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i 



The Key to a Nobler Life, 

BY 

C. E. SARGENT. A. M. 

WITH LETTER OF INTRODUCTION 
BY 

MRS. LUCRETIA R. GARFIELD. 
IZAVSnyATBD. 



KING, RICHARDSON & CO., Publishers, 
Springfield, Mass. 






HARvAcccunifL 









acGOiding to Act of Congren, in the year zSts, \if 
WiLU C. King, , 

la tbe Office of the Librarian of Congreu, at Washington, D. C 

All Rights Reserved. 



May peace be in thy home 

And joy within thy heart* 



r®s\ 




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PREFACE. 




HE reader will notice that we have confined 
ourselves in the treatment of this work almost 
exclusively to what is termed the *^ scientific 
method." We have not only regarded home 
itself as an institution of nature, but in the 
treatment of almost every subject we have 
tried to involve the exposition of some related 
natural law, because every relation of the 
home life is the outgrowth of some law of 
our nature or of our surroundings. It has been 
our aim to make this book a scientific treatise on the vari- 
ous phases of the home, and in this respect, so far as we 
know, it stands alone. 

We have chosen to consider the various relations of the 
home life from this standpoint, from a conviction that so- 
ciety has come to need something more substantial than 
those mere expressions of sentin^ent, which, for the most 
part, constitute the books of this kind that heretofore have 
been given to the public. Many very entertaining books, 
however, have thus been produced, but the undisputed fact 
that all the while the old-time home love has been slowly 
but surely fading away, is sufficient proof that they have not 



iv PREFACE, 

accomplished the object for which they were written. It 
is true that the word " home " is one of the most poetic 
in human language, that the institution of home itself owes 
its origin to an innate sentiment, and^that this emotion 
like all others grows and develops by its own action, 
so that such expressions of sentiment have their use ; and 
the great number of those beautiful prose poems, that dur 
ing the past few years have been offered to the publict 
show how deep and insatiable is this home sentiment. Yet 
in spite of all this, the street and the public hall are usurp- 
ing the kingdom of the fireside, and the dark monster of 
Communism is creeping upon us. The restoration and pres- 
ervation of the old home love and reverence by a more ra- 
tional and scientific conception of the home relations, we 
believe, is all that can save society from wreck. 

Tlie home life is to the social life what the unvarying 
movement of the water wheel is to the clashing and discord- 
ant motion of the great factory. When the machinery stops 
or moves fitfully and unreliably the experienced machinist 
does not think, by merely lubricating the bearings, to re- 
move the difficulty, but with lantern and wrench and ham- 
mer descends into the pit to see what ails the *' great wheel." 

There are certain diseases whose symptoms are chiefly or 
wholly local, but which, nevertheless, must be cured by 
constitutional remedies. Such is the character of most of 
those moral diseases that affect human society, and the 
remedies we have tried to point out are constitutional rem- 



PREFACE. y 

edies. The one organ we have aimed to reach is that 
which is the most central and vital of any in the living 
body of society — the home. 

Society is agitated to-day over the startling problem of 
divorce, and yet, mth all its attendant evils, divorce must 
be regarded only as a symptom of a fatal disease that is 
preying on the vitals of society. Intemperance and licen- 
tiousness are symptoms of diseases that can be reached 
only through the organ of home. 

What the home is, society will be. The moral corrup- 
don and the dark vices of the city would perish in a single 
light did not their cancerous rootlets reach down into the 
tbulness of pei'verted homes. 

Still, what a world would this be were it not for the in- 
stitution of home! How would the streets of the great 
city be turbulent with lawless outcries at midnight did not 
the Great Father, through the kindly shepherd of a natural 
law, send his children at night, to the fold of home I How 
its divine protection hovers over the slow-breathing multi- 
tude like the shadow of a great wing ! 

This book is the product of one not hoary with experi- 
ence, but of one who has tasted a little of the bitter water, 
and who has written from the depths of conviction. We 
hope that the public and the critics will recpiv^ his effort 
with feelings as kindly as those with which it is offered, and 
be will feel that from his soul a burden has been lifted. 

S. 



CONTENTS. 



Pbbface, • • • iu 

Introduction, ••...• xi 

CUAPTBB I. 

The Nature of Home 15 

CHAPTER U« 

Influences of Home, 27 

CUAPTSB ZZm 

Buds of Promise, • • • 85 

chapter it. 
Childhood, 42 

CHAPTER Y. 

Home Training, 4? 

CHAPTER YI. 

Rewards and Punishments, 7S 

CHAPTER VII. 

Amusements for the Home, 81 

CHAPTER Vm. 

Home Smiles, 91 



CONTENTS. tK 



Joys of Home, « • • • • 9T 

CHAPTBB X. 

Education of Oub Gibls, 106 

CHAPTER XL 

Education of Oub Boys, 119 

CHAPTBB Zn. 

Books fob the Homb, 127 

CHAPTBS XUI. 

Evenings at Home, 185 



Self Cultxtbe, • 146 

CHAPTEB ZY. 

Sundays at Home, 169 

chapteb zvl 

Resolutions and Individual Rxtles of Life, • 169 

CHAPTER XTII. 
COBBESPONDENOE AND FOBMS, 176 

CHAPTER xym. 

I 

Manners AT Home, 198 



CHAPTER XIZ. 



<€ 



Family Seobets, • • • 218 



Duties of Home, 222 



Tiii CONTENTS. 

<^ 

CHAPTER XZI. 

' CONTENTIIENT AT HOME, 281 

CHAPTER ZXn. 

Visiting, . 28t 

CHAPTER ZXnL 

Unsblfibhness at Home, . . . .... . 246 

CHAPTER XXIY. 

Patisncb, • • • 252 

CHAPTER XXY. 

Tehpbbakob, 261 

CHAPTER XXYI. 

Economy of Homb, • . 2T2 

 
CHAPTER XXVn. 

HoMB Adornments, 285 

CHAPTER XXYIII. 

DiGNiTT AT Home, 291 

CHAPTER XnX« 

Success ob Failube Fobeshadowed at Home, 297 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Fallacies aboxtt Genius, • 806 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

GouBAGE TO Meet Life's Duties, • . • . • 817 

CHAPTER XXXn. 

The Impobtant Step, : . • • 824 



CONTENTS. ix 

CHiL>ts& xzznL 
LSAVIKO HOMEi ... 888 

'' CQ^PTES XXXIY. 

IfEHOBiES OF Home, 847 

CU1.PTBB XXXY. 

Trials of Home, 862 

CHAPTKB XXXVL v. ,• 

SOBBOW AND ITS MEANING, . . . . . ^ .* • 869 

! • CUAPTSB XXXVIL 

The Widow's Home, . . . . ... . . . 871 

CHAPTEB XXXVIII. 

HoMEiiESsi Obphans, • . • 876 

CHAPTEB XXXIX. 

Homes of the Poob, 883 

V 

CHAPTEB XL. 

Homes of the Rich, 890 

CHAPTEB XLL 

The Old-Pashioned Home, . 401 

CHAPTEB XLIL 

OuB Last Fabewell of Home, 412 

CHAPTEB XLIIL 

Heaven Oxtu Home, 421 



PUBLISHERS' NOTICE. 



THE READER : 

Perhaps a word from the pubUahers of 
hie volume would be appropriate right here, 
lince the date of the following introduction 
ur author has graduated from college with 
igh honors, and truly can we say that rarely 
oes any institution of learning bestow its 
iploma upon one whose faculties are «o 
broadly developed, or who has been more earnest in prep- 
BDition for a life work in the service of mankind. Believ- 
ing that the ministry of the following pages will ennoblt 
the heart, purify the mind and elevate that sacred spot 
around which cluster our joys and our woes, we are 

Most sincerely yours, 

KING, RICHARDSON & CO. 



THE FOLLO"WING 

LETTER OF INTRODUCTION 

WAM ADDSBUSD TO 

Bbt. O. B. CHSirxT, D. D., Pkkb. ot Batm Gollbob, Mb. 

















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5 life's a book of history; 
le leaves thereof are days ; 
i6 letters, mercies closely Joined 
le title Is God's praise. 






THE NATURE OF HOME 







|UR home is the one spot on earth where b 
concentrated the largest per cent, of our 
earthly interest. There are few human be- 
ings without a home or the memory of one. 
The vast multitude that surges through the 
streets of the great city is made up of indi- 
vidual souls, each of which to-night will seek 
some place it calls home. There are those 
who roll through the streets with golden 
livery to palaces where brilliant lights and 
gorgeous tapestry and plushy carpets await 
their coming. * 

There are those who walk the frosty pave- 
ment with cold and bleeding feet, whose 
homes are in damp and dreary cellars, or in 
the rickety garrets of worn and wretched 
hovels. No lights, no music, no feasts await 
them, nothing but a crust and a bed of 
straw. And yet these places in all their 
 wretchedness are the homes of human beings. 

There is still another class of homes, where has been 
•Answered the human hearths best prayer, ** give, us neither 




10 OUR HOME. 

poverty nor riches ; " where peace and joy and love and 
contentment dwell; where industry and frugalitj^ with 
sunbrown hands and healthful appetite, sit at the board ot 
plenty. But whether the home be a palace, a cottage, oi 

a 

a garret, it is home. 

Home is in the soul itself; and, to a certain extent, is 
independent of outward circumstances. Of this inward 
home the outward is but the expression ; and yet it is doubt- 
ful if the outward is ever a true expression of the inward,, 
inasmuch as men's ideals alway^transcend their experience. 
Neither the wretched hovel where vice and hunger dwelU 
nor the palace where lies the gilded corpse of love can be 
a true home. 

** Home is the resort 
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where 
Supporting and supported, poli<$hed friends 
And dear relations mingle into bliss." 

Next to religion, the home sentiment is the strongest in 
the human heart. At the name of home the better impulse 
of every heart awakens. As the chord of the instrument 
is dead to every sound until its own harmonic chord is 
struck, when it vibrates and taking up the sound prolongs 
it as if it could not let it die, so many a darkened mind is 
dead to every appeal save that magic sound, " home ! " The 
lives of thousands who have been snatched as brands from 
temptation's fire will testify to the magic power of a sister's 
early love, while the sudden remembrance of a mother's 
"good night kiss" has stayed the assassin's dagger. Jn 



TUE NATUllE OF HOME, 17 

the dark and loathsome dens of iniquity there are those 
\vho6e lips have, for years, acknowledged their Creator only 
in oaths ; whose eyes have shed no tears, and whose ears 
have heard only the blasphemies of drunken revelry. 
And yet could an unseen hand write upon those walls the 
words " Home " and " Mother's Love," lips would quiver, 
eyes would swim, and from the depths of many a soul iu 
which the germs of truth and love had long since seemed 
dead, would burst the heart-rending confession, — 

" Onoe 1 vras pure as the snow, but I fell. 
Fed like a suow-flake from heaven to hell. 
Fell to be trampled as filth of the street. 
Fell to be scoffed at, be spit on and beat; 
Pleading, cursing, begging to die. 
Selling my sonl to whoever would buy; 
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread, 
Hating the living and fearing the dead." 

The powerful influence which the home sentiment 
exerts over the minds of men was shown in a striking 
manner a few years ago at Castle Garden, New York. 
Some ten thousand people had gathered there to listen to 
that sweet-voiced singer, Jenny Lind. She began with 
the sublime compositions of the great masters of song. 
Her audience applauded her with a respectful degree of 
appreciation. But at length, with eweetnesa ineiTable, 
born of the holy parentage ot genius and passion, .she 
poured forth that immortal song, *^ Home, Sweet Home.'* 
At once the irrepressible contagion of sympathy spread 
through that vast audience. Peal on peal of thunderous 



18 OUR HOME. 

applause resounded, until the song was stopped by tlie 
very ecstasy of those who listened; and when the soft 
refrain was heard again, that mass of humanity was 
melted into tears; the great masters were all forgotten, 
while ten thousand human hearts knelt at the shrine of 
a poor and obscure outcast. Why was this? Was Howard 
Payne a greater genius than they? Must these mighty 
names yield their places to one whom the world has for- 
gotten ? No ; it was simply because when sorrow laid his 
iron hand on the heart of Howard Payne, in his cruel 
grasp he chanced to strike that chord which vibrates to a 
lighter touch than any in the human heart save that alone 
swept by the master's hand. 

" Home of our childhood! how affection clin^ 
' And hovers 'round thee with her seraph wings! 
Dearer thy hills, though clad in autumn brown, 
Than fairest summits which the cedars crown." 

The rough experiences of the roaring, toiling, stormy 
world, may blot out all other images from the mind, but 
the picture of our early home must hang forever on the 
walls of memory, until ^Hhe silver cord be loosed or the 
golden bowl be broken." 

The old man may not recall all the experiences, all the 
struggles and triumphs of his early manhood ; but every 
feature of his childhood home, every little play-house that 
he helped his sister build, is photographed upon his heart's 
tablet and can never fade away. Perchance the goldea 
light of eternity will not dim the brightness of that pic- 



THE NATURE OF HOME. 19 

ture. Whatever else the heart may forget, it cannot for- 
get the phxce of its birth; it cannot forget the little 
broken cart, the sled and the kite, the sister's fond caress, 
the brother's generous aid, the father's loving counsel, and 
the mother's anxious prayer. 

It cannot forget the day when a chastening hand drew 
still closer the chords of love and bound the little circle 
in a common sorrow; the day when hushed footsteps were 
in the house, and the silent rooms were filed with the 
•odor of flowers, and the garden gate swung outward to let 
a little casket through. 

" That hallowed word is ne'er forgot, 
No matter where we roam; 
The parest feelings of the heart 
Still cluster 'roand oar home. 

" Dear resting place where weary thought 
May dream away its care, 
Love's gentle star unveils its light 
And shines in beauty there." 

But the ministry of home consists not alone in its fond 
memories and hallowed associations. It is the great con- 
servator of good, the '* seeding place of virtue." It is 
the origin of all civilization. The laws of a nation are but 
rescripts of its domestic codes. The words uttered and 
the doctrines taught around the fireside are the influences 
that shape the destinies of empires. 

It is the influences of home that live in the life of king- 
•doms, w^hile parental counsel repeats itself in the voices of 
republics. We would impress upon the minds of our 



20 OUU HOME, 

readers tliis grand truth, and would that we might 
thunder it into the ears of all mankind, that a nation is- 
but a magnified home. Parliament and Congress are but 
hearthstones on a grander scale. Those great and noble- 
characters who have left a deathless impress upon the his* 
tory of nations were not fashioned on battle fields, but in 
the cradle and at the fireside. They are those, moreover^ 
vho at every period of life, at every turn of fortune or ad- 
versity, have never forgotten the old home. 

A mother breathes, under the canopy of a cradle, a- 
prayer that her darling boy may be a conqueror in life's 
battle ; that the hosts of sin may flee before the sword of 
his manly virtue, and from that cradle there arises a youth 
with that same prayer upon his lips, and in virtue's coat 
of mail he goes forth to battle. Harmless as the fall of 
snow-flakes, from his helmet drop the broken arrows of 
temptation's besieging armies. Fearlessly he marchea 
through the dismal swamps of poverty and hunger and 
cold. With sweating brow he toils up the rugged steap- 
of knowledge, 

Till fall apon hk vision Rleanu 
The prophecy of early dreams. 

Humble and modest as a maiden he receives a nation^s- 
benediction with its crown. And when death's untimely 
visit drops the veil over life's grandest triumph, fifty mil* 
lion human hearts bow in the dust before the sable b«ii<^ 
ners of a nation's sorrow. 



THE NATURE OF HOME. 21 

Wlien, think you, were fasliioned the pillars of that 
•colossal character? Did they spring up to meet the emer- 
gencies of fame and power ? No I they were sculptured in 
the sacred quarry of the cradle with that chisel which 
only a mother's hand can wield. When we stand in the 
presence of art's grandest achievements we feel like bow- 
ing before that genius which can take from the hand of 

» 

nature a block of marble and hew away the chips that 
hide a waiting angel. But the mother of Garfield took 
from the hand of God the unformed elements of a human 
character and shaped them into something it were blas- 
phemy to compare with the proudest creation that ever 
leaped from the brain of genius — a God-like man. 

" O wondroas power! how little understood! 
Entrusted to a mother's mind alone, — 
To fashion genius from the soul for good." 

No argument is necessary to convince us of the potency 
of home influence in shaping character. There are cer- 
tain truths to which it is only necessary to call attention, 
^nd minds instinctively assent to them, and to this class, 
we believe, belong those general truths concerning home 
which we have mentioned. Indeed, they are recognized 
and taught in the trite maxims of every-day life. Napo- 
leon understood well the nature of home and its mission 
when he said, '*The great need of France is mothers." 
An old Scotch proverb says, *'An ounce of mother is 
worth a pound of clergy." Mohammed said, ** Paradise is 
at the feet of mothers." 



22 OUR HOME, 

Miglit not some American statesman say, *^Tbe throne- 
of freedom's goddess is the hearthstone "? Our government 
is a grand experiment. Its ship is on an unknown sea and 
sails through unsounded waters. It is true that other 
governments have styled themselves republics, but with 
all of them there have been reservations that have made* 
them republics only in name. Ours is the first experiment 
with a true republic. If we fail in this experiment, if our 
government falls, the world will hear the echo of that fall 
till the end of time as a dismal, warning sound. The vie- 
torious shout of eiTor is the most dangerous sound that 
can fall upon the, human ear. Rest assured that our 
government is no trifle. Tkat ever restless spirit of 
liberty that to-day confronts the troubled principalities of 
Europe, is looking anxiously to the issue of our experi- 
ment. Mothers and fathers, that issue rests with you. 

Your boys are soon to take the -reins of this high met- 
tied steed, America. A nation's only hope is in them, and 
theii: only hope is in you ; and the instruments which God 
has put into your hands with which to fit them for this 
high office, are the influences of home. You to-day are 
writing on the yielding tablets of their hearts and niinds- 
the preface to the next volume of our nation's history. 
America should fear the disloyalty and contention of the 
fireside more than the nefarious plots of scheming politi- 
cians. 

If your boys wrangle and contend at home, if \\\cty can- 



THE NATURE OF HOME, 23 

not discuss with dignity the little questions that arise in 
their daily intercourse with one another, be sure they will 
not honor the nation when they take their places in senate 
balls to discuss the great problems that confront the civil- 
ization of the nineteenth century. 

Now, if home may be so powerful an influence for good, 
how important becomes the cultivation of the home senti- 
ment. To be destitute of this sentiment is almost as great 
a misfortane as to be destitute of the ^religious sentiment. 
Indeed, we believe that one cannot possess a true and ex- 
alted love of home while there is wanting in his character 
that which when awakened may yield the fruit of a godly 
life. What a miglity responsibility rests upon liim who 
essays to make a home, for the founding of a home is as 
sacred a work as the founding of a cliurch. Indeed, every 
home should be a femple dedicated to divine worship, 
where human beings through life should worship God 
through the service of mutual love — the highest tribute 
man can pay to the divine. ^ 

If the home sentiment be one of the strongest passions 
of the human soul it was made such for a wise purpose. 
The affections of the heart all have their corresponding 
outward objects. We possess no power impelling us to 
love or desire that which does not exist as a genuine insti- 
tution and necessity of nature. So this strong home senti- 
ment only proves to us that the institution of home was 
divinely born. It is based in the very constitution of 



24- OUR HOME. 

human nature, and so vital is the relation which it sus- 
tains to our needs, that every heart must have a home. It 
may not be of brick or wood or stone. It may not have a 
^^ocal habitation and a name." But if not, out of the airy 
timbers of its own fancy the lieart will rear the structure 
which it demands as a necessity of its being We are 
aware that there are thousands who are called homeless ; 
but their hearts' demand is at least partially met by the 
possession of an ideal home. The body ma}'^ exist without 
a home, but the heart, never. Tlie world called Howard 
Payne a homeless wanderer, yet kings and peasants have 
implored entrance at the vine-wreathed threshold of that 
home which he reared in the airy dreamland of poesy. 

Another evidence of the divine origin of the institution 
of home is found in its obvious adaptation to the end it 
serves, and in the striking analogies which we detect be- 
tween its functions and the general methods of nature. 

Every growth in nature is nurtured and sustained 
through its early existence by a pre-existing guardian. 
Tlie germ of the oak is nourished and protected by the 
substance of the acorn until it is strong enough to draw 
its food directly from the eai-th, and to withstand the tem- 
pest and the scorching sun. So it must be with the germ 
of that oak which is to wave in the forest of human soci- 
ety. And if we wish it to become a grand and noble oak, 
and not a hollow hearted deformity, we should look well 
to the protection and nourishment of its early years. We 



TUE NATURE OF HOME. 25 

should see that there is the proper spiritual soil from 
which the little liuman germ may gather wholesome and 
strengthening food when it puts forth its tender rootlets 
into the great world without. The relation which the 
acorn sustains to the germ is precisely that which the 
home sustains to the child. If we were to suppose the 
germ endowed with intelligence, we should still suppose it 
ignorant of everything but the environments of the acorn. 
It would, of course, be all unconscious that there is a 
world without full not only of germs like itself, but of 
giant oaks. So the child is ignorant of the great outward 
world. The home is its little world and it knows no 
other. 

Precious thought, that it never quite outgrows the bliss- 
ful ignorance ! We take on higlier and broader views of 
life, but we are compelled by a law of our being to lo(»k 
forever upon our home as in some way the grand center 
from which radiate all other interests. 

When the mother shades the windows of the nursery, 
she but unconsciously imitates the Creator of her child, 
who through the institution of home has shut from his 
feeble and nascent mind the flashing colors of the too bril- 
liant world. 

But not alone for childhood is the sacred ministry of 
home. It is the guardian of youth, a consolation amid 
the weary toils of manhood and a resting place for old age, 
where he, who is soon to lay off the armor, may find lov- 



26 OUR HOME. 

ing hearts and tender bands to guide his tottering steps to 
the water's edge. 

Again, the mature mind is only that of a developed in- 
fant. It is still infantile with reference to the universe in 
its entirety. Nor can it ever fully comprehend the signifi- 
cance of life in the aggregate. Were we to attempt to 
dwell in the great temple of the world, we should become 
lost in its vast halls and mighty labyrinths. Hence it be- 
comes necessary to reduce the scale of the world ; to iso- 
late the human mind, as it were, from the vastness of ag- 
gregate life. And this God has done in the institution o£ 
home* 

" Home '8 not merely f oar square walls, 

Thonffh tfith pictures hung and gilded: 
Home is where affection calls, 

Filled with shrines the heart Jiath buildedt 
Home! go watch the faithful dove, 

Sailing 'neath the heaven above us; 
Home is where there *8 one to love! 

Home is where there *s one to love us I 

" Home 's not merely roof and room, 

It needs something to endear it; 
Home is where the heart can bloom, 

Where there 's some kind Up to cheer i%\ t* 

What is home with none to meet, ^ 

None to welcome, none to greet ns T 
Home is sweet,— and only sweet, — 

Where there 's one we love to meet nsl '* 



INFLUENCES OF HOME. 




|T is a law of all initiate life that it is suscept* 
ible to outward and formative influences in 
an inverse ratio to its age. An ear of corn 
while it is yet green may have an entire row 
of its kernels removed, and when it becomes 
ripe it will show no marks of this jiiece of 
vegetable surgery. So the young child may 
have many a vice removed while he remains 
as plastic clay in thiei hands of those whose 
privilege it is to mold the character for 
eternity, and when he is old he will show no 
marks of the cruel knife of discipline and de- 
nial through which the change was wrought. 
But if he becomes old before the work is begun the scar 
will always remain, even if the experiment succeeds. A 
bad temper in a young child may be sweetened, but the 
acid temper of an old man reludtantly unites with any 

sweetening influences. 

We find here a striking analogy to a physical law of our 

being. It is a well known fact that in early childhood the 

osseous tissues of the body are soft and flexible. The 



28 OUR HOME, 

bones may bte almost doubled upon themselves without, 
breaking, but in the old the bones are so hard and brittle 
that they cannot be bent the least without breaking. Wo 
can make little or no impression upon them. They stub* 
bornly refuse to respond to all influences. Surely it is 
true of the body, " As the twig is bent the tree 's in- 
clined." But it is no less true of the mind and soul. The 
disposition of an animal may be made just what we choose 
to make it by our treatment of it when young. 

Who does not know that the disposition of the dog is 
almost wholly dependent on the manner in which the 
puppy is treated ? This principle is recognized in the old 
adage, ^' It is hard to teach an old dog new tricks." 

Whatever may be our views concerning the moral and 
spiritual relations of the human to the brute creation, it 
cannot be denied that th^ laws which govern the mental 
life of each are essentially the same. The difference is in 
quantity rather than quality. 

What a grand virtue is patience I How charming in 
childhood ! How sublime in manhood ! Then let us learn 
a lesson from the ease with which patience is created or 
destroyed at will in the young animal. 

The susceptibility of children to outward influences is 
largely due to their power of imitation, and this power 
was, doubtless, given them for a wise purpose. 

Originality is not a virtue of infancy and childhood. 
Hence, if we would influence the acts of a child we should 



ISFLUENCES OF HOME, 29 

set biiu an example, we should act as we wish him to act. 
Patient children are never reared by impatient parents. 

Most of the crime and misery of the world are due to 
the early influences of home. We may not be awai^e how 
small an influence may work the ruin of a child when he 
has inherited slightly vicious tendencies. By nature the 
disposition of a child is the sweetest thing in the world, 
and how beautiful, tender and sweet might become the 
lives of all if parents were conscious of these truths, and 
would act according to their knowledge. But they so 
often contaminate the sweet springs of childhood with the 
bitterness of their own lives, that we do not wonder that 
the old theologians so strongly believed in total depravity 
and innate sinfulness. 

Infancy is neither vicious nor virtuous; it is simply 
innocent, and is susceptible alike to good and bad influ- 
ences. 

Its safety consists alone in the watchfulness of its 
guardians. The soldier has his hours of duty, but the par- 
ent in whose hands is entrusted the guardianship of an 
immortal soul is never off duty. When the baby is asleep 
all the household move softly lest they awake him ; but 
when he is awake they should move and think and speak 
more softly lest they awaken in him that which no nursery 
song can lull to sleep again. 

The young child is an apt student of human nature. 
You do not deceive him as you perhaps think. The 



30 OUR HOME. 

knowledge of human nature, of the motives that impel us 
to actions, comes not from reason nor from observation. 
It is an intuitive knowledge and is always keen in the 
child. It acts, too, with far greater vigor between the 
child and parent, especially the mother, than between the 
child and others. Every look of the mother's eye is inter- 
preted by her child with far greater accuracy than the 
most profound student of the anatomy of expression could 
interpret it. 

The sharpest merchant may not detect the sign of dis* 
honesty in the father's face so quickly as the child. 

Parents, your child is the blank paper on which is to be 
written the record of your own lives. Be careful then 
what you allow to be written there, for the world will read 
it. Do you not see that through this principle by which 
you are instinctively en rapport with your child, an awful 
responsibility is thrown upon you ? The secrets of your 
inmost soul are the copy which the trembling hand of your 
child is trying to write. 

The word influence is the most incomprehensible, the 
most vast and far reaching in its significance, of all words. 
We seldom use it in any but a literal sense, but in every 
degree of its true meaning there is the shadow of infinity. 

Philosophers tell us, not in jest, but in the profoundest 
earnest, that every footfall on the pavement jars the sun, 
and every pebble dropped into the ocean moves the conti- 
nents with vibrations that never cease. Your hand givesT 



INFLUENCES Oj^ HOME. 31 

motion to a pendulum, and in that act you have produced 
an effect which shall endure through eternity. The vibra- 
tion of the pendulum as a mass ceases, but only because 
its motion has been transformed fi'om mass motion to 
molecular motion. Had it been suspended in a vacuum 
and been made to swing without friction at the point of 
suspension, it would have vibrated on forever, but the fric- 
tion which is inevitable, and the resistance of the air grad- 
ually bring it to rest, and we say the motion has ceased, 
but this is not true. The motion has not ceased, it has 
simply become invisible. At every vibration a part of the 
motion Was changed at the point of suspension and in the 
air into the invisible undulations of heat and electricity. 
A moment ago the pendulum was swinging, but now 
infinitely small atoms are swinging in its stead, and the 
aggregate motion of all those atoms is just equal to the 
motion of the pendulum at first. These waves of atomic 
motion expand and radiate from the points of origin, ex- 
tending on and on and on, past planets and stars, beating 
and dtishing against their brazen bosoms as the waves of 
the ocean beat the rocky shore. This is not the language 
of fancy ; it is the veritable philosophy, the demonstrated 
facts of science. Your will gave birth to motion communi- 
cated along the nerve of your arm to the pendulum, and 
that motion has gone past your recall, on its eternal errand 
among the stars. What a solemn thought I You are the 
parent of the infinite I 



82 OUR HOME. 

And yet this illustration but faintly shadows the awful* 
ness of human influence. If a simple motion of your hand 
is fraught with eternal consequences, what shall we say of 
the influences of your mind? They shall live as long as 
the throne of the Infinite. Oh, that we might impress 
upon the minds of mother and father the awful truth that 
an influence in its very nature is eternal. Not a word or 
thought or deed of all the myriad dead but lives to-day 
in the character of our words and deeds and thoughts* 
We are t*he outgrowth of all the past, the grand resultant 
of all the world's past forces. Only God can measure the 
influence of a human thought. 

" No Btream from its source 
Flows seaward, how lonely soever its course, 
But what some land U gladdened. No star ever rose 
And set without influence somewhere. Who knows 
What earth needs from earth's lowest creatnre ? No life 
Can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife, 
And all life not be purer and stronger thereby." 

A mother speaks a fretful word to a child at a critical 
moment, when just upon his trembling lips hangs the 
ready word of penitence, and in his eye a tear, held back 
by the thinnest veil through which a single tender glance 
might pierce. But the tender glance is withheld. The 
penitence grows cold upon his lip, the tear creeps back U> 
its fountain, the heart grows harder day by day, until that 
mother mourns over a wayward child, the neighborhood 
over a rude boy, the city over a reckless youth, the state 
over a dangerous man, and the nation over the sad havoc of 



*• 

; 



INFLUENCES OF HOME. 33 

a dark assassin. Who can trace to its ultimate effect that 
fretful word through all its ramifications to infinite conse- 
quences ? That word shall reverberate through the halls of 
eternity when planets are dust and stars are ashes. 

Does any one doubt that the infinite results, in the form 
of modified thought, speech and action, yet to be experi* 
enced from the assassination of our late beloved president^ 
are all traceable to the early influences of home ? 

Who can tell how much of that enormous crime must be 
shouldered by the parents of Guiteau? But if the ulti- 
mate consequence of the assassin's evil deed can never be 
estimated, neither can the good deeds of his victim. Trulj 
may it be said of the immortal Garfield, — 

Such life as his can ne'er he lost; 

It blends with unborn blood, 

And throuf^h the ceaseless flow of yean 

Moves with the mighty flood. 

His life is ours, he lives in as, 

We feel the potent thrill. 

And tbrongh the coming centuries 

The world shall feel it still. 

The web of human life is wove 

Not with a single strand, 

But every grand and noble man 

Hoidi one within his hand. 

And in that pulseless hand to-day 

There lies a strand of power. 

Whose gentle draft shall still be felt 

Till time's remotest hour. 

Of all human influences those of home are the most far 
reaching in their results. The mutual influence of broth- 
ers and sisters may be almost incalculable. There are 
many men who owe their honor, their integrity and their 

3 



34 OUR HOME, 

manhood to the iufluence of pure minded sisters. Sisters 
usually have it in their power to shape the character of 
their brothers as they choose. There is naturally a pure 
and holy affection existing between brothers and sisters. It 
is natural for all brothers to feel and believe that, in some 
way, their sisters are purer and better than others, and sis- 
ters also believe that their brotliers are nobler than the 
brothers of their associates. This sentiment is so univer- 
sal that we cannot help believing it was ordained for a 
wise purpose. Of course there is the element of decep- 
tion in it, but it is one of nature's wise deceptions. She 
deceives us, or tries to deceive us, when she paints what 
seems a solid bow upon the canvas of the sky. She de- 
ceives the superstitious and ignorant when she flings her 
chain of molten gold around the dusky shoulders of the 
night. But these deceptions are not such as to cast any 
reflections upon her integrity. So we may believe that this 
sweet deception which makes angels of sisters and heroes 
of brothers was divinely ordered to unite brothers and sis- 
ters in closest communion and to bring them both within 
the enchanted circle of home influence: 

" I shot an arrow in Uie air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where. 



" I breathed a song into the air, 
It fell on earth, I knew not where. 



«f 



Long, long afterwards in an oak 
I foand the arrow still unbroke; 
And the song, from beginning to end» 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 



BUDS OF PROMISE. 




|OME as a natural institution has for its pri- 
mary object the nurturing of those tender 
buds of promise which can mature in no 
other soil. But the human bud, unlike that 
of the flower, does not contitin its future 
wholly wrapt up within itself, but depends 
more upon the hand that nurtures it. The 
rose bud, no matter in what soil it grows, no 
matter what care it receives, must blossom 
into a rose. No care or neglect, at least in 
any definite period of time, can transform it into a noxious 
weed. But on every mother's bosom tliere rests a bud of 
promise, and whether or not that promise shall be fulfilled 
depends upon her. Whether that bud shall blossom into 
ii pure and fragrant rose or into the flower of the deadly 
nightshade, is at the option of the guardian. We would 
not, however, be understood as teaching the doctrine long 
since abcindoned by the investigators of human science, 
that all are born equal as regards future possibilities. If 
men had known the subtle laws that govern the develop- 
ment of the human intellect, they perhaps might have 
traced the lightning^s course through the infant brain of 



36 OUR HOME, 

Franklin, and have discerned in the nascent mind of New* 
ton the uulighted lamp whose far-searching beams have 
since guided the human intellect through the trackless 
void of the night. And yet, had the guardianship of 
these minds been different, they might to-day be baleful 
blood-red stars in the firmament of guilt and sin. Homer,. 
Shakespeare, Milton, Washington, Webster and Longfel- 
\ovr each lay as a little bud of promise on a mother's 
bosom, and yet that mother knew not that the world was 
to thunder with applause at the mention of Her dear one's 
name. Knew not? 

We will not, however, speak thus positively, for history 
furnishes much evidence that with the birth of such a bud- 
there comes a hint of its promise ; as it were, a letter to* 
its guardian from the Creator. 

So close is the relation between mother and child that 
to the spiritually minded mother there seems to come a 
premonition of her child's destiny. And yet this fact 
does not in the least lighten the burden of responsibility 
that falls on every mother at the birth of her child. Such 
a premonition, indeed, would always be a safe guide were- 
it always given ; but a mother, through lack of suscepti- 
bility dependent on temperamental conditions, may hold 
in her arms unawares, that which the world has a right to 
claim. Out from among the thrice ten thousand little- 
children that swell the murmur in the school-rooms of the 
great cities, or with bare and sun-burnt feet patter up the* 



BUDS OF PROMISE. 37 

aisles of those dear old school-liou^ies that nestle amoug 
the hills and valleys, sacred urns that hold the childish 
ftecrets and hallowed memories of a thousand heaits, out 
Tom among these shall the angel of destiny select one and 
place upon his little head the crown of Longfellow and 
dedicate him to the service of his kind, and make him the 
flweet interpreter of star and flower. 

Mother! shall it be your boy? Do you hear in your 
tioul the gentle whisper? If you do, wherever you may 
4)e, may the benediction of humanity rest upon you. May 
your precious life be spared to watch the opening of that 
bud of promise. As friends and neighbors assemble to see 
the unfolding of the night-blooming cere us, so the world 
adhall wtttch the unfolding of that precious bud. 

Let every mother act as if she held a bud of promise. 
Let thosa who have not felt the premonition attribute it 
io their insensibility. Better a thousand times bestow 
your tern Merest care upon an idiot, better believe that you 
iiold the bud of genius and awake to bitter disappoint- 
tnent, than to learn in the end that you have failed to do 
four dutj', and that a genius grand and awful like a fallen 
^mple lifcs at your feet in the pitiful imp(jtence of mani- 
fest but u riused power. 

But thr5 buds of promise are not confinorl to the great 
geniuses. As we said at the beginning of this chapter, 
every infant is a bud of promise. It is not the Washing- 
tons, the lincoln , and the Garfields, that shape a nation. 



38 OUR HOME, 

They are the directing forces, like the man who holds the 
levers and valves of the engine. But, as after all it is the 
toiling, puffing steam that drags the train, so it is the 
great delving, toiling, sweating multitude that shapes the 
character of nations. 

It was not her statesmen that made Greece grand. It 
\va3 the character of the common people. The mightiest 
Ktiitesmen that the world has ever yet produced could not 
make a grand republic in the South Sea islands. What a 
nation needs is honest toilers; intelligent and scholarly 
farmers, cautious, scientific and temperate railroad engi- 
neers, learned blacksmiths, and healthy, intelligent and 
pious wood choppers. 

Thus every mother is the guardian of a bud of promise, 
and whether she will or not must hold herself responsible 
for the blossom, and let her not hasten to rid herself of 
that responsibility. That bud will oj en soon enough. 
No bud develops so rapidly as a human bud. Let it re- 
main a bud just as long as possible. The rose acquires its 
perfume while, its petals are folded, and the longer it re- 
mains a bud, the sweeter will be the blossom. 

Again, it is the most rapidly developing bud that soonest 
fades. Then do not pull apart the tender petals of that 
bud of promise in order to hasten its unfolding, lest in an 
hour of sadness you should say : — 

" And this is the end of it all: 
Of my waiting; and my pain — 
Only a little fnneral pall 
And empty arms a^^in." 



BUDS OF PROMISE. 39 

There can be nothing more destructive to the promises 
it contains than to attempt to open a rosebud with any 
other instrument than a sunbeam. 

The world is full of the withered buds of human promise 
that have been too early torn open by the thoughtless 
hand of parental pride. 

The crying sin of American parents is their unwilling- 
ness to let their children grow. They wish to transform 
them all at once from prattling infants into immortal 
geniuses. They have more faith in art than in Nature, in 
books and school rooms than in brooks and groves. 

Young children should not only be kept from school^ 
but they should be taught at home very sparingly and 
with the greatest caution in those things which are 
generally considered as constituting an education. Many 
suppose that the injury of too early mental training re- 
sults solely from the confinement within the school room» 
but this is a great mistake. The injury results chiefly 
from determining the expenditure of nervous energy 
through the brain instead of through the muscular system. 
Your young child must have no thoughts except those 
which originate in the incoherent activity of his childish 
freedom. 

All others he has at the expense of bone and muscle, 
lung and stomach, and ultimately at the expense of his 
whole being. The solution of a mathematical problem is 
as much a physical task as the lifting of a weight. The 



40 OUR HOME, 

passion of the orator and the devotion of the saint are 
both measured by the potentialities of bread and meat. 

So that those who try to fill their little children's minds 
with *^ great thoughts" and who teach them to meditate 
upon the great realities of life, thinking thereby to make 
them grand and great, are not only defeating their own 
ends, but are destroying the foundations of future possi« 
bility. They are turning to loathsome foulness the sweetest 
perfume of those buds whose undeveloped petals they are 
so rudely tearing 9,part. 

The social forces of the present age are such as to render 
young children peculiarly liable to precocity. Mentality 
has acquired such an impetus through hereditary influences 
that the minds of infants early commence that fatal race 
of thought, which results in the wreck of so many thou** 
sands of human bodies. Thoughtful ness in youth, and even 
in childhood, when the physical system has become strong 
enough to be aggressive in its relations to the natural 
forces, cannot be too strongly urged. But infantile 
thought is not only useless, but is a great evil, and usually 
involves an irreparable waste of life force. 

There are two great evils whose indirect influence upon 
the world cannot be estimated. 

The one is the overfeeding of infants, and the. other is 
the unnatural and abnormal activity of the infant mind ; 
and the one evil enhances the other, for there is nothing that 
so interferes with digestion in the young child as thought. 



BUDS OF PROMISE. 41 

Wendell Phillips in speaking of the evils of American 
precocity, with his characteristic and humorous hyperbole, 
tells us that the American infant impatiently raising him* 
Belf in the cradle begins at once to study the structure and 
uses of the various objects about him, and before he is nine 
months old htts procured a patent for an improvement on 
some article of the household furniture. 

" Who can tell what a baby thinks ? 
Who can follow the gossamer links 
By which the manikin feels his way 
Oat from the shores of the great unknown. 
Blind, and wailing, and alone, 
Into the light of day ? 
Out from the shore of the unknown sea, 
Tossing in pitiful agony, — 
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, 
Specked with the barks of little souls — 
Barks that were launched on the other side. 
And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tidef 
What does he think of his mother's eyes ? 
What does he think of his mother's hair ? 
What of the cradle-roof that flies 

Forward and backward through the air? ^ 

What does he think of his mother's breat^ 
Bare and beautiful, rsmooth and white. 
Seeking it ever with fresh deliglit — 
• Cup of his life and oooch of his rest ? ^ 



CHILDHOOD. 



animals are born Id a somewhat helpless 
oditioD, but none ao helpless as the bumau 
ing, hence its necessity for the tenderest 
le. Throughout all nature it ia the funo- 
>n of the mother to exercise a special care 
er the young. The mere intellectual de- 
*€ for the child's welfare is not sufficient to 
...sure that degree ,of attention which it re- 
quires; for the most intelligent, and even Christian moth- 
ers are sometimes utterly neglectful of their children^ 
while the selfish and narrow minded are frequently very 
tender in their attentions. Why is this? It is simply be- 
cause the mother love, or more properly, the parental love, 
is not the outgrowth of a sense of duty. It is an instinct 
which we possess in common with the brute. It is a sig- 
oilicant fact that throughout the whole animal kingdom 
the parents possess this instinct just in proportion to the 
helplessness of the offspring. 

The home is a universal institution, and exists among^ 
the lower animals the same as with the human. It was, 
doubtless, designed to meet the necessities arising from the 
helplessness of offspring, Tlie young lion could not acoom- 



CHILDHOOD, 4;i 

pany its parents in their search for food, no& could the 
eaglet soar with its mother into the heavens. Hence the 
necessity of an instinct that should prompt the lion and 
the eagle to select and prepare a proper place in which to 
leave their young while they may attend to the duties im- 
posed by their mode of life. So reason may tell us that it 
would be far better for us to take good care of our children, 
and to provide for them a suitable home, but our observa- 
tion of those in whom the instinct is weak convinces us 
that mere reason seldom produces this result. While the 
intellect tells us what we ought to do, it gives no impulse 
to do it ; but instinct gives the impulse, the desire to do, 
and when the instinct is in a healthy condition we may rely 
on the intellect of Him who implanted the instinct, for the 
fitness of the acts to which it prompts us. Indeed, it is a 
law of our being that reason cannot perform the ofBce of 
an instinct. It may tell us that we ought to breathe inces- 
santly, but there are few of us who would not forget the 
duty were it not for the instinctive impulse. 

