Classic Poem

We have crossed the threshold and entered the dear old house. Back,
back, these tumultuous throbbings of the heart, and these tears which
vainly rising to the eyelids, fall back upon the heart as wanting
power to flow. Who, after an absence of many years, on entering the
house where they first inhaled the breath of life, but has been
overpowered by conflicting emotions, as the tide of Memory rolled
in, like a flood, bearing so much upon its bosom, and where so many
associations crowd upon the mind, it is difficult to lend expression
to the ideas.

The interior of the house has not been materially changed, except
the additional ell, which contains a kitchen, pantry, and such like
conveniences for progressing household labor; the kitchen being
transformed into a sitting room, with no change, excepting a new coat
of paint, large windows instead of small, paper instead of bare walls,
and a place for a stove pipe instead of the ample fire place, that
used to shed its cheering light and warmth over the whole room. And
we might almost fancy ourselves at home, were it not that the eyes of
strangers are upon us, and we miss the dear familiar faces that first
taught the infant heart to love.

Here, have we clustered around the knees of a mother and drank rich
instruction from her pious lips, and offered up the morning and the
evening prayer, and lisped our hymn of praise, while she ever strove
to impress the golden rule upon the young and tender minds committed
to her care; and her example was ever that of a consistent Christian.

How vividly comes up before the eye of Memory, the forms of the aged
members of the family; for there were an uncle and two aunts of my
father who were never married, that took him at the early age of two
years, educated him and gave him the homestead for his patrimony; and
at the time of my birth the snow of many winters rested upon their
heads, and the infirmities of age were upon them.

It was their delight to watch our childish sports, listen to our
innocent prattle, and strive to direct our young footsteps in the
paths of virtue. They have passed away like the shadows of a passing
cloud. Almost my first recollections of death are associated with that
of the aged man. He had been sick about four days when we were called
to stand by his bedside and witness his departure. He smiled upon the
dear little brother, mother held in her arms, shook him by the hand,
gave us all a parting glance; the film of death then gathered upon his
eyes, a convulsive shudder ran over his frame, and a deathly paleness
rested upon his countenance, filling our young hearts with wonder and
dismay. As we felt the marble coldness of his stiffened limbs, and saw
him borne away to the silent grave, we learned the first lesson from
the pale messenger, and felt the awful void that his presence creates
in the family circle, and which we have since been called so often to
experience. He died in the very room where we first opened our eyes
upon the light.

It is a large gloomy looking room. The two windows looking out upon
the north, and a door opening out upon the level field, covered with
its carpet of green, intersected by neither shrub nor trees. The
coating of paint is changed, and the walls neatly papered, which is
the only change it has undergone.

Adjacent to this is the east bedroom, one window looking out upon the
north, and one upon the little garden at the east end of the house.
This room, for many years, was our lodging room, where we sought--

"Tired nature's sweet restorer balmy sleep,"

and lost ourselves in the world of dreams. Many, very many, were the
waking dreams that filled the imagination as the map of life lay
spread out before fancy's witching gaze, and hope illuminated it with
her brilliant rainbow dyes. No waves of passion or disappointment
moved its surface. But, oh, how different has been the reality!

Crossing the small entry opposite the kitchen is a large room,
formerly occupied by the old people. The same change is visible in
this as in the other rooms. Here, day after day, sat our aged aunt,
reading the word of God or her favorite hymns, and seeking preparation
for death (for she was fourscore and ten years old), and had been a
member of the church of Christ from her nineteenth year, spending a
long life to his honor and glory. It was the winter of the year, but
a mild day, when on returning from school we were summoned to her
bedside. The feeble lamp of life was flickering in the socket, and the
pulses of the aged woman stood still. Her spirit passed quietly from
earth, to enter into the presence of God who gave it. She fell like a
shock of corn fully ripe, at the age of ninety-four years. There was
no struggle; wearied nature resigned her burden without resistance,
and the countenance was pleasant in death. She was borne to the
graveyard and laid by the side of her dear brother, and thus they
were again united in the place of graves; and again there were vacant
places in our family circle, for many had been the attentions we were
obliged to bestow upon our aged relative, for she had been unable to
walk for several years.

In this apartment two windows opened to the south, and one at the west
end of the house, looking out upon the woods; on the north side three
doors opened, one into a bedroom with one west window, one into a
pantry or dairy room, where stood long rows of pans of milk covered
with golden cream, and tempting cheeses arrayed, the shelves. Here
there is slight alteration, excepting the shelves and ceiling have
changed their snowy whiteness for a coating of blue paint, and instead
of a dairy room, it is converted into a common pantry. The other door
led into the winter cellar, where we used to go for the nice apples,
which formed the usual accompaniment of a winter evening. Oh, those
pleasant evenings! what heeded we that the wintry storm raged without?
Our evening meal was always dispatched, and the household duties all
performed before the evening shadows fell around us. The fire burned
brightly upon the clean swept hearth, shedding a cheerful glow over
the room, while warming by its blaze stood a large dish of red and
golden apples, temptingly arranged. Before the fire stood a small
round table, round which the younger members of the family were
seated, braiding straw, while some one read aloud from some useful or
entertaining book; or we pursued our favorite studies, and prepared
the school lesson for the coming day (for we could braid and study at
the same time).

