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.
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