Without the home instinct, the legitimate desire for 
novelty which all possess would be left unbalanced, and 
the whole human race would wander from place to place, 
and the world would become one mighty caravan. With- 
out the instinct of parental love, the child would be held in 
the same esteem as any other person who should give us 
the same amount of trouble. And since it is a law of our 
selfish nature that unless provision is made by special in« 



44 OUR HOME. 

stincty we cannot love that which gives us only pain, the 
child's lot on earth would indeed be an unenviable one. 
But the instinct transforms all the pain and trouble into 
joy, so that the parents are not only made willing thereby 
to incur all the troubles and anxieties which their children 
bring, but are even made to take positive delight in incur- 
ring them. 

The home instinct and that of parental love are closely 
allied, and so intimate is their relation that we cannot 
doubt that they were bestowed with reference to each 
other. It is true that many other blessings, even the 
sweetest joys of life, are rooted in the home instinct ; but 
these are all secondary and subsidiary to the one grand 
6nd, the home of childhood. 

Home is the only place where childhood can develop. 
It is there only that are to be found those influences which 
are necessary to fertilize the character of the child and 
cause it to blossom and bear the fruit of a noble life. Why 
have nearly all great men had homes illustrious for their 
beauty, and the purity of their influences? The answer is 
to be found in the fact that the soil of home contains just 
those elements required for the growth and development 
of the child's body, mind and soul. 

Notice closely the figure, the face, the features, the voice 
of that little street waif. Why is his frame so small and 
shrunken ? Why are his features all crowded and pinched? 
Why do his eye, his walk, his voice and his manner sug- 



CHILDHOOD. 45 

gest shriveled precocity? For the same reason that ai> 
apple which has been early detached from its stem will 
become early ripe, but never developed. Subject it to 
whatever treatment we may, it will shrivel up and become 
insipid, fit symbol of the boy who was early dropped from 
the Iiome into the street. 

The home is the garden where buds become fruit. How 
important then that the garden be kept free from weeds,, 
while it is enriched with affection and exposed to the sun- 
light of joy. How slight an influence may serve to blight 
that opening bud. 

The child is as impressible as he is helpless. He is sim- 
ply the raw material of a character to be fashioned by the 
silent and imperceptible influence of his surroundings. 
And it is this which 

"Plantii the great hereafter in this now." 

Silently as the falling of snow-flakes the character of 
tliat child is forming. We cannot see the bud unfold, and 
yet we know that to-morrow it will be a rose. So our per- 
ception cannot follow the growth of the child's character, 
;i:id yet we know that day by day its forces are gathering 
and that soon he will become to his anxious parents a joy 
or a sorrow. 

Children are much more easily influenced by example 
than by precept. A child may be told repeatedly that 
dishonesty is sinful, yet if he detect dishonesty in father, 
mother, sister or brother, he will imitate the example^ 



46 OUR HOME. 

You may as well tell him that sinfulness is dishonest, for 
he knows no difference. Both terms are meaningless to him. 
Most of the thieves, robbers and murderers of the next 
generation are now little innocent children in the arms of 
mothers. How should mothers shudder at this thought ! 
The first evidence of passion or of evil intent, the first 
manifestation of dishonesty, should alarm the mother like 
the cry of fire in the night. 

'* The summer breeze that fans the rose. 
Or eddies down some flowery path, 
Is but the iufant j2:ale that blows 
To-morrow with the whirlwind's wrath." 

Mothers! you cannot watch the formation of that 
child's character with too critical an eye. By watching, 
however, we do not mean that suspicion and doubt which 
are so fatal to the free open confidence of the child, but that, 
without which, all your efforts in his behalf will be fruit- 
less. Better a thousand times that the child, even in his 
tender years, should gaze full upon the hideous face of sin, 
than that the silken cord of confidence be broken, that 
binds him to a mother's heart. Liberty is the only atmos* 
phere in which a human soul can grow. Strict literal 
watching is both unnecessary and injurious. Confidence 
between mother and child may become so perfect that the 
-child cannot commit a wrong without confessing it. Your 
watching then should be directed to the maintenance of 
this confidence, which can be ensured only by putting the 
child upon his honor, for honor grows only by being exer- 



CHILDHOOD, 47 

cised. With this confidence between yourself and your 
child you will at all times be conscious of his moral con- 
dition. You will feel in your very heart the first dawn- 
ings of evil thought in him. And remember that it is 
necessary you should know the evil thoughts as soon as 
they dawn, for the conflagration that scourges with its 
fury great cities is less dangerous at its onset than the fii:st 
€vil thought in the heart of youth. 

" Crash the first f^rm ; too late yonr cares begin 
When long delays have fortified the sin. " 

But by nature the young child is innocent, and positive 
influences for evil must be brought to bear upon him be- 
fore he can become otherwise. With his half divine na- 
ture he recoils from the very sight or sound of that which 
is wrong. Yet he is so imitative and so susceptible that 
bis danger is nevertheless imminent, and the fact that he 
may more readily imitate the good than the evil should 
not relax parental vigilance. 

Young children and even infants comprehend far more 
than people generally believe. They cannot express their 
mental operations by the use of language. Their thoughts 
are expressed only by their actions, and how vague an 
idea of the thoughts of the profoundest thinkers should 
we havo if our only clue to them were the mere outward 
acts of their author. Were actions the only interpreters 
of human thought, the world would appear to us like a 
vast insane asylum. 



46 OUR HOME. 

Happiness is the only food on which the child can b» 
fed with profit. Sorrow is sometimes an excellent thing^ 
for those whose spiritual digestion is sufficiently strongs 
but children never should be fed on this diet. Sorrow 
ripens, but joy develops a soul. But let us not entertain 
that foolish and cruel notion so prevalent, that hard 
knocks, disappointment, constant work and little recreatioa 
are necessary to develop the character of a child. Some 
one has given the following beautiful piece of advice to 
mothers : " Always send your little child to bed happy* 
Whatever cares may trouble your mind, give the dear child 
a warm good-night kiss as it goes to its pillow. The mem- 
ory of this in the stormy years which may be in store for 
the little one will be like Bethlehem's star to the bewildered 
shepherds, and welling up in the heart will rise the thought,. 
** my father, my mother loved me 1 '* Lips parched with 
fever will become dewy again at this thrill of useful memo* 
ries. Kiss your little child before it goes to sleep.'* 

" Ahl what would the world be to lui 
If the children were no more ? 
We should dread the desert behind ua 
Worse than the dark before. 

** What the leares are to the forest, 
With light and air for food. 
Ere their sweet and tender juices 
Hare been hardened into wood,— 



«t 



That to the world are children ; 

Through them it feels the glow 
Of a brighter and sunnier climate 

Than reaches the trunks below." 



HOME TRAINING. 




HE training of the child necessarily begins 
with the body, for the young child must be 
regarded chiefly as a young animal. The 
animal is the first to be developed, and in 
every well born and healthy child the mani- 
festations of animality will precede those of 
intellectuality. One has said, " If you would 
make your child a good man, first make him 
a great animal." The child's prospects of future great- 
ness are raeajured in part by his stomach and lungs. 

The most important period of a child's training, then, 
is that period during which he is an animal. Nature's 
method seems to be to form first a powerful physical sys- 
tem, and then on this as a foundation to rear the intellec- 
tual and the moral. If the physical is diseased the mental 
cannot be healthy. The most important element in a 
great man is a great body, great in health, in vital stam- 
ina, and in its capacity to become the foundation for the 
mind. 

In view of these facts it becomes of paramount impoz 
tance that the mother have a knowledge of physiology^ 

4 



50 OUR HOME. 

No woman has any moral right to bear the honored name 
of mother till she possesses such knowledge. We would 
not place a delicate machine in the hands of one who was 
ignorant of its structure. Not that the mother should be 
a physician, for she generally practices medicine too much. 
It is as important that she should know how to let her 
child alone, as to know how to take care of him. It is not 
necessary that she should know just what to do for him 
when he is sick. It is much better for her to know what 
not to do for him. It is the doctor's duty to cure him 
when he is sick, but it is the mother's duty never to give 
the doctor an opportunity to display his skill in this direc- 
tion. Let every mother remember this fact, that the cry 
of a sick child is the tell-tale that convicts her of sin. 
A child never cries unless its mother has wronged it. A 
healthy child is always angelic. No parent has any busi^ 
ness with any but a healthy child, for wholesome food in 
proper quantities never dei^anged a stomach. Pure air 
never diseased a lung. A human eye was never blinded 
by the diffused sunlight. Teeth never decayed through 
grinding pure and wholesome food. 

No child, unless his appetite has been pampered by a 
foolish mother, will ever crave that which it is necessary 
to withhold from him. Nor will his appetite ever require 
to be urged. No rational person will contend that reason 
should usurp the place of instinct in the matter of eating 
and drinking. Those delicate conditions of the system in 



HOME TRAINING. 51 

which it accepts or rejects nourishment are entirely be- 
yond the ken of reason. Through the whole animal king- 
dom, including man, there is an instinct which tells its 
possessor just what kind of food and how much its system 
requires. No tests of science could determine this. Tyn- 
dall may exhaust all his resources in trying to determine 
whether or not a given robin has eaten enough to meet 
the requirements of its physical nature. At his best he 
can only estimate it, but the robin knows exactly. 

We have known a mother to urge her little baby to sip 
from her own cup of. tea, and have seen her appear quite 
grieved because the little creature with pure mind and 
pure body instinctively rejected the proffered beverage of 
sinful men. And after being defeated in her attempt to 
poison and vitiate his taste, she would exclaim, "I fear 
my child is going to be eccentric." Some mothers are al- 
most terrified at seeing their child eat a piece of bread 
without butter, although writers on hygiene, whose books 
are within the reach of all mothers, are agreed that butter 
is one of the abominations of civilization. It is not our 
intention to write on the subject of health or diet, but so 
long as butter, spices and otlier unnecessaries are admitted 
to be evils, it seems unpardonably foolish, not to say 
wicked, to urge the young child to use them, especially 
since he does not desire them, and shows by his actions 
that he would much prefer not to have his food polluted 
with such stuff. Let the mother refrain from pampering 



62 OUR HOME. 

ber child's appetite, or else be willing to take the conse- 
quences when that same appetite, diseased and perverted 
by her own hand, shall bring him home reeling and stag- 
gering to her frantic arms. That mighty army of one 
hundred thousand who are annually marching down to 
drunkards' graves were, for the most part, we believe, 
trained for that awful march by mothers. 

It is admitted by all that alcohol is repugnant to the 
unvitiated taste of man or beast. No child with instincts 
pure from the hand of God will taste of alcohol. It is not 
until his appetite has been depraved by Mrs. Winslow's 
Soothing Syrups and other abominations. All these must 
first be forced down his throat by the stern exercise of 
parental authority before he learns to tolerate alcohol in 
Jtny form. The child's instinct is God'« argument and it 
is unanswerable. If it be true then that a healthy instinct 
rejects alcohol, how shall we account for the almost uni- 
versal appetite for it ? There can be but one explanation, 
some almost universal depraving agency ; and what can 
this be but the wrong physical training to which mothers 
subject their offspring. 

The problem of home training to-day covers the prob 
lem of intemperance. So long as children are growing up 
with a taste for the nostrums with which babies are uni- 
versally poisoned the world will be full of drunkards. 

But it is not alone the poisonous nostrums which de- 
prave the appetite. The cookies, candies, sweetmeats and 



HOME TRAINING. 63 

the thousand products of human depravity and a luxurious 
civilization conspire to destroy that pure instinct which 
God designed to be a perfect guide as regards the quantity 
and quality of our food. We do not understand how 
Christian mothers can consistently express their faith in 
God while their acts show that they distrust the wisdom 
which gave the child this instinct. 

The little child is fed on flesh, pickles and highly sea- 
soned food till he becomes sick ; then of course he cries. 
That breaks the mother's heart and she gives him a cooky 
to stop his crying before he goes to bed. She cannot bear 
the idea of her child going to bed hungry. The cooky 
may give him the colic, but what of it so long as he is not 
hungry ! She cannot tell whether he has the colic or the 
headache, but if he cries he must have some medicine. It 
is of but little consequence what it is so long as it is 
medicine. We have actually heard mothers when ques- 
tioned as to why they gave their babies a certain kind of 
medicine, answer that they " wished to give them something 
and didn't know what else to give them." We presume 
it never occurred to them to give the baby the benefit of 
the doubt. 

The disposition depends upon the condition of the 
stomach. If that be sour, the disposition will be sour 
also. Many a good child has had his disposition spoiled 
with cake and candy. A tendency to all forms of deprav- 
ity may result from a diseased condition of the digestion. 



64 OUR HOME. 

Every form of sin may originate with the stomach. Al- 
most all of the suicides result from the mental disease of 
melancholy. This disease is known by all physicians to be 
the direct result of an affection df the liver, and the liver 
and stomach are so related that the one cannot be affected 
without the other. Hence a wrong physical training of a 
child may lead to suicide. 

The habit of dwelling perpetually on the dark «ide of 
life, as the melancholy person does, results in the perver- 
sion and depravity of the whole mind. Thus everv sin 
may originate in the stomach. 

There are mothers who would regard the withholding of 
sweetmeats from their children as cruelty. It is hard to 
believe that such persons exist, but observation forces the 
fact upon us. Such mothers, of course, can appreciate no 
higher enjoyment than that of eating and drinking, and 
they feel perfectly contented so long as their children are 
eating something that tastes good. They never stop to 
question whether the physical pleasure which a piece ol 
highly spiced mince pie yields their child can compensate 
for the physical, intellectual and moral depravity that may 
result from it. The mother who gives her child candy, 
cakes, etc., simply for the pleasure of the child, without 
regard to their effect on his health, whatever may be the 
character of her outward life, is in spirit a sensualist. 

It is customary for mothers when their children get 
angry and scream, to give them something that tastes good 



HOME TRAINING. 56 

to eat. Now this is a two-fold evil. It is both a physical 
-and mural evil. It is a physical evil because it tends 
directly to produce dyspepsia. The hiiman stomach can- 
not perform its functions properly while the mind is angry. 
The adage, "Laugh and grow fat," is founded in true 
philosophy. In order for digestion to be performed in the 
most perfect manner there must be at the time of eating a 
sense of peace and joy pervading the mind, making the 
very consciousness of existence delightful. All have ob- 
4served that the dyspeptic men are those who are fretful 
and cross at the table. The tea is too cold ; the coffee is 
too weak ; the steak is cooked too much or not enough ; the 
potatoes should have been baked instead of boiled ; there 
is too much saleratus in the biscuit; or there is some trouble 
with something — enough to 2C:zt z ^h^do w over the whole 
meal and cause the whole family to sit in gloomy silence. 

This is not so much because dyspepsia tends to make 
people cross at their meals, but because being cross at 
meals makes them dyspeptics. Many men have become 
incurably diseased by eating when they were angry, and 
the mother who gives her child a cooky to stop his crying 
is laying for him the foundation of a life of suffering. 

Again, such a practice is morally wrong because it 
rewards a child for being angry. In this way he learns, 
whenever he wishes anything, to scro.im and cry until his 
wish is gratified. He soon acquires such a habit that he 
does this even though no one be near to grant the wish. 



56 OUR HOME. 

This is his first lesson in rebellion against an unseei> 
power. As he grows older the screaming is changed into 
cursing, and thus originates the habit of profanity. Men 
swear chiefly because their mothers gave them cookies to 
stop their crjring. When mothers learn the secret of home 
training, all the vices that now curse the world will die out 
for want of soil in which to grow. 

All children are overfed. There is no danger that any 
child will starve so long as its mother loves it, but there is 
great danger that it will be fed to death. 

But, says the mother, how shall I avoid these evils? 
How shall I keep my child's appetite- healthy ? And when 
he screams and will not be satisfied with anything but a 
peppermint, what shall I do ? These «are honest questions. 
No mother willfully injures her child by knowingly de- 
praving his appetites and thereby all his passions. It is, of 
course, through ignorance and not malice. 

The remedy is the most easy and natural thing in the 
world. Simply let the child alone ; that is all. Children 
have a divinely given right to be let alone, but this right 
has never been granted by man. Your child will keep his 
own appetite healthy if you will let him. When he 
screams for that which it is not lawful for him to have, the 
treatment is very simple, let him scream. The human 
mind acts from motives and never without them. The 
child screams either to make you yield to him, or from a 
feeling of revenge because you do not yield. 



HOME TRAINING, 57 

Now the only way to prevent a mental act is to take 
.way the motives which prompt to the act. Hence the 
ray to break a child of the vice of screaming is to remove 
ihese two motives. The first you can remove by showing 
bim that your word is law. When you have commanded 
him to do or refrain from doing a certain thing, make him 
understand that you will not revoke your order and that 
further pleading will be in vain. 

The second motive, that of revenge, may be removed by 
proving to him that it " doesn't work." Show by your 
indifference that his loud crying does not give you the 
least inconvenience. You can accompany the music with 
the humming of a careless tune. He will see by this that 
his scheme of vengeance is defeated, and there will be 
nothing left for him to do but to stop crying and amuse 
himself as best he can. If it is time to put your little 
child to bed, do not coax him to go and then be conquered 
Dy coaxing in return. Do not be conquered at all. In 
the first place, you should not tell him to go to bed till 
you know that it is time for him to go, and not till you are 
determined he shall go. It is not necessary that you be 
arbitrary. There is no objection to arguing with him, if 
your command at the time is not fully understood by him. 
Try to convince him that he ought to do as you tell him. 
In every instance the import of the word ought should be 
kept before his mind. But if he still resists, use the argu- 
ment of force, paying no attention to his cries and screams. 



5S ^ OUR HOME. 

We do not write thus coldly and unfeelingly from any 
lack of love for little children. There is nothing in the 
wide realm of being so lovely and pathetic as a young 
child. There is no eloquence that can equal its prattle. 
No mother can love her child too much. It is not the in- 
tensity of the mother's love that we would condemn, but 
the unwise and injudicious direction of that love. And 
when we say the child should be let alone, we do not 
mean that he should be coldly neglected, but simply that 
he should be allowed to grow and develop in the soil of 
his own childish freedom; that his body should be left 
chiefly to the care of its own instinct, while the mother 
watches the process with delight. Mothers usually make 
much harder work taking care of their children than the 
necessities of the' case require. Most mothers may learn a 
valuable lesson from the cat. See how she takes care of 
her kittens. She does not doctor them ; she manifests no 
anxiety for their physical welfare. She simply watches 
the kitten's growth, and doesn't assume any higher pre- 
rogative. She brings a mouse and lays it before the little 
savage, but she does not urge the case in the least. If the 
kitten does not want it, she does not say, " I 'm afraid my 
little darling is going to be sick. Can't he eat it anyway ? 
Please eat it for mamma." O no, she just eats it herself, 
and does not seem to have the least fear that nature will 
forget to bring back her child's appetite. Nor does she 
seem to resent the kitten's refusal to accept her oflFer, but 



HOME TRAINING. 69 

the next mouse is usually eaten with a relish. Thus the 
•cat is wiser than the human mother, for she is wise enough 
to entrust to nature those things which she herself is not 
wise enough to do. The world has yet to learn that the 
little children are its physical and spiritual teachers. 
When Christ would name the greatest in the kingdom of 
Heaven he said, ^^ Who so humbleth himself as this little 
«hild, the same is greatest in the kingdom of Heaven,'* 
thus making it a kingdom of little children. There was 
philosophy in that beautiful reply of Christ. All sin con- 
sists simply in the acts that are prompted by instincts 
which have been depraved. Children's instincts are least 
depraved, for they are nearest to the source of all purity. 
Hence the child's heart must always be the truest symbol 
■of Heaven. 

We do not belong to that school whose motto is " spare 
the rod and spoil the child." We believe that untold evil 
has resulted to the world from that false philosophy, and 
we are glad to know that the world is rapidly discarding it. 
To say nothing of the morality, or rather immorality, of the 
<loctrine, it is entirely unnecessary. How foolish to break 
the sweet spell of confidence by beating and striking, 
when the little heart can be melted in penitential grief by 
a word ! Why use sticks and clubs when the child does 
not fear them half so much as he does his mother's grief I 
Hyenas snarl and growl and strike, and some mothers snarl 
and scold and strike. Isn't the analogy almost humiliating? 



60 OUR HOME. 

But this method of treatment does not accomplish the 
desired result. Whipping a child does not and cannot 
produce any desirable internal change of character. It 
may modify the outward acts. It may also produce an in- 
ternal change, but only for the worse ; only that change 
which comes from perpetually harboring a feeling of ha- 
tred and revenge. A blow struck upon unregenerate hu- 
manity can awaken but one feeling, and that is the feeling 
of resentment. The child always resents a blow, whether 
it comes from his parent or from a playmate. He 
cannot easily be made to acknowledge in his heart that 
the punishment is just ; and while he believes that it is 
unjust he will feel rebellious, and no one will contend that 
a rebellious feeling can do much toward elevating the 
character. The feelings of anger, hatred and physical fear 
are among those which we have in common with the 
brutes, and while we are under the dominion of these feel- 
ings we cannot rise much above the brute. All know 
how utterly depraving anger is to the whole mind, and 
the effect of physical fear is nearly as bad. Some who 
have been thought noble have been known when brought 
face to face with death upon the ocean, to rudely snatch a 
life-preserver from a helpless woman ; thus showing how 
physical fear may paralyze the sense of honor and every 
other noble sentiment of the soul. Now what is true of 
the man under the influence of an intense fear is also true 
of the child under the influence of a less intense fear. It 



HOME TRAINING, 61 

is the nature of fear, whether great or small, to repress all 
that is Ood-like and arouse all that is demoniac. You 
cannot inflict corporal punishment on a child without fill- 
ing his little heart with fear. It is a well known fact that 
imder a cruel and tyrannical teacher the pupils rapidly be- 
come vicious and untrustworthy. This is simply because 
of the moral repression resulting from constant fear. Then 
do not frighten the children. Every argument that can 
be deduced from the wide range of human nature forbids 
us to inflict corporal punishment on children. 

" But," says the disciple of the rod, " the child can be 
made to acknowledge the justice of the punishment, and 
ought not to be punished until he does acknowledge it. 
By the proper argument he may be made to feel that he 
deserves to be punished." Very well ; then he does n't 
need to be punished. The object of punishment of course 
is to induce penitence, and if the child becomes penitent 
before the punishment, he certainly doesn't need to be 
punished. Who would punish a child after he had ac- 
knowledged that he ought to be ? Think of the mother 
who could whip her child after he had laid his head sob- 
bing on her bosom and said, " Mamma, I ought to be 
whipped ! " And yet, according to the admission of even 
the Solomon school, he should be willing to say this be- 
fore he ought to be whipped. He must be made penitent 
before the punishment can have any but an evil effect. 

The whole truth is expressed in these two facts. First, 



C2 OUR HOME. 

we ought not to punish a child till he sees and acknowl- 
edges the justice of the punishment ; and second, when he 
sees and acknowledges the justice of the punishment, he 
does n't need it. Thus the doctrine of the rod is crowded 
out entirely. There are no circumstances under which it 
is proper to use it. 

The object of all training is to develop character, and 
not merely to secure outward obedience. A child may be 
a model of obedience, and yet with every duty wliich he 
outwardly performs he may mingle an unuttered curse. 

With a horse or dog the prime object is to secure out- 
ward obedience. We care but little about the moral char- 
acter or the spiritual destiny of our horse, so long as he 

• 

obeys the whip and stops when we say " whoa ! " But 
what parent could say this of a child ! The true mother 
cares less for the outward act than for the inward. It is 
not so much her object to make the child obey her com- 
mands as it is to make him obey the commands of his own 
conscience and the spur of duty. If the child is inter- 
nally obedient to his own conscience, he will develop a 
noble character even though he should disobey every pa- 
rental command. 

Let every parent remember that there may be a vast 
difference between outward and inward obedience, and 
that either may exist without the other. The child may 
not cherish any feelings of hatred toward his parents, noi 
have any definite sense of rebellion, yet if he obeya simply 



HOME TRAINING 63 

because he fears to disobey, while he cannot feel that the 
command is just, he experiences, only in a less degree, all 
those evil results that come from harboring the sentiments 
of hatred and revenge. This obedience is outward and 
not inward. 

But how shall the stubborn boy be trained who seems 
incapable of responding to any other appeal than that of 
the rod ? Let us suppose a case, the most difficult that 
we can conceive, and see if there are any points where our 
doctrine would fail in practice. Suppose a mother re- 
quests her boy to go to a neighbor's house on an errand* 
The boy wishes to play ball and stubbornly refuses to go. 
What shall that mother do? "Give him a good sound 
thrashing," the Puritan mother would say. But even if she 
can do it now, she will certainly lack the physical power 
in a short time, and then what shall she* do? "Turn him 
over to his father," some one may say. A year or two 
more will place him beyond the authority of his father, 
then what is to be done? Here the resources of the 
" rod " school become exhausted. He has defied the au- 
thority of force, and has triumphed. The rod system, like 
some systems of medicine, works well in those cases which 
need no doctoring. As a rule the rod arolises the very 
passion which led to the commission of the offense, the 
very one we wish to allay. The secret of governing a 
child is to soothe those faculties whose unrestrained ac- 
tion gave rise to the offense, and at the same time to call 



64 OUR HOME. 

into action the restraining faculties, those which would 
have preyented the commission of the offense had they 
acted at the time. One of the principal restraining facul- 
ties is conscience, or the sense of obligation. Now all are 
supposed to possess this faculty in some degree. ' Those 
who do not, are morally deformed ; they are monstrosities, 
and their treatment involves something more than the sub- 
ject of "home training." We are not giving directions 
for the. management of the insane, nor the morally idiotic, 
but for the management, training and development of 
those who are fit to be entrusted with their own freedom, 
those who are free agents and who are capable of becom- 
ing men and women. 

Now let us see how this doctrine will work with the 
fitubborn boy we have just supposed. He of course is 
under the influence of anger, the very passion which the 
mother would excite still more if she were to attempt to 
punish him. Hence she must cool this passion by arous- 
ing the sense of obligation. Let her appeal to his honor. 
He has honor, but it is suppressed for the time by anger. 
He loves his mother unless he is a fit subject for the peni- 
tentiary, and in that case he does not come within the 
jurisdiction of any system of home training. A system 
must be devised expressly for him. Perhaps it may be ad- 
visable for her to do the thing herself which she has com- 
manded the boy to do, or perhaps it may be well to call 
his sister and send her on the errand, with the understand- 



HOME TRAINING. 65 

ing that it is not just for her to be compelled to do it. 
When he remembers that his little sister has performed a 
duty that was not hers but his, he will feel a little uncom- 
fortable in the region of conscience. He should be re- 
minded, perhaps, during the evening, that he is undei 
moral obligation to another who has performed a duty 
that he refused to perform. It should be talked of for a 
long time, and his conscience should not be allowed to 
rest till he has paid the moral debt. No precise rule 
can be given as to the way in which his conscience should 
be appealed to in every instance. Circumstances may 
vary so that any attempt at this would be impracticable. 
The mother should be so well acquainted with the nature 
of the child as to be able to appeal to any sentiment at 
will, under any and every varying circumstance. 

Some may object to this because it defers obedience too 
long. But a disobedient, ungrateful and stubborn boy 
should be regarded by parents as a misfortune, and they 
should be happy if they succeed in securing obedience at 
all, even if it requires days to secure obedience to a single 
command. But if this method is practiced with the child 
from his infancy, he will not become a disobedient and 
stubborn boy. We have supposed an extreme case in 
order to anticipate and fortify ourselves against the argu« 
ment arising from such cases. * 

But we are well aware that many a good old mother 
who has wielded the rod for thirty years, will, in her just 

5 



66 ^ OUR HOME, 

egotism, point to her noble sons and daughters as a trium- 
phant refutation of these views which she will be pleased 
to call trash. Nor would we disregard the well-earned 
practical knowledge of these grand women. Their egotism 
is pardonable. Yet we shall modestly claim that they are 
liable to be mistaken in some of their views of life, and 
when they oppose our doctrine and style it theory, we 
shall reply that the doctrine of moral accountability is a 
theory, but it is one that appeals so strongly to the com- 
mon sense and intuition of mankind as to be independent 
of the argunfent of actual experience. 

We would not contend that injudicious training is sure 
to spoil a child, neither will the wisest training always 
serve to develop a noble character. The children of noble 
mothers will sometimes be noble in spite of wrong train- 
ing. Men have developed powerful lungs who through 
their whole lives have breathed hardly a breath of pure air. 
Men have had strong digestion who have abused their 
stomachs, and intemperate men have died of old age. But 
these are the exceptions and not the rule. For one who 
desires to live a long life it would not be safe to be intem- 
perate simply because a few have lived to be old in spite 
of intemperance. Neither is it safe to follow a wrong sys- 
tem of training because some mothers of the rod persua- 
sion have reared a family of noble children. Such mothera 
transmit to their children healthy bodies and sound minds 
and good morals, and they would have developed into 



HOME TRAINING. 67 

noble men and women under almost any system of train* 
ing. Besides, the occasions for punishing such children 
Dccur at intervals so rare that little injury can result. 

In the training of the child, physical culture should pre- 
cede all other kinds ; next should follow the training of 
the affections. He should be taught to love only the good 
and to hate all that is bad. After this the intellect should 
be trained. Not however by sending him to school to sit 
aU day on a hard seat where his feet cannot touch the floor, 
and where he learns to say ^^ A.'' Little children are usu- 
aUy sent to school when they should be romping through 
the woods and pastures. Of course we do not condemn 
the common school system, yet there are many features of 
it which tend greatly to neutralize the good. It were in- 
finitely better for the race to live in barbaric ignorance 
with sound and healthy bodies, than in the grandest civil- 
ization with bodily weakness and physical impotency ; for 
a barbaric race may become civilized, but a race of physi- 
cal weaklings is doomed to extinction. And it cannot be 
denied that the common schools, especially in the city, are 
rapidly sapping the physical stamina of the civilized world, 
and this is especially true in hot-headed America. 

Children should be educated at home by the parents ; 
at least till they are well developed physically. It is safe 
to send a boy to school when he has become so strong 
physically that no teacher can suppress his buoyancy and 
make a man of him. 



68 OUR HOME, 

Studiousness on the part of young boys and girls should 
be regarded by parents as a more dangerous symptom than 
hemorrhage of the lungs. Indeed, these are often symp- 
toms of the same disease. 

There are many and strong arguments for educating 
children at home. In the first place, the mother is the 
natural teacher of the child. The eagle does not send her 
little ones to school to learn to fly, nor does she employ a 
governess, but chooses to perform the duty herself. The 
spiritual sympathy between mother and child enables the 
mother to minister to the individual wants of the child as 
no other teacher can. There are locked chambers in every 
human soul, but in the child's there are none to which the 
mother does not hold the key. 

The public school tends to destroy the individuality of 
the pupil, to crush out all his originality and force his 
mind, whatever may be ii& natural tendency, into the com- 
mon channel. Civilization tends directly toward physical 
and mental diversity, and individual peculiarities, but the 
public school does not recognize this fact. 

Low down in the scale of life we notice but little diver- 
sity. A flock of birds seem all alike. We cannot detect 
any difference between two foxes of the same age and sex, 
but dogs and horses differ, because for ages they have been 
under the modifying influences of man until their condi- 
tion corresponds to that of the civilization of man. In 
the early ages men differed from one another far less than 



HOME TRAINING. 69 

they do at present. Civilization and a tendency to direr-* 
sity are so closely dependent on common causes that what* 
ever hinders the one hinders also the other. Of course 
we would not contend that the common schools retard 
civilization, although in this respect they certainly have a 
tendency to retard it. 

In the public schools all are compelled to take the 
same course, regardless of their individual peculiarities 
of talent. If a pupil is by nature poorly endowed with 
the mathematical talent, he must go through just as fast 
but no slower than the others. The explanations that 
suffice for those who are mathematically inclined must 
suffice for him also. No provision is made for taste or 
talent. 

But this is not the case when the children are educated 
at home. Every peculiarity of talent may be provided for. 
Then there is a great source of pleasure in the education 
of one's own children. It tends to perpetuate the author- 
ity which parents ought to have over their children. If 
the child has been educated by his parent he will never 
cease to have the highest respect for that parent. This is 
a strong reason why parents should educate themselves 
and keep pace with their children in all their studies ; for 
although dutiful children will always respect their parents 
however ignorant they may be, yet intelligent parents, 
those capable of instructing their children, will be re- 
spected still more. Then, if for no other reason, the chil- 



70 OUR HOME, 

dren should be educated at home, to maintain the authority 
of the parent and the respect of the child. 

Let the mothers of our country, as far as possible, pat- 
tern after that mother who not only trained the bodies of 
her boys and made them physical heroes, but trained their 
affections and made them moral heroes. Nor, indeed, did 
her care cease here ! She has trained them intellectually, 
fitted them for college, and sent them forth to meet on 
life's arena those intellectual heroes who have been trained 
at the hands of honored masters. 

Men shall feel in this a beauty and a pathos to the end 
of time, whenever the historian shall turn for a moment 
from the crimson pictures of national strife to narrate the 
simple story. Can those boys ever cease to respect that 
mother? Can they ever cease to reverence her very name ? 

Perhaps it is not generally known that we worship God 
with the same faculty with which we honor our parents. 
Now the children of such mothers as we have considered 
must feel perpetually a sense of honor and parental rever- 
ence. This strengthens and develops the faculty with 
which God is worshiped. Hence we see why the children 
of such parents are usually religious. The unwritten life 
of one such woman is a stronger argument than all the 
silver irony of prostituted genius. 

There are, of course, but few mothers or fathers who can 
fit their boj'^s or girls for college, and this is not necessary 
in order to apply the doctrine we have advocated. There 



UOME TRAINING, 71 

are but few boys aud girls who go to college. Nor is it 
necessary to keep the children home from school. Tht 
mother can superintend the education of a child even 
Vhile he is in school. The teacher's function should be 
something more than merely listening to the recitation of 
the pupil. But this is nearly all that the average teacher 
does. Hence the mother has a wide field even while her 
'Child is in the public school. 

There seems to be a growing tendency on tlie part of 
mothers to entrust the training of their children to the 
hands of hired nurses. This is a great error. In the first 
place, its breaks the current of divine magnetism between 
mother and child which ought to make the mental pulses 
of both beat in unison. Again, it has a tendency to dimin- 
ish filial reverence in the child. By separating him from 
his mother au that tender age in which the links of the 
eternal chain should he forged, we render it almost impos- 
:}ible for him to love her as he ought. This is not to be 
wondered at, for the modern fashionable mother sees her 
<;hild only as a visitor would see it. The child must be 
dressed up as if to entertain strangers, and when he begins 
to cry he is carried away at once by the nurse, while the 
mother makes another appointment. Perhaps one of the 
most striking manifestations of God's mercy to the race is 
aeen in the fact that comparatively few ofl:s^ ring are bum 
of such women — if the license of literature will permit us 
to use the word woman in this connection. Better a thou- 



72 



OUR HOME. 



Band times that the world should be populated from the 
slums than from such sources. 

" The mother in her office holds the key 
Of the soul; and she It is who stamps the coin 
Of character, and makes the being who woold be a saTage 
Bat for her gentle care, a Christian man." 




RE^A''ARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 



ards and punishmentfi of home should 
logous to those, if not identical with 
which God has already instituted as 
I rewards and punishments. There 
be little oi nothing artificial in the 
s or punishments of home, 
child is bribed to do his duty by some 
e of reward, be is likely to acquire the 
abit of performing virtuous acts from 
itives. The approval of conscience is 
tural reward for the performance of 
uty. If an artificial reward is substi- 
br this, the motive is transferred from 
nee to some selfish faculty, and the 
moral character becomes depraved, 
no reward shoujjl ever be given for 
ire performance of duty when it is 
Q the child that it is hie duty. In 
euuie cases where the desired act seems to be 
an act of self-sacrifice on the part of the child, and one 
which he does not understand to be particularly his duty, 
it is perfectly right and often wise to offer rewards. But 






74 OUR HOME. 

if he is hired to do those things which his own conscience 
plainly tells him he ought to do, he will learn to act in 
such cases from the motive of the reward, and not from 
that of conscience. But during this time conscience must 
lie idle for want of something to do, and God never lets a 
talent lie in a n^ipkiu without depreciating. Although 
conscience might have prompted him to the same act, yet 
if it be not the determining motive he cannot experience 
the approval of conscience. Conscience deals with mo- 
tives, not with acts, and, like every other function of our 
being, grows by exercise. The food of conscience is its 
own approval, and in order to secure its approval it must 
aflbrd the ruling motive. 

Whenever a reward is offered, an appeal should not be 
made at the same time to the sense of duty. It should 
pass simply as a trade, and the child should not be re- 
minded that there is any right or wrong about it. These 
are the only circumstances under which it is proper to 
offer a reward to a child. 

We would not have it understood, however, that re- 

m 

wards should be given only for those acts which con- 
science cannot approve. Such acts, of course, should 
never be required nor performed at all. Rewards should 
be offered only for good deeds, those which the conscience 
of the child, if it were to act at all, would approve. All 
we mean is simply that a base reward should never be 
made to supplement conscience in such a way as to bes 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 75 

come the ruling motive. If it be found that conscience is 
acting at all, do not offer a reward to complete the motive 
and make it strong enough to rule his act, but try to stim- 
ulate conscience to a still higher degree of action, until its 
motive becomes sufficient of itself to produce the desired 
result. 

As a rule the reward when given should appeal to the 
mental rather than the physical. It should be something 
which has a tendency to stimulate the thinking or invent- 
ive powers rather than something which merely satisfies 
a physical want. It is generally better to give a book 
than a drum, although there are far meaner rewards than 
a drum. Candy and sweetmeats should never under any 
•circumstances be offered. That which is unfit for an 
4idult is surely unfit to constitute a reward for a child. It 
is a fact that the world makes its greatest efforts in re- 
-sponse to the demands of sensual gratification. Is it un- 
reasonable to suppose that the foundation of this evil is 
laid in childhood through the pernicious practice of re- 
•warding chDdren with sweetmeats ? 

A toy steam engine or some machine which will stimu- 
late the constructive or inventive faculty is, perhaps, the 
aiost appropriate present which can be given to a boy. 

There are circumstances, however, under which it 
-would be improper to give such gifts. In case the child 
is already too much inclined to mental activitjs no present 
should be given which will farther stimulate the intellect. 



76 OUR HOME, 

At the present time there are many cases of this kind, es- 
pecially in the cities. For such precocious childveu a cart 
or sled or a pair of skates would be a far more appropriate 
gift than a book or even a steam engine. 

But the worst and most injurious practice conaected 
with the subject of rewards and punishments is X hat of 
bribing children with promises that are never meant to be 
fulfilled. It happens in many cases that this is the ohild'a 
first lesson in falsehood. All promises made to children 
should be copscientiously fulfilled, for the whole liir> and 
character of the child may be changed by a single repudi- 
ated promise. Let no parent assume the fearful res)on.si* 
bility of giving his child the first lesson in dishonesty. 

The punishments of home should be, as far as postible, 
natural. They should consist chiefly if not wholly in 
pointing out and making a direct application of the same 
kind of punishment which nature herself inflicts for the 
same offense. 

For instance, the natural punishment which Nature has 
appended to the sin of falsehood is the suspicion and dis- 
trust of our fellow men. Hence when a child tells a false- 
hood, he should be made to feel that he has done that for 
which he deserves the suspicion of the whole family. All 
eyes should be turned upon him with a pitying distrust. 

Nature's punishment for selflshness is a withdrawal of 
the sympathy and love of society, and in addition thereto . 
the defeat of its own ends. Selfishness is always defeated in 



REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS, 77 

the end. Hence when a child has encroached upon the 
rights of his brothers or sisters through selfishness, the 
sympathy of the family should be withdrawn, while at the 
same time he should be prevented from reaping the bene- 
fit which he anticipated from his selfish act. The other 
children should be made to feel that he is actually unwor- 
thy of their society. In certain cases, perhaps, he should be 
banished from the society of the family and even shut up 
in his room, as a severer punishment and as a more direct 
and literal application of that principle which is involved 
in the banishment to which society always dooms the self- 
ish man. God has made society on such a plan that it 
cannot tolerate selfishness. He has also arranged our na- 
ture so that the very best thing for the selfish man is to 
have society shun him. It is the medicine that will cure 
him if he is curable. 

Now is it not safe to follow God's method in punishing 
the child for selfishness at home ? Who will come so near 
to challenging the wisdom of God as to style this ^^ idle 
theory " ? If the child be defeated in his selfish purpose 
by the parent, and he is banished for an hour or a day, as 
the case may be, from the sympathy of the family, he will 
come to feel by no process of logic, perhaps, but by the 
force of habit and association, that such conduct on the 
part of others is the necessary and inevitable accompani- 
ment of his selfishness, that it is founded in the everlasting 
relations of his social nature. When he becomes a man he 



78 OUR HOME. 

will receive the same kind of punishment from society if 
he still persists in his selfishness. He will then perceive 
that the punishment is rational and inevitable, and that 
the relation between it and the offense is constant and nec- 
essary. If any other method is pursued the child will in 
the course of his life be subjected to two kinds of punish- 
ment for the same offense, one an arbitrary and the other 
a natural one. The human mind is unable to perceive any 
necessary relation between the crime of selfishness and the 
pain inflicted by an angry parent with a birch stick. 
There is no logical relation between them, and as a natural 
consequence the child rebels, at least spiritually, and 
hence is made more selfish than before. He will be more 
and more selfish as he grows older, and when he comes to 
receive the natural punishment from society for his sin, he 
will rebel against that from the mere force pf habit. He 
will come to hate society. He will be cold and cynical. 
He will come to entertain a morbid sentiment of ill will 
toward society, and, spurred on by the feeling that the 
world owes him a debt, he may be led to commit some 
dark and dreadful crime against his fellowmen. It is noi 
impossible that a large per cent, of the pirates, robbers^ 
and murderers are such because of the unwise and illogical 
relation between the offenses and punishments of their 
childhood. 

.One has truthfully said, " Caprice or violence in cor- 
recting will go far to justify the transgressor in his own 



RE W Alius ASIJ PUNISHMENTS, 1^ 

eyes at least ; he will consider every appearance of injus- 
tice as a vindication of his own aggression." Who has not 
^een a confirmation of this among school boys ? Often a 
boy is whipped by a teacher when if properly managed he 
would willingly express his sorrow for the offense. But 
after the whipping he goes sullenly to his seat muttering 
to himself, "I'm glad I did it." He is glad he did it 
because he feels that his teacher has wronged him, and 
that in a certain sense the offense which he himself has 
committed makes them even. Human beings, and espe- 
cially children, when under the influence of anger, are not 
very reasonable, and are not inclined to take very impar- 
tial views of subjects. 