How profitable and how pleasant were those evenings! As I look back
upon them, through the long lapse of years that have passed away, and
recall each familiar' face and tone, I feel that those hours were
among the happiest of my life. Many of those dear forms have passed
away from earth forever. The dear mother, who presided over us with so
much affection, mingling in our pleasures and soothing our pains, has
finished her course upon earth and gone to her reward; but may the
good seed sown in the hearts of her children spring up and bear fruit
to eternal life. Although her lips are now silent in death, she still
speaks to us, she still lives embalmed in the hearts of her children.
Two dear brothers that enlivened those cheerful evenings, by acting
their part in the drama of life, have passed away, to

"That bourne from which no traveller e'er returns,"

and their voices are heard no more upon earth.

But, usually, ere the family clock that ticked in the corner of the
room struck nine, all had retired to rest and all was silent, save the
ticking of the clock or the howling of the wintry storm.

Deaths in our neighborhood were not of very common occurrence, and
used to fill our young hearts with dismay; and for many long weeks I
used to count the number of nights the new occupant of a grave had
slept in it, and shudder as I thought of all the gloom, the darkness
and the silence of the narrow house; and felt sad when I reflected
that all men must die. Faith then had not lifted her trusting eye
beyond the portals of the tomb, or illuminated its confines by the
glorious light of the gospel. And when in the winter of 1816 a fatal
fever raged, and the angel of death flapped his broad wings over our
little village, and one after another was cut suddenly down by his
stealthy darts, we could hardly realize that it was directed by the
hand of a merciful God, and, collected together in a little group,
wondered, in our childish innocence, "who would go next?"

Here, upon this door-step, have we sat for hours, in all suitable
seasons of the year, looking out upon the prospect, and contemplating
the changing seasons, or the alternate sun and shade that rested upon
the face of nature. Often have we wandered forth, while the dew was
yet upon the grass, to gather a basket of the large red cheeked
peaches that had fallen from the trees during the night. Near by stood
a noble pear tree, laden with rich orange pears, covering the ground
beneath with its golden treasures, while a contiguous apple tree
mingled its store of bright red apples in rich profusion. O, it was a
delicious blending of autumn's garnered store, showered upon the lap
of Mother Nature, spread out temptingly to the eyes of her weary
children. But the trees have departed with the "dark brown years,"
that have flung their dim shadows over them--nor root, nor branch
remains.

A few years passed, and by one of the unforeseen changes that occur in
the lives of business men, we were obliged to relinquish our childhood
home, and go forth to try the rougher usage of the world in a land of
strangers. Sad were the feelings that filled our young hearts, as we
went forth from the dear place, with which was associated all the
earliest recollections of life, and the endearing ideas of home. The
evening before our departure, we ascended the top of the highest
hill that over-looked our little villa, accompanied by our young
schoolmates, to watch the declining rays of the setting sun, and
promised eternal friendship to each other. It was Sabbath day--a calm,
delightful Sabbath day--that was now closing upon us; and as the sun
finished his journey across the horizon, and sank behind the far-off
western hills, methinks the sacred tranquility that reigned around
seemed to be whispering to the troubled spirit, "Peace, be still." But
could we, with our youthful hearts weighed down by this great grief,
could we heed the gentle whispers? surely not; and we felt that like
our first parents, we were about to be driven from Paradise. We sat
conversing upon the past, and forming plans for the future,

"Till twilight grey had in her sober livery all things clad."

Descending the hill we sought our homes, and early the following
morning found us pursuing our way to a land of strangers, leaving
behind us home, friends, and the burying place of our fathers, which
we had ever looked upon as our last resting place.

While the waves of time have borne year after year away, each one
replete with change, we have been tossing upon the stream till we
again stand in the same place from which we then departed, and while
the grief of that hour is fresh in the memory, we will again turn
sadly away from the spot teeming with so many remembrances, and where
were instilled the first principles of virtue and religion. O, may
these remain and grow "brighter and brighter unto the perfect day,"
while all mutable things decay. Dear old house, farewell; these
eyes may never again behold you; these feet never again cross your
threshold; but while reason remains, the memory of these haunts will
be tenderly cherished. And so we pass again from the spot with an
aching heart, and leave it to the possession of strangers.