the little red farm house up
among the hills of his native home, where he
used to play bare footed, light-hearted boy ?
Even so. strange as it may seem Yet not
SO much fer the farm house as for the happi-
ness and innocence that stayed behind it, and
which he can never hope to find in his dusty
Office or his splendid home


So tired ~


She has been a loving wife and an indul.
gent mother. Six strong sons has she reared
beside the cottage hearth, but the grave has
claimed them all but two, and those the world
has taken. The husband of her youth died
long ago; and to-day, her sixteth birth day,
she sits alone in the deserted homestead. IL
her boys she is the old woman - to the
brilliant wives. "a good old thing, but toe
old fashioned !" to their homes and their
children almost a stranger Her tears fall
as she thinks of them in distant city,. CAV.
prosperous, wealthy, and happy, yet, not re.
membering her on this day, even by line. to
say, . Dear mother. | love you" This is
her reward for years of toll care and anxiety.
She has out-ived her generation, and when
she dies, she will hardly be missed by those
to whom she has given all her health, strength
and life Itself. Poor, lonely old woman !
Well may the bitter tears fall fast, well NAV
you long to die. This is often the return for
love end devotion that has oatwatched the
stars, and seen the moon grow pale


q So tired ~


Yes, turn from the brilliant crowd that lis
ten eagerly for every word you utter, fair
songstress, and heed what your heart is say
ing. Words of fire may fall from your rapid
pen; your own wild soul may stamp its i'm
press upon the page before you; the world
may place the crown of laurels upon your
bowed head. but it will he diadem ofthorns.
In the height of triumph in the fever of sue
cess, there will come a sudden pause and the
iron will enter your soul as you remen Der
that one voice is silent ard one face still,
calm and cold Fame, wealth. success-oh
what are these to happiness? Vanity, vanity
all, and '.vexation of spirit" and YOU bow
your head and weep to think that it should
be sol


Oh, little child, not yet released from tbv
mothers care, it would be better for thee to
sleep in the tranquil sleep of death. within
the shelter of her arms, than to tread the path
which we are treading There are sharp
thorns hidden among the fairest flowers
there are treacherous quicksands in the sweet.
est valleys. God help thee, my boy. for only
a hand from heaven can lead thee safely there.
The golden hair will turn to silver, it NAV
be, and the blue eyes will wear an anxious
troubled look before the painful and tedious
journey is half done, and evil shapes will
mock and mutter, when thy heart faileth thee
and thy steps are faint.


g So tired ~


My boy, cling close to thy mothers breast
For the day will surely come, when thy lips
will utter those self same words, and she will
not be beside thee to hush thee into forgetful-
ness of all thy trouble God help thee then,
and lead thee to the only refuge - where the
wicked cease from troubling aud the weary
are at rest"