Dear Mother! dear Mother! I’ll live for thee;
God help me to journey home!
There is always rest on a mother’s fond breast;
I come, dearest Mother, I come!
TO MR. AND MRS. H. N. DAVIS, OF ST. LOUIS.
My kind friends will excuse this public mention of their hospitality to an afflicted stranger. I love to hold up to view the bright spots in the human character; and I do it now, not entirely as a compliment to them, (for they know the deep well of gratitude that is ever springing in my heart,) but it is for the sake of the afflicted—of the stranger—of those who may be in need of the kindness and hospitality of their fellow men; it is for an example to those who may have an opportunity to “do likewise.”
I came a stranger lone and sad,
Whose earthly prop was gone,
And ye outstretch’d your shelt’ring arms
For me to lean upon;