But it may be said that he ought to look at it differ- 
ently ; that he has no right to look at it so partially ; that 
the case is plain if he will look at it rightly. Very well, 
but if he doesn't look at it rightly, the facts of the case 
are of no benefit to him, and he receives all the injurious 
results to his moral nature that he would receive if the 
facts were on the other side of the case. 

There Ls no possible human act that is not right or 
wrong ; if right it is self rewarding, and if wrong it is self- 
punishing. It is the function of human authority to teach 
the transgressor wherein his transgressions punish them* 
selves. 

" A plctare memory brings to me: 
I look across the years and see 
Myself beside my mother's knee. 



80 OUH HOME. 

** I feel her gentle hand restrain 
My selfish moods, and know ttgaln 
A child's blind sense of wron^ and pain. 

*' But wiser now, a man gray grown, 
My childhood's needs are better known. 
My mother's chastening love I own. 

** Gray grown, but in our Father's sight 
A child still groping for the light 
To read his works and ways aright. 

*' I bow myself beneath his hand; 
That pain itself for good was planned* 
I trust, but cannot understand. 

*' I fondly dream it needs roust be, 
That as my mother dealt with me, 
80 with his children dealeth he. 

** I wait, and trust the end will prove 
That here and there, below, above. 
The chastening heals, the pain is loral ** 




i 



AMUSEMENTS FOR THE HOME. 




HE human mind demands amusement. One 
of its constituent elements is a love of fun. 
No innate demand of the mind can be denied 
without injury. Amusement and fun are as 
essential to the growth and development of 
the young mind as sleep, or any form of 
exercise. Hence we have no sympathy 
with that system of home government 
which suppresses this element in the chil- 
dren. Such systems are suicidal, and one 
can hardly help doubting the genuineness 
of that religion that imposes perpetual 
melancholy as one of its tenets. It has 
' been said that Christ never was known to 

laugh but often to weep, and if he foresaw the existence 
of that creed that suppresses laughter as one of the cardi- 
nal vices, it is no wonder that he never laughed. But 
there is no evidence that he did not laugh. The character 
of his mission was such as to render any record of his 
lighter moments entirely out of place. It is, however, a 
well known fact that Christ was of a thoughtful, serious 



81 OUR HOME. 

cast of mind, and even if it could be proved that he never 
laughed, the fact would have no weight as an argument 
against laughter among us. We are not expected nor 
required to follow his example in all things, for this would 
be impossible. Marriage is a divine institution a^d im- 
poses obligations upon us from which Christ by virtue of 
his nature and work was exempted. 

Were it not for the superstitious folly of so many peo- 
ple, what we have said on this phase of the subject would 
be entirely superfluous. Probably but few Christian peo- 
ple at the present day would openly acknowledge that they 
have conscientious scruples against laughter, yet there are 
thousands of stern fathers who virtually suppress all laugh- 
ter in their homes, as a religious duty. They would not 
acknowledge to themselves even that they believe laughter 
to be wrong in the abstract, and yet somehow or other 
they manage to resolve every occasion for laughter into 
something that ought to be suppressed. 

It is the duty of the parents to make home pleasant and 
agreeable, and even to furnish occasions for merriment and 
fun, as much as it is to furnish food and shelter. Children 
should not be required to remain quiet and sedate during 
the long evenings simply because the stern father wishes 
to read the newspaper. If he wishes to read aloud some- 
thing that would be interesting to the children, it is proper 
to do so. All parents should consider themselves under 
obligations to furnish at least or\e paper or magazine ex- 



AMUSEMENTS FOR THE HOME. 83 

pressly for the children. Not one of the ponderous and 
^mber journals of Zion, but one full of light jokes, inter- 
esting stories, and such information as children desire and 
can appreciate. Of course the father and mother are to be 
allowed time to read tlieir religious and political papers, 
and their scientific books ; but the children's right in this 
respect must not be encroached upon. It will not hurt 
the father or mother to read aloud from the " Youth's 
Companion " or some other paper of similar character, or, 
perhaps, what is better still, they can lay aside their own 
paper and listen and be interested while one of the older 
children is reading. 

Reading aloud by parents and children is one of the 
most useful sources of amusement in every home. In addi- 
tion to the amusement, valuable information would be ob- 
tained, also healthful vocal exercise and elocutionary drill. 

Another source of amusement, peculiarly appropriate 
for the home, and one of which we never tire, is music. 
The money spent for a musical instrument is not thrown 
away. Every home should contain some such instrument, 
and there are but few families that cannot afford a piano 
or an organ. There is something in the nature of music 
that tends to evolve harmony in the hearts of those who 
jointly produce it or listen to it. There is something of 
philosophy in the oft quoted words of Shakespeare : 

" The man that hath no music in himself, 
Nor is not moved by concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." 



M OUR HOME, 

It is probable, however, that the author used this word 
music in the broadest sense of poesy, yet even in its 
restricted sense there is the semblance of truth. The 
world presents us with many examples of grand and noble 
souls that are deaf to the pleadings of the harp, and yet 
the fact remains untouched that music is the language of 
the highest souls. Eloquence holds a wand for the soul's- 
lofty moods, and yet there is an altitude in whose rarefied 
atmosphere the soul is dumb, and in the frenzy of despair 
seizes the harp and the viol. From these spiritual beati- 
tudes on whose hushed summits the veil is rolled back, 
there comes no message save in wordless strains. 

We cannot stand beside a friend in the presence of 
music without feeling the ties grow stronger. The spirit's 
invisible arms clasp each other. Neither can we stand be- 
side an enemy without feeling the timbers of hatred that 
have braced our souls apart, give way, and before we are- 
aware our spirit proclaims him friend. 

How peculiarly appropriate, then, as a home amuse- 
ment, is music. As well might you drive love from home 
as to exclude music. Let the boys learn to play the vio^ 
lin ; and let the girls play the organ or piano. Let the 
home be a perpetual temple of song. 

A silent home, where there is no music nor reading an(J 
but little conversation, is a dull and sad place for the 
young. Children do not like to stay long in those places^ 
where their only entertainment is their own thoughts.. 






AMUSEMENTS FOR THE HOME. 85 

There is nothing worse for a child than subjective think- 
ing, thinking of his own thoughts. It leads to habitual 
melancholy, and this state is so tlioruughly unnatural for a 
•child that it cannot exist without enfeebling both mind 
And body. Those who commit suicide will be found in 
almost every instance to be those who were led to sub* 
jective thinking during the long winter evenings of their 
•childhood. 

A boy cannot maintain health of body without laughter, 
merriment, and fun. We have every reason to believe 
that a lamb would not maintain its bodily health and grow 
to be a mature animal if it were prevented from running 
and frolicking. 

Most especially does the feeling of merriment assist the 
•digestive function. This idea is already prevalent among 
the people, and yet there is too little abiding faith in the 
medicinal virtue of fun. Our meals should be scenes of 
uninterrupted merriment. It is a fact universally ac- 
knowledged that the American people eat too rapidly for 
the good of their health. Now there is nothing tliat 
checks rapid eating like fun and merry conversation. 
One of the evils of Puritanism, which we have not yet 
outgrown, was the itlea that cheerful conversation is unbe- 
coming at meals. The children were taught to eat in si- 
lence at the second table, under the awful superintendence 
of their parents, who had eaten up all the good things. 
The eating up of the good things, however, was not half so 



80 OUR HOME, 

cruel as it was to compel them to put on long faces, anA 
be men and women, and eat in silence. The free ventila- 
tion, the hard work, and the simple fare which they en- 
joyed prevented them from having the dyspepsia. But 
we cannot tell how thoroughly their stomachs and livers 
were prepared by such treatment at meal time, to give the 
dyspepsia to the next generation. It is not at all an ex- 
travagant belief, that much of the dyspepsia of to-day had 
its remote origin among the Puritans in their cruel sup^ 
pression of childish mirth at the family board. There are 
families in which the Puritanic idea is still prevalent, that 
" children should be seen but not heard." We have no 
sympathy with that doctrine. Such an idea could have 
originated only in parental selfishness.. In the days of our 
grandfathers the children were, indeed, pitiable creatures. 
But we are gradually becoming more civilized on this 
point. The same principle in human nature that has 
given rise to societies for the "prevention of cruelty to an- 
imals " has so modified our sentiments toward children 
that we no longer regJird them as so many wild beasts put 
into our hands to be tamed. Children are now allo«red to 
spend most of their time in the pursuit of fun and to laugh 
at meals. 

Parents should mingle with their children in their sports 
and games. It is not unbecoming to a mother or a father 
to play with a child, but, on the contrary, it is quite be- 
coming ; and in so doing a parent is discharging one of the 



AMUSEMENTS FOR THE HOME. 87 

highest duties that have been imposed upon him. This is 
not the task it may seem to be. There is something in 
the relation of parent and child that makes the parent 
take positive delight in that which delights the child. 
Every mother knows this to be true. There is that in the 
experience of every one which testifies to this. We all feel 
an interest in those things which interest the ones we love. 

• 

This principle has an influence even over the senses. Ar- 
ticles of food which we do not ordinarily like, when eaten 
in the presence of a loved one who does like them, actu- 
ally become savory to us. We are made by this principle 
to fall into the same line of thought and feeling with those 
we love. And hence the mother experiences almost as 
much delight from playing with a cart as does her child. 
This same principle doubtless accounts for the fact that 
all animals play with their young. This is Nature's argu 
ment. The cat and dog, however old and dignified, al- 
most continually play with their young; so does the 
lion, and probably all wild animals. Animals that cannot 
by any other possible means be induced to manifest the 
slightest degree of playfulness, are full, or appear to be 
full, of fun and frolic while rearing their young. Do not 
these facts proclaim a natural law? Playing with chil- 
dren is a subject of more importance than most people arn 
aware of. 

The oldest of a family of children often has a bad dispo^ 
sition, and it is doubtless due to the fact that it had no 



88 OUR HOME. 

older playmates. It seems to be a law of the child's na 
ture that in order to properly develop he requires an oldei 
playmate. 

The younger members of the family are provided for in 
this respect by the older ones, and accordingly their dispo* 
sitions are better, and their minds are usually more sym* 
metrically developed. Now, if parents would heed this 
law and become the intimate associates and playmates of 
their children while they are young, no such disparity of 
disposition and character would be found. 

The chief reason why so many children become dissatis- 
fied with their home and desire to leave it at the earliest 
possible opportunity, is because they have not had happy 
homes; and unhappy homes are seldom looked back to 
with tender thoughts in after years. But let them keep 
the old time feeling in their hearts that ^^ there's no place 
like home," and when the hour of reunion draws nigh with 
its glad tidings and joyful welcome they will not send 
the cruel telegram of two words, " business pressing," but 
will come with open hearts and smiling faces, bringing 
back again the same feeling that they carried away, that 
" there's no place like home." 

But children are not the only beings that require amuse^ 
ments. All require it, even the aged. Absolute rest is 
not the thing* required by the father when he comes home 
from the shop, the office, or the store. Human being* 
need but very little of that kind of rest beyond what they 



AMUSEMENTS FOR THE UOME. 80 

get during the hours of sleep. If there could be fouud a 
vocation in which all the faculties should be exercised 
alike, those engaged in such a vocation would require no 
amusement beyond what would necessarily result from 
exercising the faculty of mirth equally with the otiier fac- 
ulties. But the relations of human life afford no such vo- 
cation, hence the wisdom of making special provision for 
Amusements. 

Suppose we have a complicated machine, only a part 
of which is in action, half of the wheels remaining motion- 
less. Now suppose we discover that the machine is wear- 
ing out in tliat part which is constantly exercised. What 
shall we do to maintain the symmetry of the machine 
and prevent it from becoming in a short time useless? 
Will it be suflBcient to simply stop the machine a few 
hours or da)'8 and then start it again ? Surely not, for 
balf of it is now actually rusting out from the want of 
being used. One half needs rest and the other part needs 
action in order to check the process of destruction. Hence 
the only way to accomplish the desired result is to stop 
the part that has been continually running and start the 
other part. 

This illustration explains the whole philosophy of amuse- 
ments and recreations. Man does not need to rest, but 
flimply to start up the other half of his vital and mental 
machinery, and home furnishes the only adequate motive 
power. 



90 OUR HOME, 

" Fiown not, when roisterinj^ boys or toss or strlk* 
The bounding ball, or leap or run or ride 
The mastered steed that, as the rider, loves 
The rushing course, or when with ringing steel 
The polished ice they sweep in winter's reign; 
All pleasing pastimes, innocent delights. 
That gladden hearts yet simple and sincere, 
Let love parental gather 'round the home. 
And consecrate by sharing ; let it watch 
With kind, approving smiles each merry game 
That quickens youthful blood, and in the joy 
That beams from crimson cheeks and sparkling eyis 
Its own renew, and live its childhood o'er." 




HOME SMILES. 




SMILE is the most useful thing in the world 
in proportion to its cost. It costs absolutely 
nothing, but its utility is often beyond esti- 
mation. It comes as the involuntary and 
irrepressible expression of a sentiment that 
lies at the basis of human society. Smiles 
constitute a part of our language. There 
seem to be certain combinations of words that 
require to be supplemented with a smile be- 
fore they can have any meaning to us. 
The humoT^ soul, shrouded in the mysteries of personal- 
ity, yearns to know the essence of other souls, as it were, to 
touch a band in the dark, and smiles are the electric 
flashes that illumine the wide gulf that separates indi- 
vidualities. 

There is a mystery in what we call acquaintance. Ac- 
quaintance, however, is not the proper word, but since 
human language affords no apter one we shall be obliged to 
use it. Why should we say that we are acquainted with 
this one and not with that one? Acquaintanceship does 
not consist in a knowledge of an individual's peculiarities 
of character or disposition, for we sometimes feel ac- 



92 OUR HOME. 

quainted with persons whose minds are sealed books to ub. 
We cannot understand them. Their thoughts are mysteri- 
ous and unfathomable, and they always seem to take a turn 
which was wholly unexpected to us and which we cannot 
account for, and yet we feel perfectly acquainted with 
them. 

There are others whose minds are as transparent as glass. 
Their mental operations are performed, as it were, in the 
sight of all. We can almost anticipate their very thoughts, 
and yet we would not think of speaking to them because, 
as we say, we are not acquainted with them. 

Acquaintance is not a conventionality of society, for it 
may be observed in those rude and primitive communities 
where the mere conventionalities of society have little 
weight. It is more strongly manifested in little children 
even before they can talk than in older people. This 
shows that whatever acquaintance may be, it is natural 
and not artificial. In what then does it consist? What 
passes between two souls when a third party says, " this is 
Mr. ^ Mr. " ? There is usually some form of salu- 
tation, as the bow or the shaking of hands ; although there 
is nothing of a permanent or essential nature in these, for 
the mode of salutation differs in diiferent nations and com- 
munities. The Turks fold their arms across the breast 
while bowing ; the Laplanders touch their noses ; and in 
Southern Africa they rub their toes together. 

But there is one act that accompanies all these different 



HOME SMILES. 93 

modes, one rite that never varies. It is the smile. The 
philosophy of acquaintance is wrapt up in the philosophy 
of the smile. When two smiles have met, two souls are 
acquainted. A smile is the sign that a soul gives wlien it 
would examine another soul., 

Eveiy soul in the universe lives alone. There is a 
dark curtain dropped before the window of its house 
which hides it from the view of all. Every one has felt 
his loneliness even in the midst of crowds. Souls cannot 
come into contact, but they can draw aside the curtain 
from the window. To smile is to draw aside the curtain. 
The fondest souls can do no more. Even lovers must 
caress through a window. 

At home, these curtains should often be drawn aside, for 
there is nothing so fatal to a home as to have its members 
become unacquainted with each other. And there is noth- 
ing so difficult as to renew the acquaintance of brothers 
and sisters, when once it has been lost. When they begin 
to be restrained and self-conscious in each other's society ; 
when they begin to review with indifference those phases 
of life over which they once smiled and wept together, — 
they are unconsciously, perhaps unwillingly, cutting each 
other's acquaintance. There is no sadder sight on earth 
than that of a brother and sister who are unacquainted. 
The coldness and reserve that springs up between the 
members of so many families originates in a lack of 
" smiles at home." 



D-1 OUR HOME, 

By smiles we do nut mean that which takes the place of 
loud laughter when the occasion is insufficient to provoke 
us to more noisy demonstrations. Nor do we mean either 
the transient smile with which one regards the ludicrous, 
or the habitual smile that often accompanies a low degree 
of thought-power. There is a smile that originates neither 
in the sense of the ludicrous, nor in thoughtlessness. Like 
certain articles of dress such smiles are becoming on all 
occasions. They sit with equal grace upon the brow of 
joy and of sorrow. They seem as appropriate when they 
wreathe the mother's thoughtful face as when they live in 
the dimpled cheek of laughing girlhood, or with their 
magic play transform the eyes to twinkling stars. 

These are the smiles with which we would adorn every 
home. We would set them as vases of flowers in every 
house. 

Smiles should be the legal tender in every family for the 
payment of all debts of kindness, and each member should 
be willing to take this currency at its face value ; for its 
value is beyond the reach of those disturbing influences 
that shake the world of commerce. And, what is better 
than all, it can never be demonetized, for it bears the 
immutable stamp of the divine government. 

Let the members of the family, almost as often as they 
meet, greet each other with a smile, for eyes that meet in 
full gaze without a smile soon grow cold. The mother, if 
she would keep the confidence of her son, must be lavish of 



HOME SMILES. 95 

her smiles. Mothers often weep in the presence of their 
sons on account of the anxiety that they feel for them. 
This is a great error, for in the first place it leads a young 
man to conceal that which he believes would displease his 
mother. This is often the beginning of a fatal reserve. 
Besides, it causes him to feel that his mother has not con- 
fidence in him, and that however much she may love him 
she fears to trust his honor. 

The smiU is nature's cure for the disease of bashfulness. 
This disease is simply the fear which one soul experiences 
in approachirjg another. But the smile is an instinctive 
effort to supprv^ss the fear and to know the soul. 

A knowledge of this principle would be of great service 
to those having the charge of bashful children. Strangers 
should always eacourage a smile in a bashful child. Such 
children should Le met with smiles rather than with words. 
The smile is th« only form of salutation that a bashful 
child can use. lie cannot speak to a stranger in audible 
language, but if the stranger will consent to use the lan- 
guage of smiles he may almost always gain quick admis- 
sion to his confidence. When the bashful child smiles and 
blushes and hangs his head in the presence of strangers, 
there is great hope that he will outgrow the infirmity, for 
the smile is an instinctive effort to overcome it. But 
where the child is not inclined to smile there is little hope, 
and the malady usually degenerates intc moroseness and 
oddity. 



98 OUR HOME, 

The habitual smiler is never a dyspeptic. Smiles pro- 
mote the general health and are especially fatal to any dis- 
ease of the stomach or liver. 

Smiles also promote the growth of the religious senti- 
ment, because they cannot thrive without a constant sense 
of obligation to others. Especially do they tend to culti- 
vate benevolence, for every smile is a gift, and benevolence 
grows by giving. There are few souls that can "smile, 
and murder while they smile." None indeed can murder, 
while they smile from the heart. There may be the same 
movement of the facial muscles, but smiles are not merely 
contractions of certain muscles. They are mental acts. 

The actor may give the outward expression of a smile, 
and murder while he smiles, but the words of the great 
dramatist are not true of a single human soul except the 
smile be spurious. 

** Sweet is the smile of home; the mntaal look 
Where hearts are of each other sure; 
Sweet all the joys that crowd the household Dook» 
The haunt of all affectious pure." 




JOYS OF HOME. 




lOY is the natural and normal condition of 
every human soul. To be genuine and per- 
manent it must depend chiefly on internal 
instead of external conditions. Every nat- 
ural function both of the body and of the 
mind is attended with pleasure and never 
with pain, unless it be the penalty for a 
broken law. If walkinp is not pleasurable, 
it is because there is some trouble with the 
ph3'sical system. If daylight does not bring 
to the eye positive pleasure, it is because the 
eye is diseased and there is a maladjustment 
between it and the light. The difficulty is 
always on the part of the eye and never on the part of the 
light. Wlien the song of birds, the sighing of the breeze, 
the rippling of the brook, the chirping of the insect and 
the thousand voices of nature do not bring to the ear and* 
soul the exquisite sense of divine harmony, it is because 
fdn with rude hand has broken the chords of the spirit's 
harp. We always hear music at second hand, just as we 
see beauty. Hence it has been said that ^^ beauty is in tht 
€ye of the gazer, and music jr in the ear of the listener.'^ 

7 



98 OUR HO^fE. 

There is philosophy in this saying, for all the music that 
we hear is that which the soul itself produces when it re- 
sponds to the myriad voices from without. These sounds 
and voices from nature, God's great orchestra, must be re- 
produced bj' the soul's response before they can become 
music to us. It is not the music without that we hear, but 
the spirit's imitation of it. 

If, then, the soul be tuned to the same key so as to give 
a true response, rest assured that our lives will be filled 
with harmony and joy, for God's hand never strikes a dis- 
cord. 

The secret of human joy, then, is to keep the spirit's 
harp in tune. To the spirit whose harp is out of tune, the- 
clouds are but unsightly rags with which the mantle of 
the sky is patched ; the mountain in its grandeur is but an 
eminence that is hard to climb; the sublime thunder of 
Niagara is but a loud noise that makes it difficult to sleep ; 
while the songs of birds, the patter of the rain, the laugh- 
ter and the voices of the woods are but the troublesome 
prattle of Nature's children. 

Joy cannot be bought with gold. There is but one 
thing that Nature will take in exchange for it, and that is 
obedience to the divine laws of our being. Joy is the 
only legitimate and necessary product of every normal and 
healthy function. It is absolutely impossible for any 
function of our being, if healthy and normal in its action, 
to produce anything but joy, no matter what may be the 



JOYS OF HOME. 99 

outward conditions. The truest and highest joj is a prod- 
uct of health, and is but partially dependent on external 
tonditions. 

Nature aims at no other grand result than that of joy. 
She has created the myriad varieties of fruit for the pleas- 
ure of the palate. For the joy of the eye she has painted 
on the earth's green canvas the gentle hints of heaven, and 
bathed the picture in the liquid silver of the sunlight. 
For the ear she has filled the earth with harmony divine. 
For the joy of our social and domestic natures she. has 
instituted the home, the fireside and society. For our in- 
tellectual nature she has filled the universe with problems^ 
the solution of which gives us exquisite pleasure. For our 
spiritual nature she has given the heavenly reward of an ap- 
proving conscience. Thus is joy the eternal aim of Nature. 

On whom then rests the blame when life's joys are tar- 
nished and its sweetness turned to bitterness? Whom 
shall we blame for the strained and weakened eye that 
makes the sunlight painful ? Whom shall we blame for 
the overwrought brain that makes causation and all prob- 
lems irksome ? Whom shall we blame for the seared and 
deadened conscience that makes duty a task and honor a 
burden? We fancy that the conscience of none of our 
readers is yet so far deadened that he will not quickly an- 
swer, " I myself am to blame." 

The clamor for joy and pleasure, then, when rightly in- 
terpreted, is a universal call to duty, for the reward of 



100 ouu iwMi:. 

duty is unalloyed joy. 'Tis a call to study and mental 
discipline • for the fruit of culture, like that of duty is joy 
and only joy.' It is a call to physical obedience and to the 
cultivation of health ; for joy is the necessary and insep- 
arable accompaniment of these, and without them it can- 
not exist. Let the reader remember this one fact, that 
obedience to the physical, intellectual and moral laws of 
our being is the only condition that Nature imposes upon 
us, and when this one condition is complied with she will 
shower upon us joys untold. She will make the breath of 
morning a source of exquisite delight. The very conscious- 
ness of existence will thrill us with that joy which all have 
felt at rare intervals, undefinable, and too subtle for any 
analysis. External objects and conditions seem to play 
no part in the program. At most they are only the occa- 
sions and not the causes of the joy. We look into the 
face of a friend or out over the sheen of a lake and we feel 
an unutterable joy coursing through all the channels of our 
being, and welling up in gurgling laughter; and we cannot 
for our lives tell why we laugh. The joy that comes to 
perfect health with the sweet intoxication of the morning 
dew, is " the purest and sweetest that Nature can yield," 
Such is the bountiful reward of Nature for obedience to 
her laws. 

We have dwelt thus at length on the laws that govern 
the emotion of joy because they have an important bearing 
on the subject of which we are treating. 



JOYS OF HOME. 101 

The fireside is the only spot where it is possible to obey 
all the laws of our being : hence it is the only spot where 
supreme joy can exist. Domestic joy is the only joy that 
is complete. 

Truly has the poet said : 

" Domestic joy, thou only bliss 
Of paradise that hath surviTed the fall." 

Man may cultivate his intellect and derive pleasure from 
obedience to its laws, even though he may not have a home. 
He may derive a joy from obedience to the laws of his 
moral nature while he is a hermit or a wanderer. He may 
even derive some enjoyment from partial obedience to 
the laws of his social nature. But all enjoyment from this 
source must be partial, because all obedience to the social 
law must be incomplete outside the domestic circle. The 
family is the truest type of society. 

But without a fireside man's domestic nature, from which 
he derives by far the largest amount of his earthly enjoy- 
ment, cannot but remain cold and entirely inactive. This 
department of his nature can be kept alive only by the heat 
of the hearth-stone. The home is the phice where uU the 
joys of life may exist in their ripest fruition. 

Even the intellectual nature, which is the farthest re- 
moved from the sphere of domestic influence, cannot be 
developed to its fullest possibility outside of the home ; for 
the boy requires in the first stage of his intellectual devel- 
opment the wholesome spirit of rivalry and emulation that 



102 OUR HOME, 

exists among children of the same household. In every 
stage he needs the stimulus of honest commendation, and 
this comes in its purest and most useful form from the 
members of the same family. 

The joys peculiar to the moral and spiritual nature must 
be only partial, and far below what this part of our be- 
ing is capable of yielding, unless it be cultivated in the 
sanctuary of hou^e. Conscience must be kept sharp by the 
pathetic appeals of little children, by the tender looks and 
anxious words of mothers and sisters, and by the nice ad- 
justments of domestic obligations. 

What a plea do we find in these facts for the institution 
of home, and how much is signified by "the joys of 
home 1 " No words of ours are necessary to impress that 
significance upon the minds of those who are the members 
of happy families. With what feelings of delight do such 
look forward to the evening hour when the family, over- 
flowing with joy, shall gather around the board with mirth 
and laughter. How the father's heart thrills at the sudden 
thought that the hoiir is near when he shall meet his loved 
ones ; when he shall leave his care and troubles all behind, 
and sit in his easy chair, or recline upon the sofa, and 
watch the fire-light dancing on the wall and hear the 
merry voices of the children, or listen to the sweet music 
of his daughter's voice. Can heaven yield a sweeter joy 
than this? 

But the joys of home are not to be measured by actual 



JOYS OF HOME, 103 

domestic felicity, for home has joys independent of this. 
There is joy in the very thought that one has a home. 
There is joy in the poetry with \\ hich the divine artists of 
time and memory conspire to paint the old homestead. 

Joy is heightened and pain is lightened by being shared, 
but home is the only place on earth where they can be fully 
shared. Everywhere else there is a reserve that makes our 
joys and pains peculiarly our own. At home the heart 
may be opened, and all that it knows and feels may be 
known and felt by others. 

The joys of home are the only ones of which we never 
weary. We grow tired of those joys that come from min- 
gling promiscuously in society. We tire of the exciting 
pleasures of trade and commerce. We tire of gazing at the 
marble fronts and gilded palaces of the. great city. We 
Bhut our eyes and close our ears in weariness and disgust 
•even at the sights and sounds of the public park. But we 
never grow tired of mother's song, although the birds in 
the park may weary us. We may leave the art gallery 
satiated, but the old pictures on the walls of home are ever 
new. 

Let us then cherish the joys of home, for their perennial 
freshness hints at tlieir eternity. The child, who with his 
playmates, wanders from his home over the hill and meadow, 
when he wearies of his sports and games, turns at nightfall 
to his home to lay his little weary heiid upon his mother's 
breast. So when we shall weary of the little sports and 



104 OUR HOME. 

games of earth, may we find our homeward way back across 
life's meadow and up the hill to the threshold of the home 
eternal, and lay our weary heads upon the bosom of the 
Divine, forever and ever. 

" Sw«et are the joys of home, 
And pure as sweet ; for they 
Like dews of morii and evening comOt 
To make and cloije the day. 

" The world hnth its delij^hts, 
And its delusions, too; 
Bat home to calmer blins invites. 
More tranquil and more true. 

"The mountain flood is strong, 
But fearful in its pride; 
While gently rolls the stream along 
The peaceful valley's side. 

''Lfte's charities, like light, 
Spread smilingly afar; 
But stai-s approached, become more brighli 
And home is life*s own star. 

" The pilgrim's step in rain 
Seeks Eden's sacred groundl 
But in home's holy joys again 
An Eden may be found. 

'' A glance of heaven to see, 
To none on earth is given; 
And yet a happy family 
Ig but an earlier beayen**' 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS. 




|HE education of woman is among the fore- 
most problems of the nineteenth century. 
It is something more than a social problem. 
It is a civil and political, a moral and re- 
ligions problem as well. Inasmuch as the 
presence of woman constitutes one of the 
chief charms and benefits of society, and in- 
asmuch as it is she who far more than man 
gives character to society, her education and culture are a 
social problem. 

But into her care have been entrusted the nation's future 
statesmen, those who are soon to be clothed with authority 
and to make laws for the government of mankind. Hence 
her education becomes a civil and political problem. Not 
only is she entrusted with the guardianship of the intellect 
and character of the world's statesmen and philosophers^ 
but her gentle presence, as she bends over the cradle, and 
the silent influence of her daily life are shaping the entire 
moral character of the coming generation ; and thus does 
the education of woman become a great moral problem. 
Again, since she shapes the moral character of the world. 



IOC OUR HOME, 

and since the eternal destiny of man depends upon the 
character in this life, it follows that her education becomes 
the profoundeSt spiritual and religious problem. 

In view of these momentous facts what should constitute 
the education of our girls? Human life is short and its 
powers of endurance are limited. None of us can reasona- 
bly hope to accomplish all that our imagination may picture 
to our minds as desirable. We cannot appropriate the 
great sea of knowledge. We surely cannot do better than 
Sir Isaac Newton, who picked up only a few pebbles on the 
shore. But whether we are able to pick up one or many 
of these pebbles we should select only those whose size and 
shape best adapt them to our purpose. 

We have no argument to ofler against the study of 
those branches which utilitarians are wont to condemn as 
involving a waste of time and energy. We have no sym- 
pathy with this utilitarian idea. We pity the man who is 
able even to distinguish between beauty and utility. 
That mind which does not see the highest use in Niagara 
is but poorly developed and poorly educated. Nature has 
drawn no line between the beautiful and the useful. On 
the contrary, she has purposely blended them in an indis- 
tinguishable union. Every apple tree is first a vase of 
flowers and then a golden fruit basket. A blossom is the 
preface to every useful product. Before Nature can allow 
even a potato to grow and ripen she placed the divine seal 
of beauty on it in the form of a little flower. That little 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS. 107 

flower, which is made the necessary condition of the pota- 
toes development, was placed there to teach us that there 
is a use in beauty and a beauty in use. Hence we would 
not condemn the study of music and the fine arts. The 
history of music is the history of human development. I^ 
has been the sensitive gauge that has marked the civilizar 
tion of every age and nation. The music that charmed 
the undeveloped and savage ear of the past would be to as 
but rude noise, and joerchance the divinest harmony that 
wafts our spirit starward may be but discord compared 
with the symphonies that echo down the aisles of coming 
ages. Music is not altogether an art ; it is a science as 
well, and viewed in its highest aspect it becomes the 
grand exponent of that universal and divine harmony 
which every properly developed soul has felt, and which 
gives credence to that sweetest of all mythologies, '^ the 
music of the spheres." 

Thus while we cannot speak too highly of the science of 
music as a means of soul development and heart culture, 
yet as a mere outward accomplishment it cannot be denied 
that it usurps a disproportionate amount of time and en- 
ergy, and we would unhesitatingly condemn lihat method 
of study which would reduce the science and art of music 
to a mere system of finger and vocal gymnastics. It is a 
fact which the observation of almost every one will con- 
fiim, that the present method of musical instruction has a 
direct tendency to take the soul out of music, and leave it. 



108 OUR HOME, 

like the poetry of Pope, a mere shell from which the living 
creature has departed. The modern masters of song seem 
to have forgotten the prime object of music, viz., to move 
the heart and lift the soul. They exhibit their powers to- 
ns as the circus rider exhibits his, and they expect us to 
applaud them for their skill in execution ; if we do not 
they attribute our indifference to the " lack of culture." 

Life is too short and its duties too momentous for a girl 
to spend years in acquiring proficiency in the production 
of a mere sound, and one in which, in spite of her culture,, 
she is discounted by the ordinary canary bird. Music 
should be made an instrument and not a toy. 

All this may be true, says the mother, but how shall I 
educate my daughter? It is easy to generalize and to- 
criticise existing systems ; but what is the particular method 
which I must follow in order to avoid this criticism ? 

In the first place, it is necessary to have a just view con- 
cerning woman's place in the economy of society. It ia 
useless to give advice in regard to the higher education of 
woman to those who covertly or otherwise regard woman 
as an inferior being, whose highest and most legitimate 
function is to swing a cradle through the air twelve houra 
a day. We would not express other than the tenderest 
sentiments concerning the divine mission of motherhood. 
But has the reader ever asked himself what it is that 
makes motherhood so divine? Is it not, after all, that 
which lifts woman above motherhood, that can make 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS, 109 

motherhood divine? We are pained when an eminent 
writer gives weight to expressions like the following: " The 
great vocation of woman is wifehood and motherhood.** 
Would the author object to a slight change in the latter 
part of the phraseology so as to make the expression appli- 
cable to man ? Would those who think that the quoted 
words express a fine thought be offended with the follow- 
ing? The great vocation of man is husbandhood and 
fatherhood? The moment we exalt motherhood to the 
rank of a prime object, that moment does it descend to 
the level of the function involved, and the divine mother 
becomes simply a mammal of the genus " homo." 

All there is of divinity in motherhood is derived from 
the divinity of womanhood. Why does the artist always 
paint that kind of motherhood which suggests to our 
minds the condescension of the divine to the human ? It is 
not the motherhood, but the condescension to motherhood, 
that makes it divine and beautiful. Whatever heightens 
^nd glorifies woman's nature then renders more beautiful 
and more divine the mission of motherhood. It is the 
seminary that sanctifies the nursery. 

We hope the world has heard the last of that sickly 
sentiment concerning " woman's sphere," " The hand that 
rocks tlie cradle rules the world," etc. If that hand were 
permitted to take hold of the world a little more directly, 
it would not at all interfere with its ability to rock the 
cradle. The female robin must feed and care for its 



110 OUR HOME. 

young, but it finds time each morning to sing its little 
hymn of praise upon the tree-top to its Maker. So woman 
may rock the cradle sufficiently each day and yet find time 
to glorify her God with her intellect. 

We would see the little sister and brother hand in hand 
enter the primary school ; we would see them togethex 
promoted to the grammar school ; we would see them 
struggling on through the course all unconscious that 
there is any radical difiference in their mental constitu- 
tions ; we would see them graduate from the high school 
together, and together enter the univei*sity, and here- 
through four yeai*s of intellectual conflict we would see 
them stand side by side in tliat fiercely contested arena,, 
and with tongue and pen and brain compete for those 
prizes whose winning foreshadows life's success.^ We would 
see them both at the graduating exercises, fearlessly giv- 
ing to the world a specimen of their thought and elo« 
quence, 

" Mid the sweet inspiration «f mnsic and flowers." 

Nor would we see them part here ; but with brave- 
hearts enter the same profession. We see no good reason 
why women should not serve their kind as lawyers, doc-^ 
tors, and ministers. It is true there are objections and 
hinderances incidental to their sex, but these we believe- 
are fully counterbalanced by those qualifications in which 
they must be acknowledged even superior. 

In medicine, it is fast coming to be the opinion of the- 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS, 111 

world that woman, whatever may be her incidental disabili- 
tieis, is by nature even better endowed than man with 
some of the peculiarities of talent that prophesy success. 
'One of these peculiarities is that intuitive insight which^ 
when supplemented by scientific knowledge, leaps to right 
<5onclusions with the certainty of an instinct. It is in 
moments of emergency that woman's mind betrays its 
peculiar fitness for the medical profession. All must 
admit that she is the natural nurse, and it is almost an 
adage among physicians that " as much depends upon the 
nursing as upon medical skill." We would not, of course^ 
make this claim for woman with reference to all profes- 
sions. It is not the general superiority of woman that we 
seek to prove, but simply that for the profession of medi- 
cine, at least, she has some special qualifications. 

But we would not deny that she may with equal pro- 
priety enter almost any of the other professions, and in 
this we are confident that we only anticipate the tide of 
public sentiment. How eminently do her sincerity, moral- 
ity and spiritual mindedness fit her to point the world to 
nobler endeavors and higher ideals. 

* Many of the arguments which prove her fitness to min- 
ister 9» a physician to the diseased bodies of mankind also 
go to prove her special fitness to minister as a moral physi- 
cian to their diseased souls. 

Wnj then should our talented and ambitious girls la^ 
ment that there is no field open for them. There are very 



112 OUR HOME, 

few professions open to their brothers, which they may not 
also enter if they will but have the courage, not the iinmod- 
■esty, to step abide from the conventional path which the 
hand of society has marked out for them. But while 
woman possesses so many of the qualities requisite in the 
professions, there are still few women who are adapted to 
ii professional life, and the same may be said of men. 
Hence a professional education cannot meet the require- 
ments of the great mass either of girls or of boys. " The 
greatest good to the greatest number" should be our 
motto. We must go, then, to the little farm-house and 
the little cottage beneath the hill. Not that the farm- 
Jhouse and the cottage are the abodes of intellectual weak- 
ness. On the contrary, history shows that the world's 
great minds, like wheat, potatoes and apples, are usually 
produced on farms, yet it cannot be denied that the mass 
of the people, those to whom we wish to speak, are sym- 
bolized by the farm-house and the cottage. 

What, then, shall constitute the education of the com- 
mon girl who is destitute of the ambition and, perhaps, 
the talent to become great and useful in any professional 
capacity ? We answer, in the first place, that her educa- 
tion should be as varied and perfect as possible. If for no 
other reason to enable her properly to educate and rear 
her own children. Whatever grand truths are planted in 
the mother's mind take root in the next generation, and 
there grow, blossom, and shed their perfume on the world. 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS. 113 

The child receives the mother's very thought by intuition. 
If the mother's mind is weak and uhitow in its range, the 
child is affected by this fact long before it finds any mean- 
ing in the mother's words. But if the mother's mind is 
cultured and refined by study until her thoughts are grand 
and far-reaching, the child's soul will grow and expand 
under the mesmeric influence of these thoughts, as the 
plant grows under the influence of the sun. 

Again, education, or the refinement and organic im- 
provement resulting from education, is transmitted from 
mother to child. Who cannot tell by the looks of a little 
boy whether his mother was educated or not ? The child 
of the educated mother will have a finer grained organism ; 
he will be handsomer, will have more regular features than 
the child of the ignorant parent. As a rule he will ac- 
quire the use of language at an earlier period. He will 
also generally be found more open and frank in his man- 
ner, and more susceptible to moral and spiritual influ- 
ences. 

How grand and comprehensive, then, becomes the theme 
of woman's education. To the parent no question can be 
more important than how shall I educate my daughter? 
If it is impossible to educate both let the son go unedu- 
cated, and educate the daughter. The importance of the 
son's education may be, indeed, beyond estimation ; yet 
that of the daughter is even more important. 

Many parents believe that the virtue of their daughters 

8 



114 OUR HOME, 

will be more secure if they remain in general ignorance ; 
but the frightful statistics of our great cities show this to 
be a terrible mistake. It is a fact that cannot be denied, 
that the ranks of that army which parade the streets of 
the great cities at midnight, in painted shame, are filled 
from the country. Few are natives of the city, notwith- 
standing the dangers and, temptations of city life are far 
greater than those of the country. 

There can be but one explanation of this fact. The su- 
perior educational facilities of the city afford a salutary 
and restraining influence in the form of mental culture. 
The city girl is better educated than the country girl, 
hence she has a stronger character. 

Both may be innocent, for innocence may live comfort- 
ably with ignorance, but virtue and ignorance cannot long 
endure each other's society. A young kitten is innocent, 
but it has but little character ; and we could not call it 
particularly virtuous. There are thousands of human 
kittens whose virtue consists only in the innocence of ig- 
norance. 

** Pulpy soals 
That show a dimple for each toach of sin." 

Let every mother and father remember that there is no 
virtue in ignorance, even ignorance of sin. If you do not 
fp^Q your boy an opportunity to use his muscles he will 
soon cease to have any muscles. So there can be no virtue 
without temptation ; if you do not give your daughter an 
opportunity to use her virtue in the resistance of tempt»- 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS. 115 

tion, it is to be feared that she will soon cease to have any 
virtue. 

A certain woman had a choice plum tree, the fruit of 
which she was anxious should ripen. The birds had car- 
ried away all but one, and over this she bound a cloth. It 
was safe from the birds, but while she shut it from them, 
she shut it also from the sunshine and the storms which 
alone could ripen it, and it withered away and fell.* 

The mother should teach her daughter above all things 
to know herself. 

The man was unwise, who, fearing that his bird-dog 
would acquire the habit of killiiig barn fowl, shut him up 
during his puppy-hood and secluded from his sight every 
kind of bird. When he released him to test the merits of 
his system of education, the dog rushed at the fowls and 
killed them all before his master could call him off. 

Would he not have acted more wisely had he taught the 
young dog to discriminate between barn-fowl and wild- 
fowl? As it was he did not educate him, but attempted to 
suppress an inborn instinct. 

Equally unwise is the mother who keeps, or tries to keep, 
ber daughter in ignorance concerning those things which 
she has a divinely givpn right to know. Let her direct her 
daughter's intuitions as nature unfolds them, but never 
attempt to suppress them, for sooner or later there must 
come a revelation. 

Whatever may be true concerning the question of wo- 



116 OUR HOME. 

man's rights ; whether or not she has a moral right to par 
ticipate in the civil government of society, we will not here 
attempt to discuss. 

