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WAYSIDE GLEANINGS

FOR

LEISURE

MOMENTS.

OLD AGE.

she was a good mother in her day, and toiled

very hard to bring us all up." It is seldom, says the “Friend's Intelli- Without looking at the face of the heartgencer,” we see as beautiful a tribute to the less man, we directed him to the house of worth of “old age” as is contained in the a neighboring pastor, and returned to our following, which recently appeared in one of nursery. We gazed on the merry little faces our city periodicals, and is now offered for which smiled or grew sad in imitation of republication in our columns.

ours,

those little ones to whose ear no

word in our language is half so sweet as SHE HAS OUTLIVED HER USEFULNESS."

“mother,” — and we wondered if that day Not long since a good-looking man, in could ever come when they could say of us, middle life, came to our door asking for “the “She has outlived her usefulness; she is no minister.” When informed that he was out comfort to herself, and a burden to everyof town he seemed disappointed and anxious. body!” and we hoped before such a day On being questioned as to his business, he would dawn we might be taken to our rest. replied, “I have lost my mother, and as this God forbid that we should outlive the love place used to be her home, and my father of our children! Rather let us die while lies here, we have come to lay her beside their hearts are a part of our own, that our him."

grave may be watered with their tears, and Our hearts rose in sympathy, and we said, our love linked with their hopes of heaven. “ You have met with a great loss."

When the bell tolled for the mother's “Well, yes," replied the strong man with burial, we went to the sanctuary to pay our hesitancy: “a mother is a great loss in gen- token of respect for the aged stranger, for we eral; but our mother had outlived her use- felt that we could give her memory a tear, fulness; she was in her second childhood, even though her own children had none to and her mind had grown as weak as her shed. body, so that she was no comfort to herself “She was a good mother in her day, and and a burden to everybody. There were toiled hard to bring us all up; she was no seven of us, sons and daughters, and as we comfort to herself, and a burden to everycould not find anybody who was willing to body else.” board her, we agreed to keep her among us

These cruel, heartless words rang in our a year about. But I've had more than my ears as we saw the coffin borne up the aisle. share of her, for she was too feeble to be The bell tolled long and loud, until its iron moved when my time was out, and that was tongue had chronicled the years of the toilthree months before her death. But then worn mother. One --- two — three - four

seven

five. How clearly and almost merrily each soft words, no tender little offices. A look stroke told of her once peaceful slumber in of patient endurance, we fancied also an her mother's bosom, and of her seat at expression of grief for unrequited love, sat nightfall on her weary father's knee. Six – on her marble features. Her children were

eight – nine ten, rang out the there, clad in weeds of woe, and in irony we tale of her sports upon the greensward in remembered the strong man's words, “She the meadow, and by the brook. Eleven – was a good mother in her day." twelve — thirteen - fourteen – fifteen, spoke When the bell ceased tolling, the strange more gravely of school-days, and little house- minister rose in the pulpit. His form was hold joys and cares. Sixteen- seventeen very erect, and his voice strong, but his hair

eighteen, sounded out the enraptured vis- silvery white. He read several passages of ions of maidenhood and the dream of early Scripture expressive of God's compassion to love. Nineteen brought us the happy bride. feeble man, and especially of his tenderness Twenty spoke of the young mother, whose when gray hairs are on him, and his strength heart was full to bursting with the new faileth. He then made some touching resprung love which God had awakened in her marks on human frailty and of dependence on bosom. And then stroke after stroke told God, urging all present to make their peace of her early womanhood, — of the love, and with their Master while in health, that they cares, and hopes, and fears, and toils through might claim his promise when heart and which she passed during these long years, flesh should fail them. Then, he said, “The till fifty rang out harsh and loud. From that eternal God shall be thy refuge, and beneath to sixty each stroke told of the warm-hearted thee shall be the everlasting arms.” Leanmother and grandmother, living over again ing over the desk, and gazing intently on the her own joys and sorrows in those of her coffined form before him, he then said reverchildren and children's children. Every ently, “ From a little child I honored the family of all the group wanted grandmother aged, but never till gray hairs covered my then, and the only strife was who should own head did I know truly how much love secure the prize ; but hark! the bell tolls on! and sympathy this class has a right to deSeventy-one two three four. She mand of their fellow creatures. Now I feel begins to grow feeble, requires some care, it. Our mother,” he added, most tenderly, is not always perfectly patient or satisfied : “who now lies in death before us, was a she goes from one child's house to another, stranger to me, as are all her descendants. so that no one place seems like home. She All I know of her is what her son has told murmurs in plaintive tones, and after all her me to-day, that she was brought to this toil and weariness it is hard she cannot be town from afar, sixty-nine years ago, a happy allowed a home to die in; that she must be bride ; that she passed most of her life toilsent, rather than invited, from house to ing, as only mothers ever have strength to house. Eighty- eighty-one — two — three toil, until she had reared a large family of - four - ah! now she is a second child - sons and daughters; that she left her home now " she has outlived her usefulness, she here, clad in weeds of widowhood, to dwell has ceased to be a comfort to herself or any- among her children, and that, till health and body ;” that is, she has ceased to be profit- vigor left her, she lived for you, her deable to her earth-craving and money-grasping scendants. children.

