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— Dortlani
GOULD & ELWELL,
BY
Office 80 Middle, near Corner of Exchange St.
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE,
VOLUME XV.
PORTLAND, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1852.
at
TERMS: $1,50 PER YEAR.
One Dollar for Eight Months, in advance.
NEWS, SG. hs
NUMBER 43. -,
-.. BOETRY.
THE MOTHER’S HAND.
A wandering orphan child was I—
But meanly, at the best, attired ;
For 0, my mother scarce could buy
“The common food each week required ;
But when the anxions day had fled,
It seemed to be her dearest joy
To press her pale hand on my head,
And pray that God would guide her boy.
But more each winter, more and more
Stern suffering brought her to decay ;
‘And then an angel passed her door,
Who ne‘er knelt by a dying bed;
All other wo on earth is brief
Save that which weeps a mother dead.
A senman’s life was then my lot,
’Mid reckless deeds and desperate men ;
But still [ never quite forgot.
The prayer I ne’er should hear again.
And oft, when half induced to trend
Such paths as unto sin decoy,
I've felt her fond hand press my head
And that soft touch hath saved her boy.
Thongh hard their mockery to receive
Who ne'er themselves ’gainst sin had striven,
Mer whoon earth! dared not grieve
I could not, would not, grieve in heaven ;
And thus from many an action dread,
Too dark for human eyes to scan,
The same fond hand upon my head, *
‘That blessed the boy hath saved the man,
A STORY OF REAL LIFE.
: Written for the Transcript.
TIE PRODIGAL SON,
BY SOSEPHUS.
Dear Reader, I will tell you a tale of every day
life, and may it leave its impress upon your heart,
that, in the evil hour, you may guard against irrev-
erence and ingratitude.
©Jn_a rural spot, far from the tumult of the city,
out in the country, where the pure winds of heaven
blow, I found a farmer's cottage. Nothing strange
or startling in this, you say; and so there isn’t ;—
but this cottage—Ict me tell you: There is a pen-
sive, unassuming beanty abont it, which attracts at-
fention and invites acquaintance. You would ad-
mire it, too, could you see it. Flowers bloom in
the front-ground ; above them sfoop two nobleelms
where the birds sing.- The door and roof are man-
tled with embowering vines. North of this solitary
home, the land gradually rises, terminating in a
rampart of high hills that seem to lie close up to
the sky, and forming a brond, beautiful bow, or
semi-circle. On the sonth, it slopes in gentle un-
dulations till it meets a dark, meandering stream,
coursing westerly to a little lake, just discernible
from the hill tops. But this is no new picture, you
vay, It is particularly associations that make a
scene like this peculiarly attractive, so I will tell
you the story.
Near the close ofa pleasant day in August, 1849,
Ichanced to enter this valley, and being weary,
sought a stranger's hospitalitics for the night. A
gentle rap brought an elderly’ gentleman to the
door, who bid’ me “walk in” before I stated the
object of my call. He ushered me into a neatly
carpeted room, where he had been sitting engaged
in perusing the news of the day. I was welcomed
to stop: On one side of this room was a large book-
case filled with miscellancous beoks, and on the op-
posite side hung a portrait of a young man, evi-
dently about eighteen years of age. Tt was a noble
figure for a youth, so life-like it seemed a reality.
His eye was piercing and intelligent; but it exhib-
ited restlessness. While intently absorbed in study-
ing the picture, and cogitating as to the character
of the original, my host tarned towards me, observ-
ing the intensity of my look, and casually remark
ed that it was a beautiful evening. “We have here
a fine view of the sunset,” he continued, endeavor-
ing to arrest my attention. ‘I turned towards him
his face was flushed with a peculiar expression—
he read my thoughts. “Yes,” I remarked, “it is in-
deed beautiful, and the yiew from this window is
fine. You will excuse me, sir, for. my inattention,
I was admiring that picture, and was_ particularly
interested in tracing its resemblance to you, and
the familiarity of the expression. I think I. have
seen that countenance before.” “It is even proba-
ble,” he added. 3 “As you are from the city of —,
you may have several years ago seen my son there.