A concession of her rights, however, as interpreted by 
the strongest advocate of woman's suffrage is not at all in- 
consistent with the undisputed fact that woman finds her 
highest mission at the altar of home. Nor does this fact 
interfere with what we have already said concerning the 
inconsistency of making wifehood and motherhood the 
prime object of life. 

The doctrine of woman's rights can never be proved by 
contending that she is not by constitution and nature calcu* 
lated to pursue a somewhat different object in life from that 
which man pursues, or at least to pursue the same by some- 
what different methods. 

If it could be shown that men and women should both 
engage in the cultivation of the soil, it would be still unde- 
niable that woman is best adapted to the more aesthetic 
portion of the labor, and man to the rougher and heavier 
portion. If a flower garden or nursery were placed in the 
midst of rough stubble, none would deny that it would be 
natural for the man to mow the stubble, while the woman 
should tend the garden in its midst. This would be true 
even if it should be shown that woman should help to till 
the soil. 

So if it should be shown that woman has a moral right 
to participate in the solution of social problems, which we 



EDUCATION OF OUR GIRLS. 117 

are not by any means prepared to deny, it would still be 
true that it is lier most natural function to have particular 
charge of the little nursery, home, in t^e midst of the rough 
stubble* of human society. 

Woman's education, then, is necessarily very imperfect, 
unless it be largely in the line of that which best becomes 
her nature. 

She should have, emphatically, a home education, and 
this means something more than a knowledge of the dust- 
pan and broom. 

It means something more than a mere knowledge of the 
daily routine of housekeeping, in the popular sense of that 
word. Woman holds in her hands the physical health of 
the world. Three times each day our lives and health are at 
the mercy and practical judgment of woman. Nay, more, 
lor the world's character is largely what its food makes it. 
Indirectly, then, she exerts a modifying influence over 
our loves and hates, hopes and fears, joys and sorrows. 

Whoever controls a being's stomach controls that being's 
destiny. What, then, can be more important than that 
girls should be educated in cookery and the related sci- 
ences, chemistry and hygiene? This, then, is what we 
mean by a home education for girls, that they should be 
taught both through the wisdom and experience of moth- 
ers, and also through the medium of books, how to engage 
in the noble occupation of housewife with the best advan- 
tage to mankind. 



118 OUR HOME. 

Such an education cannot be obtained solely from prao- 
tice in the kitchen. The whole mind must be expanded 
and disciplined by a study of nature and her laws. No 
woman can possibly fulfill, in the best manner, her duties 
as housewife without a good general education. 

** Three years she grew ia suo and shower; 
Then nature said, *' A lovelier flower 
On earth was never sown ; 
This child I to myself will take; 
She shall be niino, and I will make 
A lady of my own. 

" Myself will to my darling be 
Both law and impulse; and with me 
The girl, in rock and plain, 
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower» 
Shall feel an overseeing power 
To kindle or restrain. 

" She shall be sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glee across the lawn 
Or up the mountain springs; 
And hern shall be the breathing balm. 
And hers the silence and the calm, 
Of mute insensate things. 

" The floating clouds their state shall lend 
To her; for her the willow bend; 
Nor shall she fail to see 
E*cu in tlie motions of the storm 
Grace that shall mold the maiden's fomi 
By silent sympathy. 

" The stars of midnight shall be dear 
To her; and she shall lean her ear 
In many a secret place, 
Where rivulets dance their wayward roand» 
And beauty bom of murmuring soond 
Shall pass into her face.'* 



EDUCATION OF OUR BOYS. 




|N education does not necessarily mean the 
discipline of a college course. In the present 
condition of society, that advantage is, as a 
matter of necessity, reserved for compara- 
tively few. In its true significance educa- 
tion means something more than the ability 
to unravel the involved constructions of 
a dead language ; something more than a 
proficiency in mathematics and the physical 
sciences ; something more, even, than can 
be reaped from the most laborious toil of 
the human intellect. It is a drawing out, 
a developing and strengthening of every 
element, every faculty, every power of body, 
mind and spirit. It is such a condition of 
the whole being, resulting from a constant 
refinement, that the several powers shall 
observe tlie highest economy in their sep- 
arate spheres, while the power of co-ordi- 
nated action shall be rendered more perfect. 
One may so cultivate and strengthen the muscles of his 
little finger that he may be able to support with it twice 




laO OUR HOME. 

» 

liis weight; while the main muscles of his body are so 
weak that he may not be able to lift half his weight. You 
eould not call such a man a strong man. So one may cul- 
tivate his mere intellectuality till he becomes the brilliant 
center of the world's admiration, if such were possible ; 
but you cannot call him educated if he is vicious, if his 
anger is uncontrollable, if he is a drunkard or a glutton, if 
he is stubborn, if he is unconscientious, if he is irreverent, 
if he is spiritually blind, if he is selfish, if he is dead to 
the appeals of human want and suffering. 

An education on this broad basis should be the life- 
work of every human being. 

We would not by any means be understood as under- 
valuing the education of the intellect. The importance of 
the education of a power is commensurate with the impor- 
tance of the power itself, and certainly no power of our 
being can be of more importance than the intellect. A 
college education is within the reach of every young man 
who possesses the ambition for it, even though he may 
possess neither friends nor money. There are hundreds of 
students in this country who are paying their own way 
through college by their own energy and labor. In most 
of our colleges, a young man of activity and determination 
may earn during the vacation enough to pay liis expenses 
during the term. So that he who thirsts for knowledge 
has no legitimate excuse if he does not avail himself of a 
college education. None should ask us to bring other evi- 



EDUCATION OF OUR BOYS. 121 

dence than the illustrious triumphs of a Garfield. There 
never yet was occupation so low,Dor obstacle so broad and 
high as to defeat the resolve of a human soul. No fierce 
monster of opposition ever reared its hydra head in the 
path of a human eudeavor, 

That would not shriuk and oower 
Before the dauntless power 
0£ a fearless human will. 

There are those who are conscious that they were richly 
endowed by nature with noble gifts, but who have failed 
in life through their own indolence. It is customary for 
these to comfort themselves iu their sad retrospection by 
repeating these melancholy lines : — 

** Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark un fathomed caves of ocean bear; 
Full many a flower Is born to blush unjicen 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 

Do those Ifnes prove that truth is not an essential ele- 
ment of poetry ? No, for they are believed and felt to be 
true by mistaken souls, and in that way they perform the 
function of truth. They convey, or rather seem to convey, 
a solemn truth to those who have unwittingly surrendered 
life's argument to the merciless opponent of circumstances 
by the unwise concession of their own weakness. 

But let us put this doctrine to the practical test. We 
have said that an education does not necessarily mean the 
discipline of a college course. Indeed, all are not so con- 
stituted that a college education would bring them the 



122 OUR HOME. 

greatest good even intellectually. Nor would we be so 
radical as to deny that circumstances may defeat the pur- 
pose of merely going to college, but the circumstance of 
poverty is not a valid excuse. At any rate, all may become 
well educated. Those men are almost numberless who 
have become great and useful by the light of a pine torch, 
who have learned the science of mathematics with a stick 
for a pencil and the ocean beach for a slate. But suppose 
we meet the barefoot boy in the street picking rags, what 
word of advice have we for him ? He will listen to all our 
fine talk about the grand possibilities which this free and 
glorious republic offers to the poorest and the lowliest ; he 
will listen to the story of those great souls who have 
climbed to glory over fence rails and canal boats; and 
when we have finished he will meet us with the question, 
*' What shall I do and how shall I begin ? " Let us see if 
we can answer these questions. As the first step toward 
the desired result, he can pick up a rag, just as he haa 
been wont to do, and examine it, not as heretofore with 
the simple purpose of determining whether he shall put 
it into one or the other of two baskets; but he can 
make it the text-book with which to begin an education. 
He can ask those older and wiser than himself what it is 
made of and how it is made. They will point him to the 
great mill yonder, where, if he tells his purpose, he can 
gain admission and learn something of the mechanical 
principles involved in the manufacture of the rag. If he 



EDUCATION OF OUR BOYS, 123 

continues to make inquiries until he can trace a piece of 
cotton through all its transformations, till it comes out a 
piece of fine bleached cotton, he has surely begun an edu- 
cation in earnest. He can save a penny a day for a few 
days and buy a primer, and with that primer under his arm 
he may politely accost any lady or gentleman with these 
words, " I am determined to make the most of myself. I 
want to learn to read. I have bought a little book. Can 
you give me any advice or help ? " There is not a man or 
woman in all that great city with a heart so hard as not to 
be melted to sympathy by that appeal. He would be 
astonished at the amount of love and sympathy and philan- 
thropy in the world which he before had considered so cold 
and heartless. 

Young man; boot-black; rag-picker; obscure farmer 
boy ; or dweller in "the dingy haunts of the city ; remem- 
ber that Freedom's goddess holds over your head a crown. 
She never cr6wns a royal idiot ; she scorns fine clothes and 
gloved hands, and she never puts that crown on any but 
a sweaty brow. 

From every lowly cottage roof, 

However poor and brown, 
From every dusty hovel, points 

A hand at glory*8 crown. 

Although it is true that men can be good farmers 
or mechanics without being able to read or write, yet 
we believe that the greatest possible number of these 
classes should be liberally educated. We often hear i# 



124 OUR HOME, 

remarked that one is very foolish to spend so much time 
and money in procuring an education if he intends to 
make no use of it, the remark implying that if he intends 
to enter no profession the time and money thus spent are 
wasted. 

We have no sympathy or patience with that view of 
life. Man is above the brutes chiefly because he knows 
more. It is a greater sin to take his life than that of a 
brute, because he has more life to take, because his facul- 
ties are more God-like and more powerful. 

Now education means simply making these faculties 
powerful and God-like, and nothing more. Hence an edu- 
cated man is more a man than an uneducated one. It in- 
creases the humanity of man and adds to our very being. 
So that if one is to spend his life in idleness gazing at the 
clouds, it is a duty he owes to himself, to the universe and 
to God, to make the most of himself by acquiring a liberal 
education. 

Knowledge, like virtue, should be an end in itseif. 
Think of a mother teiaching* her children to be virtuous 
because their prospects of financial success would be 
greater I We should pity the moral weakness of that 
mother. We all instinctively recognize virtue as a sub- 
lime object and end in itself. It is a part of that God-like 
nature of which we boast, it is a part of our very immor- 
tality. So is knowledge. Why then should we talk about 
knowledge and education simply as means to facilitate 



EDUCATION OF OUR BOYS. 125 

the accumulation of dollars and cents? Let no mother 
teach her boy such sophistry. 

The capacity of the soul for enjoyment is just propor- 
tionate to its interior development. Knowledge is to the 
mind what health is to the body, it makes more of us. 

Education is the handmaid of religion. The statistics 
of every community will show that criminals are taken 
from the ranks of the ignorant. If the best and highest 
minds do not in some way associate knowledge and relig- 
ion, why are all our colleges and seminaries under the di- 
rect supervision of the Christian church ? Education has 
transformed the savage into the Christian. The wide gulf 
that stretches between the beastly cannibal and the God- 
like Christian man has been bridged by the invisible cables 
of education, and away into the infinitely potential fu- 
ture shall stretch this golden bridge, till the farther end 
shall rest upon the massive masonry of the eternal. 

Education was divinely instituted. Nature is the school 
mistress whom God employs to educate his children. 
This sweet and patient teacher knows how to win our 
hearts so that study becomes a pleasure. Everywhere she 
Las placed before our eyes an open text book with such 
fascinating pictures that we cannot help reading the de« 
scription of them. She found us with the beasts. Pa- 
tiently she has conducted us through the primary school 
of the savage and barbarian, through the grammar school 
of war and bloodshed, till we have entered with her the 



1:>6 OUR BOME. 

high school of modern ciyilization. She will lead us tri- 
umphantly tbruiigh and admit us into her vast university. 
There she will show us mysteries that would blind us now. 
In her laboratory we shall learn the awful secret of being. 
When we have graduated here she will lead us proudly up 
and present us to the Great Master, at whose side we shall 
sit and under whose tuition we shall turn our eyes star« 
ward and forever and forever shall study the infinite of 
infinites. 



« 



The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sadden flight; 

Bat they, while their companions slept. 
Were toiling upward in the night." 




BOOKS FOR THE HOME. 




OME one has said that " to thoroughly know 
one book is to have a key to all libraries." 

The vast battalion of books that fill the 
shelves of our great libraries is almost ap- 
palling to behold, alcove upon alcove piled 
into the very domes of colossal buildings. 
Think of what they contain : the crystallized 
thought and wisdom of the centuries, and yet 
where shall we begin to make an analysis of that wisdom. 
We may call for a given book, but we find that book laps 
over on both sides of its subject. 

Figuratively speaking, it leaned for support both ways 
upon its shelf. One subject is dependent upon another so 
that we cannot thoroughly know a single book in all that 
great library without knowing all. The classification may 
be admirable, yet it is after all but the classification of the 
dependent parts of a sublime and incomprehensible whole. 
How despair seizes the lover of wisdom, how hopeless seems 
his task, when he gazes upon those awful records of human 
thought. His feelings may be defined as those of mental 
strangulation. As we sit beneath the great dome and 
watch the men and women, with noiseless footsteps and 



128 OUR HOME, 

with the anxiety of thought upon their faces, glide in and 
shift their burdens and pass out, how Appropriate seeius tbc 
metaphor that would make the library a vast sea, in which 
these men and women are strangling and in their mad de- 
spair letting go of one straw and grasping at another, vainly 
struggling to rise above the overmastering flood for one 
breath of thought that is yet unspoken, or to speak a word 
that is yet unwritten. 

Since, then, we cannot compass the range of human 
thought, since we must be content with single links from 
an unbroken chain, the problem for us to solve becomes 
this, viz., where shall we break that qjiain, what books 
shall we read ? This is one of the problems which parent- 
age imposes, and, perhaps, there is no more vital one 
which parents are called upon to solve. As the body is 
chiefly what its food makes it, so is the mind. It is true 
that the infant mind has its positive mental proclivities, 
which cannot, and surely should not, be eradicated, yet 
they may and should be guided, and thus prevented from 
producing mental excrescences upon the character. The 
books of a family, not less than the training of the parents, 
shape the destiny of the children. The books of a family, 
however, we regret to say are not alwaj'-s solely those 
which are on exhibition in the book-cases and on uhe table 
of the drawing-room. There are in too many families 
books that are not on exhibition at all, books of which the 
parents are ignorant, books that are read only by lamp- 



BOOKS FOR THE HOME. 1:1^ 

m 

light, while the parents suppose that no lights are in the 
house. Parents I if you knew the books that, while 
jou are sleeping at midnight, your children are reading by 
that dim light which casts its gliminer into the street, you 
would blush with shame. 

Books are advertised in our daily newspapers under the 
veil of pathological philanthropy, to which the advertiser 
dares not put his name. Boys are directed to send so 
many postage stamps to a post-office box, to which there 
are many keys. A hint to the wise is all that is necessary. 
We will not enlarge upon this class of literature which 
disgraces the civilization of our age. But, like the *^ pesti- 
lence that walketh in darkness," none knows or feels it till 
it breathes its fatal breath into his face. This hellish lit- 
erature lies piled mountain high in the dark and subter- 
raneous caverns of society, and under the added gloom of 
midnight it is read by the baleful torches of lust. Our 
public schools are flooded with books that the teacher 
never sees. They constitute the text books from which 
the lessons are learned and recited without the aid of a 
tutor. Perhaps it is impossible to wholly eradicate this 
flocial evil. No parent is sure that his child has not already 
been contaminated. But parental vigilance is the only 
remedy that falls within the province of this work. 

We have said enough concerning the books that should 
not be read. We come now to a more difficult task, viz., 
to determine what books should be read. % 



130 OUR HOME. 

Of course we can give no definite list of books which 
should be read by each and every one. Courses of read- 
ing, however, have frequently been marked out, but we 
have little faith in the wisdom of such a method, unless- 
the tastes and inborn mental tendencies of the individual 
for whom the course is marked out can be consulted* 
That evil feature of our public educational institutions 
which tends to destroy the originality and individuality of 
the child and student by forcing all casts of mind into a 
common mold, is strong enough already without helping on 
its bad effects by recommending the same course of reading 
for all. We do not mean by this, of course, that the pa- 
rent, teacher, and guardian should not advise those under 
their charge with reference to the selection of books. We 
do not deny the wisdom of marking out a course of read- 
ing, if it be done with express reference to the mental 
peculiarities of those for whom it is intended, and by 
some one who is thoroughly conversant with those pecul- 
iarities. 

Let parents study the minds of their children. Every 
parent should know enough of the general principles of 
mental science to enable him to make tolerably good intel- 
lectual and moral classifications. Until he does, he should 
hesitate before he attempts to pilot a human mind up the 
perilous rapids of childhood and youth. 

Suppose a parent perceives that his child is greatly in- 
terested in shells, fossils, beetles, and all those things that 



BOOKS FOR THE HOME. 131 

pertain to zoological science, and that when his eye for the 
first time falls on a book devoted to this science, he is de- 
lighted beyond measure. Could there be anything more 
unjust and foolish than for that parent to withhold all such 
books from his child and to mark out a course of reading 
which should consist largely of ps3'chological works, and 
books in which he is not at all interested, and oompel him to 
toil through them. It is not, however, impossible that the 
child may possess a taste for both classes of books which 
we have mentioned, but if he has not already evinced a 
taste for both, it is surely the duty of the parent to ascer- 
tain the facts of the case before he compels him to read 
those books for which he has evinced no taste. If the boy 
is continually disposed to marshal his little playmates and 
march them around the house to the music of a tin pan, he 
will be a good candidate for West Point, and will proba- 
bly be found to possess aJatent love of history, and may 
perhaps become an historian. If he is disposed to spend 
much of his time in the work-shop making his own toys, he 
will delight in natural philosophy and in the biographies of 
great inventors. Parents should be able to interpret these 
outward indications of innate talent, and, regarding them as 
the cries of a hungry mind, should be quick to furnish the 
proper food. If the boy who is inclined to invent and to 
use tools, be compelled by his parents to study history most 
of the time, instead of natural philosophy, he will very 
likely conceive a general dislike for all kinds of reading. 



133 OUR HOME. 

But if he be allowed first to read and study those branches 
that lie along the line of his taste and talents, he will not 
only acquire a taste for reading, but by such a course he 
will also early develop a strong individuality. Every mind 
should be first developed in the line in which it earliest 
evinces an unmistakable, tendency. 

This secures a stability of purpose and an individuality 
that no after course or promiscuous reading can destroy. 
The mind may then be brought into shape, as it were, by 
supplementary reading. Nor will this be di£Qcult, but on 
the contrary, very natural, since it will have first acquired 
a taste for reading. 

Every book in the great library is the record of some 
man's individuality, and when you have read the book you 
have read the man. Books diJGTer as men differ. A person 
may associate with a hundred different people of that char- 
acter which one meets every day upon the street, and not 
be conscious of the modifying influence which they exert 
over him. But he may afterwards meet a single individual 
in whose silent presence he will feel the tumultuous thrill 
of a molding influence. The meeting of such people is a 
crisis in one's life, and he is never the same afterwards. 

So with books. We may read alcove after alcove of the 
books that make up the body of a public library, and 
never feel that we have read anything. The largest library 
that adorns the great city is almost useless after a scholar 
has carried home an armful of books. "Of the writing 



BOOKS FOR THE HOME, 133 

of many books there is no end." But of the writing of 
great books there has hardly been a beginning. 

If one wishes to cultivate his social nature and improve 
himself generally by mingling in society, he cannot do it 
to the best advantage by going to the circus or the theater. 
All will admit that the most effectual way is to select a 
few choice associates better than himself. 

Now since a library is but a proxy for society, the same 
rule holds good in respect to it. Read the few great books ; 
books that work revolutions in our natures, and burn them- 
selves into our memory and become a part of ourselves. 

We do not mean that every child should read Plato, for 
Plato would be the same as no book at all to a child. 
"Robinson Crusoe" and the "Arabian Nights" are great and 
revolutionary books from a child's standpoint, and when 
he has grown stronger, "Pilgrim's Progress" and "Paul and 
Virginia" are also great, and revolutionary. A few such 
books await him at every stage of his development, so that 
no one need read any but the great and good books. We 
have used the word few with reference to good books in a 
relative rather than an absolute sense. Of course there 
are in all libraries very many good and great books, but 
when compared with the mass" they are certainly few. 

But how shall you determine whether a given book be 
worth reading or not ? By what means are you to be cer- 
tain that you have selected one of those few? By the 
testimony of your own soul. If the book throws your 



iU OUR HOME, 

whole being into the wild tumult of mingled thought and 
aspiration, if it lifts you till you feel, in the sweet decep- 
tion of the hour, that the wings of your own spirit leave 
their shadows upon the star-lit heights, and you almost 
wonder that you yourself have allowed those grand worda 
to remain so long unsaid, look no farther. You have found 
the book you were looking for, and it bears the divine im- 
print of genius. 

All books, whether great or small, are but attempts to 
translate that one great book which lies open before human- 
ity, the star-and-flower-writ book of Nature. There are 
many imperfect translations and poor commentaries, and 
thrice happy is he who can read the original without trans- 
lation or commentaries. 

" Booka are not seldom talismans and spells. 
By which the magic art of shrewder wits 
Holds an unthinkinj^ multitude enthralled. 
Some to the fascination of a name 
Surrender Judgment, hoodwinked. Some the style 
Infatuates, and throngh labyrinths and wilds 
Of error leads them, by a tune entranced. 
While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 
The insupportable fatigue of thought, 
And swallowing, therefore, without pause or choioe. 
The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 
But trees and rivulets, whose rapid course 
Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer, 
• And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, 

And lanes in which the primrose ere her time 
Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn rooty 
Deceive no student. Wisdom there and Truth, 
Not shy, as in the world, and to be won 
By slow solicitation, seize at once 
The roving thought, and fix it on themselves." 



EVENINGS AT HOME. 




HE evening hours are the holy hours of home 
life. They are the hours in which there is 
the freest play of all the hallowed influences 
that come from the domestic relation ; the 
hours in which the radiant forces of the home 
are focalized and brought to their highest 
efficiency. 

There is really just as much sunshine on a 
cloudy day as when the sky is clear, but the 
sickly growth of vegetation during cloudy 
^weather proclaims its ineffectiveness. So the home may 
€xert just as much actual influence when its sunshine 
is intercepted by the clouds of care and busy toil; 
when the merciless dispatch with which "father's" din- 
ner must be prepared, or with which some of those many 
labors inseparably connected with the home life must be 
performed, has so absorbed the time and energy of the 
family that each member seems to be an illustration of the 
** survival. of the fittest." Under these circumstances the 
home may send forth as large an amount of influence, 
^nd yet such influence cannot reach the lives and charao- 



136 OUR HOME, 

ters of those who have a claim upon it. S\ich may be 
called latent influence. 

It is only when the " day is done " that home exhibits 
its sweetest and serenest life. It is when the sun haa^ 
gone down that the home influences become actual and 
potent. 

In opening the tender buds of young characters, the . 
light from the hearth-stone is far more efficient than thd 
sunlight. 

The distinctive characteristics of the home life are mani- 
fested most strongly when the labors of the day are ended 
and the family gather round the fireside for the evening. 
One hour of evening home life is worth a month of the 
ordinary daily experience. It matters little where our 
days are spent if we spend our evenings at home. 

Man's soul is not receptive during the day, for its atti* 
tude is not favorable. The labor of the day puts the mind 
into that attitude in which it resists the shaping influences 
of life. Labor itself is in part a process of spiritual resist- 
ance, so that the soul that toils is comparatively jsafe from 
the snares of temptation. 

During the hours of labor we are also less susceptible to 
good influences as well as to evil ones. The whole being 
puts itself upon the defensive while it toils. Satisfied 
with its own condition, it refuses to be changed by outward 
influences. In this principle we find the explanation of 
the adage " idleness is the parent of vice." The evening 






E VENINGS A T HOME. 137 

I is the hour when crafty Satan preaches most eloquently. 

It is also the hour at which he can gather the largest and 
most attentive audience. In our great cities Satan's 
churches are crowded every evening. 

But, fortunately, the evening hour is also the hour in 
which the good angel can gather his largest audience, and 
he who would baffle Satan's influence must preach in the 
evening. The evening is the hour when the protecting 
power of home is greatest ; it is the hour when its protec- 
tion is most needed. We see a divine wisdom in this. 
The only hour in the day when the laboring young man is 
vulnerable to temptation is when his labor is ended and 
the mind relaxed, and just at this needed hour the. home 
exerts a doubled influence. Parents need not be at all 
itnxious concerning the character of their boys who from 
choice stay at home evenings, but they should never feel 
at ease concerning those who desire to spend their even- 
ings away from home. 

We do not mean that children should never go away 
from home evenings. The evening is a very proper and 
agreeable time to visit our neighbors, and children should 
be allowed frequently to spend the evening with their 
' neighbors' children. This is only a transfer of home in- 

fluence. They are at home in one sense when at their 
neighbors' home, or at least they are surrounded by home 
influences. 

It is an excellent practice to allow children, even when 



I 



138 OUR HOME. 

very young, to visit their neighbors' children alone in the 
evening. The reason of this may not at first be obvious, 
but we think that upon reflection every parent will per- 
ceive the wisdom of it. 

In the first place, it is a mild lesBooi in self relianoe and 
independent action, which every parent should try to de- 
velop in the minds of his children. 

Again, all children who are to develop into noble men 
iuid women must sooner or later be brought into contact 
with temptations to every form of improper action, and 
the earlier this process commences, and the more gradually 
they encounter the temptations of life, the better for their 
welfare. And, certainly, sending children to their neigh- 
bors' alone in the evening, thus putting them upon their 
own sense of propriety, and subjecting them to the little 
temptations to trifling breaches of etiquette, which always 
present themselves when little children gather in groups, 
is one of the most judicious methods of applying this prin- 
ciple. It is not well for parents in such cases to be over 
strict in regard to the hour of the children's return. It is 
far better to teach them to exercise their own sense of pro- 
priety in this matter. 

Let them be taught that it is a gross breach of good 
manners to stay much beyond a certain hour, perhaps 
nine o'clock. 

But this is far different in its effect from commanding 
them to start when the clock strikes nine. In the one case 



EVENINGS AT UOME. 139 

they are compelled to go home by an inward sense of pro- 
priety, and in the other by an outward sense of authority. 
It is always a cross for children to leave their playmates, 
and if they can just as well be taught to make this sacrifice 
through their own sense of propriety, their parents should 
<5ertainly rejoice in this early opportunity to give them a 
practical lesson in self denial. If the child is compelled by 
an outward authority located at home, to withdraw from a 
pleasant associate, he is quite likely to conceive a dislike 
for that authority and for the place toward which it con- 
strains him. 

Then let the children visit. Let the parents visit in the 
evenings. Let all the members of the family feel that the 
home is not a prison. This is the only way in which chil- 
dren can be taught to love home and to feel that home is the 
best place to spend their evenings. You cannot make them 
feel this by compelling them to stay at home evenings. If 
a child has acquired a distaste for home, the evil must be 
corrected by the use of mild stratagem. 

One of the strongest arguments for the habit of spending 
the evenings at home is found in the opportunity which 
they offer to the young for self-improvement. 

Horace Mann once wrote a beautiful truth in the form 
of an advertisement, " Lost, yesterday, somewhere between 
sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty 
diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone 
forever." 



140 OUR HOME. 

We would like to have the ordinary young man of 
twenty-five look over our shoulder while we do a little fig- 
uring. We mean that young man, however, who is always 
complaining because he hasn^t time. 

We mean that young man who is mourning because he 
hasn't an education, who would have gone to college could 
he have spared the time. 

We want to show him how many of those golden hours 
set with diamond minutes he has thrown away since he was 
sixteen years old. It is nine years since then, and in each 
of those years there were three hundred and sixty-five 
evenings. Setting aside the fifty-two Sunday evenings^ 
which, however, might be employed to advantage without 
violating the fourth commandment, then taking out fifty- 
two evenings more, one for every week, for visiting and 
entertaining visitors, there will remain two hundred and 
sixty-one. Now each one of these two hundred and sixty- 
one evenings contains four of those golden hours. Hence in 
one year he throws away one thousand and forty -four hours. 
During the nine years from sixteen to twenty-five, he 
throws away nine times this number, or nine thousand 
three hundred and ninetynaix hours. 

Just think of it. The average college student spends 
about four hours a day in study. There are five days in a 
week in which he studies, making twenty hours a week. 
Thii'ty-eight weeks constitute the college year, making 
seven hundred and sixty hours which he studies in a year* 



EVENINGS AT HOME. 141 

There are four years in the college coarse. Hence in 
his whole course he studies four times seven hundred and 
sixty, or three thousand and forty hours. This is less 
than a third as many as the young man may throw away 
between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five. Should not 
every such young man feel indignant with himself? Time 
enough spent on the street corners, in the stores, in the 
hotel, or in the bar-room, to go through college three times. 
Nine thousand golden hours gemmed with five hundred 
and forty thousand diamond minutes, gone forever. 

Perhaps it may seem even cruel in us to remind the 
young man of his terrible loss, but it is never too late to do 
better. A noble endeavor can never be too early or too 
late. We would not cause any young man a useless pain- 
ful regret. He cannot profit by mourning over spilt milk, 
but if he will keep his pan right side up for five years to 
come he can go through college yet, and graduate when 
he is thirty years old, and have the honor of presenting to 
himself his own diploma. 

But not alone for the opportunities for culture which 
they afford are evenings to be prized. The evening in the 
happy home is a fragment of heaven, we cannot afford to 
lose it. The ineffable joy that human nature is consti- 
tuted to experience at the evening hour around the golden 
altar of home, is a symbol and a prophecy of that which 
every truly and interiorly developed soul has reason to 
believe is in store for him. It is the only place where each 



142 OUR HOME. 

and every faculty and power of mind and body may legiti- 
mately act, and with that divine spontaneity that feels no 
pressure nor restraint. When reason acts through the day 
it is spurred to action by the necessities of daily duty, and 
the pleasure which all organic activity, both mental and 
physical, is intended to produce is lost in the mad whirl of 
life's tumultuous conflict. The same is true of that innate 
tendency to mathematical computation which is capable of 
conferring so much pleasure by the revelations it gives of 
the universality of divine law and order. But when these 
powers act amid the cheerfulness of the evening entertain- 
ment at home, in the playful solution of problems and 
puzzles, they act with that spontaneity and accompanying 
pleasure on their own account which hints at their origin 
and their destiny. This same principle applies to every 
power of being. Who does not still carry in his mind the 
sweet pictures of happy evenings at home, when all the 
family sat by the fire, mother with her knitting, and father 
with his stories of prouder days, while the kitten gam- 
bolled upon the floor or played with the ball of yarn that 
fell from mother's lap, and while the fire-light moved upon 
the wall like the waving of a white wing in the darkness, — 
as if heaven could not permit so much joy upon the earth 
without having its representative there ? Now mother tar- 
dily rises to light the lamp, and the children gather round 
the table with slate and pencil to grapple with those little 
tasks and problems that only sweeten life's remembrances* 



. EVENINGS AT HOME, lid 

How indelibly through all the change-freighted years 
this picture remains upon the canvas of the soul. Unlike 
the perishing works of genius, time never bleaches the 
canvas nor turns the picture pale. Gaze on that picture^ 
O youth. Nor turn your eyes aside when Temptation 
with perfumed robes sweeps past thee in the tumultuous 
rush of beauty's carnival. When we turn our eyes from 
the soft colors of a beautiful picture, to gaze upon the 
brilliancy of the electric light, and then, turn again to view 
the picture, how dim the colors, how blurred is the whole 
picture till we have steadily and persistently gazed for a 
long time. 

Learn a lesson from the analogy that exists between the 
spirit's eye. and that of the body. That sweet picture of 
your home, O youth, gleams not brilliantly but softly 
and forever in the evening fire-light. Reflect before you 
turn your eyes from that soft fire-light to gaze long upon 
the splendors where beauty glides 'neath lights that 
dazzle. 

" Gladly dow we gather round it. 

For the toiling day is done, 
And the gay and solemn twilight 

Follows down the golden sun. 
Shadows lengthen on the pavemeni, 

Stalk like giants through the gjoom, 
Wander past the dusky casement, 

Creep around the fire-lit room. 
Draw the curtain, close the shutters, 

Place the slippers hy the fire; 
Though the rude wind loudly mutters. 

What care we for wind sprite's ire ? 



lU OUR SOME. 

'* What care we for oatward seeming. 

Fickle fortane'i frown or smile ? 
If around us love is beaming, 

Loye can human ills beguile. 
'Meath the cottage roof and palace, 

From the peasant to the king, 
All are quaffing from life's chalice 

Bubbles that enchantment bring. 
Orates are glowiug, music flowing 

From the lips we love the best; 
O, the Joy, the bliss of knowing 

There are hearts whereon to rest! 



** Hearts that throb with eager gladnc 

Heafts that echo to our own — 
While grim care and haunting sadneM 

Mingle ne'er in look or tone. 
Care may tread the halls of daylight. 

Sadness haunt the midnight hour. 
But the weird and witching twilight 

Brings the glowing hearthstone's dowav* 
Altar of oup holiest feelings I 

Childhood's well-remembered shrine I 
Spirit yearnings— soul revealings — 

Wreaths immortal round thee twine I ** 







SELF CULTURE. 




lULTURE is the constant elimination of use- 
less movements, and the attainment of in- 
creasing economy in the expenditure of our 
forces. The Indian has plenty of strength, 
'®but the white man of half his weight and 
strength, who has acquired the art of boxing, 
is more than a match for him ; and this for 
the simple reason that the Indian has not yet 
learned to eliminate the movements that do 
not count. He is a spendthrift as regards 
forces. • But the white man, by means of pj^- 
tient culture, has learned to omit all useless 
movements, and to expend his forces in that 
manner and at that time and place in which they will teU 
the most. He does not bend a joint or contract a muscle 
that does not produce some desirable outward result. 

It is easy to detect an uncultured person in society ; for 
example, when he attempts to walk across a hall or draw- 
ing-room in the presence of spectators. It is not because 
he does not perform all the movements necessary to take 
him to the other side, but because he performs certain other 
movements that interfere with, or obstruct the essential 

10 



146 OUR HOME. 

movements ; such as the turning of the head from side to 
side, accompanied by a wasteful expenditure of thought in 
the form of a painful consciousness that people are gazing 
at him. There is in his blush a wasteful expenditure of 
vital forces in compelling the blood to the surface. All 
such movements are uneconomical because they produce 
no desirable or useful result. Nature has agreed to give 
us a positive dislike for all such movements, and we call 
them awkward. She has also made us susceptible of a posi' 
tive delight from witnessing economical movements, and at 
her suggestion we call them graceful. Graceful move- 
ments, then, are simply economical movements. If the 
person referred to should walk across the hall with the 
least possible expenditure of vital and mental force, the 
movement would necessarily be graceful. Civilization is 
but aggregate culture, and since culture is the spirit and 
essence of economy, we see why it is that the science of 
political economy has always developed itself simultane- 
ously with civilization. Indeed, civilization and political 
economy are one and the same. 

Such, then, is the nature of culture in the abstract. 
Let us follow out the principle in its application to our 
physical, mental, and moral natures, and see whether we 
can find in it anything that shall be of use to us in the 
development of our lives and characters. Our muscles 
are cultured when we can use them with no waste of force. 
Our intellects are cultured when we can solve a prob- 



SELF CULTURE. 147 

lem or arrive at a conclusiou by the shortest and most 
direct route of logical deduction. Our moral nature is 
cultured when duty becomes a graceful and economical 
movement in the soul ; when the useless movements of sin 
are eliminated ; when all our spiritual forces are concentra- 
ted, and it no longer becomes necessary to divide the force 
by detailing a squadron to guard the harbor of love and 
dut}^ against the pirate fleets of selfishness. When we can 
say " Thy will be done," without a diverting and wasting 
struggle with ourselves. The reason why certain men 
have been able to accomplish such wonderful results in the 
field of thought and investigation is because, through long 
toil and patient culture, they have learned to concentrate 
the mental forces by eliminating all useless thoughts. Like 
the bee, which always takes a straight line, they have ac- 
quired an intellectual instinct by which they are enabled 
to take the shortest, directest, and consequently most eco- 
nomical line of logic links between their intellectual 
standpoint and the solution that they crave. And he who 
can do this, he who can take the shortest road, can surely 
go farther and accomplish more in the same time than he 
who is compelled to hunt out his path, to travel through 
-all the by-ways, the briers, the brambles, and the under- 
brush, and at last, perhaps, lose his way altogether in the 
vast swamp of intellectual uncertainty. 

All culture in its ultimate analysis is necessarily self 
culture. Culture when used as a verb always means to 



us OUR HOME. 

afford the conditions for self-direction or self-developmenc* 
If we attempt to culture a horse or a 4og we accomplish 
the result only by inducing him to make certain volun- 
tary movements in the direction of our will. But if he 
does not choose to act according to our will, all culture 
ceases until he becomes willing to obey. We cannot cul- 
ture anything that has the power of volition. Hence, 
when we break a colt, or train a dog, he cultures himself at 
our suggestion. And thus it is that all the culture we 
receive in this life must be self culture. Teachers may 
suggest, but we must execute ; they may advise, but we 
must do the work. 

The sense in which we have used the word " culture " 
is not very different from that in which we have used the 
word " education " in the chapter on the " Education of 
our Boys." Indeed, all that we have said by way of defini- 
tion in either chapter might have been said with equal pro- 
priety in the other. We will allow the one to supplement 
the other. 

The words educate, train and culture are, for all prac- 
tical purposes, synonymous, and may be used interchange- 
ably. 

In our chapter on " Home Training ■' we have presented 
some similar thoughts concerning the importance of train- 
ing or cultivating the physical, intellectual, and moral na- 
ture in the proper order, and in the right way. That, 
however, was intended chiefly for advice to parents con- 



SELF CULTURE, 149 

cerning the management of children too young to attempt 
self culture. But the primary constitution does not 
^change. What the child requires, the youth and young 
man require, only, perhaps, in larger quantities and in 
•different proportion. Hence in this chapter we shall aim 
to give such helpful advice as will enable young men and 
women to continue the process that their parents helped 
them to begin. They may now call it self culture, to de- 
note a higher stage of the same process. The first and 
•chief aim of self culture, as of all education, should be 
symmetry. The undue strengthening of one part or fac- 
ulty, to the neglect of another, is not culture, but accord- 
ing to our definition it is the reverse, for it destroys that 
power of co-ordinate action and economical expenditure of 
•effort in which culture consists. No power of mind or 
body exists independent of other powers, and no one can 
be unduly strengthened without peril to the other and 
weaker ones. If the stomach be enlarged by overeating, 
while the lungs be kept weak and small, the whole body 
will become diseased and the mind also ; for a sound mind 
•cannot exist in an unhealthy body. The stdmach, being 
large, will crave a large amount of food, but the lungs, be- 
ing small, cannot furnish oxygen enough to oxidize the 
•carbon that is furnished to the blood by the stomach ; so 
the system becomes clogged ; corrupt and troublesome ul- 
cers appear, and perhaps consumption, and all because the 
iitomach was enlarged. Not because the lungs were not 



150 OUR HOME, 

cultivated, but because the stomach was cultivated aloncT 
as if it were an independent organ. Similar disasters fol- 
low the independent and separate training of any of the 
other physical powers. If the stomach, the appetite, the 
lungs, the liver, the kidneys, the circulation, the skin, and 
the muscles be all cultivated together, the more they are 
cultivated the better. It is absolutely impossible to carry 
that kind of culture to excess. But if we cannot cultivate 
all, it is far better not to specially cultivate any of the 
physical functions. 

It is a well known fact that circus performers are very 
short lived ; and yet we would naturally expect them ta 
live to a very old age. How full and powerful their lungs 
are I How agile ! How almost marvelous the strength of 
their muscles ! How erect they are I What free play all 
the internal organs must have ! They are compelled by 
their employment to live temperately ; their food is that 
which is recommended by the highest medical authority ; 
they sleep in well ventilated rooms. It would seem that 
if earthly immortality were possible, the professional gym- 
nasts should possess the boon. 

But instead the average duration of their lives is very 
short. How shall we account for this paradox? Simply 
by that principle just named, which demands the symmet- 
rical and proportionate development of all the functions. 
They carry training of the muscles to such an extent, that 
like wasting fire they consume their vitality. In spite of 



SELF CULTURE, 151 

all hygienic regimen and temperance, their training is not 
symmetrical, although it may appear to be such. The hu- 
man body is a delicate machine, and no wheel can be made 
to turn faster or slower than it was intended to turn with- 
out tearing off the cogs. But it is often found that in the 
same individual certain vital organs even without special 
culture are larger and more powerful than others, and this 
is doubtless the reason why many apparently healthy peo- 
ple die young. It is because they are born with some of 
the vital organs powerfully developed, while others are 
weak, and the strong ones consume the vitality that the 
weak ones have not the energy to appropriate. It should 
be the first object of culture to balance the powers by cul- 
tivating the weak and restraining the overaction of the 
strong. After this most desirable result has been secured, 
all the functions should be trai-ned alike, and the whole 
carried to the highest possible state of culture. It is 
usually an easy matter to ascertain what organs of the 
body are weak, and what strong, but in case the facts are 
not obvious, a physician should be consulted, who should 
be requested to test all the vital organs ; not to doctor 
them, but to measure their strength. If the brain and 
nervous system are predominant, much muscular exercise 
should be taken, while the mental powers, and especially 
the imagination, should be restrained. If the reverse is 
true, the brain should be forced to act, and the tendency 
to muscular action should be held in check. If the mus- 



152 OUR HOME. 

oles are stronger than the frame-work of tlie body, then 
great care should be used not to exercise the muscles to 
their full extent, for such a practice would be sure to 
strain the body and injure the vital organs. This con- 
dition is oftener seen in women than in men; hence 
women frequently injure themselves by lifting. If the 
muscles are weaker than the frame- work, then little injury 
can result from the full and unrestrained use of the mus- 
cles. But Nature is very kind to those who are too igno- 
rant to ascertain their own weaknesses. She has so con- 
stituted us that the best and most useful form of exercise 
is that of walking or running. And that is just the kind 
of exercise that the necessities of life compel us to take 
the most of. This form of exercise actually has a ten- 
dency to balance the organic developments, for it brings 
into action every organ of the body, and in such a way as 
to benefit the weak ones relatively more than the strong 
ones. For instance, if the lungs are weak and the muscles 
strong, then the lungs will be the first to say stop ; and 
they will say so just at that moment when they have re- 
ceived the greatest possible amount of good from the run- 
ning. 

