The House of our Childhood
There is no word in our language that has a sweeter sound than home. It is the place where we began our existence—where life opened upon us. It was here that our parents dwelt; it was here that brothers and sisters lived; it was here that we became acquainted with good and evil. And now, when we have parted with home, we look back to that dear spot with an affection amounting almost to transport.
How beautiful has the old house become by that enchantment which distance lends to the view! How is every room consecrated in the memory by some little incident treasured in the heart! How many things about it are associated with a mother’s voice—a mother’s look—a father’s hallowed tone! How is every spot, around the dwelling, touched with the hues of childhood’s romance and poetry, where
Not the lightest leaf but trembling teems
With golden visions and romantic dreams!
My little readers, let me tell you a secret. There is no time in life more happy than childhood. You will find no friends in life better than father and mother; no attentions truer than those of brothers and sisters; no place sweeter than home. Think of these things, and do all you can to make home still happier, and to enjoy and deserve the blessings which home furnishes to those who are virtuous.
Blessing on a Child.
BY CAROLINE BOWLES.