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H, father! sitting at thy hearth,

Ode to Fatherhood.

With sunny heads around and lisping talk,
For whom the world without and all the earth
Is naught to this; and to the strong deep love
Which, mixed with pity, all thy soul doth move;
Strong worker, watching o'er the tottering walk
And feeble limbs and growing thought and brain,
Rejoicing in each new found gain

As the first sire, alone in Paradise;
And patient and content to work all day,
If with the eve returning from thy toil
Thou canst put off the sad world's stain and soil,
And bending downward to thy children's eyes,
Rise cleansed and pure as they.

I know not if life holds a more divine

Or fairer lot than thine,

Strong, patient worker, king of those who can

To its high goal of Things to be,
Its goal of Fate and Mystery,

Lead forth the race of Man!

Thy way is ofttimes hard,
And toilsome oft thy feet;

Thine are the days of anxious care,

When the spent brain reels, or the strong arm tires;
Yet all the ease and charm of days that were,
And pleasure paling all their fading fires,
Allure no more, but the tired hunter now,
Or now the worker with the furrowed brow
On frozen wastes or sun-struck thou dost show;
By mart or loom, or mine, or bending down
Chained to thy desk within the stifling town,
Thou toilest daily that thy brood may live.
Cares are thine, cares and the unselfish mind
Which spends itself for others and can find
How blest it is without return to give.
Whate'er thy race or speech, thou art the same;
Before thy eyes Duty, a constant flame,
Shines always steadfast with unchanging light,
Through dark days and through bright.
Sometimes, by too great misery bowed down,

Or poison draughts brought lower than the beast, Thou comest to hate the hollow eyes around, Dreading thy cares increased,

And dost despise thy own.

And canst thy dead heart steel against their cries,
And mark unmoved the hunger in their eyes;
Or sometimes, filled with love, art powerless to aid.
Oh, misery, to make our souls afraid!

To leave the safe and sacred walls of home,
For whose young souls, Life, like a cruel city,
Spreads out her nets of sin.

Thou knowest well of old

The strong allurements which they scarce may shun, The subtle wiles, the innocent lives undone,

The tide of passion scorning all control,
And thou art filled with an immense despair,
Wherefrom thy heart beats slow, thy eyes grow dim,
As when of yore thou heardst them lisp a hymn
With early childish lips; thou canst not bear
To think of that young whiteness soiled and foul,
Or that thick darkness blotting the young soul.

Yet from thy grief and pain
Comes ofttimes greater gain
Than all thy loss.

Thou knowest what it is to grieve,
And from the burden of thy cross
Thou comest to believe.

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A

When I Come Home.

ROUND me Life's hell of fierce ardors burns, When I come home, when I come home; Over me Heaven with her starry heart yearns, When I come home, when I come home;

For the feast of God's garnished-the palace of Night,
At a thousand star-windows, is throbbing with light;
London makes mirth! but I know God hears
The sobs in the dark and the dropping of tears.
For I feel that He listens down Night's great dome,
When I come home, when I come home,

Home, home; when I come home,
Far in the night when I come home.

I walk under Night's triumphal arch,
When I come home, when I come home,
Exulting with life, like a conqueror's march,
When I come home, when I come home!

I pass by the rich-chamber'd mansions that shine,
Overflowing with splendor like goblets with wine.

I have fought, I have vanquished the dragon of toil,
And before me my golden Hesperides smile!

And oh! but Love's flowers make rich the gloam,
When I come home, when I come home.

O the sweet merry mouths upturn'd to be kist,
When I come home, when I come home!
How the younglings yearn from the hungry nest
When I come home, when I come home!
My weary worn heart into sweetness is stirr'd,
And it dances and sings like a singing bird
On the branch nighest heaven-a-top of my life;
As I clasp thee, my winsome, wooing wife!

And thy pale cheek, with rich tender passion doth

bloom.

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MUSIC is an accomplishment unusually valuable as a home enjoyment, rallying round

the piano the various members of a family, and harmonizing their hearts, as well as their voices, particularly in devotional strains. We know no more agreeable and interesting spectacle than that of brothers and sisters playing and singing together those elevated compositions in music and poetry which gratify the taste and purify the heart, while their parents sit delighted by. We have seen and heard an elder sister thus leading the family choir, who was the soul of harmony to the whole household, and whose life was a perfect example. Parents should not fail to consider the great value of home music. Buy a good instrument and teach your family to sing and play, then they can produce sufficient amusement at home themselves so the sons will not think of looking elsewhere for it, and thus often be led into dens of vice and immorality. The reason that so many become dissipated and run to every place of amusement, no matter what its character, making every effort possible to get away from home at night, is the lack of entertainment at home.

WE

How To Make Home Happy.

E are defeated in our attempts to make home cheerful and happy because we play too much and we work too hard. We task and weary ourselves so much in the endeavor to collect the materials for enjoyment that they can give us little pleasure when they are collected. It does not take much to make children contented and happy in their own home, proparents take the lead in simple habits, gentle manners and cheerful dispositions. It takes little to make grown people love their homes, provided they look for its chief ornament and greatest charm in themselves, and not in things that can be bought or borrowed. The rare and costly ornaments of our houses give us most pain and least pleasure. It flatters our pride to be able to say that we have something that very few or nobody else can have. But our peace and comfort and joy must come from the most simple and common blessings

vided

but

very

of life.