The lungs will have received just enough exercise to do 
them good long before the muscles have had enough to test 
their endurance, or to strengthen them much. If the mus- 
cles are weak and the lungs strong, then the muscles will 
control the amount t)f running, and adapt it to their own 



SELF CULTURE. 153 

particular needs. Long before the lungs have received ex- 
ercise enough to do them much good, the muscles will have 
received just enough to do them the greatest possible 
itmount of good. Thus we see how it is that running is 
the best exercise in the world, and, to a certain extent, 
relieves us of the responsibility of ascertaining which are 
our weak organs, for it will pick them out for us and make 
them strong. People both walk and run far too little. It 
is, perhaps, impossible for , human beings or animals to be 
bom with all their organs in a state of perfect balance, and 
running seems to be Nature^s means of balancing them, for 
she gives the young of all animals, the human species 
included, an irrepressible impulse to run almost contin- 
ually, and during that age, too, in which their organs are 
most easily modified. 

As a rule, children need no other physical culture than 
their own freedom. A child in the woods for one day will 
do more in the direction of curing an organic weakness 
than all the doctors of Christendom. 

We" have spoken thus minutely on the subject of physi- 
cal culture because physical culture is not only the basis of 
all culture, but the same general directions which we have 
given, are as applicable to intellectual and moral culture 
as to physical. 

Symmetry is the one idea that should be kept promi- 
nently in view in all forms of culture. But the laws of 
ihe mind are such as to allow considerable margin for 



I 



154 OUR HOME, 

variety's sake. One need not be equally gifted in all his^ 
mental powers in order to be symmetrical. It is not nec- 
essary that he be able with equal facility to play the violin 
and calculate an eclipse. He may be born with such a 
latent talent for music as to render this not only the most 
pleasant but alsor.the most profitable occupation of his life, 
and still violate no essential law of symmetry. But if he 
possesses the talent to such a degree as to become its slave, 
while his whole mental energy is absorbed by the one pas- 
sion, and he is left to feel that there is nothing else beside 
music to render life worth living, he has passed the limits 
which the law of variety allows him and has become 
unsymmetrical. His musical faculty should be restrained, 
while other faculties should be called to the front and com-^ 
pelled to act. This is a hard task and one which is not 
^ery frequently accomplished, for the very reason that the 
difficulty itslelf is of such a character as to prevent the per- 
son from seeing things in their true light. When one 
talks to him about the grandeur of science and tlie beau- 
ties of philosophy, he listens with impatience to such fool- 
ishness. The same is true of all forms of disproportionate 
mental development. Nothing but a knowledge of the 
mental economy will enable one, under these circumstances, 
to see himself as he is. When one looks upon himself 
from the standpoint of mental science, he eliminates the 
bias of his own feelings resulting from his strongest ten- 
dencies, and sees himself as others see him. It is very 



SELF CULTURE. 155 

often the case that one can be made to see his own mental 
defects in no other way than by a study of mental science. 

There is one law of great importance that should not be 
lost sight of either in physical or mental culture. It i& 
the law of periodicity. It is in recognition of this law 
that the professional gymnast is required to practice at 
just such an hour each day. In some way which we can- 
not fully understand, the muscles instinctively adapt them- 
selves to the conditions of periodical activity, so that when 
the appointed hour arrives it finds them in that particular 
condition which enables them to derive the greatest possi- 
ble amount of good from a given amount of practice. The 
law operates precisely the same in the mental economy. 
A music teacher who has had much experience will insist 
that the pupil practice at the same hour each day. 

It is not essential that we should advise more minutely 
with reference to the education of the mental powers, since 
the needed ad dee may be found in the chapter devoted 
espressly to that subject. 

Moral culture involves no different principle from that 
of intellec'jttal culture, and the cardinal idea of symmetry 
is as applicable to this form as to the two forms we have 
already considered. The same is true of the law of period- 
icity ; the saint who prays at regular periods will grow in 
the i\)5tinct of prayer and faith, while he who prays only 
when he finds it convenient will find that the intervals 
grow constantly wider. It is necessary, however, to keep 



166 OUR HOME, 

constantly in mind the fact that the only legitimate condi- 
tion of him who lays claim to moral culture, is that of the 
complete supremacy of the moral sentiments over the pas- 
sions. All sin originates in passional supremacy, while 
out of the ceaseless and often equal conflict between the 
moral impulses and those of the passions, grow all the 
enigmas of human conduct. A person in whom the latter 
condition exists will remain alike to his friends and foes 
an unsolved problem. He will be both very good and very 
bad. When under the dominion of the excited passions he 
may be a fiend ; but an hour later he may be a saint. The 
saddest condition for a human being is that in which the 
passions and moral sentiments are so equally balanced that 
neither can gain a permanent victory over the other. 

When the moral sentiments and the passions are both 
predominant at intervals, the moral sense beco^ies capri- 
cious and cannot be depended upon. The person becomes 
distrustful of his own good resolves, and his character 
loses all stability and permanence. Either condition is 
bad enough, but on the whole we regard the relation of 
equality between the passions and the morals as the most 
^ngerous and destructive. 

So deplorable is this condition that we would even regard 
the permanent ascendency of the passions as a lesser evil. 

Such a conditiqn offers little hope of recovery, for the 
passions and moral sentiments both grow by their occa- 
sional victories, the one as fast as the other, and both are 



SELF CULTURE, 157 

weakened by th^ occasional defeats, the one as much as 
the other. The remedy for this condition is to make the 
intellect an ally for the conscience. It should be required 
to devise means to keep the passions out of temptation. 
When the passions are not aroused by the presence of 
temptation, they are not difficult to manage. Ordinarily, 
however, temptation is a source of strength, uniformly, 
indeed, if it be resisted. But this condition is not always 
fulfilled, and in the case we are considering it is almost 
sure not to be fulfilled, so that the intellect should see that 
temptation is never allowed to be present, and should seek 
those places, occasions, and influences that appeal to the 
morals. By persisting in this course a long time the moral 
nature will gain a permanent victory, and then the vigilant 
restraint may be removed, the fetters may be taken off 
from the passions, and they will recognize their master. 

" When gentle twilight sits 
On day's forsaken throne, 
'Mid the sweet hush of eyentide, 
Mose by thyself alone. 
And at the time of rest 
Ere sleep asserts its power, 
Hold pleasant converse with thyself 
In meditation's bower. ^ 

" Motives and deeds review 
By memory's truthful glass. 
Thy silent self the only Judge 
And critic as they pass; 
And if thy wayward face 
Should give thy conscience pain. 
Resolve with energy divine 
The victory to gain. 



" Driuk walera from the fount 
Tbat In thy bosom BpHags, 
And envj ilot tbe mingled diaught 
Of satraps or of kings ; 
So Hhalt tbou And at last, 
Far from tbe giddy biaia 
Belf-kDOwledge and self-cultiira lead 
To nncomputed gain." 



SUNDAYS AT HOME 



ZcCc^rVJ^ 



S 



HETHER we regard the Sabbath as divinely 
appointed or as growing out of the instincts 
and necessities of man's moral and spiritual 
nature, the experience of man has demon- 
strated that it sustains a vital relation to our 
highest welfare. 

Hence no work dealing with the varied 
phases of domestic life would be complete 
without a chapter on " Sundays at Home." 
With th^ exception of the few hours sup- 
posed by all civilized people to be spent in 
public worship, the day is not in any sense 
a public day, but, on the contrary, it is the 
most private of all days. It is a day when 
the loud tumult of public affairs is hushed, 
and each individual becomes a world in him- 
self. It is a day of personal meditation. A 
purely public day, like the Fourth of July in 
the United States, bears little relation to the 
home life. It is from the fact that Sunday is the most 
private of all days, that we here make it a subject of 



160 OUR HOME, 

special consideration; in order, if possible, to determine 
what purpose in the economy of home shall be subserved 
by this important period called the Sabbath. It consti- 
tutes one seventh of our entire existence, and of no other 
seventh do we spend so large a part at home. For the 
small part that is devoted to public worship by no means 
equals that consumed on other days by labor and those 
duties which partially or wholly isolate us from the influ- 
ences of home. 

How, then, shall we employ the Sunday at home ? How 
shall we secure for it a place among the higher ministries 
of home life ? This, of course, will depend somewhat upon 
the views we hold concerning the nature and object of the 
Sabbath. It is not our purpose to discuss the subject in 
its theological aspect, but simply to compel it, if possible, 
to yield a contribution to the lessons of home life. And 
yet it is impossible to do even this without taking some 
definite ground as to the religious significance of the day. 
It is useless to contend that the Sabbath has no religious 
significance, for to divest it of such significance, would be, 
in the nature of things, to abolish it altogether. If it be 
claimed that the Sabbath was born of human instincts, stiU 
it was of the religious instincts, and to prove that it was 
thus born would be to claim for it a Divine sanction. We 
believe that the religious nature of man and the institution 
of the Sabbath are complementary, the one to the other. 
But whatever origin may be claimed for the Sabbath, and 



SUNDAYS AT HOME. 161 

whatever purpose it was primarily intended to serve in the 
economy of civilization, we have no reason to believe that 
it was intended for a period of '* suspended animation " or 
of physical and mental stagnation. Jesus rebuked the too 
close and Pharisaical observance of the Sabbath, and 
taught, both by precept and by example, that man was not 
made in order that he might observe the Sabbath, but on 
the contrary, that the Sabbath was made in order that man 
might have the privilege of observing it. Man was made 
first and the Sabbath was adapted to him, although we be- 
lieve that the natural law on which the Sabbath is based 
is coeval with the history of creation. 

If, then, the Subbath originated in the religious instincts 
of man, it is inconsistent and foolish to contend that it 
should not be observed as a day of special religious exer- 
cise. But the question still arises, what constitutes special 
religious exercise ? and by what method is the desired 
result best attained ? The now generally recognized law 
that disagreeable or painful action always weakens instead 
of strengthening the faculty involved, is directly opposed 
to the Puritanic observance of the Sabbath ; for how can 
a child be submitted to more intense mentaL torture, than 
to be compelled to spend a whole day where he is not al- 
lowed to smile, where all conversation is suppressed, ex- 
cept that which is absolutely necessary, and where even 
that is conducted with semi-whispers in the unmistakable 
tone of reverence and awe. The Sabbath in too many 



162 OUR HOME. 

homes is a day to be dreaded by the children. The ob- 
servance of it required is so strict as to be painful, and 
hence weakens instead of strengthening their moral and 
religious nature. The effect of such forced action is al- 
most always far worse than no action at all. This law 
obtains with reference to every power of our being, but its 
action is most obvious with reference to the moral and 
spiritual faculties. These must act from choice or they 
cannot be strengthened. Hence the question becomes a 
most delicate one, "How shall the Sunday be spent at 
home?" 

Perhaps no further advice to the intelligent parent is 
required than that he should be guided in all cases by this 
great law, that every action, in order that it may strengthen 
the part acting, must be accompanied with pleasure, in- 
stead of pain. 

In the first place, let the Sunday at home be divested of 
all needless solemnity ; let it be a day of cheerfulness and 
social enjoyment, a day of music both instrumental and 
vocal, a day of conversation and reading. Let the chil- 
dren be taught to think and to meditate on the great prob- 
lems of life and the vast concerns of eternity, not in a sol- 
emn, awe-inspiring way, but in a manner consonant with 
good judgment and common sense. Let them be encour- 
aged to engage in respectful discussions among themselves, 
on these questions. Thus will they early develop a ten- 
dency to think and hold opinions of their own, while yet 



6^ UNDA YS AT HOME. 103 

the parents' superior wisdom may detect and point out fal- 
lacies in their reasoning. There is little danger of. sophis- 
try and false conelusions in these arguments if the parent 
is watchful, and seeks constantly to set the young thinkers 
right, not by an ip9e dixit^ nor even by " thus saith the 
Scripture," but by convincing their reason with superior 
logic. When one begins to doubt any doctrine, whether 
intellectual or religious, he naturally conceives a dislike 
for any authority which disputes his ground, unless the 
authority is enforced by reasons which his own intellect is 
compelled to acknowledge as conclusive. Superior logic 
is the only authority which a questioning mind naturally 
receives with good grace. Hence, if you do not wish your 
child to hate the Bible, do not attem^it to silence all his 
questions by the mere quotation of Scriptural texts, but 
first, calmly and kindly lay bare the fallacy in his argu- 
ment, and then show him, if you choose, how your own 
argument accords with Scripture. 

But it may be asked, why not teach the child to trust ? 
why cultivate a tendency to question, by, harboring the 
argumentative disposition ? There is, it is true, a period 
in early childhood when unquestioning trust is natural and 
proper. But let us remember that when the child reaches 
the age of fourteen or fifteen, he comes suddenly into pos- 
session of the weapon, of logic, and no matter what may 
have been the teachings and influences of his early years, 
he will, between the ages of fourteen and twenty, think. 



164 • OUR HOME, 

doubt, and question for himself. Every human mind, 
however trustful it may be through childhood, must pas* 
through its period of doubt and mental conflict, and the 
earlier this period is passed, the better and the safer. 
Atheists are made out of those minds which receive only 
the ip9e dixit of bigoted fathers, after the awakening 
intellect demands a reason. 

When questions begin to present themselves to such 
minds, questions that insist upon an answer, dissatisfied 
with the merely dogmatic answer of the father, they nat- 
urally appropriate the most logical explanation at hand,, 
which, of course, partakes of the narrowness of their own 
thought-power, and thus they are often led astray. 

There are probably in the world few atheists who- 
would be such had their young logic been answered with 
logic and not with authority. We believe that a very 
large per cent, of the world's unbelief is due to a wrong 
system of Sunday discipline. 

But we would not have the children disregard the 
solemnity and sanctity of the Sabbath. It is natural for 
children as well as for older people to have their periods of 
serious thought. But parents should bear in mind that 
with the child these periods are not naturally quite so- 
serious nor so protracted as their own. We believe the 
day should be a day of rest, not, however, for the reason 
usually assigned, viz., that man's physical nature re-^ 
quires it. For to suppose that the natural duties of life 



SUNDAYS AT HOME, 165 

constitute a burden so heavy that it cannot be borne with- 
out constantly putting it down, is to suppose that God 
made a mistake in the adaptation of life's powers to its 
4uties. 

Man is surely as well adapted to his natural surround- 
ings as the ant or the beaver, and to these, the burden of 
life's labor is not so great as to require a periodic rest. 

We believe that the philosophy of the Sabbath as a day 
of rest is to be found in Nature's law of undivided intenr 
ntjfy the law by which it is impossible for an organized 
being to act intensely at two or more points at the same 
time. This law holds with equal force in the physical, in- 
tellectual and moral worlds. The physician makes a prac- 
tical application of its physical phase when he irritates 
the feet with drafts to cure the headache. The student 
applies its mental phase when he requires his room to be 
fiilent in order that he may put Jiis ^^ whole mind" to his 
task. And the saint applies its moral phase when he avoids 
temptation and prays in his closet. 

Now the Sabbath is the complement of man's religious 
nature, and in accordance with the law of " periodicity," of 
which we have already spoken in our chapter on " Self 
Culture," this department of his nature must act with 
i^pecial force at certain regular periods. In the light of 
these facts the whole philosophy of tlie Sabbath as a day 
of rest may be seen at a glance by A^ atching a laborer at 
work. Suddenly a thought seizes him ; one which deeply 



IGG OUR HOME. 

interests, and vitally concerns him. How instinctively ha 
drops his tool and stands motionless. 

Now we have only to regard the world as one man la- 
boring for his daily bread, but, who by a law of his spiritual 
nature, is called upon once in seven days, to think with 
special intensity upon the great concerns of the eternal 
and the unseen. The same instinct that caused the me- 
chanic to drop his tool and stand motionless causes the 
world to do the same. It is but the instinctive applica- 
tion of this universal law of undivided intensity that closes 
the furnace door, hushes the roar of the engine, and spreads 
the mantle of silent thought over the great city. 

Is it then a sin to labor on the Sabbath? Yes, a twofold 
sin, a sin against both our physical and our moral nature. 
Just as when one eats heartily when engaged in intense 
mental labor, he sins against both his mind and his stomach. 
Physicians tell us, we can do nothing more injurious, for 
the brain having concentrated nearly all the vital energy of 
the system, the stomach is in consequence left feeble and 
unable to dispose of its burden without a great strain. Ex- 
actly the same principle holds with reference to laboring 
on the Sabbath. The absorbing occupation of the Sabbath 
should be the study of ourselves with the one view to sym- 
metrical self culture. Sunday is the day of all others for 
self culture. It is a day in which we should study our re- 
lation to our Maker, and in accordance with the impulses 
of the moral imtme. all our mental energ^ies should be ex- 



SUNDAYS AT HOME. 187 

pended in rounding out our characters, and perfecting our 
whole nature. 

But he who attempts this great work on the Sabbath, 
«nd at the same time attempts to carry on the ordinary la- 
bors of life, is not only thwarting his own efforts at self- 
Improvement, but is doing that which will shorten his life 
perhaps a score of yeara 

But he who carries his ordinary labors into the Sabbath 
does not, of course, observe the day. Then he commits a 
still worse sin. He not only sins against society, which, 
however, is a comparatively minor sin, but he refuses to 
obey a great spiritual law, which is woven into the very 
constitution of his moral nature. 

So that, view the subject as we may, we cannot ignore 
the Sabbath without sinning against ourselves, and we can- 
not sin against ourselves without sinning against our God. 

" O day to sweet religious thought 
So wisely set apart. 
Back to the silent strength of life 
Help thoa my wavering heart. 

" Nor let the obtmsiye lies of sense 
My meditations draw 
From the composed, majestic realm 
Of eyerlasting law. 

"Break down whatever hindering shapes 
I see or seem to see. 
And make my soal acqnainted with 
Celestial company. 

" Beyond the wintry waste of death 
Shine fields of heavenly light; 
Let not this Incident of time K 

Absorb me from their sight. 



168 OUR HOME, 

" I know these ontward forms vherein 
So much my hopes I stay. 
Are but the shadowy hints of that 
Which cannot pass away. 

^That jost oatside the work-day patk 
By man's volition trod, 
lie the resistless issoes of 
The things ordained of God." 




RESOLUTIONS AND 



INDIVIDUAL RULES OF LIFE 




lUCCESSFUL culture is never the result of 
unmethodical effort. The best results are 
obtained only when due regard is had to a 
judicious and systematic use of time, when 
the mind subjects itself to self-government 
through a code of laws adopted and ap- 
proved by itself. Mind in all its operations 
and volitions is under the dominion of law. 
There is no product of creation's law that in its operations 
•can transcend law. A being, then, develops best and most 
rapidly ^hen each department of his nature is subjected to 
the rigid discipline of its own laws. In our chapter on self- 
<;ulture we have dwelt upon the general laws that govern 
our physical, intellectual, and moral natures; but there are 
laws of a less general nature, which it is equally important 
that we should observe, laws pertaijiing to individuals 
and growing out of organic or temperamental conditions. 
These laws each individual must discover and obey for 
himself ; for since they originate in individual peculiarities 
they cannot be of general significance, and hence cannot 



170 OUR HOME, 

be formulated into a code by any but the individual him- 
Belf. Such are the laws pertaining to the particular time 
and the amount of sleep required by each person, to the 
kind and quantity of food desirable for each, and to the 
processes of thought and mental activity that vary with 
traits and temperaments. 

All these laws should be ascertained by self-examination 
and by remembering our own experiences. In this connec- 
tion it is proper to consider the importance of dividing 
each day into periods for the performance of special duties. 
Learn from self-observation what part of the day may be 
with greatest advantage spent in reading and study. Not 
alone, however, with reference to reading and study, but 
with reference to each and every function of life. But it 
is not enough merely to learn these facts. It is far more 
important, as it is far more difficult, to form and keep the 
resolutions to which this knowledge should prompt us. 

This subject naturally suggests the practice of keeping a 
journal. And, perhaps, there is no duty of lif6 (and we 
consider this a duty of all), which, in proportion to the 
exertion it requires, is capable of yielding such desirable re- 
sults in the direction of personal culture. Setting aside the 
advantages of being able, at a moment's notice, to present 
the written volume of our lives (not the generalities and 
glowing eulogiums in which biographers and literary execu- 
tors indulge), such a minute delineation of our daily 
thoughts and deeds througli all our past years, as will 



INDIVIDUAL RULES OF LIFE. 171 

enable us at any moment, to tell what function in our 
life's programme a given day has performed, — setting 
aside all this, there is probably no one practice more dis- 
ciplinary in its permanent effects, than that of recording 
each night the thoughts and deeds of the vanished day. 
The duty, however, should be conscientiously performed. 
This disciplinary tendency is in the process itself independ- 
ent <^f the record's value. It often happens that the de- 
mands of daily life present themselves with such tumultu- 
ous rapidity, and in such perplexing confusion, that the 
great reviewer. Conscience, does not always have time to 
subject each act to a sufficiently scrutinizing examination. 
And many of them get a favorable verdict by demanding 
a haste that conceals their deformities. But when, at the 
close of day — that hour which seems to offer most leisure 
for the solution of life's problems — we sit, calmly reviewing 
our deeds in the order of their occurrence, and in all their 
inter-relations, then it often happens that Conscience 
finds occasion to revoke its decision, and to pass a severer 
verdict. Again, the aid in the cultivation of memory 
which the practice offers is by no means insignificant, since 
it especially cultivates that power of memory in which 
nearly all, particularly Americans, are deficient, viz., the 
power to reproduce impressions in the order in which they 
occurred. It is needless to say that this form of memory 
18 the most useful of all. That form of memory which 
enables one to reproduce a few disjointed links in a chain 



172 OUR HOME. 

of thought, although it may reproduce a great many of 
them, can seldom be of great service to its possessor. The 
recollection of past events is valuable to us only as it 
enables us to recognize the relation of the recollected 
events. Hence the value of thut form of memory that can 
recollect them in their sequential order. 

Now the reader will demand no proof of the assertion 
that there are no means by which this form of memoiy can 
be so quickly and thoroughly acquired as by the practice 
of recalling each night the experiences of the day in their 
chronological order. Tlie talent for public speaking, so 
highly prized by all young men, but possessed by few, is 
almost wholly conferred by this power of consecutive 
memory. Those who possess it are enabled not only to 
reproduce the thoughts gathered in the process of prepara- 
tion, but to reproduce them in their order, one thought 
suggesting the next, and thus enabling the speaker to dis- 
pense with notes. 

We cannot too strongly urge the practice of keeping a 
journal. We have dwelt thus at length upon the subject 
on account of the importance which we believe it pos- 
sesses, and because it affords the best possible assistance in 
carrying out the chief injunction of this chapter, viz., 
that each individual should govern himself by laws, max- 
ims, and resolutions of his own authorship. 

We would recommend, not only the practice of record- 
ing, in the evening, the thoughts, deeds, and events of the 



INDIVIDUAL RULES OF LIFE, 173 

day, but also of recording, in thQ morning, that which we 
intend to accomplish during the day. This practice offers 
a threefold advantage. First, it enables us to govern our- 
selves through the day by the laws which we enact in our 
better moods ; second, it leads us to set a high price upon 
time, and to cultivate a habit of punctuality and method ; 
third, when we liave written the record at evening just 
under the promise of the morning, and the divine con- 
science within us utters in our spirit's ear the comments 
that seem fittest, we may be gazing upon one of the most 
significant lessons of life. For it is a lesson symbolic of 
the close of many a life ; a dark and colorless evening in 
sad contrast with the brilliant hues and gaudy beauty of 
youth's morning. The practice can have but one ten- 
dency, and that is to make these two records more closely 
agree. 

The journal or diary is the best and most convenient 
place in which to record those maxims and resolutions, the 
wisdom and necessity of which we have so strongly urged. 
As fast as you discover under what particular regulations 
and circumstances a given function of your life is most ad- 
vantageously performed, make these regulations and cir- 
cumstances the theme of a resolution or a maxim, and re- 
cord it in your diary, to become a law of your life. In 
this way you will eliminate the evil and conserve the good 
in your experience. You will grow wiser and better, and 
in the end, it is possible that your list of resolutions may 



174 OUR HOME. 

become a contribution to the world's store of wisdom and 
virtue. This, however, should not be the object of the 
resolutions. Your one purpose should be the development 
in your soul of life's virtues, for it is by these that life \& 
measured. 

" Count life by virtnes; these will last 
When life's lame, foiled race is o'er; 
And these, when eartlily joys are past, 
Shall cheer na on a brighter shore." 





CORRESPONDENCE. 



(HERE is probably no one accomplishment 
that reveals so much of human character as 
that of correspondence. All are familiar with 
the fact that experts are able from the hand- 
writing alone to give the prominent features 
of a person's character, and in cases ox 
suspected forgery the uniformity of hand' 
writing is allowed as evidence in the courts. 
But much as is revealed by the manner in 
which we write, still more is revealed by 
the nature of that which is written, — not 
only the general merit of the composition, 
but the thoughts and sentiments expressed, 
the delicacy and propriety with which they 
are expressed, the neatness of the written 
page, the orthography and the grammar. 
Then there is a certain air that impresses 
us that comes under none of these heads^ 
too subtile to be reduced to a definition, 
more ethereal than the perfume of a tropic 
morning, but which stamps the product unmistakably as 
the work of a noble soul. This indefinable something 



ITC OUR HOME, 

transforms all the sharp angles and irregular lines iuto 
shapes that please, and covers the ugliness of imperfect 
chirography with a secondary beauty on which we delight 
to gaze. 

Scholarship, culture, refinement, and inborn nobility no- 
where betray themselves so conspicuously as in the act of 
correspondence. While general culture of the whole mind 
is necessary to the acquirement of this accomplishment, yet 
the only specific means to be employed is the study of the 
best models. Advantage should be taken of the imitative 
tendency of little children, and accordingly all the best cor- 
respondence of the parents should be read repeatedly to the 
children. They will always be interested in a letter from 

Aunt or Cousin , and if the letter is a good model 

it should be read and re-read in the presence of the cliild till 
he begins to catch the phraseology. The best models of 
the father's business correspondence may be committed 
to memory by the children. Tnese forms once fixed in 
their minds will leave their mnuence long years after the 
words of the model are forgotten. 

The particular examples and problems we solved in our 
school days are all forgotten, but they have left something 
in our minds of which we make use everj'^ day. So in 
regard to these models in correspondence. It is not so 
much the mechanical form of the written page to which 
we would call the attention of the young reader, as to that 
intellectual ideal to which the study of the models gives 



CORRESPONDENCE. 1 77 

rise, and which embraces not only the mechanical form, 
but all the qualities that go to make it a finished product 
of the individual mind. 

We have tried to select such models as in themselves 
convey valuable suggestions and information on the gen- 
eral theme of correspondence. 

The one great error into which most young people fall 
in the matter of correspondence is the idea that to write a 
letter is to perform a literary feat. 

When a child writes his first letter to his cousin or ab- 
sent friend, he usually makes a day's work of it even with 
mother's suggestions, while if that cousin or friend were to 
yisit him, he would not only find no difficulty in prattling 
all day, but would probably much prefer to dispense with 
his mother's suggestions. 

In the following letter from the Hon. Wm. Wirt to his 
daughter, mark how charmingly natural and simple his 
language. It seems almost impossible that such should 
have been written. It seems more like a verbatim report 
of a fireside conversation. 

Baltimobs, April 18, 1882. 
My Dbab Child: — 

You wrote me a dutiful letter, equally honorable to your head 
and heart, for which I thank you, and when I grow to be a 
light-hearted, light-headed, happy, thoughtless young girl, I 
will give you a quid pro qito. As it is, you must take such a 
letter as a man of sense can write, although it has been re- 
marked, that the more sensible the man, the more dull his letter. 

13 



178 OUR HOME, 

Don't ask me by whom remarked, or I shall refer you, with 
Jenkinson, in the Vicar of Wakefield, to Sanconiathon, Manetho, 
and Berosus. 

This puts me in mind of the card of impressions from the 
pencil seals, which I intended to enclose last mail, for you to 
your mother, but forgot. Lo ! here they are. These are the 
best I can find in Baltimore. I have marked them according to 
my taste ; but exercise your own exclusively, and choose for 
yourself, if either of them please you. 

Shall I bring you a Spanish guitar of Giles' choosing ? Car» 
you be certain that you will stick to it ? And some music for 
the Spanish guitar ? What say you ? 

There are three necklaces that tempt me — a beautiful mock 
emerald, a still more beautiful mock ruby with pearls, and a 
still most beautiful of real topaz, — what say you ? 

Will you have either of the scarfs described to your mother,, 
and which — the blue or the black ? They are very fashionable 
and beautiful. Any of those wreaths and flowers? Consult 
your dear mother ; always consult her, always respect her. 
This is the only way to make yourself respectable and lovely. 
God bless you, and make you happy. 

Your affectionate father, 

WILLIAM WIRT. 

This quality of simplicity is the chief virtue of the fam- 
il3^ letter and the letter of friendship. In these it is neces* 
sary to observe but one principal rule, viz., write just as 
you would talk if the person to whom you write were by 
your side. In a letter to mother or father, is no place to 
display your literary skill by the free use of technical 
words and high-sounding phrases. When the letters of 



CORRESPONDENCE, 179 

brothers and sisters become essays, be assured that their 
heart relations are not what they should be. The vocabu- 
laries of affection are not compiled from the glossaries of 
science and philosophy. 

When you write to a friend put yourself into the letter* 
He does not wish you to instruct him. It isn't what you 
say, but yourself that he desires. Except that of business^ 
the one object of all correspondence is to serve as a substi- 
tute for that interblending of personalities which is the ex- 
cuse and philosophy of society. It is a miserable substitute 
at best, and fulfills its office badly enough even when we 
put all of ourselves into it that we can. It is not egotisoi 
to talk about yourself in a letter of friendship, for if your 
friend is not interested in you, he is not your friend. 

The following is from a young man in college to his 
mother. It does not contain a single allusion to Calculus, 
nor are there any Latin quotations in it. 

College, Tuesday evening. 

My Dbab Motheb: — 

Though I am now sitting with my back toward you, yet I 
love you none the less ; and what is quite as strange, I can see 
you just as plainly as if I stood peeping in upon you. I can 
see you all just as you sit around the table. Tell me if I do not 
see you ? 

There is mother on the right of the table with her knitting, 
and a book open before her ; and anon she glances her eye from 
the work on the paper to that on her needles ; now counts the 
stitches, and then puts her eye on the book and then starts off 



16 J OUR HOME. 

on another round. There is Mary, looking wise and sewing with 
all her might ; now and then stopping to give Sarah and Louise 
a lift in their lessons — ^trying to initiate them in the mysteries 
of geography. She is on the left side of the table. There, in 
the background, is silent Joseph, with his slate, now making a 
mark, and then biting his lip, or scratching his head to see if 
the algebraic expression may not have hidden in either of those 
places. George is in the kitchen tinkering his skates, or con- 
triving a trap for that old offender, the rat, whose cunning has 
so long brought mortification upon all his boastings. I can now 
hear his hammer and his whistle — that peculiar sucking sort of 
whistle which indicates a puzzled state of brain. Little Wil- 
liam and Henry are in bed, and if you will step to the bedroom 
door you will barely hear them breathe. And now mother has 
stopped and is absent and thoughtful, and my heart tells me she 
is thinking of her only absent child. 

You have been even kinder than I expected or you promised. 
I did not expect to hear from you till to-morrow, at earliest, 
but as I was walking to-day, one of my classmates cried, '' A 
bundle for you at the stage office ! " I was soon in my room 
with it. Out came my knife, and, forgetting all your good ad- 
vice about ^' strings and fragments," the bundle soon opened 
its very heart to me ; and it proved a warm heart, too, for there 
were the stockings — they are on my feet now, that is, one pair 
of them, — and there were the flannels, and the bosoms, and the 
gloves, and the pin-cushion from Louise, and the needle-book 
from Sarah, and the paper from Mary, and the letters and love 
from all of you. Thanks to you all for the bundle, letters and 
love. One corner of my eye is now moistened while I say, 
" Thanks to ye all, gude folks." I must not forget to mention 
the apples — " the six apples, one from each," — and the beautiful 
little loaf of cake. The apples I have smelled of, and the cake 
nibbled a little, and pronounced it to be in the finest taste. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 181 

Now a word about your letters. I cannot say muoh, for I 
have only read mother's three times and Mary's twice. I am 
glad the spectacles fitted mother's eyes so well. You wonder 
how I hit it. Why, have I not been told from babyhood that I 
have my mother's eyes ? Now, if I have mother's eyes, what is 
plainer ^an that I can pick out glasses that will suit them ? 
I am glad, too, that the new book is a favorite. 

I suppose the pond is all frozen over, and the skating 
good. I know it is foolish ; but if mother and Mary had 
skated as many '^ moony " nights as I have, they would sigh, 
not at the thought, but at the fact that my skating days are 
over. 

I am warm, well and comfortable. We all study, and dull 
fellows, like myself, have to confess that they study hard. We 
have no genius to help us. My chum is a good fellow. He 
now sits in yonder comer, his feet poised upon the stove in 
such a way that the dullness seems to have all run out of his 
heels into his head, for he is fast asleep. 

I have got it framed, and there it hangs — ^the picture of my 
father! I never look up without seeing it, and I never see it 
without thinking that my mother is a widow and that I am her 
eldest son. What more I think I will not be fool enough to 
say — ^you will imagine better than I can say it. 

I need not say write, for I know that you will. Love to you 
all, and much too. Your affectionate son, 

HERBERT. 

LORD CHESTERFIELD TO HIS SON. 

DsAB Boy: — 

Your letters, except when upon a given subject, are exceed- 
ingly laconic, and neither answer my desires nor the purpose of 
letters; which should be familiar conversations between absent 
friends. As I desire to live with you upon the footing of an 



182 OUR HOME, 

intimate friend, and not of a parent, I could wish that your let^ 
ters gave me more particular account of yourself, and of your 
lesser transactions. When you write to me, suppose yourself 
conversing freely with me, by the fireside. In that case you 
would naturally mention the incidents of the day, as where you 
had been, whom you had seen, what you thought of them, etc. 
Do this in your letters : acquaint me sometimes with your studv 
ies, sometimes with your diversions; tell me of any new persons 
and characters that you meet with in company, and add your 
own observations upon them; in short, let me see more of you 
in your letters. 

How do you go on with Lord Multeney; and how does he go 
on at Leipzig ? Has he learning, has he parts, has he applica- 
tion ? * Is he good or ill-natured ? In short, what is he ? At 
least, what do you think of him ? You may tell me without 
reserve, for I promise secrecy. 

You are now of an age that I am desirous of beginning a con- 
fidential correspondence with you, and, as I shall, on my part, 
write you very freely my opinion upon men and things, which I 
should often be very unwilling that anybody but you or Mr. 
Harts should see; so, on your part, if you write me without re- 
serve you may depend upon my inviolable secrecy. If you have 
ever looked into the letters of Madame De Sevigne to her daugh-. 
ter, Madame De Grignan, you must have observed the ease, free- 
dom, and friendship of that correspondence; and yet I hope, and 
believe, that they did not love one another better than we do. 
Tell me what books you are now reading, either by way of 
study or amusement; how you pass your evenings when at 
home, and where you pass them when abroad. 



The foregoing letters in themselves contain a whole vol- 
ume on the subject of correspondence. They leave very 



CORRESPOyUENCE. 1 83 

little to be said as to what a family letter should be. We 
will, however, add one more, a genuine love-letter in dis- 
guise written by Doctor Franklin. There is nothing in tlie 
nature of a love-letter, however, that renders necessary any 
different suggestions from those we have already given 
under letters of friendship. We have said there that it is 
yourself, more that what you say, that your friend desires, 
and in the case of love-letters the same is especially true, 
and perhaps in a more literal sense. Some of our senti- 
mental readers may perhaps be a little disappointed after 
reading the following letter, and may possibly blame us, 
and accuse us of malicious intent to dash their expecta- 
tions. But if the letter does not fall under their definition 
of a love-letter, the fault is doubtless one of age, and not 
of natural judgment. 

DB. FRANKLIN TO HIS WIFE. 

My Deab Child: — 

I wrote you, a few days since, by a special messenger, and 
inclosed letters for all our wives and sweethearts, expecting to 
hear from you by his return, and to have the northern news- 
papers and English letters per the packet; but he is just now 
returned without a scrap for poor us; so I had a good mind not 
to write to you by this opportunity; but I can never be ill- 
natured- enough, even when there is the most occasion. The 
messenger says he left the letters at your house, and saw you 
afterwards at Mr. Duche's, and told you when he would go, and 
1 hat he lodged at Honey's, next door to you, and yet you did 
not write; so let Goody Smith give one more just judgment, 



184 OUR HOME, 

and say what should be dono to you. I think I won't tell you 
that we are all well, nor that we expect to return about the 
middle of the week, nor will I send you a word of news — that '» 
poz. 

My duty to mother, love to children, and to Miss Betsey, and 
Gracey, etc., etc. I am your leving husband, 

B. FRANKLIN. 

P. S. I have scratched out the loving words, being writ in 
haste by mistake, when I forgot I was angry. 

There is another class of correspondence which requires 
the observance of a very different class of rules from those 
already given. We refer to business correspondence. In 
writing a business letter we should bear in mind that the 
person addressed cares only for what we have to say, and 
not for ourselves ; being in this respect exactly the reverse 
of a family letter or a letter of friendship. This is why 
the chief virtue of a business letter is brevity. The per- 
son who is to read it desires to learn what you have to say 
about your business as quickly as possible, in order that if 
it be related in any way with his own, he may discharge 
the obligation arising from that relation, and lose no time. 
The Anglo Saxon hisig is the word from which are derived 
both business and biTsy, so that the business man is sup- 
posed to be a busy man ; hence he has no time to weigh 
political arguments, nor to consider your peculiar views on 
the "Trinity." 

It is true that business relations may exist between 
friends, and they may feel like expressing this in their 



CORRESPONDENCE. 185 

business letters, but if they do so, the letter, to that extent 
departs from the nature of a business letter and becomes 
one of friendship. In this case, it is proper, of course, that 
the letter should be a mixed one, for wherever friend- 
ship exists it is the prerogative of the parties concerned 
alone, to say when and under what circumstances that 
friendship shall be expressed. 

In letters of this kind, it is, as a rule, preferable to de- 
vote the first part of the letter to the business, and the 
latter part to the interests of friendship; but of course 
circumstances and the relative weight of the two interests 
must determine this matter in the mind of the writer. 

The requirements of a business letter are well met in the 
following model :— 

San Fbancisco, Cal., Dec. 29, 1882. 

Editobs Springfield Republican: 

Gentleman: — Enclosed find nine dollars (19.00), for which 
please send me, the coming year, your widely known and valu- 
able publication, The Springfield Republican (daily edition), 
and oblige, Yours respectfully, 

P. O. box 1937. Clara M. Sheldon. 

It very frequently happens that the members of the fam- 
ily are called upon to write, or to reply to what are called 
letters of invitation. 

The following models will show the form which custom 
has sanctioned :— 



186 OUR HOME, 

Mr. and Mrs. Cogswell request the favor of Mr. and Mrs. 
Oilers company at dinner on Thursday, January 21, at 5 o'clock. 

THE INVITATION ACCEPTED. 

Mr. and Mrs. Gile, with much pleasure, accept Mr. and Mrs. 
Cogswell's kind invitation for the 21st of January. 

' THE INVITATION DECLINED. 

Mr. and Mrs. Gile regret that the condition of Mrs. Gile's 
health will not permit them to accept Mr. and Mrs. Cogswell's 
invitation to dinner for January 21st. 

Of course the phraseology need not conform* exactly to 
that of the above models. The only uniform characteris- 
tics are a business-like brevity, admitting nothing foreign 
to the subject, and that they be written in the third person. 

Notice that the invitation does not read "we request 
your company, etc." It may be true, however, that com- 
mon sense can assign no valid reason why the third person 
should be used. But since the affectation of fashionable 
society has established the custom, it is well for us to con- 
form to the same, especially since conformity or non-con- 
formity is not a question of conscience. 

It seems proper in this connection to give a few of those 
forms pertaining to the various kinds of business and com- 
mercial transactions which necessarily constitute no insig- 
nificant element in the education, not only of the business 
man, but of all who successfully deal with their fellow men. 

And since the home is the school in which children are 



CORRESPONDENCE. 187 

supposed to receive in a large degree their education in 
all that pertains to life and its relations, a work de- 
voted to the home life would hardly seem complete with- 
out, at least, a brief consideration of the formulas of 
business. 

The following forms embrace all of importance that the 
business man, whether farmer, mechanic or merchant, un- 
der ordinary circumstances will be called upon to use : — 

PROMISSORY NOTE ON DEMAND WITH INTEREST. 

Springfisld, Mass., Feb. 1, 1883. 
^25.50. 

On demand, I promise to pay H. J. Bennett, or order, two 

hundred and twenty-five -f^^ dollars, value received. 

O. T. THORNTON. 

PROMISSORY NOTE WITHOUT INTEREST. 

Barnstkap, N. H., Nov. 8, 1883. 
tl9.80. 

Four months after date, I promise to pay Frank C. Cole, or 
order, nineteen -ff^ dollars value received. 

JOSEPH A. MARSTON. 

PROMISSORY NOTE NEGOTIABLE. 

Lkwiston, Mk., March 3, 1883. 
t420.00. 

Sixty days after date, for value received, I promise to pay 
Everett Remick, or order, four hundred and twenty dollars with 
interest from date. 

H. W. COGSWELL. 



188 OUR HOME. 

PBOMISSORY NOTE NOT NEGOTIABLE. 

Boston^ Mass., Jan. 5, 1883. 
$790.00. 

For value received, I promise to pay Toorin H. Harvey, on 
demand, seven hundred and ninety dollars. 

WILLIAM J. MERRILL. 

Notice in the above the omission of the phrase ^^or 
order." 

JOINT NOTE. 

Chicopeb, Mass., Aug. 6, 1882. 
$76.00. 
Thirty days after date, we promise to pay John Shaw, or order^ 

seventy-five dollars, value received. 

TRUE L. PERKINS, 

P. H. SARGENT. 

JOINT AND SEYEBAL NOTE. 

Athol, Mass., Nov. 22, 1882. 
$300.00. 

Value received, on demand we, either or both, promise to pay 

Charles L. Sheldon, or order, three hundred dollars with interest. 

O. T. MAXFIELD, 
TRUE B. JOHNSON. 

The above note might, of course, have any of the charac- 
teristics of the others. That is, it might be witli or with- 
out interest, on demand or after a stated period, negotiablo^ 
or not negotiable. 

There is a modification of the joint and several note,, 
ealled principal and surety note, like the following : — 



CORRESPONDENCE. 189 

Chichbsteb, N. H., July 9, 1882. 
♦320.00. 