“You, who together have shared her love Now sounds out, reverberating through and care, know how well you have requited our lonely forest, and echoing back from the her. God forbid that conscience should ac" hill of the dead,” eighty-nine! There she cuse any of you of ingratitude or murmuring now lies in the coffin, cold and still; she on account of the care she has been to you makes no trouble now, demands no love, no of late. When you go back to your homes be careful of your words and your example be

THE CANTEEN. fore your own children, for the fruit of your own doing you will surely reap from them

BY PRIVATE MILES O'REILLY. when you yourselves totter on the brink of the grave. I entreat you as a friend, as one THERE are bonds of all sorts in this world of who has himself entered the evening of

ours, life,' that you may never say in the presence Fetters of friendship and ties of flowers, of your families nor of Heaven, 'Our mother And true-lovers' knots, I ween : has outlived her usefulness; she was a bur- | The girl and the boy are bound by a kiss, den to us.' Never, never, never; a mother But there 's never a bond, old friend, like cannot live so long as that! No; when she this, can no longer labor for her children, nor yet

We have drunk from the same canteen ! care for herself, she can fall like a precious weight on their bosom, and call forth by her It was sometimes water and sometimes milk, helplessness all the noble, generous feelings And sometimes apple-jack, fine as silk; of their nature.”

But whatever the tipple has been,
We shared it together, in bane or bliss,
And I warm to you, friend, when I think of

this, THE FLOWER GIRL BY THE

We have drunk from the same canteen ! CROSSING.

The rich and the great sit down to dine, BY LORD LYTTON.

And they quaff to each other in sparkling

wine, By the muddy crossing in the crowded streets, From glasses of crystal and green; Stands a little maid with her basket full of But I guess in their golden potations they posies,

miss Proffering all who pass her choice of knitted The warmth of regard to be found in this, sweets,

We have drunk from the same canteen. Tempting Age with heart's-ease, courting Youth with roses.

We have shared our blankets and tent to

gether, Age disdains the heart's-ease,

And have marched and fought in all kinds of Love rejects the roses ;

weather,
London life is busy –

And hungry and full we have been;
Who can stop for posies?

Had days of battle and days of rest;

But this memory I cling to and love the One man is too grave, another is too gay

best, This man has his hothouse, that man not a We have drunk from the same canteen !

penny; Flowers, too, are common in the month of For when wounded I lay on the outer slope, May,

With my blood flowing fast, and but little And the things most common least attract hope

Upon which my faint spirit could lean;

Oh then, I remember, you crawled to my Ill on London crossings

side, Fares the sale of posies;

And, bleeding so fast it seemed both must Age disdains the heart's-ease,

have died, Youth rejects the roses.

We drank from the same canteen.

the many

years

EX-PRESIDENT JAMES WALKER.

O full of years, with memories blest

Of toil for God, and man, and truth, [From the New York Evening Post, Aug. 15, 1874.) With hopes that calm and cheer the breast,

And breathe a new, transfigured youth ! REV. DR. JAMES WALKER, ex-President of Harvard University, reaches the vener

O full of years ! thy “fourscore able age of eighty years to-morrow, August

Not “labor” bring, and “sorrow,” 16. He was born in Burlington, Massachu

nay! setts, in 1794, was graduated at Harvard in

Thy peaceful sun, as evening nears, 1814, was ordained pastor over the Har- Points onward to still brighter day. vard Congregational (Unitarian) Church, in Charlestown, Massachusetts, in 1818, became

Grateful we hail the blessed sight assistant professor of moral philosophy at Cambridge in 1839, and President of Har

Of this thy tranquil eventide ; vard University in 1853. Since his retire. And would with thee, in its pure light, ment in 1860 he has lived quietly at Cam

Thy guests and guests of heaven abide. bridge, a constant and earnest student, and occasionally appearing as a writer and a | This day, — to us a festal day, – preacher. Recently his bodily infirmity has Loved friend and father, we would bring kept him much at home, but his mind has Our debt of gratitude to pay never been clearer, and his conversation The heart's memorial offering. never more full of life. He and Rev. Dr. Dewey, who was eighty years old March 14, Its sculptured language well may speak are the patriarchs of the Unitarian denomi

What tongue and pen in vain would nation in America.

say ; The following poem, by Rev. Charles T. What the warm heart might vainly seek Brooks, of Newport, is to be sent to

morrow, To breathe out in the tender lay. with a rich work of Christian art in silver and gold, to Rev. Dr. James Walker, of Cam

“ The cup of blessing which we bless," bridge, ex-President of Harvard College, in honor of his eightieth birthday. The old An emblem of the happiness

Kindly accept ; and may it be parishioners and friends who send the gift

Life's brimming cup shall keep for thee! have requested Rev. Dr. Osgood, of this city, one of the members of Dr. Walker's old parish, to write the letter in their name.

To us thy heart's full, golden bowl
Rich draughts of Heaven's pure wine hath

brought,
TO JAMES WALKER, D. D.

Nerving anew the jaded soul

With quickenings of electric thought.
On his Eighticth Birthday.
O full of years and of the stores

We speak not for ourselves alone,
Of tranquil wisdom years impart

But for a manly race, whose youth, To him who, in their flight, adores

Enkindled by thy thrilling tone, The Eternal One with grateful heart ! Woke to the majesty of truth !

O full of years, yet fuller still

Of what no earthly years can give But he alone, whose mercies fill

Pure hearts with love to all that live!

Who, in that fresh and tender hour

When burning passions dance their round, Thus felt Religion's gracious power,

And saw her brow with beauty crowned !

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