Ile: is not living now.”.. Our: conversation. then
turned upon the affairs of the city, where he had
formerly resided. ; His acquaintance . with its citi-
zens was more extensive than mine, and I felt quite
at home, so far distant from my own residence. A
half hour thus passed very pleasantly,when a young
lady entered the room, starting a little at the pres-
ence of a stranger.. After the usual forms of intro-
duction, she briefly related to her father her pleas-
ant rambles in the woods, and good success in find-
ing berries. This was told in so artless a manner,
she appeared pleasing and intelligent. She was
the very picture of her father, having his generous
look, his high forehead, and brilliant eye; but while
he was old, his noble brow furrowed by the hand of|
time, she was yeung and beautiful, yet exhibiting
a shade of melancholy upon her countenance, like
that of her father... It was evident these two were
all that lived in this almost solitary spot, and that
the wife and mother, the son and brother had gone
away to another clime.
Again I gazed out upon the western sky, m
tinged with a deep purple hue, with golden fringed
clouds hanging down close to the tops of the hills.
Night was hastening on gently and sweetly. While
thus gazing and admiring, my eye rested upon a
little hillock a few rods to the right of the garden
in front, on which. stood two white marble slabs,
side by side, indicating that some loved ones were
sleeping there. .. As my host and his daughter seem-
ed busy, I Icisurely sauntered out to the little hil-
lock... This was the family eemttery. Two green
mounds were here, beautifal with sweet, blooming
flowers. The few lingering beams of the setting
sun afforded me just light enough to trace the fol-
lowing lines : .
“ALBERT JS NOT TERE;
He went away from Earth in the Bloom of Life,
Oct. 21, 1844.—Aged 28 Years.
“@ONE TO LIVE AGAIN!
MRS. MARY DANA,
Departed this Life for Heaven, May 10, 1836,
‘\aGEp 42 rears.” .
For awhile I lingered there, silently lost in med-
itation, musing upon the solemnity and sacredness
of the spot. It was a fit, place to’ meditate upon
the past and the futare—a hallowed place for the
pilgrim of earth, yearning for a “rest to come.”—
When the curtains of night hang dark around me,
and all was so still, how much did this world seem
like the shadows of a cloud passing away, to reveal
to us the pure sunshine of the Iappy Land! Ire-
turned to the cottage a better man.
“I perceive,” said-Mr. Dana, “that you have
been paying a visit to our little cemetery. It is not
often that a young man like yourself finds it a pleas-
ure.” “Perhaps I love such places because of the
associations they bring to mind—because of the
fact that I have friends resting in the valley of
death. This remark arrested his attention. “Then
your son died young?” “Yes.” was the reply, “he
was cut down as a flower just in the bloom, but”—
Here he paused, the feelings of his heart forbidding
utterance. “Young man,” said he at Iength, “since
you are just in the morning of life, and are conse-
quently surrounded by dangerous temptations, I
will tell you briefly, the history of my son, that you
may profit thereby. Sad it may be, but salutary
in its influence. Although you may be strong in
your integrity, unwavering in your purposes, as T
judge you to be, yet remember none of us are al-
ways sure, always fortified against temptation. I
think you would like to hear me ?” “I shall be most
grateful for the history,” 1 answered.
“Several years ago, I was a resident of your city,
extensively and successfully engaged in mercantile
business till my failure, cansed through ‘the instru-
mentality of my Albert, when I moved to this spot,
which by dint of labor I have prepared for my fu-
ture home. .