Ninety days after date, for value received, I promise to pay 
Charles J. Carpenter, or order, three hundred and twenty dol- 
lars, with interest from date. 

F. CABIN LANE, Principal, 
D. K. FOSTER, Surety, 

The purpose of this note is more frequently met by the 
endorsement of the sui'ety. That is, the principal signs 
his name in the usual manner, and the surety endorses the 
note by writing his name upon the back of it. In this 
case he does not sign the note with the principal. The 
endorser must be notified when the note becomes due, 
otherwise he cannot be held responsible for its payment. 

CHATTEL NOTE. 

Bangob, Mb., Jan. 10, 1883. 
$900.00. 

For value received, I promise to pay F. E. Perhan & Co., 

or order, nine hundred dollars in ship masts, to be delivered at 

Portland during the month of March, 1883. 

JOSEPH BLY. 

DRAFT — ^TIMB FROM SIGHT. 

Wblls, Me., Aug. 2, 1882. 
♦400.00. 

At ten days sight, pay to Joshua Hatch, or order, four hun* 

dred dollars, value received, and charge to account of 

J. G. BLAISDELL. 
To D. D. Belc^bb, 

Wells, Me. 



190 ^ OUR HOME, 

DBAPT — AT SIGHT. 

HoLTOKE, Mass., June 2, 1882. 
$140.00. 

At sight, pay to Eben Clark, or order, one hundred and fortjr 

dollars, value received, and charge to account of 

H. O. GREENLEAF. 
To W. C. King & Co., 

Springfield, Mass. 

DUB BILL — CASH. 

Augusta, Mk., May 4, 1882. 
$25.00. 

Due Frank H. Sanborn, on demand, twenty-five dollars with 

interest from date. 

J. W. HODGDON. 

DUB BILL — MERGHAKDISB. 

BowDoiN, Mb., April 30, 1882. 
$60.00. 

Due H. H. Tucker, or order, sixty dollars, payable in clover 
seed at the market price on the first day of July, 1882. 

W. H. WALKER 

BANK CHECK. 

Springfield, Mass., Jan. 3, 1883. 
$700.40. 

CITY NATIONAL BANK. 

Pay to the order of J. W. Holton, seven hundred -i^ dollars. 

No. 

W. C. KING k Co. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 191 

BECEIPT IN PULL OF ALL DEALA.NDS. 

Spbingfield, Mass., Feb. 1, 1883. 
$48.60. 

Received of W. C. King & Co., forty-eight ^^ dollars in full 

of all demands to this date. 

W. H. HOLTON. 

Perhaps there is no one business form which the common 
people are so often called upon to use, nor one in which 
there are so many ludicrous errors committed as the simple 
form pertaining to indebtedness for ordinary services. How 
few matrons are able to present in proper form, a simple 
board bill. The following is the proper form for a bill of in* 
debtedness for rent: — 

Alton, N. H., July 9, 1882. 
• Mrs. Maby N. P. Mathews, 

7b Mrs. Almira Sargent, Dr, 

To four months rent ending July 11, 1882, ® $11.00, $44.00. 

Received payment, 

MRS. ALMIRA SARGENT. 

The above form is applicable to all kinds of indebted- 
ness for services rendered. In case some article or com* 
modity represented the service, the name of that article or 
commodity is put in the place of that of the service, and 
the bill otherwise may be the same. 

There are, it is true, many other forms pertaining to 
business, as deeds, mortgages, bonds, wills, etc., etc., but 
the occasions which require a knowledge of these are so 



198 OUR HOME. 

comparatively rare that we have not thought it expedient 
to give them. We have given all that are reaUy essential 
to the business man, and even in those works devoted ex- 
pressly to business forms, those we have given will be 
found to be the ones most minutely dwelt upon. 

But whatever of importance may be attached to the 
mere meclianioal form of any document, the habit of ex- 
pressing our thoughts in writing, with naturalness and 
grace, whether in correspondence, in our private journal, or 
in the formulas of business, is of far more importance. 
This most desirable of all accomplishments cornea only aa 
the reward for patient and tireless practice. 

" To think rlRhtly ia of knowledge; to apeak floently ia ol natnm: 
To read witb profitia with care; but (o wriu aptly ia or practke. 
No IKlenC amon;; msa hatli mora acholan and fewer maatera. 



"Tlion bust not lost nn hour whereof there is a record, 

A written tbau^ht at mldiilglit shiill redeem I he livelong day. 
Idea (9 a slisdow UiM departelh, speech Is fleeting as the wlod, 
Beajdinj; ia an uaremembered pastime ; bat a writing is eEenuU." 



MANNERS AT HOME. 




ANNERS constitute the natural language in 
which the biography of every man is written. 
They are the necessary and unconscious ex< 
pression of our lives and characters. 

Politeness in its essence is always the same. 
The mere rules of etiquette may vary with 
time and place, but these are only different 
modes of expressing the principle of polite- 
ness within us. 

Politeness does not consist in any system 
of rules, nor in arbitrary forms, but it has a 
real existence in the instincts of men and wo- 
men. The ever changing conditions and cir- 
cumstances of social life may necessitate modifications in 
the manners and customs of the people, and these modi- 
fications may and do extend to the domestic circle. Yet 
the principle of our nature in which the manners, customs, 
and rules of etiquette all had their origin, is permanent 
and unchangeable. All the various rules of etiquette for 
the government of society are but notes and commentaries 



on the one great rule, " Love thy neighbor as thyself. 

13 



» 



194 OUR HOME, 

It has truthfully been said: "In politeness, as in every* 
thing else connected with the formation of character, we 
are too apt to begin on the outside, instead of the inside. 
Instead of beginning with the heart and trusting to that 
to form the manners, many begin with the manners and 
leave the heart to chance and influences. The golden rule 
contains the very life and soul of politeness: 'Do unto 
others as ye would that they should do unto you.' Unless 
children and youth are taught, by precept and example, to 
abhor what is selfish, and prefer another's pleasure and 
comfort to their own, their politeness will be entirely arti- 
ficial, and used only when interest and policy dictate. 
True politeness is perfect freedom and ease— rtreating oth- 
ers just as you love to be treated. Nature is always grace- 
ful ; fashion, with all her art, can never produce anything 
half so pleasing. The very perfection of elegance is to imi- 
tate nature ; how much better to have the reality than tha 
imitation. Anxiety about the opinions of others fetters 
the freedom of nature and tends to awkwardness; all would 
appear well if they never tried to assume what they do not 

possess." 

Says the author of " The Illustrated Manners Book," 

"Every denial of or interference with the personal free- 
dom or absolute rights of another is a violation of good 
manners. The basis of all true politeness and social en- 
joyment is the mutual tolerance of personal rights." 

La Bruyere says, " Politeness seems to be a certain care. 



MANNERS AT HOME. 195 

by the manner of our words and actions, to make otheic 
pleased with us and themselves/' 

Madame Celnart says, " The grand secret of never failing 
propriety of deportment is to have an intention of always 
doing right." 

There are some persons who possess the instinct of 
courtesy in so high a degree that they seem to require no 
instruction or practice in order to be perfectly polite, easy, 
and graceful. But most people require instruction and 
rules as to the best and most appropriate manner of ex*, 
pressing that which they may feel. We sometimes find 
young children with such an aptitude for speech and such 
a command of language that their grammar is absolutely 
faultless. They seem to have an instinctive knowledge of 
the rules of grammar; yet most children without grammat- 
ical instruction are prone to errors. 

Rules of 'etiquette are essential, then, but far less so 
than that cultivation of heart and character, to which all 
juat rules of etiquette must trace their origin. 

Personal habits claim the first place in oiir considera- 
tion of home manners ; and foremost among these we 
would place cleanliness. This virtue has been said to be 
akin to godliness, and surely there is no quality in a 
human being that more forcibly suggests ungodliness than 
uncleanliness. An unclean person is an object of disgust 
to all whom he meets. Foulness of character and moral 
pollution will not isolate one from the sympathy of his fel- 



196 OUR HOME. 

low men more effectually than physical uncleanliness. 
We cannot long retain a love for our best and dearest 
friend if he is unclean and has a foul breath. We may not 
despise him, but our love will necessarily lose a little of its 
urdor, or at best will change to pity. But the disgust of 
our friends is not by any means the worst result of un- 
cleanliness. It is most destructive to health. It is like 
sand and mud thrown into the wheels and gearing of a 
delicate machine. Few persons of unclean habits have 
died of old age. People may sometimes in their old age 
come to be uncleanly in consequence of their infirmity, 
but during their younger days they must have been mod- 
erately clean. 

We would not advise one to adopt radical views on this 
subject and take a daily bath through life, although we 
doubt if such a course would injure most people, yet it 
would probably be unnecessary, and would be a needless 
waste of time. A full bath once or twice a week is, per- 
haps, all that is necessary to escape the charge of being 
ungodly in consequence of filth. 

Most people do not seem to consider the laws of clean- 
liness as applicable to the head and hair. Even those who 
are clean in other respects are very apt to neglect the hair. 
Many ladies who have long and thick hair are, perhaps, 
unaware how quickly it becomes filthy and emits a disa- 
greeable odor, especially if it be dressed while it is wet. 
However cleanly the person may be in other respects, the 



MANNERS AT HOME. 197 

hair will necessarily collect much dust and so become un- 
clean. No fat)ier, mother, or child of good breeding will 
allow the teeth or nails to become unclean. A clean mind 
cannot dwell in an unclean body. 

Perhaps in proportion to the population there are at the 
present time fewer in the world who are addicted to the 
disgusting and health-destroying habit of smoking and 
chewing tobacco than in the days of our grandfathers, yet 
the number even now is appalling. Although it is a vice 
too large to be confined within any circle or sphere of life, 
yet it may, perhaps, appropriately be considered imder the 
head of home manners. 

There are few, if any, who will not frankly acknowledge 
that tobacco in all of its forms is an unalloyed evil, and 
that they would not desire their children to become ad*> 
dieted to its use. And yet the most effectual way to 
cause their children to use it certainly is to use it in their 
presence. After all that has been said and done by moral- 
ists and philanthropists, we do not presume to be able to 
say anything that shall influence the acts of confirmed to- 
bacco users, but if we may be able to give them a few hints 
by which they shall the better prevent their children from 
falling into the same habit we shall be satisfied. If fathers 
will persist in smoking and chewing they should surely try 
to neutralize, as far as possible, the influence of their ex- 
ample. This is a dangerous influence at best, but it may 
be rendered more or less so according to the desires and 



198 OUR HOME, 

acts of the father. No father should smoke frequently hi 
the presence of his boys, especially if the fumes of tobacco 
are agreeable to them. But whenever he does so, he 
should do it with some casual remark as to the folly of the 
habit. He should aim to convey the impression that he is 
its slave, and that he would give worlds to be free. It is 
possible that in this way the very evil may* be made a 
means of good to the child, for thus he may early come to 
realize the truth that man cannot always trust himself, 
and that it is dangerous to trifle with any vice lest it bind 
him with a chain of iron. 

He who feels that because he is at home he may act as 
he chooses and throw off all restraints of politeness and 
good manners generally finds that wheil he comes to put 
on these restraints for special occasions they don't fit, and it 
becomes evident that the harness wasn't made for him. 
Even the children can see that his manner is entirely arti" 
ficial and is not his own. Such men when they are occa- 
sionally compelled to go into society experience pain and 
embarrassment enough to outweigh the cost of being de* 
corous and mannerly at home. 

If parents expect their children to be favorites in soci- 
ety, they must teach them good manners. The world's 
fortress that has stood the bombardment of many a genius 
has fallen under the more subtle force of good manners. 
There is no way to teach children good manners except by 
example. It is an art that cannot be taught to advantage 



MANNERS AT HOME, 199 

theoretically. The tactics of courtesy can never be mas- 
tered without field practice. If husbands are not courte- 
ous to their wives, the brothers will not be courteous to 
their sisters, nor when they in turn become husbands will 
they be courteous to their wives. Every man owes to his 
wife and to his daughter at least the same considera^ 
tions of civility and politeness that he owes to any other 
women. 

From the " Home and Health " we copy the following 
valuable rules which seem to be so perfectly to the point 
that we cannot resist the temptation to appropriate them to 
our purpose : — 

HOW TO BE A GOOD HUSBAND. 

Honor your wife. 

Love your wife. 

Show your love. 

Suffer for your wife if need be. 

Study to keep her young. 

Consult her. 

Help to bear her burdens. 

Be thoughtful of her always. 

Don't command, but suggest. 

Seek to refine your own nature. 

Be a gentleman as well as husband. 

Remember the past experience of your wife. 

Level up to her character. 

Stay at home as much as possible. 

Take your wife with you often. 



200 OUR HOME. 

HOW TO BE A GOOD WIFE. 

Reverence your husband. 

Love him. 

Do not conceal your love for him. 

Forsake all for him. 

Confide in him. 

Keep his love. 

Cultivate the modesty and delicacy of youth. 

Cultivate personal attractiveness. 

If y.ou read nothing and make no effort to be intelligent you 
will soon sink into a dull block of stupidity. 

Cultivate physical attractiveness. 

Do not forget the power of incidental attentions. 

Make your home attractive. 

Keep your house clean and in good order. 

Preserve sunshine. 

Study your husband's character. 

Cultivate his better nature. 

Study to meet all your duties as a wife. 

Seek to secure your husband's happiness. 

Study his interest. 

Practice frugality. 

To toil hard for bread, to fight the wolf from the Joor, t» 
resist impatient creditors, to struggle against complainiiig pride 
at home, is too much to ask of one man. 

Another phase of home manners is presented in the 
attitude of children toward their parents. American 
children have not, as a rule, that deference and reverence 
for their parents which they should have. From the 
author of " How to Behave,'* we quote the following 



MANNERS AT HOME. 201 

forcible description of the characteristics of the American 
child: — 

*^ Young America cannot brook restraint, has no concep- 
tion of superiority, and reverences nothing. His ideas of 
equality admit neither limitation nor qualificationi>» He is 
born with a full comprehension of his own individual 
right<», but is slow in learning his social duties. Through 
who&e fault comes this state of things? American boys 
and girls have naturally as much good sense and good 
nature as those of any other nation, and when well trained 
no children are more courteous and agreeable. The fault 
lies in their education. In the days of our grandfathers^ 
children were taught manners at school, a rather rude, 
backward sort of manners, it is true, but better than the 
no manners at all of the present day. We must blame par- 
ents in this matter, rather than their children. If you 
would have your children grow up beloved and respected 
by their elders as well as their contemporaries, teach them 
good manners in their childhood. The young sovereign 
should first learn to obey, that he may be the better fitted 
to command in his turn." 

• He who does not love, respect, and reverence his mother, 
is a boor, whatever his pretentions may be. He who can 
allow any other woman to crowd from his heart the love 
for his mother does not deserve the affection of any 
woman. 

One of the evU habits exhibited for the most part at 



^02 OUR HOME. 

home is that known as ^^ sulking/' This not only spoils 
the comfort of the whole family for the time, but the habit 
grows stronger with age, until it often ruins the person's 
disposition and prospect of happiness in life. We have 
seen cei^es where this disposition to sulk had produced 
such effects upon the character that the persons were act- 
ually objects of pity. When the sulky child goes out into 
the world with his vice he will not find a mother who will 
patiently wait until his sulks have passed away; but 
society will desert him and leave him alone in his bitter- 
ness. 

But the opposite condition of perpetual levity is to be 
avoided as fatal to real earnestness and depth of character. 
As a rule, the ludicrous is seen on the surface of things, 
and he who is always finding something to excite laughter 
is generally of a superficial mind. The deep mind is more 
apt to overlook this surface coat. It is true there is noth- 
ing so good for the health of body or mind as hearty laugh- 
ter, and he who cannot appreciate a good joke should be 
pitied. And yet the excess of this good thing does surely 
indicate, if not positive weakness, a want of habitual 
action in the more serious faculties of the mind. 

We supplement this chapter with the following rules for 
the government of conduct in society. They should be 
read and re-read by the members of the family till they are 
thoroughly mastered, as the student would master the 
rules of grammar. It is not enough to read them as we 



MANNERS AT HOME. 203 

would read a novel, from mere curiosity, but they should 
be studied with a view to being applied. 

So much has been wAtten on the subject of etiquette 
and conduct that it is of course impossible for us to say 
anything new. The most we have attempted is to recast 
and adapt to the special needs of the times that which has 
already been written. 

We have consulted the best and most unquestionable 
authorities, and for each and every phase of life have tried 
to give a few rules of special importance. So that the list 
itself is virtually a condensed volume on the subject of 
etiquette, no vital rule of conduct being omitted. 

The golden rule is the embodiment of all true politeness. 

Always allow an invalid, an elderly person or a lady to 
occupy the most comfortable chair in the room, and also 
to accommodate themselves with reference to light and 
temperature. 

Never make the weakness or misfortunes of another the 
occasion of mirth or ridicule. 

Always respect a social inferior, not in a condescending 
way, but with the feeling that he is as good as you. 

Never answer a serious question in jest, nor a civil ques- 
tion rudely. 

The religious opinions of all, even those of infidels, 
should be respected, for religious tolerance is not only nec- 
essary to good manners, but is a cardinal idea in the doc- 
trine of human liberty. 



204 OUR HOME. 

A true gentleman or lady is always quiet and unassuming. 
The person of real worth can afford to be unassuming, for 
others will assume for him. • 

To laugh at one's own jokes will take the temper out of 
the keenest wit. It is not necessary, however, that h» 
should maintain a serious and pharisaical countenance, he 
may laugh mildly in sympathy with those who appreciate 
his wit, provided he is not the first to .laugh. 

Too great familiarity toward a new acquaintance is not 
only in bad taste, but is fatal to the continuance of friend- 
ship. 

The most refined and cultivated always seek to avoids 
both in their dress and in their behavior, the appearance 
of any desire to attract attention. Extremes in fashion 
and flashy colors are marks of a low degree of cultiva- 
tion. Savages are never pleased by the finer blendings 
either in color or sound. 

When in company talk as little as possible of your- 
self or of the business or profession in which you are 
engaged, at least, do not be the first to introduce these 
topics. 

Every species of affectation is absolutely disgusting. It 
is also so easily detected that no one but an actor can con- 
ceal it. 

When it is necessary to call upon a business man in the- 
hours of business, if possible, select that hour in which you 
have reason to believe he is least engaged. And even then 



MANNERS A T HOME. 205 

talk only of business unless he should introduce other top- 
ics. Unless the person sustains some other relation to you 
than that of business, do not stop a moment after you 
have completed your business. 

If you have wronged any one, not only the rules of 
etiquette, but the most obvious interpretation of moral 
obligation requires you to be willing and quick to apolo- 
gize. And never, under any circumstances, refuse to ac- 
cept an honest apology for an offense. 

Pay whatever attention you choose to your dress and 
personal appearance before you enter society, but after- 
wards expel the subject from your mind and do not allow 
your thoughts to dwell upon it. 

Never enter a house, even your own, without removing 
your hat. 

Do not try to be mysterious in company, by alluding in 
an equivocal manner, to those things which only one or 
two of the company understand. 

Never boast of your own knowledge, and do not, either 
directly or indirectly, accuse another of a lack of knowl- 
edge. Do not even manifest your knowledge of any par- 
ticular subject in such a way and under such circumstances 
as will cause another to appear to poor advantage. 

Never leave a friend suddenly while engaged in an inter- 
esting conversation. Wait till there is a pause or a turn 
in the conversation. 

Do not hesitate to offer any assistance, that the occasion 



20G OUR HOME, 

may seem to demand, to a lady, even though she may be a 
stranger. 

In company mention your husband or wife with the 
same degree of respect with which you would speak of a 
stranger, and reserve all pet names for times and places in 
which they will be better appreciated. 

Never violate the confidence of another. Do not seek 
to avenge a wrong by revealing the secrets of an enemy^ 
which were told to you while he was a friend. 

Always dispose of your time as if your watch were too 
fast, you will then have a few moments' margin in the ful- 
fiUment of all engagements. To break an engagement 
almost always injures you more than the other party. 

Treat a woman, whatever may be her social or moral 
rank, as though she were a princess. 

Always show a willingness to converse with a lady on 
any topic that she may select. 

Do not ask questions concerning the private affairs of 
your friends, nor be curious in regard to the business rela- 
tions of any one. 

Wrangling and contradictions are not only violations of 
etiquette, but they also violate the requirements of tact, 
since they defeat the very purpose of respectful discussion, 

viz., to convince. 

Return a borrowed book, when you have finished read- 
ing it, without delay. A library made up of borrowed 
books is a disgraceful possession. 



MANNERS AT HOME. 207 

When entering a room bow slightly to the whole com- 
pany, but to no one in particular. 

Make the comfort and welfare of others a prime object 
of your life, and you will thereby fulfill all the require- 
ments of etiquette. 

In addition to the foregoing, we present another list of 
rules which ought to be of special interest to every Amer- 
ican citizen, not only on account of their intrinsic worth, 
but also on account of their origin, for their author was 
George Washington. He called them his "Rules of Civil- 
ity and Decent Behavior in Company." They were writ- 
ten at the age of thirteen, and have been termed " Wash- 
ington's Maxims." 

1. Every action in company ought to be with some sign of 
respect to those present. 

2. In the presence of others sing not to yourself with a hum- 
ming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet. 

3. Speak not when others speak, sit not when others stand, 
and walk not when others stop. 

4. Turn not your back to others, especially in speaking ; jog 
not the table or desk on which another reads or writes ; lean 
not on any one. 

5. Be no flatterer, neither play with any one that delights not 
to be played with. 

6. Read no letters, books or papers in company; but when 
there is a necessity for doing it, you must not leave. Come 
not near the books or writings of any one so as to read them 
unasked ; also look not nigh when another is writing a letter. 



208 OUR HOME. 

7. Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters 
somewhat grave. 

8. Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, 
though he were your enemy. 

9. They that are in dignity or office have in all places prece^ 
dency, but whilst they are young, they ought to respect those 
that are their equals in birth or other qualities, though they 

have no public charge. 

« 

10. It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak be- 
fore ourselves, especially if they be above us. 

11. Let your discourse with men of business be short and 

comprehensive. 

• 

12. In visiting the sick do not presently play the physician if 
you be not knowing therein. 

13. In writing or speaking, give to every person his due title 
according to his degree and the custom of the place. 

14. Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always, 
submit your judgment to others with modesty. 

15. Undertake not to teach your equal in the art he himself 
professes ; it savors arrogancy. 

16. When a man does all he can though it succeeds not well, 
blame not him that did it. 

17. Being to advise or reprehend any one, consider whether it 
ought to be in public or in private, presently or at some other 
time, also in what terms to do it ; and in reproving show no 
signs of choler, but do it with sweetness and mildness. 

18. Mock not nor jest at anything of importance ; break no 
jests that are sharp or biting, and if you deliver anything witty 
or pleasant, abstain from laughing thereat yourself. 



MANNERS AT HOME, 209 

19. Wherein you reprove another be unblamable yourself, 
for example is more prevalent than precept. 

20. Use no reproachful language against any one, neither 
curses or revilings. 

21. Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the disparage- 
ment of any one. 

22. In your apparel be modest, and endeavor to accommodate 
nature rather than procure admiration. Keep to the fashion of 
your equals, such as are civil and orderly virith respect to time 
and place. 

23. Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to 
see if you be well decked, if your shoes fit well, if your stock- 
ings set neatly and clothes handsomely. 

24. Associate yourself with men of good quality if you es- 
teem your reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad 
company. 

25. Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is 
a sign of a tractable and commendable nature ; and in all cases 
of passion admit reason to govern. 

26. Be not immodest in urging your friend to discover a 
secret. 

27. Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grown and 
learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects amongst 
the ignorant, nor things hard to be believed. 

28. Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth nor at the 
table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds; 
and if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse. 
Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friends. 

29. Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth. 

14 



210 OUR HOME. 

Laugh not aloud, nor at all without oooasion. Deride no man's 
misfortunes, though there seem to be some cause. 

30. Speak not injurious words, neither in jest nor eameit. 
Scoff at none, although they give occasion. 

31. Be not forward, but friendly and courteous, the first to 
salute, hear and answer, and be not pensive when it is time to 
conyerse. 

32. Detract not from others, but neither be excessive in cmu- 
mending. 

33. Gro not thither where you know not whether you shall be 
welcome or not. Give not advice without being asked; and 
when desired, do it briefly. 

34. If two contend together, take not the part of either un- 
constrained, and be not obstinate in your opinions; in things 
indifferent be of the major side. 

35. Reprehend not the imperfection of others, for that be* 
longs to parents, masters and superiors. 

36. Graze not on the marks or blemishes of others, and ^^sk 
not how they came. What you may speak in secret to your 
friend deliver not before others. 

37. Speak not in an unknown tongue in company, but in your 
own language; and that as those of quality do, and not as the 
vulgar. Sublime matters treat seriously. 

38. Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor 
bring out your words too heartily, but orderly and distinctly. 

39. When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb 
not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, 
nor prompt him without being desired; interrupt him not, nor 
answer him till his speech be ended. 



MANNERS AT HOME, 211 

40. Treat with men at fit times about business, and whisper 
not in the company of others. 

41. Make no comparisons; and if any of the company be 
commended for any brave act of virtue, commend not another 
for the same. 

42. Be not apt to relate news if you know not the truth 
thereof. In discoursing of things that you have heard, name 
not your author always. A secret discover not. 

43. Be not curious to know the a&irs of others, neither ap- 
proach to those who speak in private. 

44. Undertake not what you cannot perform; but be careful 
to keep your promise. 

45. When you dMiver a matter, do it without passion and in- 
discretion, however mean the person may i>e you do it to. 

46. When your superiors talk to anybody, hear them; neither 
«peak nor laugh. 

47. In disputes be not so desirous to overcome as not to give 
liberty to each one to deliver his opinion, and submit to the 
judgment of the major part, especially if they are judges of the 
dispute. 

48. Be not tedious in discourse, make not many digressions, 
nor repeat often the same matter of discourse. 

49. Speak no evil of the absent, for it is unjust. 

50. Be not angry at table, whatever happens; and if you 
have reason to be so show it not; put on a cheerful counte- 
nance, especially if there, be strangers, for good humor makes 
one dish a feast. 

51. Set not yourself at the upper end of the table; but if it 



212 OUR SOME. 

be your due, or the master of the house will have it so, oontenci 
not, last you should trouble the company. 

62. When you ape&k of God or his attributes, let it be seri- 
ously, in reverence and honor, aod obey your natural parents. 
CtS- Let your recreations be manful, not sinful 
54. Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of 
selestial fire called conscience. 

** Faw to Kood breedlDK make a Just preteuBS; 
Good biaadlDg Is the blossom of good mdm; 
The last resalt ot an acoomplUh'd mind, 
Wltb ootwaid grace, tlie body's virtue, Jola'd." 



FAMILY SECRETS. 




.TURE'S most beneficent operations are hid- 
den from our sight beneath the surface of 
things. The germination of all life is under 
^ a veil. She will not let a seed sprout till she 
has buried it. All Nature is one great hall of 
free-masonry where every movement is at the 
gesture of a spectral hand. In secrecy and 
even deceptioli, she is an adept. Not only 
does she hide her operations from our sight, 
but she actually gives false signals. She is 
an accomplished ventriloquist, and we cannot tell whence 
come her most characteristic sounds. The cry of the new 
bom infant comes to us from the thicket, and at the birth- 
day party of a child the irresponsible parrot becomes the 
orator of the day. The mocking-bird, in droll mimicry, 
utters the wail of sorrow and the laugh of joy. The 
spider touched, feigns death. The earthquake is prone to 
imitate the thunder. Tlie voices of the night are inter- 
changeable. The stupid owl steals the voice of sorrow, 
and the breeze whispers every sentiiiient. The sky pre- 
sents the delusion of a blue tent cover, while every tree 



214 OUR HOME. 

that looks into the mirror of the stream sees itself a broken 
staff. We look upon the flat stretched canvas, and through 
the cunning jugglery of light and shade it becomes a liv- 
ing, breathing reality. 

Yet who shall dare prove Nature a liar and face the cor- 
ollary ? A work is never better than its author, and if we 
regard Nature as the work of God, the awfulness of that 
corollary should surely cause us to review our thoughts. 

Nature is not a liar. No act of hers falls under any pos* 
sible definition of a lie. She simply possesses the instinct 
of secrecy. 

Honesty compels no man to stop on the highway to ex- 
plain his errand, and if curious idlers inquire of him, there 
is no phrase in honesty's law that bids him divulgjB a right- 
ful secret. And if the man perceives that he is watched 
by these idlers, he may, with truth's approval, take the 
first cross road that leads him in the opposite direction 
from the object of his errand. Perhaps the idler's highest 
good demands that the secret be withheld from him. 

Now let us see if these limitations do not cover every 
license of Nature. 

For some wise purpose most of Nature's secrets are with- 
held from us. We may believe that to know them would 
harm us. Perhaps our pride demands that they be with- 
held, or perhaps again the scheme of development and 
spirit growth demands it. However this may be, we know 
that most of the secrets are withheld. We are idle ques- 



FAMILY SECRETS. 215 

tioners, and often compel her to take cross roads, or to 
walk in brooks to destroy the scent of her trail. In every 
case she but withholds a rightful secret. The purpose of 
the mocking-bird is simply to defeat our pride when we 
claim to know what Nature is about by the intonations of 
her voice. She hides the knowledge of disease from us 
while she attempts to cure it without frightening us. To 
gaze forever on a ghastly skeleton would sicken us of life. 
Hence Nature with cunning and deceptive fingers has 
buried deep beneath her broidery of flesh the awful sugges- 
tion of death. 

Thus, while we have freed Nature from our own implied 
charge of falsehood, we have yet learned from her a grand 
lesson. We have learned that she is the great advocate of 
family secrets. 

Secrecy is one of the first duties that the domestic rela- 
tion imposes. It i^ one of the cardinal necessities to the 
existence of the family. Every family has its secrets and 
must have them while it is a family. To publish the 
secrets of any family would be to dissipate that family. 

The sacred right to secrecy transcends all etiquette. No 
rule of manners can compel one to divulge one secret of 
hid domestic relations. Without confidence the marriage 
bond would be a rope of sand. But secrecy is the only 
condition that can maintain confidence. 

It is the custom of many married people to make no 
secret of their love, and on all public occasions they seek. 



216 OUR HOME. 

in a most sickening manner, to display their aflFection. 
This is not only a violation of good taste, but it is a viola- 
tion of the instincts of himian nature as well. The senti* 
ment of love in all its phases seeks instinctively the haunts 
of privacy. Whether in its first pure awakening in the 
breast of youth and maiden, or, in its maturer and grander 
form, when crowned with fruits immortal, it alike retreats 
from the gaze of those who cannot sympathize. 

Love is poetical until we see it manifested in others. It 
then becomes disgusting, and those who indulge in public 
demonstrations are always the objects of ridicule. 

Not that a man should feign coldness or indifference 
toward his wife in public. This is not at all the import of 
^hat we have said. Husbands and wives should appear 
tender and considerate of each other in public places. It 
is perfectly proper that their manner should proclaim their 
relation. But true love between husband and wife demands 
a more engrossing attention, the tenderer endearments and 
caresses which society in the aggregate cannot understand. 
They constitute a language that only love can understand. 
Hence Nature has kindly given to us a disposition to con^ 
ceal them. 

The fact that the heart shrinks from the public manifest 
tation of affection is the highest compliment to its inno- 
cence and purity, a proof that it is above the comprehen- 
sion of the world's common moods. And in this fact is 
based the philosophy of family secrets. 



FAMILY SECRETS, 217 

The family is the outgrowth of love, and love's eternal 
condition is secrecy. Hence the family relation in all its 
phases is more or less intimately connected \yith the in- 
stinct of secrecy. It is a native impulse of every high- 
minded person to keep those facts a secret which pertain to 
the history of his family — even those facts which in their 
nature do not demand secrecy. 

Nature hides the embryo of every seed, and carries on in 
the dark the process by which she rears and trains the lit- 
tle plant, and the mother should follow Nature's example 
in rearing and training her ichild. Children punished, or 
in any way disciplined in the presence of others, are almost 
^ways made worse thereby, instead of better. That in- 
tuitive confidence and mutual knowledge that exists be- 
tween mother and child is so delicate in its nature that the 
presence of a third p&rty, even if it be a brother or a sister, 
is sometimes fatal to its proper action. 

Parents should never censure their children, nor even 
«peak disparagingly of them, in the presence of strangers or 
visitors. 

There are certain private rights which belong to each 
member of a family, and should not be violated, and yet 
their rights are too often disregarded. 

Every one naturally holds back the expression of the 
•greater parts of his thoughts. For every thought that we 
•express we have a thousand that never pass the limits of 
-our own consciousness. This, of course, we feel to be a 



218 OUR HOME. 

natural right, and when it is encroached upon, we instinct- 
ively act upon the defensive. When one's sphere of privacy 
is trespassed upon by another, there is a spontaneous and 
joint action of the inventive and secretive functions, which 
results in an attempt to deceive. Hence the habit of 
falsehood may be produced in a child by not conceding to 
him the natural right of privacy. We quote the follow- 
ing from the author of " The Illustrated Manners Book " : — 

'* One of the rights commonly trespassed upon, consti- 
tuting a violent breach of good manners, is the right of 
privacy, or of the control of one's own person and affairs. 
There are places in this country where there exists scarcely 
the slightest recognition of this right. A man or woman 
bolts into your house without knocking. No room ia 
sacred unless you lock the door, and an exclusion would be 
an insult. Parents intrude upon children and children 
upon parents ! The husband thinks he has a right to enter 
his wife's room, and the wife would feel injured if excluded 
by night or day from her husband's. It is said that they 
even open each other's letters, and claim as a right that 
neither should have any secrets from the other. 

" It is difficult to conceive of such a state of intense bar- 
barism in a civilized country, such a denial of the simplest 
and most primitive rights, such an utter absence of deli- 
cacy and good manners ; and had we not been assured on 
good authority that such things exist, we should consider 
any suggestion respecting them needless and impertinent^ 



FAMILY SECRETS. 219 

" Every person in a dwelling should, if possible, have a 
room as sacred from intrusion as the house is to the fam- 
ily. No child grown to the years of discretion should be 
outraged by intrusion. No relation, however intimate, 
can justify it. So the trunks, boxes, papers and letters of 
every individual, locked or unlocked, sealed or unsealed^ 
are sacred.'^ 

This matter of privacy can, no doubt, be carried to ex- 
cess, and whether we endorse all of the foregoing or not, 
it certainly contains much truth. The tendency of civil- 
ization has always been toward the development of indi- 
viduality and private interest. In the rude civilization of 
frontier life, one room serves as parlor, kitchen, and 
sleeping room for the whole family, and all private inter- 
ests within the family are ignored. This principle is still 
more forcibly illustrated by comparing savage with civil- 
ized life. Although civilization tends to the multiplica- 
tion and development of social institutions, yet it tends 
still more to the development of the individual. It brings 
the aggregate interest into harmony with that of the indi- 
vidual. This it does not so much by curtailing and modi- 
fying the rights of the mass, as by recognizing and in- 
creasing the rights of the individual. 

We do not mean by individual rights, individual isola- 
tion in the sense in which we find it on the first pages of 
human history. The individual and the family were then 
sufficiently isolated. Every family was a nation in itself. 



220 OUR HOME, 

but it had no rights which it could not sustain with rock 
and club. The family and society could not then exist 
together, but civilization finds its one great problem iu the 
proposition of their union. Wliile society is still develop- , 
ing, the isolation of the family and of the individual is re- 
tained, and family secrets are rendered more necessary by 
€very advance of civilization. 

But family secrets does not mean family reserve or es- 
trangement. Better a thousand times that every individ- 
ual right should be ignored than that husbands and wives 
and brothers and sisters should become cold and distant 
and indifferent. This is the most fatal catastrophe that 
can befall a family. Indeed, it is the death blow to home, 
and what remains is but the ghastly skeleton from which 
the spirit has forever flown. The family whose members 
do not mutually consult and advise and work together 
for each other's good have virtually surrendered the char- 
ter of home, and are living as strangers whom circum- 
stances have compelled to live in close proximity. History 
affords hardly an example of a man who has proved a 
grand success, who did not make his wife a partner in his 
schemes. Behind every brilliant career there will be found 
a Martha or a Josephine. The very fact of legitimate 
family secrets renders more beautiful the intercourse of 
home, and sweetens the very associations and heart-bleed- 
ings that are legitimate nowhere else but in the heart of 
home. 



fAMlLY SECRETS. 

" Ftom the oDtwurd worI4 aboat ut, 
From ths hurry tati the dlo, 
Ob, bow liiilo do we gKthet 
or the other world withlnl 

But when the hearth la klndlea, 

And the houae la bushed at niKht'— 
Ah. Iben tbe aeoret wridng 

Ot (he apltit comes to lightl 
Tbrongh the motber'a ligbt caieninc 

Of the baby on her knee, 
We aee the mystic writing 

That abe does not know we »ee- 
By the love-tight as It flashes 

In her teudei^ltdded eyes, 
We know It that her vUloa i««t 

Od earth, or In the skies; 
And by the Mog abe chooM*, 

Bj the very tune ahe ainga. 
We know It Ibat her heart be aat 



DUTIES OF HOME. 



ih \7ord lioiue seems to be inseparabh con- 
nected with certain specific duties. Oiii; can- 
not dwell within the circle of home without 
being morally responsible for the disdiai^e 
of Bpecial duties that owe their origin to the 
home relations. 

The first duty of home in the order of da- 
velopment, since it is developed as soon as 
the home is established, is the duty of husband and wife to 
each other. Men too often forget that they owe any special 
duties to their wives, and yet there is no man who has a 
worthy wife but owes her a debt he can never pay. She 
has given him what fortune cannot purchase, a human 
heart. She has paid him the highest compliment that one 
human being can pay to another. She has told him by 
actions that cannot lie, that he is more to her than all the 
associations of het life ; more than the sweet playmates of 
her girlhood ; more than her sister's caress and brother's 
pride ; more than the love and tenderness of parents ; more 
than her dear old home. She leaves all these for him, 
although her heart strings cannot be unwound from any of 



DUTIES OF HOME. 223 

them, bat must be broken and torn away. Does human 
life present a more touching spectacle than that of a young 
bride suppressing her tears and forcing a smile while she 
kisses her mother and father and sister and brother fare- 
well ? How hard hearted, how unworthy of her, how even 
beastly, must be the man, if we may give him that title, 
who does not under those circumstances feel his knees bend 
a little with the instinctive impulse of adoration. 

The husband can discharge the duties which he owes 
to his wife only by keeping perpetually in his mind that he 
owes her a debt to pay which, it will be necessary to take 
advantage of every passing opportunity. 

But the obligations and duties are not all on the part of 
the husband. If the wife is the woman that she ought to 
be, and esteems herself accordingly, and at the same time 
considers the man whom she has accepted as worthy of 
her, she ought certainly to feel under the deepest obliga- 
tion to him. 

The first duty that a wife owes to her husband is to ap- 
pear attractive to him. She should dress with almost ex- 
clusive reference to his tastes. This subject, idle as it may 
seem, is fraught with deep consequences to the race. We 
cannot tell the reader all about it without discussing at 
length the broad question of "natural selection," which 
would be out of place in a work like this. Suffice it to 
say, that great law demands that the wife should continually 
appeal as strongl}* as possible, to the sense of beauty in her 



224 OUR HOME. 

husband. No man ever yet loved a woman who was not 
to him beautiful. It is beauty that man loves in woman, 
and when other things are equal his love for his wife is just 
proportionate to her beauty. 

There have been, doubtless, many women so ill-formed 
and so unsymmetrical in their features that they could not 
possibly present to any man a single trace of physical 
beauty, and yet they have been the objects of the tenderest 
love. 

But in every such case there will be found either an in- 
tellectual or a moral beauty that has charmed the lover. 

George Eliot and the wife of Carlyle could not lay 
claim to very much of the " dimpled beauty," yet was 
there not a higher beauty in their souls, that even found ex- 
pression in their faces when closely observed, aud for which 
the giddy girl might well desire to exchange her dimples. 

And ' yet physical beauty has its high office. Every 
face of beauty is from the chisel of the Eternal Sculptor. 
Every dimple is the finger print of the Divine. Woman's 
highest and grandest endowment is her beauty, physical, 
intellectual and spiritual. 

Thrice happy is that woman who possesses all these 
She is a star of the first magnitude in the firmament ol 
human society. God never endowed a woman with this 
threefold beauty without reserving a claim upon hef 
power. Such a woman belongs to humanity, She is min« 
istrant to human need. 



DUTIES OF HOME, 225 

Of these three forms of beauty, the spiritual ^is of the 
first importance, intellectual of the second, and physical of 
the third. Although no amount of physical beauty can 
fully compensate for the slightest deficiency of the spirit- 
ual, yet it must be acknowledged that the lack of physical 
beauty is never so painfully obvious as when accompanied 
by a like spiritual deficiency. 

It is a law established by observations made on the 
entire animal kingdom, that the worth of offspring, ether 
things being equal, is in the ratio of the mother's beauty. 
It may not be a beauty that would stand before the criti- 
cism of the world, but it must be a beauty that charms the 
husband. 

In view of these facts is it not the highest duty of 
woman, a duty which she owes to God and to humanity, 
to make herself at all times as beautiful in her husband's 
eyes as possible ? It is a diviner art to maintain affection 
than to awaken it. It cannot long be maintained, if the 
advantages under which it was awakened are withdrawn* 
Your husband wooed and won you in your best attire, in an 
atmosphere surcharged with the bewilderment of roses, 
perfume and of song, amid the sweet intoxication of wood- 
land rambles and moonlight poetry. You come to his 
house, take off the myrtle from your hair and cast the rose- 
bud from your throat, and exchange the rustling per- 
fumed robes of love for soiled calico. Can you expect 
anything but a chilling shock to the affections of him 

16 



22() OUR HOME. 

who before had stood gazing upon jou in the moveless 
trance of love ? 

Ladies need but little advice of this kind concerning 
their personal ax)pearance when they go into society. In- 
deed, it would be far better for them and for the world if 
they would ax)pear a little less attractive in the i^esence of 
other husbands, and a little more so in the presence of 
their own. Is it any wonder that the husband grows cohl 
•and indifferent towards his wife when he sees her exhaust- 
ing every resource of invention to enhance her attractive, 
ness in the presence of other men, while she appears con- 
tinually in his presence with soiled dress and disheveled 
hair? How often we hear ladies making an almost ludi* 
crous attempt to revive the forgotten lore of their early 
seminary culture, in the hope of winning the admiration of 
some brilliant society man, when their conversation with 
their husbands never rises to higher themes than the last 
month's rent and a new dress to wear to church. 

