When I Found Myself Alone In My Paternal Home, A Crowd Of Gloomy
Feelings Came Thronging Upon Me.
It was a place that always seemed to
sober me, and bring me to reflection.
Now, especially, it looked so
deserted and melancholy; the furniture displaced about the room; the
chairs in groups, as their departed occupants had sat, either in
whispering tete-a-tetes, or gossiping clusters; the bottles and
decanters and wine-glasses, half emptied, and scattered about the
tables - all dreary traces of a funeral festival. I entered the little
breakfasting room. There were my father's whip and spurs hanging by the
fire-place, and his favorite pointer lying on the hearth-rug. The poor
animal came fondling about me, and licked my hand, though he had never
before noticed me; and then he looked round the room, and whined, and
wagged his tail slightly, and gazed wistfully in my face. I felt the
full force of the appeal. "Poor Dash!" said I, "we are both alone in
the world, with nobody to care for us, and we'll take care of one
another." The dog never quitted me afterwards.
I could not go into my mother's room: my heart swelled when I passed
Within sight of the door. Her portrait hung in the parlor, just over
the place where she used to sit. As I cast my eyes on it I thought it
looked at me with tenderness, and I burst into tears. My heart had long
been seared by living in public schools, and buffeting about among
strangers who cared nothing for me; but the recollection of a mother's
tenderness was overcoming.
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