“Albert was born and educated there. When: a
little boy, he bid fair to arrive at manhood’ with
always animated with a happy brilliancy, his coun-
tenance ever glowing with zeal and joy, his step
buoyant, his disposition: mild, sympatbizing, and
kind. He was the love of his mother and the pride
of his father’s ambition.. , We determined to give
him a thorough education, and do all,,we could in
our power to prepare him for the responsible busi-
ness of life.
“As soon as he was of sufficient age, he was sent
to the best boys’ school the city afforded, and no
pains were spared on our or the teacher’s part, to
render his studies profitable and interesting. He
made rapid improvement, and as years glided on,
we looked forward with bright anticipation, to the
period when he would be fitted for college. In his
early years hn was never known to go counter to
the wishes of his parents, and we loved him more
fondly because of his obedience. He was also’ a
punctual attendant at the Sabbath School.
When he was twelve years old,. there were at-
tending the same common school, several dissolute
boys, who, we soon , perceived, influenced him in
his conduct. One evening he was late, having staid
out till ten o'clock. , On being questioned as to the
cause, he replied, he had called on one of his play-
mates, and was not aware ,of the lateness of, the
hour, being so intently engaged in reading a new,
work just issued from the press. Nothing was said
at that time relative to his absence; but the next
day his mother made a call at the house where he
stopped, and Icarned to: her surprise that the “new
work” was a late flashy novel. No allusion was
made in the presence of Albert to his mother’s call;
but indirectly at the table, the conversation turned
upon the influence of the novels of the day, and
Albert seemed restless. A few days after this event,
the teacher sent us a written note, statiag that Al-
bert was absent the afternoon of the day previous,
and was desirous of learning if he were sick. I
sent him word that he went from home at noon as
usual, with the intention, as we'supposed, of going
directly to school.. The note was read to Albert,
and he seemed very much embarrassed, acknowl
edging at length that he had been on a sailing ex-
cursion with several other boys. He was kindly
lectured, and forbidden truancy in decided terms.
He seemed to regret his course, and no doubt he
did. He was attentive to his books for several
weeks, and evaded the companionship of the tru-
ants.
One day, Albert was heard to use a profane
word, and on being questioned,he peremptorily de-
nied it, We already perceived onr darling boy
was imbibing pernicious ideas, and that we must
be upon the alert to break off his intercourse with
bad boys. He grew stubborn, and scemed to think
it manly to disobey his mother, and was bold to
argue the case as to the propriety of doing so and
so. She pleaded and he promised, , she entreated
and he was permitted, she petitioned heaven with
tears, to turn his feet from the path of disobedience.
I, found that he daily grew more and more
hardened, and that it was necessary for me to be
stern, and finally to take him away from school,
and place him under my immediate care in the
store. IIe seemed pleased with the idea of not be-
ing obliged to study his books, but grew. restless
when he found that the affairs of business were at-
tended with care and strict attention. _Occasion-
ally one of his companions would slip into the store
and whisper something in his car, but’ whenever
he met my forbidding look, he was sure to with-
draw, -
Almost every evening there was some Jump Jim
Crow exhibition, and despite my caution he would
steal away to drink in of its bancful influence. |:
I gave my son bits of money, to defray his little,
necessary expenses; but he was not satisfied with
this, he wanted more. \
One day I detected in his possession a lottery
ticket, and pressed him hard to learn why he pur-
chased it. He replied, “the hope of success.” “But,
my son,” I added, “this is not an honorable way of
getting a livelihood.” Shun the lottery office, its
influence is pernicious.” I saw’ no more lottery
tickets for several weeks, till one day, a young man
dropped into the store, and whispered to Albert. I
saw at once that Albert was elated, and I. desired
to learn his good fortune. He evaded my query. I
was suspicious of the fact. Having by mere chance
honor. Iehad a healthy constitution, his eye was
met the young man, who had called at the store, I
learned that Albert had drawn a prize of $50.—
That evening, Albert, his mother, and I sat togeth-
er in the parlor. «The subject of lotteries was in-
troduced, and vividly did we portray'to him the
direful consequences of persisting in such adven-
tures. His mother wept, for she felt to weep, and
I wept at heart, and my heart would have found re-
licf had it had vent in tears. “And now, Albert,
since you have been fortunate in securing a prize,”
I remarked, “what do you intend to. do with your,
money ?”; “I can find chances enough to dispose
of it,” was his abrapt reply. “Did you honestly
earn that $50, Albert ?”., “I got itas honestly, a3
other boys do—other , boys. venture in lotteries;
even Charles Manley, and you have said you think
Charles a fine young. man.” “Does . Charles, in,
deed do so? His parents do not know it, and they
should be informed of it.” His reply to this was
only a sneer, which went to our hearts like a dag-
ger. O, how did we yearn that Albert might de-
sist! Again did I portray the evils of lotterics,
and then left him to his own reflections... .,, ’
“Years passed on.; Albert showed no. signs
of reform. is vicious companions had woven
such a net-work of influence around him, it seemed
impossible for me to tear him away and reinstate
him in his former position of purity and happiness.