This is an almost universal vice. No creed or social po^ 
sition is free from it. It is daily committed alike by the 
rich and the poor, in ignorance of one of the great laws 
that govern human love. 

We have told the secret of many a conjugal tragedy. 
It costs but little to dress becomingly, to put a rose-bud 
in the hair, and she who cannot find time to do this may, 
perhaps, by and by find time to mourn over blighted hopes 
and buried love. 



DUTIES OF HOME. 227 

Importaut as are the duties that husbaud and wife owe 
to each other, no less important are those which they owe 
to their cliildren. It is the dut}"^ of parents to make the 
home of childhood gleasant and altractive, for children de- 
velop more perfectly in pleasant than in nn[)]eayant liomes. 
We do not mean, liowever, mure outward attractiveness. 
It is not essential that the home should overlook some rich 
and beautiful landscape ; but that the associations of 
home should be pleasant and agreeable to the children ; so 
that they may not become restless and desirous of leaving it. 

It is the duty of parents to make thefr children love 
them. Not that they should compel h>\'e with the authority 
of the rod, for that would be impossible ; but by the wise 
application of the law that "love begets love." No person 
has any right to be the parent of a child that doesn*t love 
him. Thoughtlessness and narrow views of life's relations 
are often fatal to filial love. Parents too often forget that 
they themselves were once children with children's tastes, 
desires, and whims. 

It is natural for children to love their parents, not only 
during the years of childhood, but through life. And yet 
we often see very little filial love among grown up children. 
This is chiefly because the i)arents failed to make a proper 
concession to the demands of childhood. A child cannot 
love one, be it parent or teacher, who suppresses liis child 
nature. When once the tender bond of sympathy between 
parent and child has thus been broken it can never be 



1 
/ 



228 OUR HOME. 

fully reunited ; and when the child becomes a man he ia 
very apt to dislike his parents for the needless pain they 
have caused him, in not governing him in accordance with 
the laws of his nature. 

By sympathy we do not mean love. It is possible for 
love to exist without sympathy, or at least without that 
intimate, almost mesmeric sympathy that ought to exist 
between parent and child. Such parents usually love their 
children with much tenderness, but they somehow manage 
to place a great gulf between themselves and the objects 
of their affection. They do not understand that the art of 
rearing children is the art of becoming "a child again," 
of going back wKere the children are, and so growing up 
again with them. Yes, the way to bring up a child is to- 
go back and get him and take him along with you up 
to manhood. You should not stand on the height and call 
him up, for he would be very apt to lose his way. He is- 
not acquainted with the path. You know it is a narrow 
path, only wide enough for one, and that all who would 
climb that height must go "single file." 

But the obligations of parents and children are recipro- 
cal, and corresponding to the duties that parents owe to 
their children are those that children owe to their parents. 
That children owe to their parents a debt of gratitude,, 
that they owe them the duty of obedience, love and respect, 
is a proposition that requires no demonstration, for it meet8> 
the approval of every true child. 



DUTIES OF HOME, 229 

Less recognized than the above are the duties that chil- 
dren owe to each other. The older children owe to the 
younger ones the duty of tenderness and consideration for 
their age, and should not in their dealings with them apply 
the ethics of society, " Do to others as others do to you." 
They should rather apply the golden rule as it reads, and 
patiently trust to a more mature age to develop in their 
thoughtless little brothers and sisters a deeper sense of ob- 
ligation and moral responsibility. The older children are 
very apt to take advantage of the younger ones, and often 
use their superior tact in pleading their own case to the 
parents. Now everything of this sort is a violation of the 
duties that older children owe to the younger. 

But the younger children owe certain duties to the older 
ones. Children should always be taught to respect supe- 
rior knowledge and experience, whether found in parent, 
teacher, or older brothers and sisters. Hence the younger 
children owe to the older ones the duty of respect and, to 
a certain extent, obedience. 

Brotliers owe to their sisters precisely the same respect 
and gallantry that they owe to women everywhere. They 
will be rewarded for tliis in the ease with which when they 
become oklev they can enter the society of ladies, and sis- 
ters will receive the same reward for properly discharging 
at home the duties that they owe to every man. 

The duties of home then are simply the aggregate of all 
tlie obligations that grow out of the family relation, and or. 



230 OCR HOME. 

the discbarge of these depends the success or failure of the 
home life. Home may be made happy or wretched, ac- 
cording to the discharge of these obligations. It is not, 
however, the great questions of moral obligation that most 
vitally affect the happiness of the home, but the aggregate 
of all those little obligations that love always imposes. 
The crowning glory of the home life is that it draws its 
supr. mest joy from the little events. 

•* Our daily paths, with thorns or flowers 

We can at will lK?strew them: 
What bli.s9 would gild the jiassiug hours, 

Tf we but riphtl3' knew them! 
The way of life is rough at best, 

But briers yield the ntscs; 
So that which leads to ]ny aud rest 

The hardest path discloses. 

•* The weeds that oft we cast away. 

Their simple beauty scorning, 
Would form a wreath of purest ray, 

And prove the best adorning. 
So in our daily paths, 'twere well 

To call each gift a trcasi^re, 
However slight, where love can dweU 

With life-renewing pleasure. " 




i 



CONTENTMENT AT HOME. 



men who are diBcontented at home, an, as 
ule, discocteoted everywhere. There are, 
leed, exceptions to this rule, for there are 
}se who are better than their homes, great 
ila that have sprung up out of vicious 
mes where intemperance and still darker 
les have shrouded their early years in pain- 
memories. In such homes those noble 
lis who, from some favorable combination 
circumstances, have risen above their sur- 
mdingB, may well feel discontented. But 
in in these cases we may believe tbat there 
itiil that which justifies something of tlie 
rit of content. They are discmitentcd net 
3essarily with the identity of tlif home 
ilf, but vrith its condition, and if they 
re to surround themselves with the influ- 
jes of an ideal home they would in most 
cases retain the identity of the old. The 
new house would rise on the f.nindation of the old. Like 
the boy's jack knife that re<iuired a new blade and a new 



232 OUR HOME. 

handle, and that when these were supplied was to him the 
old knife still; so many objects seem to have a subtle 
spirit independent of their material structure, but depend* 
ing solely on associations that constitute to us their 
identity. With this spiritual identity of our home we may 
be, and ought to be, content. If the influence of our home 
be evil, if its atmosphere be injurious, then we should 
spend our lives in making it better, and in purifying its 
atmosphere. In this noblest of all forms of human labor 
we should find contentment. Contentment is simply a 
willingness to be happy. Almost any sphere or condition 
of life furnishes the necessary material for happiness if we 
will only appropriate it in the spirit of contentment. It is 
questionable if there is any outward condition of human 
life in which it does not lie within one^s power to be con- 
tent. Our desires feed upon their own gratification. One 
is always and necessarily contented at the moment of the 
first gratification. It is only when a desire has been unlaw- 
fully gratified that the gratification fails to bring satisfac- 
tion and content. Hence discontent is subjective rather 
than objective. Now there are no pain and sorrow like 
subjective pains and sorrows ; those which the mind experi- 
ences within its own dominion, and to which it can assign 
no adequate cause. In such cases the mind itself cannot 
see why it should feel discontent. Such suffering of the 
mind is analogous to nervousness in the body. How often 
we hear it said of sensitive and complaining women, ^^ noth- 



CONTENTMENT AT HOME. 233 

ing ails her, she 's only nervous." We do not stop to con- 
sider that nervousness is the most absolutely real of all 
diseases ; it is the reality of the unreal, and the unreality 
of the real. With healthy nerve and an un vitiated imagi- 
nation we may render real, or divest of reality, whatever 
we choose. But can the victim of delirium tremens — can 
the nervous patient render unreal the disease which he 
fancies is preying at his vitals ? or can he render real the 
fact that his imagination is disordered ? ^^ nothing ails him ! " 
There is nothing so absolutely real as a delusion. Nervous- 
ness is the only real disease. In like manner the only real 
wrrow is subjective sorrow, that sorrow which the suffer- 
ing mind itself cannot account for. The great sorrows of 
liuman experience arise from this inner source. 

They consist in a brooding discontent, a stubborn refusal 
of the mind to respond in a satisfactory manner to any ex- 
ternal stimulant. The world holds up to our vision many 
illustrious examples of human sorrow and suffering, — suf- 
fering from outward conditions and circumstances, and, 
perhaps, the most noted of these is that almost typical char- 
acter. Job. But the illustrious examples of that other sor- 
row, the world can never see, for it is the sorrow of mid- 
night and silence. It is a sorrow which cannot be shared, 
and one which the world will not recognize. We can, 
however, see its fruits, for it sometimes bears the divinest 
fruit, but, as with the troe of evil everywnere, the tree 
which bore it must first be cut and burnec'.. 'Tis from the 



234 Ol'R HOME. 

ashes of the tree of evil that fruit divine appears. He 
who conquers this subjective sorrow and comes trium- 
phantly out of the dark forest of inward discontent into 
the sweet light of peace and contentment, is a conqueror 
in the grandest and sublimest sense of the word, and on 
his brow there rests forevermore a crown of victory. 

Discontent, then, is in almost every case the result of 
this subjective mental action, a continual yearning for 
something more than the present experience. That is the 
most awful form of human disease in which the cognizable 
objects and the cognizing faculties are out of gear. What 
then is the remedy for discontent? We have said that 
desires feed upon their own gratification, and the kind of 
food determines the kind of desires. An unlawful gratifi- 
cation produces in its turn another unlawful desire. Now, 
since there is no natural object or circumstance that can 
respond to an unlawful desire, it follows that in the home 
where objects and circumstances are natural, the unlawful 
desire must remain ungratified, and hence the source of 
yearning and discontent must also remain, till unlawful 
gratification has been obtained elsewhere. 

A pertinent illustration of this view of the subject may 
be seen in the behavior of a slightly depraved appetite,, 
and among a civilized people this is the condition of al- 
most every one's appetite. Every one knows that when 
he is hungry a simple piece of dry bread tastes good and 
satisfies the hunger ; but let him cover it with highly sea- 



CONTENTMENT AT HOME, 235 

Boned sauce, and after partaking of it attempt to go back 
to the dry bread, he will find that it tastes insipid and 
does not satisfy him. If, however, he had taken a juicy 
pear instead of the spicy sauce, he could have returned to 
the dry bread with satisfaction. Here then lies a princi- 
ple. The dry bread and the pear both sustain a normal 
relation to our appetites, and gratify a lawful desire, but 
not so with the sauce; for spices and artificial flavors 
were nevei? meant to satisfy a healthy appetite. There is 
nothing in a healthy appetite that corresponds to them. 
The dry bread and the pear, feeding nothing but a healthy 
and lawful desire, in their turn give rise to a healthy and 
lawful desire ; and this, dry bread can satisfy. But the 
sauce satisfying an unnatural, and hence unlawful, appe- 
tite, gives rise to notliing but unhealth}'^ and unlawful de- 
sires, and these the dry bread cannot satisfy. Apply the 
principle involved in this illustration, and the solution 
which it suggests to the higher faculties of the mind, and 
you have the whole philosophy of discontent. But, sjij-s 
one, shall we follow out this doctritie to its full extent, and 
seek to awaken no desire which our surrounding circum- 
stances cannot gratify ? If discontent consists simply in 
iingratified desires, then it would be reasonable to suppress 
all desires that we cannot gratify. But would not this be 
fatal to all progress ? Would it not tend to keep us for- 
ever on the dead le\el of the present? There is an infi- 
nite difference between the absolute inability to gratify a 



236 OUR HOME. 

desire, and the mere inability to gratify it immediately. 
The lion cannot gratify at once his desire for food, but the 
suspension of the gratification does not result in discon- 
tent. He, perhaps, knows that his diligent search will 
make the gratification still keener when it comes. So the 
young man who desires to be great and useful need not 
<2rush that desire simply because he is unable to gratify it 
at once. His highest delight may spring from his contem- 
plation of its final gratification. There is a continual grat- 
ification simply in the prospect of ultimate gratification. 

But if one has a desire that it is absolutely impossible 
for him to gratify, then the quicker it is crushed, the better. 
If a cripple should become ambitious to be an acrobat, 
then the harboring of that ambition could lead to nothing 
but discontent. Then crush all desires that cannot, in the 
nature of things, be satisfied. Crush all unlawful desires, 
and seek to gratify all lawful ones, and contentment will 
be the necessary result. 

** Sweet are tlie thoughts that savor of content — 

The quiet mind is richer tiian a crown. 
Sweet are the nij?hts in C4irelpss slumber spent, , 

The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown; 
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliaif 

Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. 

" The homely house that harbors quiet rest, 

The cottage that affords no pride or care, 
The mien that 'grees with country iTiusic best, 

The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare, 
Obscured life sets down a type of bliss: — 

A mind content both crown and kingdom is." 



VISITING. 




O long as man remains a social being, visiting 
will constitute a part of his avocations. Man 
is a fragment of being, as each star is a frag- 
ment of the iirmanent. And as the stars are 

d 

never at rest; as they revolve around each 
other ; as the smaller ones seem to select the 
larger ones as centers whose superior attrac- 
tion guides and maps out their path, — so men 
arrange themselves in society in accordance 
with a similar law. 

There are suns and planets and asteroids in 
human society, and these take their proper 
places by an eternal law of human affinity. 
Man is, in his individuality, an imperfectly adapted be- 
ing. The divine declaration, " It is not good for man to be 
alone," long before it was written by human pen was writ- 
ten in the nature of man by virtue of this law, that man is 
but fragmentary. 

Hence the necessity and philosophy of society and of the 
custom of visiting. A home without visitors is not a per- 
fect home, inasmuch as the members of that home cannot 



^38 OUg HOME. 

become perfect, but must forever remain undeveloped un- 
less they come in contact with the great world. We have 
all seen such homes, where the frozen pride of wealth con- 
geals the fountains of worth and usefulness. There lire 
certain families that never visit ; but the vital instincts of 
society soon eliminate them, as a sliver or any foreign sub- 
stiuice is eliminated from the flesh. 

In such cases Nature disconnects the foreign substance 
from all the vital processes and builds around it a hard case, 
which effectually shuts it off from all relation with the vital 
organism, as it were in a prison. Society has the same 
instincts, and when it discovers in itself a foreign substance 
in the form of a family destitute of fellow sympathy, a fam- 
ily who do not visit nor receive visitors, it rapidly cuts off 
all vital connection with them and encloses them within the 
prison walls of their own reserve. With what pitj'ing con- 
tempt society looks upon such a family I How even the 
children point to the home as the dwelling of some mon- 
strosity, and learn to tatiiit the inmates as the parrot learns 
to taunt the barn fowl. We pity the members of such a 
family. We have often wondered what the source of their 
enjoyment can be. That same coldness and lack of sym- 
pathy which makes them shun the world, most certainly 
will make them cold and distant in one another's society. 

Such homes are usually the abodes of gilded misery. It 
is a curious fact that these families soon become extinct. 
They live but a few generations at best, become sickly and 



VISITING. 239 

vicious, and finally die out, and leave the world no better 
and, perhaps, no worse. 

There is a lesson in this fact, not only a moral lesson, 
but a lesson in science as well. There is no subject that 
men have studied so little as the science of human nature , 
although it is the grandest subject that can engross the 
human intellect. They have, however, developed a few 
grand results, and one of them is the law that governs the 
phenomenon we have just referred to. The discovery was 
made, however, not by a direct study of human nature, 
but chiefly by observation on the lower octaves in life's 
scale. This law is known as the law of the "survival of the 
fittest." It teaches that when a being or a faculty ceases 
to act in a manner consistent with the general good it is 
destroyed by a power of natural selection. 

Nature does this in self defense. When a being' violates 
the laws of his nature he is destroyed if he persists in the 
violation. When he per8ist,s in the violation of his moral 
nature he dies as a moral being, although he may still sur- 
vive as a physical and intellectual being. If he violates 
his intellectual nature he dies as an intellectual being. If 
his social nature, then he dies as a social being. But these 
calamities are not confined to the individual alone. The 
organic weakness resulting from his violation is transmitted 
to his children, who transmit to their oflTspring in still 
greater degree the iniquity of the fathers, till finally the 
family becomes too weak to perpetuate itself. 



240 OUR HOME, 







Now the ability to perpetuate the species is more vitally 
related to the social nature than to the intellectual or the 
moral ; and families that violate their social nature, as do 
those we are considering, are striking at the tap root of 
their family life. 

Such families seldom do the world much injury, because 
society, with the aid of nature, rids itself of the pest with 
the greatest economy of effort and the least expenditure of 
its forces. Since man is but a fragment he requires the 
presence of his supplementary fragments to develop his 
possibilities. 

As woman is essential to man and man to woman in 
order to call out and develop the latent possibilities in 
each, so every human being, in order to call forth his high- 
est possibilities, must first be wedded to his supplement 
humanity. He must lose his identity in the great current 
of human want before he can find it again in a larger and 
grander sense. 

The muscle grows strong most rapidly when it wastes 
most rapidly. The magnet grows powerful by imparting 
its magnetic properties to iron and steel. The teacher 
grows wise by imparting wisdom. The rose fills all the air 
with its sweet gift of incense, and through the little rail- 
way tunnels fly the trains that bear from nature's labora- 
tory the precious freight that still replenishes the ever 
wasting stream. 

Now social intercourse is simply a process of imparting 



VISITING., 2U 

to othei-s a portion of ourselves. When the rose begins to 
hoard its fragrance, it dies. So when man would hoard 
liis influence and wrap around him the mantle of solitude, 
he is fading away m the noblest attributes of his being. 

There is a possible interpretation of the above that we 
would not wish to submit to the test of history. It is that 
the love of solitude is an illegitimate love. This inter- 
pretation meets its rebuke in the lives of poets and philoso- 
phers. The world's grandest characters have been lovers 
of solitude. There is something pathetically beautiful in 
the yearning which poet^ have always felt for the sweet 
breath of nature untainted by the smoke and noxious 
vapors of the city. There is both a legitimate and an 
illegitimate love of solitude. 

Jesus loved solitude as probably no other being ever did. 
The honey bee loves solitude, and loves it for the same rea- 
son that Jesus and the poets love it, because guided by a 
heavenly instinct they know that solitude alone can minis- 
ter to the throng, and they are its ministers divinely elect. 
The bee must leave the merry swarm and seek the silent 
solitude where blush in unconscious beauty the wild rose 
and the lily. So Jesus, although his heart was with the 
dying throng, still sought the lonely heights, because it was 
there alone from the divine flower of solitude that he could 
extract the honey for the "healing of the nations.** Poets 
love solitude, not from selfishness. They desire it as a 
sick man desires medicine. It ministers to the highest 

IS 



JU43 OUR HOME. 

necessities of their being. They love to go into solitude^ 
not because their hearts do not beat with the great multi- 
tude, but because thej can get nearer to nature's heart 
when removed £rom the roaring factory and the rushing 
train, and with purer soul receive her gracious benediction. 
All then should love solitude, but as the bee loves it, 
because they can find something there fresh from Grod to 
bring to the hive of humanity. 

The poet and the philosopher can minister to the world 
while they remain in solitude ; but not so with the *^ com^ 
mon people " ; the toiling men and women without genius 
must find their field of labor in the social world. Then let 
the gates of cottage and palace be flung open to the tides 
of humanity. Let us entertertain and be entertained. 
Let us make it a part of our life work to give ourselves to 
others, and in our turn derive from society what must 
come from that source, if it ever comes to us at all. 

Society does not consist in physical proximity. It doea 
not consist in vying with one another in the display of fine 
dwellings and costly tables. Social intercourse, to be right 
and profitable, must contain its own excuse. It must be 
the outgrowth of an instinctive impiilse to mingle within 
the sphere of mutual interest, in spiritual as well as physi- 
cal proximity. 

We do not wish to recommend that practice so prevalent 
among certain classes, of gadding from house to house for 
the purpose of retailing the morning news. This is not 



VISITING. 243 

what we mean by social intercourse. Nor would we recom- 

• 

mend the ^^ formal call/' where each family keeps a record 
and returns a call as it would pay for a barrel of flour. 
We have no faith in the book-keeping of calls. Perhaps 
there is no other relation of life that fosters so much of de- 
ception and falsehood as the system of fashionable calling. 

Mrs. A. calls upon Mrs. B., who has just settled in the 
neighborhood, because if she were not to do so, Mrs. B. 
would think that Mrs. A. was not acquainted with the 
ways of society. Mrs. B. is, of course, delighted to see 
Mrs. A., notwithstanding she threw up her hands in hor- 
ror when the door bell rang. When Mrs. A. departs amid 
the mournful protests of Mrs. B., Mrs. B. has too much 
confidence in Mrs. A.'s " society education '* to have any 
fears that she will heed the earnest and heartfelt (?) entreaty 
to " call again " and not to be " so formal." 

Such calls involve the commercial instincts of our na- 
ture, for they are regarded as merchandise and subject to 
the laws of debit and credit. They do not appeal to the 
social faculty at all, and hence have no tendency in the 
direction of its cultivation, but on the other hand they 
weaken it, for they are in almost every case regarded as 
painful duties, and it is a law of our being that the painful 
or disagreeable action of any function, whether physical or 
mental, has a direct tendency to weaken the function in- 
volved. 

Then, as the first and essential condition to the culti- 



244 OUR HOME. 

tivation of the social faculty, let the call be divested of all 
its formaltj. Neighboriog parents should learn a lesson 
from their own children, who play in adjoining yards and 
seek each other's presence often for the sake of that pres- 
ence alone. Not in their *^ beauty's best attire" nor at 
the feast where pride sits queen, but in the mood and 
dress of every day. Let them meet and spend the even- 
ing around each other's hearthstone, nor recognize any 
hour as fashionable or unfashionable, but ^' dcop in " with 
that simplicity and informality that calls forth the excla- 
mation of surprise which no actor's skill can feign. 

We cannot better close this chapter than by quoting the 
words of that almost marvelous student of human nature, 
Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

*^ There would be a great deal more obedience to the 
apostolic injunction, ^ be not forgetful to entertain stran- 
gers,' if it once could be clearly got into the heads of well 
intending people what it is that strangers want. What 
do you want when away from home in a strange city ^ Is 
it not the warmth of the home fireside and the sight of 
people that you know care for you ? Is it not the blessed 
privilege of speaking and acting yourself out unconstrain- 
edly among those who you know understand you ? And 
had you not rather dine with an old friend on simple cold 
mutton offered with a warm heart, than go to a splendid 
ceremonious dinner party among people who don't care a 
rush for you ? Well, then, set it down in your book that 



VISITiyC. ^45 

oiher people are like you, and that the art of entertaining 
is the art of really caring for people. If you have a warm 
heart, congenial tastes, and a real interest in your stranger, 
don't fear to invite him though you have no best dinner 
set and your existing plates are sadly chipped at the 
edges, and even though there be a handle broken off from 
the side of your vegetable dish. Set it down in your be- 
lief that you can give something better than a dinner, 
however good, — ^you can give a part of yourself. You can 
give love, good will, and sympathy, of which there has 
perhaps been quite as much over cracked plates and re- 
stricted table furniture as over Sevres china and silver." 

" Blest be that spot where cheerfnl guests retire 
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire; 
Blest that abode, where want and pain repair. 
And every stranger finds a ready chair: 
Blest be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd» 
Where all the ruddy family around 
Laugh at the jest or pranks, that never fail, 
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale, 
Or press the bashful stranger to his food. 
And learn the luxury of doing good." 




UNSELFISHNESS AT HOME. 



accordance with an eternal law, seliishDese 
Lefeats its own ends. The selfish man, from 
he very nature of sellishnesB, declares war 
.gainst the universe, and in that unequal 
ight is sure to fall. The only way we can 
:et God on our side is to enlist in his army. 
The conditions of our own happiness ai-e 
blended and interwoven with the condi- 
tions of other's happiness, that we cannot successfiiUy seek 
OUT own highest Interest while we are unmindful of the 
welfare of others. There is but one rational and success- 
ful way in which a man may work for himself, and that in 
by forgetting self in his desire for the well-being of others. 
Human society is a vast machine in which every man is a 
wheel, but the wheels of a machine never move independ- 
ently. No matter how small and apparently insignificant 
they may be, they each perform an essential office, and 
their value is represented in the product of the great 
machine. 

Man is a compound of function or faculties, and is so 
constituted that the action of each produces pleasure and 



UNSELFISHNESS AT HOME. 247 

only pleasure. The sum total of man's happiness, then, 
depends on the number of faculties that he brings into 
healthy and normal exercise. 

One of these faculties is conscien3e, that voice in the 
soul which bids us do right, and do unto others as we 
would have them do unto us, a duty that cannot be per- 
formed from selfish motives. But unless this duty be per- 
fonned, we are deprived of that exquisite pleasure which 
comes from the approval of conscience. 

Another of our faculties is benevolence, whose legitimate 
function is to prompt us to love our neighbor as ourselves, 
the very essence of unselfishness. But if we through 
selfishness refuse to fulfill this function, we must forego 
that jmre and exalted pleasure of which it has been de- 
clared '* it is more blessed to give than to receive." Man 
is a social being, and from his several social faculties de- 
rives by far the greatest portion of his happiness ; but only 
as he observes the golden rule. For society will not be 
cheated. Its system of book-keeping is perfect, and he 
who expects to receive from society more than he is will- 
ing to give in return, will be sadly disappointed. 

And so it is that all those faculties which relate men to 
their fellow men can yield us no pleasure so long as we 
are selfish. By selfishness we are cut off from the pleasures 
arising from the action of a large number of the most im- 
portant faculties of the mind. To usc^ a paradox, the only 
rational and consistent selfishness is that of unselfishness. 



24« OUR HOME, 

If we desire our own highest pleasure we cannot obtain 
it till we forget our object. 

If this be true with reference to the great world, how 
much truer is it 'with reference to the little world, the 
home. Perhaps the truest picture of total depravity which 
the mind can paint is that of a home where selfishness 
reigns. 

Selfishness is fatal to the very existence of home. 
Home may be defined as an isolated portion of society, 
bound together by a stronger degree of love than exists 
between the different members of the human family in 
general. Home and selfishness are nearly opposite in 
their meaning, and cannot exist together any more than 
love and hate. 

Selfishness, then, is fatal to love ; and since love is the 
basis of home, it follows that selfishness is the great de- 
stroyer of home. 

As in the outward world, he who falls in love with him- 
self always has the field clear, no rivals ever molesting him; 
so in the home, he who makes his own happiness paramount, 
to that same extent severs his connection with the family, 
and becomes, in a certain sense, an outcast. The sister, 
perceiving the brother's selfishness, will seek other com- 
panions, and thus a coldness and indifference springs up 
between brother and sister. 

There are many arguments in favor of unselfishness, but 
we have made prominent the least and lowest. We have. 



Tkonghtfnlnsaa . 



UNSELFISHNESS AT HOME, 249 

however, had a purpose in this. It is to the selfish we 
would speak. The unselfish require no advice or exhorta- 
tion, and from the very nature of selfishness it cannot be 
moved by any but a selfish argument. 

Why is that little street boy so dwarfed in his mental and 
moral nature ? . Why is it usually so difiicult to develop 
one of that class and make him a noble and powerful man ? 
Simply because the selfishness in that wretched home 
whence he came has arrested his development, so that he can 
never be anything but a child. He can seldom be trusted, 
because the early selfishness at home, engendered by misery 
and want, it may be, has left its demon cunning in his mind. 

It is a fact with which all are familiar, that the character 
is written in the face. If we cannot read it, it is not 
because it is not written there, but because of our obtuse- 
ness. Yet there are few so obtuse that they cannot distin- 
guish between selfishness and generosity. Who has not 
noticed the narrow, pinched, and indescribably repulsive 
countenance of the miser? Who has not contrasted it 
with the open, frank, and attractive countenance of the 
philanthropist ? 

It seems as if the very selfishness of the world should 
make us unselfish at home. Think of the pain and suflFer- 
ing that is born of selfishness ! As you gather round the 
board of plenty for the evening repast, or round the roar- 
ing fire while the storm sends its fitful but harmless gusts 
i^ainst the windows, think of the pale, sad faces that are 



250 OUR HOME. 

« 

pressing against the panes of dingy hovels, gazing into the 
starless night in the imploring anguish of hunger and cold 
and want. How, with this sad thought in mind, can little 
brothers and sisters be selfish at home? How can they 
quarrel, as they sometimes do, over an apple or a pear, 
when they remember that there are thousands who would 
gladly gather up the leavings that they trample under 
their feet, and devour them with the eagerness of a starv- 
ing dog? 

The young man who is selfish at home, who is eager to 
get the largest and fairest apple, and does not seek to 
share it with sister or brother, surely will not share it with 
wife and children, when he becomes the owner of a home. 
Let young ladies beware of those young men who are self- 
ish at home ; for if they do not manifest their selfishness 
in the society of ladies, it is only from policy, or lack of 
opportunity. 

It is a fact which mathematics alone cannot explain, that 
the more affection we leave at home the more we carry 
with us. 

Tliere is something in the nature of selfishness, whether 
at home or in society, that makes it peculiarly repugnant 
to us, and leads us instinctively to brand it as among the 
most ignoble of vices. There is hardly another vice that 
has not some shadow of a redeeming feature. We pity the 
drunkard, perhaps because his almost proverbial generosity 
appeals to our sympathies. He cannot, from the very 



UNSELFISHNESS AT SOME. Ml 

nature of his sin, be a narrow, miserly soul. Even robbers 
and murderers may have some attractive qualities. It 
costs us an effort not to admire such characters as Light- 
foot and Thunderbolt, who spent their lives in robbing the 
rich that they might give to the poor. Of course all such 
'Crimes are heinous in the sight of God, and should be in 
the sight of mtin, but they lilmost always are accompanied 
by some virtues, and as we do not always stop to separate 
the crimes from the attending virtues, we sometimes do not 
hate them as we ought. 

But this difficulty does not exist in the case of selfish- 
ness, for it has no redeeming features. It stands alone in 
its ignominy, a black picture on a background of infinite 
hateful ness. 



ti 



Ohy if the selfish knew how much they lost, 
What would they not endeavor and endure 
To imitate, as far an in them lay. 
Him who his wisdom and his power employ! 
In making others happy." 




PATIENCE. 



ICE has been defined as'" the courage 
;ue," and the definition Beems to us pe- 
ly appropriate, for it is that quality of 
111 that bids it stand firm at the post of 

where God has placed it, undaunted 
lie assaults of vice. It is that which 
s the lips against all complaining, and 

its wings over a wounded heart and 

is a noble thing to act, but it is a no- 
thing to wait, for to act is the sours 
natural tendency. It is its first and 
est desire. The child takes no account 
ne or indirect motion in the gratifica- 
)f its wish. 

ice a brute within a few feet of food, 
nake the only possible means of reach- 
t indirect; make it necessary that he 
d first go back from the food, perhaps 
)f sight of it, for a moment, and then 
by a circuitous route come around to it. Under these con- 
ditions the brute will starve in sight of the food. Thi» 



PATIENCE. 253 

would not be merely an experiment upon the brute's intel- 
lect; it would involve this principle of patience. The 
impatience of the brute in this case would be due to the 
fact that he had not passed that stage in which all gratifi- 
cation is sought by direct and uninterrupted action. This 
brute impatience cannot go from the object of its desire, 
even when intellect declares such an act necessary. It is 
quite essential in this experiment, however, that we select 
the right kind of brute, for there are brutes which are en- 
dowed with a wonderful degree of patience. We may forci- 
bly illustrate from the brute kingdom both patience and 
impatience. Those which are endowed with patience are 
not usually those which are most intelligent. This shows 
that the phenomenon in the foregoing experiment is not an 
intellectual one. An ox, which possesses considerable in- 
telligence, would stand and fret for hours before it would 
go back from the food, while the rat, which possesses far 
less intelligence, would set itself to work at once, and dig, 
if need be, for a whole night through solid earth. He 
would go back, or round, or over, or under ; in short, ho 
would labor patiently till his efforts were crowned with 
success. This quality of patience in brutes does not seem 
to bear any relation to their rank in the scale of intelli- 
gence, and yet it must be regarded as one of the noblest 
attributes, either of man or brute ; fof the fact that a quality 
is possessed by a brute does not prevent it from being 
among the noblest human attributes. 



254 OUR HOME. 

Even the great mass of mankind have not yet passed 
that stage in which they cannot bide the lapse of time 
between a desire and its gratification. It is a character- 
istic of the highest souls to feel that they may be approach- 
ing the object of their desire while they see it receding. 

It is true that it requires but little intellectual power to 
see that in many cases this may be so ; and yet there is a 
wide difference between a mere intellectual conception 
and that attribute of the soul which converts the con- 
ception into a living truth. The wide gulf that stretches 
between the mere intellectual assent to the highest 
spiritual fact, and that element in the soul which takes 
hold of it as a part of its own living self, is just that 
which stretches between faith and reason, patience and 
impatience. 

In this view of the subject patience is allied to faith. 
Patience is that which makes us willing to wait, and faith 
is that which makes us feel that the waiting will bear us a 
sweet fruition. 

Patience is a higher and grander virtue than the world 
has yet acknowledged. It is that noble element which 
appreciates time and indirect motion in the gratification of 
desires. It is allied to the divine instinct of the tree that 
waits for the flower and the fruit. 

Trials, sorrow, and death await us all. It is useless to 
attempt to escape them, for they are inevitable. They are 
the frosts that open the hard burrs of human hearts. But 



PATIENCE. )tbb 

it is only as instruments in the hands of patience that they 
become ministrant to our development. 

God imposes upon man the obligation to no virtue which 
he has not first woven into the constitution of nature. 
Every cardinal virtue is first a cosmical law. Thus the 
grand virtue of patience is eternally mated with nature's 
law of constancy. It is the patience of nature that rears 
and completes the proud temple of the oak. It is her pa- 
tience through which the never-wearying rootlet embraces 
the rocky ribs of the moveless boulder. Through what 
long and weary ages has nature pounded on the granite 
doors of giant mountains, pleading for the crumbs that fall 
from the rocky tables, that she may bear them down to the 
vales, to feed the hungry guests that wait in her halls below. 
Through uncounted eras she has stood with patient hand 
and sifted into river beds and ocean depths the fine alluvial 
morsels that she begged from miser mountains. Thus does 
patience bear the credentials of its own divinity. 'Tis the 
same patience, divinely born, that we trace through all the 
instinctive movements and laborious life of bee, and spider, 
and architectonic beaver. The great law of patience bears 
the same divine approval, whether we find it in the silent 
consecutiveness of natural law, in the tireless movements 
of the laboring ant, in the sweet innocence of childhood 
building its play-house, in the stern bread-battle of human 
life, in the pale, wasting vigilance of the brain-toiling, star- 
reading scientist, or in divine simplicity, thorn-crowned 



250 OUR HOME, 

and bleeding, on the quaking brow of Calvary. Thus 
patience is divine, and to be patient is to be God-like. 

Patieuce is the grandest representative of God. It has 
been the captain of the divine forces ; out from the fiery 
halls of chaos it has led, in shining battalions, the helmeted 
stars. On earth it has produced the highest results that 
mark the career of man. There is no shining goal of 
human glory too bright or too remote for patience. No 
height can tire its wing. Strike from the firmament of 
human greatness every star that has been placed there by 
the hand of patience, and you cover that firmament with 
the veil of midnight darkness. It is patience that has 
crushed mighty evils and wrought sublime reforms in hu- 
man history ; patience, that dared to stand up and meet the 
taunts of ignorance and bigotry ; patience, that has calmly 
walked back into the shadow of defeat, with " Thy will be 
done " upon its lips ; patience, that has breathed the fiery 
smoke of torment with upturned brow. 

Truly has it been said, " Patience comforts the poor 
and moderates the rich ; she makes us humble in prosper- 
ity, cheerful in adversity, unmoved by calumny, and above 
reproach ; she teaches us to forgive those who have injured 
us, and to be the first in asking the forgiveness of those 
whom we have injured*; she delights the faithful, and in- 
vites the unbelieving ; she adorns the woman and approve* 
the man ; she is beautiful in either sex and every age." 

It is the sin of this high-pressure age, that it cannot 



PATIENCE. 257 

wait ; and here again the accusation must rest with pecu* 
liar emphasis on Young America. We have yet to learn 
from orchard and garden that the best in nature ripens 
slowest. The American child has much to learn in this 
respect, from English and German children, especially the 
latter ; the Germans are the world's models of patience. 

The American boy reads the life of some eminent man, 
and immediately he is fired with a desire to be like him. 
He ignores the elements of time and indirect action. He 
sets aside the factor of life's developing hardships, and em* 
tertains the insane idea that he can be like his ideal in a 
short time. He buys advanced works on his special 
theme. He cannot stop to master the elementary works. 
His theory is that the greater includes the less. He sits 
up late at night, vainly trying to comprehend his ponder- 
ous books, untU he becomes discouraged and abandons all 
further attempts to be a great man. 

Now the fact of his wild enthusiasm proves that he had 
in him the elements of greatness, a greatness that would 
have justified his aspirations, had not the American vice 
of impatience crushed it in the bud. The world is full of 
such defeated greatness. Genius with patience is invinci- 
ble and divine, but without patience it is a blind Ulyssea 
groping in the darkness. 

" Fall many a flower is born to blush onseen," 

only because it insists on being seen before it has blosh 
somed, and the world will not look at it. 

17 



*258 OUR HOME. 

Young men are apt to be in too much of a hurry to 
reach the goal of their aspiration. Now and then we find 
one, who, in his youth, is willing to study with patience, 
%nd 

" Learn to labor and to wait." 

But the great majority of young men seem to feel that 
the highest triumph of life is to complete their education 
in their teens. And such ones are apt to accomplish that 
exceedingly lofty object, from the very fact that those 
who commence an education with such foolish views of 
life are pretty sure to halt in their pursuit of knowledge 
at about that time. They are not likely to add much to 
the stock of forced knowledge which they bring away 
from college. And, in such cases, even this is not usually 
a great amount, from the fact of their having gone to 
college too early to make it of much use to them. 

It is true that many great and useful men have com- 
pleted their college education while very young, but it was 
because they were by nature able to do this without impa- 
tient haste. Their genius had, perhaps, a slight tinge of 
precocity, an element, however, which constitutes no part 
of genius. It is entirely foreign to it, and may exist, and 
far oftener does, in connection with talents that are below 
mediocrity. Genius consists in a special aptitude for labor, 
patient labor. 

Our common schools are a living monument of the im- 
patience of America, and it is not impossible that the 



PATIENCE, 259 

monument may yet crumble with its own weight, They 
may yet thwart the very object of that intense and head- 
long desire, of which the impatience both of parents and 
•educators is the expression. Neither Greece nor Rome 
attained her glory through such impatient culture. 

But there is another reason why we should cultivate pa- 
tience. It is conducive to health and longevity. No im« 
patient man ever died of old age. Impatience is a friction 
in the wheels of life. Intemperance will not wear out the 
machinery of life sooner than impatience. And not only 
does the patient man live longer than the impatient man, 
when length of life is computed in years and months, but 
he also lives longer in another and important sense. In 
computing the duration of a human life in the actual sense 
of life, if we wish to obtain the result in minutes and sec- 
onds, we must strike out from the calculation all those 
minutes and seconds in which he does not live in the proper 
sense of the word. . This would include all periods of un- 
<}onsciousness, of intoxication, and of mental alienation. 
In short, all moments which when past leave in our nature 
no rational record of their passage. 

Now tlie patient man has a calm and rational apprecia- 
tion of each moment of his conscious life, and his moments 
of unconsciousness are fewer than those of the impatient 
man. The patient man, as a general rule, requires less sleep 
than one who is impatient, for the brain and all the physi- 
cal powers require time for recuperation in sleep just in 



260 OUR HOME, 

proportion to the amount of waste during wakefulness. 
But nothing so wastes the vital and mental power as the- 
spasmodic, fitful, ineffectual and half unconscious move- 
ments, thoughts and feelings of the impatient man. ^^ Well 
I'm tired, but I haven't done anything," is the habitual ex- 
pression of the impatient, while the patient accomplish a 
great deal but are seldom tired. The reason is plain. The* 
impatient man cannot stop to see where to take hold, and 
so takes hold several times, and makes as many useless 
movements, all of which weary and exhaust. But the pa- 
tient man takes hold in the right place the first time, and 
thus not only saves time, but physical and mental energy. 
And so while the patient man calmly and without friction 
accomplishes life's mission, the impatient man wears out 
his powers and dies of exhaustion before he gets ready t# 
begin the work. 

" Tis mine to work, and not to win; 

The sonl mnst wait to have her wings; 
Even time is but a landmark in 
The great eternity of things. 

" Is it so much that thon below, 

O heart, shouldst fail of thy desire* 
When death, as we believe and know» 
Is but a call to come up higher ? " 




TEMPERANCE. 




HE word temperance, from the Latin temper- 
antioj meant simply moderation, and when it 
came to be first applied with special emphasis 
to the use of alcoholic beverages it meant onl j 
a moderate use of them, and did not convej 
the remotest idea of total abstinence. 

If the fate of the temperance reform rested 
upon the primitive significance of dead words, 
then, indeed, were its advocates hopeless. 
But no, the temperance reform and the 
words that designate its glorious sentiment were born to- 
gether, born amid the thunder storm of oppression, bom of 
the heartless parentage of hisses and of scorn, parents who 
tried to strangle their own offspring, but could not do it, 
for it bore upon its forehead the birth-mark of immortality. 
Its birth was an event that lay along the inevitable path of 
human development. 

We will not contend with those who would prostitute 
their scholarship to rear a feeble argu:nent upon the dusty 
lexicons of Greece and Rome, claimiu^ that the world has 
never before found occasion for a word to designate the 



262 OUR HOME. 

total abstinence from intoxicating beverages. We have 
no wish to dispute the significance of those old roots that 
lie dead and brittle in the soil of the ages. 

These definitions were assigned by an infant world, but 
it has outgrown them now. We well remember when the 
word *^star*' signified to us only a shining speck, only & 
^gimlet hole to let the light of heayen through." But to- 
our ampler vision they are the chariots of God that glide 
across the longitudes of night. Words are the products of 
human thought. They are bom amid the agonizing throes- 
that accompany the aggressions of intellect. Every con- 
quest, every victory, is marked by the birth of a new word 
and the death of an old one. Like the corpuscles of the- 
blood, they are springing into being and dying with every 
pulsation of the world^s brain. The ^^dead languages*^ 
are but the moss-covered monuments that mark the ceme* 
teries of the world's perished ideals. 

