FORRESTER.
[It is hardly necessary to say that too much tenderness cannot be imparted to the voice while reading these beautiful lines. The heart that recalls a departed mother's memory will be the best monitor.]
G
IVE me my old seat, mother,
With my head upon thy knee;
I've passed through many a changing scene,
Since thus I sat by thee.
Oh! let me look into thine eyes;
Their meek, soft, loving light
Falls like a gleam of holiness,