He continued to venture in lotteries,although Ihad
forbidden him, and talked with the vender relative
to selling him tickets. He was not fortunate enough
to draw any, more prizes, and with his dissolute
habits, he became involved in debts —debts which
I was obliged to pay. He was detected in taking
bits of money from the draw, and of appropriat-
ing them to his own private use. ; Daily did he be-
come more and more hardened, and at length the
parental roof had no charms for him. Ile frequented.
the wine cellars,the gambling saloons,and was sink-
ing down—down! . O, how painfal tous! Wehad
from a fearfal doom. Albert was becoming a drunk-
ard! When he was nineteen years of age, he was
a dissipated, irreverent young man. . Tis mad ca-
reer was preying. in the form of consumption, upow
his mother, and I was almost distracted with heavy
cares and responsibilities, principally, arising from»
the dissoluteness of Albert.; About this time he
grew sullen—secret—talked . but little—secmed to
be meditating some dark deed. His mother perceived ,
it, and became delirious. ‘O,my son! my son Al-,
bert!’ she would involuntarily exclaim. Two days
after this, Albert was not to be found... We feared
he had committed suicide in. his desperation; but,
on inquiry ofseveral young men with whom he had ,
been known to associate, if they knew where he had
gone, I learned that he had left for New York.—
One young profligate said he left word when he .
went off, that he was going to seek his fortune, and
that he would not come back until he had amassed
wealth. Our son was now to us the same as lost;
indeed it would have been more consoling had we
followed him to his grave,than have him thus leave,
our influence, although our influence prevailed
nothi fine wee
«
3
Ing. ‘
everal days after this, on going to the bank to
settle some notes due, I found an order, purporting
to be written in my name, and indeed itappeared ’
to be my hand writing, ordering the’ cashier’ to’
pay the bearer the sum of Four Thousand Dollars f
Albert had committed forgery! “Our cup of grief’
was full. Iclosed up my affairs,’ settled the for-’
gery, and had just enough left to purchase thie
small farm, Taking our daughter with us, we re-,
tired to this quiet spot, shut ont almost entirely
from the wicked world.’ We could hearno news of
Albert.’ The shock was too great for my afflicted
wife. In afew months sho was languishing on a
bed of death, and just as the coil of earth*was ua-
winding,’ she lifted her eyes to heaven, praying '
that she might havea safe passport across the flood,
and closed them, invoking a blessing upon us who’
remained, the father and daughter, and, with a
whisper wishing that Albert would return to us‘
and be good again, she passed away. She died—
We placed her in the grave you saw yonder, and =
planted flowers upon it.”"—Ilere ‘the gray haired
sire covered his face with his handkerchiefand wept.
Mis daughter too was in tears.’ And I could not
but weep with them, Atlength Mr. Dana gained:
his self-possession, and continued
“For eight years we lived here in rural simplici-
done all we could to arrest his steps and save him ~