And the first lesson to learn in the happy art of making home happy, is to be content with simple and common things. The farther you go from the everyday paths of life in

search of happiness, the less likely you are to find it. A thankful heart makes the best dinner, a pleasant voice is the best music, a kind look is a more beautiful picture than was ever painted by any masters, old or new. These are things that all can command. They can be had for the humblest home without money and without price.

If you make the happiness of the family depend upon things rare and costly and farfetched, you will only multiply wants without improving your capacity to supply them. If your necessities increase faster than your resources, no matter how much money you may have, you will always be poor. It is impossible to satisfy the heart with getting and giving. If it ever finds rest, it must be satisfied from itself. To be happy with much or little, we must learn to be content with such things as we have. The enjoyment of life does not depend upon the amount of possessions or the measure of wordly success, but upon the disposition to receive everything with thankfulness, and give everything with love.

The house, the furniture, the mode of living, the dress, the entertainment, the equipage which cost most give the least satisfaction, simply because they have no necessary connection with the enjoyment of life. They involve a thousand cares and anxieties, and they withdraw attention from the simple and colamon things which can make any home happy. The ornaments which make the lowest dwelling beautiful and the poorest family rich, are kind looks, pleasant voices, gentle manners, clorful hearts, simple affections.

The best clock has the fewest wacels and makes the least noise. And the more simple the order of our domestic life, the better and happier it will be. Let there be no idle hands and no wasted hours, and then there will be time for every thing and nobody will be fluttered with haste or exhausted with weanness. The peace and happiness of the family must not depend upon having too many th'a ys done or too many hands to do it. Neatness and order are excellent virtues in the family, but they may be carried to such an excess as to be a daily torment to everybody in the house.

Some excellent people spend the best of their days in keeping a few articles of furniture arranged with painful propriety, and in sweeping and scourging a few particles of dust from every resting place in the house. When children grow up in such a family, and go out into the world, they are apt to fly to the other extreme, and become very indifferent about the dust and disorder which have been denounced and fought against with anxious and angry zeal in their own homes.

If you wait to get more money, or a bigger house, or better established in the world, before you begin to make home happy, you will be like travelers in the desert, looking for showers where it never rains, or like the sailor on his foundering vessel loading himself with gold and leaping into the sea to die rich. If you do not learn to be content with simple and common things, then the rare and costly will only increase your trouble. The great house and the great income and the great expense will bring great care and great weariness and great sorrow.

Seek your happiness now, from the grateful improvement of present blessings and a cheerful submission to present trials, and then whatever change the future may bring it will find you the possessor of a happy home. Make your dress, your house, your furniture, your style of living, such as will not subject you to struggle and anxiety to keep up appearances, and then do not mind what the world says. If others do not think the better of you for taking such a course, it is the worse for them, and no harm to you.

And let all work and diversion, speech and silence, be chastened and purified with the feeling and the thought of the heavenly Father's presence. Be not slow to believe that he loves to see his children happy. Lie down to repose at night with the prayer that he will give you sleep as he gives to his beloved. Rise up in the morning with thankfulness for the new gift of time fresh from our Father's hand. Eat not the bread of cares and sorrows, but receive gratefully what your Father gives, and rejoice as if fed on angels' food. So shall everything that imperils the peace and happiness of the family be met by the safeguard of rrust, duty and love. So shall the lowliest ea th ly home be made the entrance-chamber to God's great house in heaven.

I

Home Voices.

AM so homesick in this summer weather! Where is my home upon this weary earth The maple trees are bursting into freshness Around the pleasant place that gave me birth.

But dearer far, a grave for me is waiting,

Far up among the pine trees' greener shade; The willow boughs the hand of love has planted, Wave o'er the hillock where my dead are laid.

Why go without me-oh, ye loved and loving?
What has earth left of happiness or peace?
Let me come to you, where the heart grows calmer;
Let me lie down where life's wild strugglings cease.
Earth has no home for hearts so worn and weary,
Life has no second spring for such a year;
Oh! for the day that bids me come to meet you!
And, life in gladness, in that summer hear!

AF

Home Affection.

FFECTION does not beget weakness, nor is it effeminate for a brother to be tenderly at tached to his sisters. That boy will make the noblest, the bravest man. On the battlefield, in many terrible battles during our late horrible war, I always noticed that those boys who had been reared under the tenderest home culture always made the best soldiers. They were always brave, always endured the severe hardships of camp, the march, or on the bloody field most silently, and were most dutiful at every call. More, much more, they resisted the frightful temptations that so often surrounded them, and seldom returned to their loved ones stained with the sins incident to war. Another point, they were always kind and polite to those they met in the enemy's country. Under their protection, woman was always safe. How often I have heard one regiment compared with another, when the cause of the difference was not comprehended by those who drew the comparison! I knew the cause, it was the home education.

We see the same every day in the busy life of the city. Call together one hundred young men in our city, and spend an evening with them, and we will tell you their home education. Watch them as they approach young ladies, and converse with them, and we will show you those who have been trained under the influence of home affection and politeness, and those who have not.

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