We do not mean, of course, that there literally comes 
into use a new word with every new idea. Much less do- 
we mean that a word actually becomes obsolete. We 
mean that language is a thing of growth, that it is modified 
to meet the ever changing conditions of human unfolding,, 
and that words pass out of use or change their meanings- 
with every outgrown idea. 

He who does not dare advocate the temperance cause to* 
day in its boldest and most radical form is a coward, and in 
a certain sense a dead weight upon society. But those who 



TEMPERANCE. 263 

Steal the liverj of science and clothe themselves in the cun- 
ning drapery of sophistry and become the hired pleaders 
for passion and for vice, deserve the everlasting execration 
of humanity. If we summon the saddest meaning that 
*^doom'* possesses it is but mild beside their crime. To 
misinterpret the divine message of science, and thus place 
in the hands of vice the devil's magic wand, is the crown- 
ing sin of man. 

And yet there are hundreds that incur this guilt. Men 
whose names ensure their recognition seek to defend their 
own vices with the awe inspiring weapons of high sound- 
ing technicalities and scientific phrases. Such are those 
who tell us that alcohol is transformed into nervous tissue, 
that it is a respiratory food, etc. They tell us that it is 
nerve food, because its use occasions a greater manifesta- 
tion of strength and nervous energy. A conflagration in a 
city is usually attended with considerable activity on the 
part of its citizens, but fires are not generally regarded as 
desirable stimulants to industry. War is always the occa- 
sion of a nation's highest energy, but shall we, therefore, 
say that war is a source of strength, and that it feeds a^ 
nation with the elements of energy ? Is it not rather a 
wasting process, and is not the strength manifested in its 
expenditure rather than in its accumulation ? We see the 
energy as it goes out from the nation in a wasting stream, 
and not as it goes in. 

Just so with the nervous energy, it manifests itself in its 



2G4 OUR HOME, 

outward passage. The alcohol simply worries and freU 
the nervous system, and causes it to act in self-defense to 
cast out the intruder, just as war worries and frets a 
nation. When a sliver is lodged in the flesh the vital 
instincts are at once summoned to the spot, and, with 
might and main, strive to cast out the foreign substance, 
the intruder which has no right to be there. Every one 
knows how this is accomplished. There is first a redness, 
an increased vital action in the part and a swelling. This 
is because the vital forces are aroused and rush tcf the 
spot to see what is the matter. Just as the forces of the 
city, at the cry of fire, rush to the spot. There is a swell- 
ing of the city, in the part affected, an increase of its vital 
action attended with symptoms of morbid inflammation, 
almost exactly what happens in the vital system. The 
analogy is striking, and indicates beyond a doubt that a 
common principle is involved in both cases. When these 
vital instincts have ascertained what is the matter, they set 
themselves to work to cast the sliver out. They throw up 
around it a secretion which cuts it off from all connection 
with the system, and isolates it, and after a short time it 
falls out of its own accord. 

Exactly in the same way these vital instincts drive the 
alcohol to the surface, through the skin, and lungs, and 
kidneys, and brain. This is why long after alcohol has 
been drunk, its odor may be detected in the breath. With 
every breath it is thrown out from the lungs. The odor 



.jM 



TEMPERANCE, 265 

may also be detected in the perspiration. As it is borne 
along the circulation to the brain, it excites that organ to 
an unnatural degree of activity, or if the dose is too great, 
the vital instincts give up the attempt for a time, the brain 
sinks into a torpid state, and the person is said to be dead- 
drunk. 

But alcohol is said to be a respiratory food, meaning 
that it is burnt in the body like the carbon of our food, 
that it unites with the oxygen in the lungs and thus in 
man^ cases prevents the tissues from consuming them- 
selves. 

There is but one solitary fact that by any method of 
manipulation can be made to take the semblance of an ar- 
gument in support of this theory, and that one fact is that 
alcohol warms the system. But cayenne 'pepper warms 
the system, so does quinine, so does sulphuric acid, so 
does pain, so does intense joy, so does laughter, so does 
love, so does hate, so do spasms and convulsions, so does 
rheumatism, so does a fever, so does the cramp colic. 

All these, of course, are respiratory food, since they 
*' warm the system." It is true that our scientists (?) 
have not yet succeeded in demonstrating that the cramp 
<K)lic is oxidized in the lungs, but we can't tell what the 
future may develop. 

When one is suddenly awakened from sleep to find that 
he must engage in a hand to hand fight with a midnight 
assassin, we have a striking illustration of what takes place 



266 ova HOME. 

when the assassin alcohol enters the dwelling of the ha 
man soul. That vital instinct which allows -no foreign 
substance within its domain at once grapples the intruder^ 
a sharp contest ensues, in which the alcohol is beaten and 
driven out through the open door of the skin, the kidneys, 
the lungs, or the brain. And just here is the origin of the 
heat which alcohol occasions. It is due to the overaction 
of the vital forces in their attempt to rid themselves of a 
deadly foe. The midnight fight, just referred to, would 
naturally be a warming process, but we have never known 
physicians to prescribe midnight assassins as respiratory 
food. We presume, however, that they might take the 
place of most of the nostrums of the materia medica with 
little disadvantage to the suffering part of the community. 

We must look beyond the Sons of Temperance or the 
Good Templars for the secret of success in the temperance 
reform. 

Organization is essential to the success of any great re- 
form, but it is simply the machinery that is driven by an 
unseen principle. It never yet of itself wrought a revolu- 
tion. The solution of the great problem lies deeper than 
the mystery of the " pass word." It lies in the knowledge 
of natural law, in the thorough education of the people. 
When the people learn that alcohol is a poison in all quan- 
tities and under all circumstances, when they learn that it 
is never necessary either in health or disease, then we may 
look for gratifying results in the temperance reform. 



TEMPERANCE. 20 7 

The world has too little &ith in natnn and too nmdi 

in medicine. Disease itself is a curative effort of na* 
ture, and is not a thing to be conquered by a poison, 
but an action to be regulated by favorable conditions. So 
long as people possess that insane faith in the efficacy of 
medicine, so long will they believe anything that unprinci- 
pled physicians (?) may choose to tell them about alcohol. 
The contest is between true philosophy and the lingering 
superstition of the nineteenth century. 

Perhaps the most conspicuous mental feature of the sav- 
age man is his superstitious fear of medicide and the 
" medicine man." The world has always advanced just aa 
fast as it has lost faith in medicine. 

There is one fact with which the temperance reform has 
to contend, more formidable than all others combined. It 
is the fact that people so readily yield to the argument of 
their feelings. It requires much intellectual courage not 
to believe what our feelings tell us. 

It is a fact that alcohol often makes people feel better* 
It elevates their spirits and makes them feel strong, buoy- 
ant and hopeful. Under such circumstances it requires 
almost a divine argument to convince them that they are 
not being benefited. 

Temperance will triumph when the argument of reason 
becomes stronger than that of feeling with the masses. 
We are so constituted that our feelings are generally final 
in their authority. Hence the necessity of distinguishing 



268 OUR HOME. 

between the significance of the natural and the artificial. 
People must be taught to do this before we can expect 
them to abandon the use of alcohol. 

How then shall this be brought about? Surely not by 
legislation, not by seizures and fines, but by the slow and 
laborious process of education. This education must be 
specific, and must be directed for the most part to the ris- 
ing generation. The pathetic stories of reformed drunk- 
ards may have their influence in shaping public sentiment, 
but at best they can be only subsidiary to a more substan- 
tial and abiding force. Legal measures may serve their 
purpose, but the reformatory efforts should be directed 
mainly to' the securing of that condition which shall ren- 
der legal measures unnecessary. This condition must be 
sought in the education of the children, who not only must 
be taught to distinguish the significance of natural and 
normal appetites from the unnatural and abnormal, but 
their training and education must be such that they shall 
have no unnatural and abnormal appetites. Unnatural 
appetites are the product of wrong physical training, and 
intemperance is the product of unnatural appetites. Hence 
wrong training is the origin of intemperance. 

In our chapter on home training we have spoken of the 
process by which wrong physical training produces drunk- 
ards. We repeat its substance, however, for the sake of 
special emphasis. All that is necessary to make a drunk- 
ard is, first, a good healthy boy as material ; and second, 



TEMPERANCE. 269 

plenty of candy, pastry, pickles, and medicine as 'tools. 
Any mother with such an outfit can manufacture a drunk- 
ard. The process is extremely simple. Drunkenness, as 
we have said, is the product of a diseased or unnatural 
appetite, and the appetite may be diseased or rendered 
unnatural by taking advantage of the slight caprice which 
all appetites possess, especially in the civilized world, thus 
causing it to accept at times that which it otherwise would 
not, and which it does not naturally crave. 

Unnatural appetites crave unnatural food, and accord* 
ingly unnatural food will in its turn induce an unnatural 
appetite ; so that all a mother who desires to. experiment 
in this direction has to do is to give her boy linnatural 
food, and every mother knows what we mean by unnatural 
food. It is not necessary for us to enumerate the many 
articles to which this adjective is applicable. The phrase 
at once suggests to the ordinary mind the abominations of 
spice, pickle, pork, and pastry, that fill the dining-halls of 
civilization with their sickly odors, that would nauseate 
the healthier appetites of the South Sea Island cannibals. 

The mother who desires to make a drunkard must tam- 
per with her boy's appetite by offering him that which 
he does not crave; by compelling him to go without a 
meal as a punishment for some offense, and thus become 
very hungry, so that he will be sure to overeat at the next 
meal ; by compelling him always to eat all that he happens 
to have in his plate whether he desires it or not, instead of 



1^70 OUR HOME. 

teaching him to drop his knife and fork at the first sugges- 
tion of sated appetite. Of course we take it for granted 
that she believes root beer, etc., etc., to be " very whole- 
some." She should use a great deal of spice in her 
cooking. She should aim to take away as completely as 
possible, the natural flavor of fruits and vegetables, and 
substitute an artificial one. She should always manifest 
great anxiety lest her boy should not eat enough to "keep 
up his strength." She should, of course, give him plenty 
of candy — it is good for the teeth, that is, for false teeth, 
fiut what is of more importance than everything else, she 
should dose him freely with medicine whenever he is 
dightly irtdisposed. By the way, we came near forgetting 
to advise a free use of tea and coffee. 

We have said but little about intemperance in the ordi- 
nary way. We have told i\p stories of neglected wives 
and broken-hearted mothers. We leave that phase of the 
subject to the sentimental lecturer. But we have given in 
language somewhat ironical, that which we believe the peo- 
ple need, and that which every mother ought to reflect upon. 

The one fact which we have tried to make prominent is 
that the appetite for alcoholic beverages is not necessarily 
induced by the use of these beverages themselves, but may 
be created by the use of whatever inflames the system, or 
vitiates the taste. 

It is sufficient simply to state that, the predisposition to 
4ilcoholic intemperance may be, and often is, transmitted 



TEMPERANCE, 271 

from parent to child. This is a fact which is very gener- 
ally known, but it is not, perhaps, so generally known, 
that it is often transmitted from grandparent to grand- 
child, thus passing over one and sometimes two generations 
of temperate parents. The fact that intemperance, or a 
tendency to intemperance, is thus hereditary, should render 
all parents doubly vigilant in the training of their children. 
We have aimed in this chapter at a deeper considera- 
tion of the subject of temperance in its relation to the 
home life than a mere enumeration of those superficial 
evils of which society is chiefly cognizant. The follow- 
ing poem with sufficient accuracy portrays this class of 
evils : — 

" Now horrid frays 
Commence, the brimming glasses now are hurled 
With dire intent; bottles with bottles clash 
In rude encounter, round their temples fly 
The sharp-edged fragments, down their battered cheeks 
Mixed gore and cider flow; what shall we say 
Of rash Elpenor, who in evil hour 
Dried an immeasurable bowl and thought 
To exhale his surfeit by irriguous sleep, 
Imprudent ? him death's Iran sleep oppressed. 
Descending from his couch; the fall 
Luxed his neck-joint and spinal marrow brniaed. 
Nor need we tell what anxious cares attend 
The turbulent mirth of wine; nor all the kinds 
Of maladies that lead to death's grim care, 
Wrought by intemperance, joint racking gout. 
Intestine stone, and pining atrophy. 
Chill, even when the sun witli July heats 
Fires the scorched soil, and dropsy all afloat. 
Yet craving liquids: nor the Centaurs' tale 
Be here repeated: how, with lust and wine 
Inflamed, they fought, and spilt their drunken sonle 
At fcuiitiug hour." 



ECONOMY OF HOME. 



E institution of home ia in itself a divine 
ipplicatiou of the law of economy. It con- 
ains the first suggestion of the " division of 
abor." 

It is a fact within the observation of soci- 

ty in general, and has almost become an 

,dage, that man and woman can live at less 

xpense together than separately. Tliis is 

certainly a benevolent provision, offering as it does another 

inducement to the only legitimate life, the home life. 

Nature is the model economist. She never wastes a leaf, 
and yet she is the most benevolent of all givers. She will 
give you without stint of her golden cheeked and luscious 
flavored fruits, and yet she never throws away even her de- 
cayed products, but turns them into her laboratory and 
makes them over into good fruit, a subtle reproof to the 
unfrugal housewife who throws away the remains of the 
supper, that might be warmed over for breakfast. Mature 
knows the secret of being both economical and generous, 
she knows how to be fnigal without being penurious. She 
la not lazy, and yet she always takes the shortest path. Of 



ECONOMY OF HOME. 273 

two equally good conductors the electric charge always 
takes the shorter. It will even choose the poorer con- 
ductor rather than take the longer one. The principle of 
*^ least action " in mechanics is of the same nature. These 
facts show that economy is a law of nature, and pervades 
the very soul of the universe. 

But not only is it a law of the outward universe, it is an 
innate sentiment or instinct of human nature, — and not 
only of human nature, but of all conscious existence. We 
see it manifested in the squirrel, when he gathers during 
the autumn his store of nuts and corn for his sustenance 
during, the coming winter. 

The same instinct that prompts the squirrel to do this is 
the moving impulse of the great commercial world. In 
both instances it is simply an instinct, a faculty that brings 
its possessor into sympathy with the economic law that 
governs the movements of nature. It is the instinct of 
economy that tells the worm, the bee, the cat, the dog, and, 
in short, all animals, that a straight line is the shortest dis- 
tance between two points, and that makes it to the human 
intellect an axiom. 

The law of economy, then, is simply that by which all 

necessary results in nature are brought about with the least 

possible expenditure of force, and what we call economy in 

man is an instinctive appreciation and application of this 

law. 

To the low and mean the word economy signifies dishon- 
u 



274 OUR HOME. 

est acquisition and theft. To the honest but hard working 
man it means industry and frugality. To the moralist and 
philosopher it means social science, civilizing tendencies, 
and universal culture. So it is that one's definition of 
economy to a certain extent defines his character also. But 
he who takes his definition from nature's lips cannot err. 

Nature will not allow an idle atom in her realm. She 
compels every rain-drop to become her minister, to bear 
her proffered treaty between the warring clouds and earth, 
and thus disarm them of their wrath, and with its subtle 
diplomacy to reconcile them to the pledge of peace. And 
with an eye to the economy of travel she bids her messen- 
gers pause upon the mountain summit, as they pass from 
cloud to earth, and take down with them from decaying 
rocks and mountain gorges a load of timber from which to 
form her fertile soil. 

She makes the birds and zephyrs her husbandmen to 
garner and sow the seeds of myriad plants. She bends 
the neck of the proud lightning, and makes it her scaven- 
ger to purify the atmosphere. She lays her shaggy moun- 
tains on the toiling backs of earthquakes, and bids them 
lift the burden to the sky. She makes the omnipresent 
oxygen her domestic servant, and tasks his eyesights and 
skillful fingers to unravel her snarled and complicated 
skeins of chemical elements ; or, if she will, exalts him to 
the higher office of attorney, and pleads through him for 
the divorce of unhappily wedded constituents. 



ECONOMY OF HOME. 275 

The home is the reproduction of nature on a small scale, 
jiud not the least so in this matter of economy. 

Nature is the pattern for the home, and every man and 
woman who in any capacity represent a home should 
take advantage of her example, and learn a lesson from 
the way in which she scrapes up her "odds and ends," 
and utilizes them. To all of us she says, " Accumulate all 
you can ; employ every moment ; let no opportunity pass 
without grasping its hand to see if there is not hidden in 
its palm a golden coin." 

But nature is no miser. Her economy does not consist 
in meanness. She accumulates that she may give. She is 
honest and will do as she agrees. We need not take her 
note, her word is good. It is a law founded in the eternal 
beneficence of things, written on every tree whose friendly 
foliage shields us from the scorching sun ; on every spark- 
ling rivulet that weeps soft tears of rain upon the thirsty 
land, which in its turn gives back the gracious tribute of 
its shrubs and flowers, and with an answering compliment 
flings its rich gift of roses to deck the river banks; on 
every circling satellite, upon the moon's sweet face, who 
in her modesty sends down to us the flood of kisses which 
the sun, her gallant lover, showers upon her blushing 
brow, — on all of these is written the great law, that to give 
is to receive, and whoever would receive must give. 

The prudent farmer, while he is generous and free, will 
still allow no stream of fertility to run to waste. While 



276 OUR HOME, 

he is industrious and ever active, he will still compel th& 
wind and water to saw his wood and thresh his grain and 
grind his corn. He will make the forest mold fertilize his 
corn field. There is no dishonesty in turning our labor 
over to nature. She expects to do all of our work before 
long, but not, however, till she is requested to do so. She 
never forces her services on us. We must first tell her 
just what we wish her to do, and how we wish her to do 
it. We must furnish the tools for her to work with* 
And even then, if they do not suit her, she will not work. 
She will not draw a train of cars, unless she can have a 
delicately constructed engine expressly for her. 

The reason why men employed nature so little in the 
past ages is because she was so particular about her tools* 
that they could not suit her. 

Now the highest economy is the highest invention. 
That is, he is the most economical man, other things being 
equal, who is the most skillful in devising tools for nature 
to work with. 

Home is a broad field for the exercise of invention. It 
is chiefly in the home, or in some way connected with do- 
mestic life, that we find that large class of inventions 
which minister directly to human comfort. 

It is not necessary, however, that every great and use- 
ful invention should be the product of an inventive genius. 
On every farm and in every home there are thousands of 
opportunities for the exercise of this faculty. The inven- 



ECONOMY OF HOME. 277 

tive farmer will make his horses load his logs, while the 
uninventive one must load them himself. The inventive 
man can repair his broken implements, while the uninven- 
tive must take them to the blacksmith's or the carpenter's, 
and there pay so much out of the profits of his daily labor. 
There is no good reason why every farmer should not be a 
blacksmith, a carpenter, and a wheelwright. He could 
then repair his own buildings, shoe his own horses and 
oxen, and make his own carriages. Few, perhaps, have 
«ver stopped to estimate how much might be saved in this 
way. Nearly all that sort of work may be done during 
days in which nothing profitable could be accomplished on 
the farm. Since the farmer's work is so varied he requires 
but little absolute rest. Hence, if he were familiar with 
these trades, the rainy days might be made the most prof- 
itable ones of the year. While nature is irrigating his 
farm, he might be devising tools for her to perform some 
•other service with. 

Again, the recreation, the discipline, and the exercise of 
mechanical ingenuity thus afforded would have a devel- 
oping influence on mind and body. It is a fact worth re- 
membering that the men who have made farming pay in 
rocky New England have nearly all been of this sort. 

Every wife and mother should be a tailoress, a milliner, 
And a dress-maker. She should know something about 
-every article needed in the household. There is no reason 
why she should be obliged to take the sewing machine to 



278 OUR HOME, 

the shop, or call her husband to repair it ; she should have 
inyentive talent enough, and might have it if she would 
cultivate it, to take the machine to pieces and put it 
together again. She should be able to repair the churn 
and solder the milk pans. Even if she cannot find time to 
make use of these accomplishments, they will enable her 
more readily to tell others what she wishes them to do for 
her. She can make better selections of clothing for herself 
and family. She can make wiser bargains in whatever she- 
purchases. Numberless are the ways in which knowledge- 
and inventive skill will enable one to save money. 

The highest economy, however, does not consist merely 
in saving. Much has been said, and very prettily and 
poetically too, about the saving of pennies. But the pen- 
nies must first be earned. That economy which exercises 
itself wholly in saving and does not stimulate the inventive 
and intellectual powers in the direction of acquisition is- 
almost sure to degenerate into meanness and penurious' 
ness. It is very frequently the case that the saving pro- 
pensity is carried so far as to be a positive obstruction to 
the earning. As when the farmer refuses to hire help 
because it must be paid for, and thus allows his crops to 
deteriorate on account of a too late harvesting, or when 
the wife refuses to employ a domestic servant and becomes^ 
sick on account of overwork. It is not economy to mow 
all summer with a scythe, when a few days' use of a^ 
machine would accomplish the same result. True eco- 



ECONOMY OF HOME, 279 

nomj consists in that broad and comprehensive knowledge 
of affairs, that clear foresight and calculation, that willing- 
ness to spend money lavishly in the procuring of the proper 
means, which in the moving of circumstances gives us the 
long arm of the lever. 

There is no more disgusting spectacle than that of a 
penurious farmer whose prosperity is crippled by his own 
avarice. Such a man is likely to be found using a wooden 
plow which his father left him. He goes barefooted week 
days in order to make his boots last two years of Sundays. 
If he buys a new coat he must pay for it with beans or 
some product of the farm. He must change directly too. 
He could not think of selling the beans for money and 
buying the coat, for that would be paying money for the 
coat. Indeed, he has well nigh dispensed with that instru- 
ment of civilization — ^money. He has gone back so far 
toward barbarism that he desires to barter instead of buy 
and sell with money. Not because he has no love of 
money, but because he does have that irrational love which, 
becomes the " root of all evil," 

But some may ask how that can be the root of all evil 
which owes its existence to a God-given instinct, and finds 
its guarantee in an eternal law of nature. 

The irrational love of money finds its guarantee in no 
law or instinct. It is not the moderate and normal love of 
money which is the root of all evil, nor is such love an evil 
at all, but a great blessing. 



280 UR HOME, 

The sentiment of economy is one of those which manifest 
themselves within very narrow limits. It seems to be 
always leaning to the one side or the other, and getting 
out of its path. It is apt to become prodigality or penuri- 
ousness. It requires much skill in navigation on life's sea 
to sail safely between these two rocks. When we first 
embark we are very apt to run against the rock of prodi- 
gality, but after we have had more experience, unless we 
profit well by that experience, and learn the golden mean, 
we are prone to the opposite extreme and run against the 
rock of penuriousness. It is the inordinate love of money 
for its own sake that is the root of all evil; while true 
economy is the trusty helm that guides us safely between 
two dark and threatening rocks. 

This dijsposition to hoard money for its own sake, inde- 
pendent of its proper function, is not, however, to be wholly 
condemned. There is a ministry of good in the very con- 
sciousness of possession. It is usually easy to distinguish 
the men of wealth in a crowd of people, by their bearing of 
conscious power. It is the natural and legitimate condi- 
tion of man to feel that he is in a certain sense the con- 
queror and possessor of nature. 

The lion is called the king of beasts, not because he is 
the largest or the strongest, but because he calls himself 
the king of beasts. He does this by his noble bearing, and 
the consciousness of power. Now man, like the lion, should 
feel and manifest a sense of power, only in a fur higher de- 



ECONOMY OF HOME, 28± 

^ee. It is this conscious power manifesting itself in the 
human eye which accounts for the fact that no wild beast 
<5an withstand the human gaze. 

All that is necessary to cause the lion to skulk away to 
the den like a whipped cur, is to gaze full in his eye 
while you calmly maintain a consciousness of victory and 
jBuperiority over all that moves upon the earth. 

This feeling in man is the strongest safeguard against 
low and mean acts. It places one above meanness. The 
lion is the most magnanimous of beasts. He never does a 
mean act. This is because of his consciousness of power 
which makes him feel too noble to be mean. 

This, then, is bur plea for wealth, that its moderate pos- 
session makes men noble and magnanimous. One noble, 
generous, wealthy man in a community is sometimes a 
source of inspiration for hundreds of young men. 

Let it be remarked, hcnvever, that the kind of wealth 
which produces this desirable result is that which is born 
•of toil and economy. No man can become suddenly 
wealthy without being injured thereby, for the mode of 
thought and the whole character must change to meet the 
conditions of wealth. Whole new lines of thought, new 
schemes, new plans of life must be originated, and this 
-change cannot take place suddenly without too great a 
shock to the character. 

We claim that no man has any moral right to extreme 
wealth. No man can possibly have any moral right to 



282 OUR HOME, 

anything in this life which he does not earn, for otherwise 
he must trespass on the rights of his fellows. 

Men are born destitute of all possessions. No one brings 
anything into the world. What right, then, has one to 
gather riches through another's toil and misfortune ? The 
man who has the ability to begin with nothing and accu' 
mulate ten thousand dollars by his own industry and 
economy, has just ability enough to take care of ten thou* 
sand dollars and be made better and nobler thereby. 

But the accumulation of wealth, grand as is its possible 
ministry, is not, by any means, the only object that con- 
cems the instinct and spirit of economy. 

It is not the chief object of the economy of home. The 
object of home is to mold character, and the object of home 
economy is, or should be, the accumulation of all those- 
means and instrumentalities that minister to that end. 

Those things which minister to the intellectual and 
aBsthetic nature are as properly the objects of the economi- 
cal faculty as dollars and cents. 

Let children be taught to believe that good books are 
among the most desirable of earthly possessions. Let them 
begin to accumulate books even before they can read. It 
would be infinitely better than to give them a little bank 
and teach them that the accumulation of coppers is all that 
is desirable. They may be allowed to vie with each other 
in the accumulation of good books and works of art, and 
when they become old enough to appreciate them, they will,- 



ECONOMY OF HOME. 28.? 

perhaps, have a respectable library. They will also have 
^hat is far better, a true idea of life and its significance. 

If all parents would follow this course with their chil- 
dren, the world's mad scramble for money would be trans- 
ferred to books, facts, principles, thoughts, beauty, art, 
education, culture, righteousness, and all that can lift the 
soul, and bring the spirit and genius of humanity nearer to 
its God. 

In all cases the children should be made to earn these 
books with their own hands, that they may early learn that 
labor is the price of thought as well as of bread. They 
cannot too early be taught that labor is necessarily the 
price of all honest possessions. 

" Thus is it over all the earth, 
That which we call the fairest. 
And prize for its surpassing worth. 
Is always rarest. 

*' Iron is heaped in mountain piles 
And gluts the laggard forges, 
But gold-flakes gleam in dim defiles 
And lonely gorges. 

** The snowy marble flecks the land 
With heaped and rounded ledge8» 
But diamonds hide within the sand 
Their starry edges. 

** The finny armies clog the twine 
That sweeps the lazy river, 
But pearls come singly from the brlM 
With the pale diver. 

** God gives no value unto men 
Unmatched by meed of labor; 
And cost of worth has ever been 
The closest neighbor. 



" Wen BTerj hill a praclotu mlna. 
And goldcD all Iht moontBliia; 
Weta M the rtvera fad with wliM 
Br Utelew tooDtaini; 

" LU« wonld b« nTished of lu Hat, 
And sborn of its unbition. 
And Blnk Into tbe dreunleu Mat 
01 Uumiiiou. 

*■ Up the broad Htalrs tliat value leaia. 
Bland moUvea beck'nlnfi eaittawaid, 
To uimman men to nobler B[riiei«a, 
And lead thorn worthmrd." 



HOME ADORNMENTS. 




AN is an aesthetic being. The love of beautjr 
constitutes a vital part of his existence. Not 
a mere appendage; not one of the finishing 
touches of his creation that might have been 
omitted without seriously deranging the sym- 
metry of the whole, — but it constitutes a great 
motive power in man's constitution. It is 
the uplifting element ; it is that in us which 
makes us hunger and thirst after perfection 
of character. 

The law of beauty is the law of complete- 
ness, and that law in the soul gives the desire 
for spiritual completeness and perfection. 

The law of material beauty is, doubtless, 
that by which matter tends to assume the 
form of completeness, which is that of the 
circle. The circle everywhere prevails. Na- 
ture always makes a perfect circle when she 
can ; and when she cannot she usually makes 
a compromise with the opposing forces and together thej 
make an ellipse, or some form of the curve. The stars are 




/ 



286 OUR HOME, 

spheres; atoms are by common consent regarded as spheres. 
The paths of all the heavenly bodies are ellipses. The 
transverse sections of trees and almost all forms of vegeta- 
bles are circular. Most of the animal tissues are circular, 
or are made up of circular parts. 

But it is not alone in the geometrical figure that we see 
the spirit of the circle. We sec it in the repetitions of 
history, in the ceaseless round of the seasons, in the death 
and resurrection of the roses, in the successive pulses of 
music, in colors that suggest their complements, in the bud 
that suggests the completion of the flower, in the unuttera- 
ble emotions that come to us while gazing upon the " breath- 
ing canvas and speaking marble," in the soul-lifting sugges- 
tion of the poet's metaphor, which is always the segment 
that completes a circle of consistent thought. 

It is our imagination that supplies these missing seg« 
ments, and accordingly imagination and fancy are found to 
be essential faculties in the production or appreciation of 
beauty. Imagination is that faculty which gives us a 
desire to complete all our mental operations, and thus give 
to them something of the spirit of the circle. The law of 
beauty is nature^s imagination, which tends to complete all 
her operations and give to everything a circular tendency. 

Since, then, the principle of beauty is so far-reaching in 
nature, and since it forms so large and vital a part of man's 
nature, is not its cultivation of the utmost importance ? 
We cannot do violence to this part of our nature without 



HOME ADORNMENTS. 287 

violating the whole. To withhold the influences that tend 
to develop a love of beauty is as sure to cause a one-sided 
and unsymmetrical growth, as to withhold a needed ele- 
ment of food. Beauty is one of the elements of the soul's 
food. The cultivation of beauty in the soul requires no 
costly tutorage. Beauty's lessons may be learned without 
a teacher. The univei*se is one vast cabinet open to our 
inspection. Every gate of nature turns upon golden 
hinges. The sky each morning is broidered by the rosy 
fingers of the dawn, and every evening the sun, amid 
beauty that awes the soul to silence, like a gallant knight 
rides down the perilous cataract of molten gold. The 
beauty of the clouds, the sweet simplicity of nature's 
drab dress, is past all description of novelist or poet. A 
spirit may grow divine by gazing on the clouds, and it 
costs us nothing to appropriate this beauty except the 
trouble of taking our nooning in the open air. There is a 
flower in every nook and corner of nature's domain, which 
it costs us nothing to look at. 

But it is not alone in nature that beauty may minister 
to our souls. It is the chief object of this chapter to show, 
in a general way, how art may serve this purpose. 

Nature hangs no landscapes on our parlor walls, nor does 
she set bouquets in our windows. She will cause the 
bouquets to grow and blossom, however, if we will but take 
the trouble to plant them. 

Flowers are the soul's best friends. There is the breath 



288 OUR HOME. 

of the angels on their petals. It is needless to contend 
that there is no deep meaning in the tribute which the uni- 
yersal heart of man in all ages has paid to flowers. 

A flower garden is within the reach of every family that 
has the control of a house; for the beds may be made 
close about the house, and there are few tenements even in 
the denser parts of cities where there is not a sufficient 
quantity of land for a flower-bed. 

Notwithstanding the fact that there has been much dis- 
cussion concerning the wholesomeness of house plants, it is- 
nevertheless the opinion of the most eminent scientists^ 
that they are positively beneficial to health. Indeed, to 
suppose otherwise would be a violation of the logic of 
analogy, for the whole vegetable kingdom constantly con- 
sumes carbonic acid, an invisible gas which is poisonous ta 
us, but which constitutes the food of plants. They also 
exhale oxygen, which is the all-sustaining element of ani- 
mal life, and which in civilized homes is usually deficient, 
owing to the lack of proper ventilation. Thus house plants 
in part neutralize the bad eflFects of imperfect ventilation. 
One of the most striking provisions of nature is seen in 
the mutual adaptation of plants and animals. Plants give 
to us just what we require, while we give to them just 
what they require. How admirably then are men and 
plants adapted to live together. 

The beauty of art is not alone for the mansion of 
wealth. Artistic and tasteful adornments are the products 



HOME ADORNMENTS, . 289 

of ingenuity and not of wealth. Trees may be planted 
about the house, also vines and roses. Arbors and shady 
nooks may be made to render home attractive, and to give 
an added charm in after years to its memories. It is true 
that " be it ever so humble there's no place like home," 
but that home would be sweeter and would touch a ten- 
derer chord in the spirit's harp if we could look back to 
a cottage vine-wreathed and rosy-decked. There is some- 
thing in the nature of beauty when it surrounds our early 
home, that never loses its power, and never ceases to exert 
a molding influence over us. 

There is no end to the tasty and pleasing devices by 
which an intelligent wife or daughter may adorn a home, 
and that with little expense beyond tlie time it requires, 
And this is usually mere pastime. The plot about the 
house may be either a sand desert covered with barrel 
hoops, broken cart wheels, and decaying rubbish, or it may 
be clean, wholesome, and beautiful. One cannot live in a 
wretched hovel where there is no beauty, where the lawn 
suggests a lumber yard, a cattle yard, and a slaughter 
yard combined, without sharing in the degradation of the 
surroundings. 

It is as much the duty of parents, then, to adorn and 
beautify their home as it is to keep the moral atmosphere 
of that home pure. 

Indeed, the latter cannot exist without the former. The 
best characters and the noblest men come from the modest 

19 



290 * OCR HOME. 

homes which taste, refinement, and labor have adoraeti 
and beautified. 

Beauty is a positive force, a developing potency in the- 
iiniverse. The language of beauty everywhere is the lan- 
guage of aspiration. If our dull ears could be quickened 
till we could hear and understand the divine dialect of th» 
opening flowers, we should hear them say : — 

" All Uilngs ha*e Uieir misdon, and Qod glTes ob oun, 
Aod tills U a part of Uia missioD ol llowera; 
To fcive lite to Uie weary and hope to tbs sad, 
Fresh faith to the failbtess. nev Joys to the glad; 
To cheer the deHpondla^.i^ve strength to the wa&k; 
To bring bealth'a bri)(ht bloom to the Invalid's cbMk; 
To blosh □□ the brow of the beaatilul bride; 
To cbeer honies of moaming where sorrowa beUda; 
To rob dreaded death ot a part ot bis gloom, 
Bj decking the dear one arisjed for the tomb; 
To fumtsh the home with a lastiD); delight, 
With oar perfumes so lovely, oar blossoms so bri^itl 
To hallow the bomestoad, embellish Che lawn, 
B«fl«ollDg the tinta of the roseate dawn." 



DIGNITY AT HOME. 




jIGNITY is self-respect, or rather the mani- 
festation of self-respect. It is the involuntary 
and unconscious expression of one's appraisal 
of himself. Hence dignity may be called a 
secondary or dependent virtue. It is not in 
itself a cardinal virtue, but the language of 
one. Politeness is not absolutely necessary 
to a noble character, but that virtue of which 
politeness is the expression i^ one of the 
grandest in the world. It is that of benevo- 
lence. 

In exhorting one to be polite, it is more 
philosophical to exhort him to cultivate the 
Christian grace of benevolence than merely to study eti- 
quette. So with dignity. There is no use in studying the 
postures, gestures, and bearing of dignity, if there be not 
behind it the true source of dignity, self-respect. It is dis- 
honest to appear to be what we are not ; and if we have 
not the true spirit of dignity, it is better for us to appear 
undignified. Then the world will know better how to 
measure our worth. Artificial dignity and artificial polite- 



292 OUR HOME. 

m 

uess are to be condemned as dishonest and hypocritical. 
Let young men and women be dignified, but let it be a 
true expression of their self-respect. Self-confidence is a 
trait of character whose worth is usually underestimated, 
especially in the young. At some stage of their mental 
growth, young men are almost always considered con- 
ceited; but in the majority of cases the conduct that gives 
rise to this belief originates in other sentiments than that 
of self-esteem. Most people have this element of their 
character too feebly developed. The more self-esteem one 
possesses, if he be not haughty and overbearing, the better. 
This function of the mind gives us noble thoughts, and 
makes us hate anything that is low or mean. It makes the 
possessor feel that he is better than any mean act ; hence 
it is one of the strongest fortifications of virtue. 

The dignified man always receives more respect than the 
undignified. Society is inclined \o take a man at his own 
appraisal. The world, while it may question a man's claims 
to its homage, always believes all the accusations which he 
brings against himself, and if a man by his downcast head, 
his low and mean associates, his vulgar thoughts and pro- 
fane words, in short, by his lack of dignity, proclaims to 
the world that he is unworthy of its esteem, it will surely 
take him at his word. 

To the dignified man everything that he does becomes 
dignified. If he is a wood-chopper, then wood-chopping 
becomes as dignified and honorable as statesmanship. 



DIGNITY AT HOME, 293 

Wherevei: the dignified man or woman goes, there goes 
before a sense of honor and respect. He seems to be a 
kind of balance wheel to the society in which he moves. 
The laugh is never too long or loud; mirth and hilarity 
never go too far when he is present. At the same time he 
is not a burden or a painful restraint upon the natural flow 
of sentiment, and the play of social forces. 

Nations and individuals usually attain a height corre- 
sponding to their own ideals. The beautiful, ideal life of 
the Greek was the necessary prelude to the glorious reality, 
and those individuals who have climbed the rugged heights 
and poised themselves on" glory's giddy summit, have been 
those who with bleeding feet, calloused hands, and toiling 
brains have worked out a cherished ideal. The dignity of 
a being measures the worth of his life's ideal. So that, 
other things being equal, he who is most dignified is most 
rapidly advancing along the path of his own possibilities. 

These facts are as applicable to the little world of home 
as to the great world of human society. The boy who is 
dignified at home receives the confidence of his sisters, 
brothers, and parents. Just as the world takes the man at 
his own price, and grants its confidence only as his dig- 
nity shows him worthy of it, so the parent takes the child 
at his own price. In proportion as children are dignified 
will parents grant them liberties, and place them in posi- 
tions of honor and trust in the family economy. The dig- 
nified girl need not be a premature woman. She may 



294 OUR HOME. 

romp and play with her brothers, as she should do, and 
still be dignified. Dignity, as we have intimated, does not 
consist of outward acts ; it has no necessary ritual ; it is 
not "studied gestures or well-practiced smiles." 

The father who gets down on the floor to please hb 
little child is not undignified. The mother who joins in 
the happy sports of her children, even with ail the mirth 
and merriment of her early girlhood, is not undignified so 
long as she has a noble purpose in life, and sees a grand 
object in being. 

Indeed, we believe that those who walk with measured 
step, and whose faces suggest a lengthened cloud, are not 
the finest embodiments of true dignity. Everything which 
is counterfeit betrays its spuriousness, whatever may be 
the skill of the counterfeiter. The sly, giggling, and sim- 
pering false modesty need never be mistaken for the open 
frankness and fearlessness of true modesty. So there is 
always something about the bearing of a false dignity that 
betrays it. It is false dignity that cannot afford to smile, 
but true dignity can afford to be light hearted. We find 
it enthroned upon the mother's brow as she shakes the 
rattle, and smiles and creeps upon the floor to please her 
baby. But how grandly, when suddenly called upon to 
perform a higher duty, does she step out of the enchanted 
atmosphere of her baby's life, un wreathe the nursery smiles 
from her face, and stand forth in the glory of her woman- 
hood. It is then that she displays a dignity that awes us^ 



DIGNITY AT HOME, 295 

a dignity before which the vile iiiBulter slinks back like 
the hj'ena at the gaze of day. 

This is what we mean by dignity. It is something 
which the little girl may cultivate as much as she chooses. 
It will not hurt her. It will not make her prematurely 
•old. It will not cause her to ripen too quickly like a 
shriveled fall apple, but it will help to develop her and 
make her a true and noble woman. 

There is always a certain degree of reserve that accom- 
panies true dignity, so that its possessor is never quite 
transparent. He may be, and in fact must be, free, open 
-and social, but there is always a reserved force of individ- 
uality. He may be translucent, but not transparent. And 
there is always a charm in that which we have almost but 
not quite seen. Hence the mind of' the dignified man is 
an inexhaustible fountain of pleasure to his friends. He is 
always courted and never shunned. The boy who is dig- 
nified will be a central figure among his brothers and sis- 
ters and schoolmates. 

There are certain virtues that have corresponding vices, 
resulting not from the absence but from the excess or 
wrong direction of the virtue. Dignity is one of those pe- 
•culiar virtues, separated from the vice of conceit only by a 
thin veil. Economy is a virtue that all boys and girls are 
'exhorted to cultivate, but how thin U the partition that 
separates this virtue from the hateful vice of penurious- 
iiesB, that vice which has shriveled the soul of many a 



206 OUR IIOHE. 

miser like the foliage of a girdled tree. Even the worship 
of God may be but a hair's breadth from idolatry. The 
flower of every virtue grows close to the precipice of a 

It is a law without exception that the lower the plane 
the more stable the virtue, while the higher the plane, the 
more unstable. 

The heavenly gift of love trembles over the abyss of 
sensuality, while the crowning sentiment of divine worship 
is easily tumbled from its lofty pedestal into the mire of 
idolatry. 

Hence dignity finds its highest complement in the fact 
that it is separated by a thin partition from the vice of 
pride and haughtiness. Let us then cultivate dignity, hut 
weed the flower with a careful hand. 

"A man of hniiRhty spirit Is iliiily Rdctlns to Ills enemies; 

Heitatiileili >L-t>iii Arab in ttiu desert, mid iJie hiinds ot all men are agaliiBt blB, 

A man of n. hsve niiiul ilnlly Hnbtrautctti fmiii Ilia frieiida, 

For ht! linliL.-Ih liiiii-H-lf hi> i^lieiiply, tlinl u\hvn lenrii tn despise him. 
But wliprp till- ni"i'kiiB*s i-f spK-knowlpilft" veiletli tlie front of self-respect. 
There lonk tlmii for the mnn whom none can kuow but they will honor. 
Hnmllily U ihe softening sliadow before the statue of Excellence, 
^Dd lleth lowly on the gronnd, beloved and lovely as the violet." 



SUCCESS OR FAILURE 
FORESHADOWED AT HOME. 



CESS and failure are relative terms. What 
luld be success to one iniglit be failure tu 
other. Success is simply the best possible 
lults under existing circumstaaces. He 
10 waa born without the use of hia arms 
i hands, aiiJ also witliout artistic ability, 
d yet who, by patient effort, has learned to 
ite with his toes, even though his writing 
but a miserable scrawl, if it be legible, has 
_..,''ely achieved a wonderful success in the 
art of penmanship. But for him who possesses the free 
use of his hands, and has in addition the taste of an 
artist, such a result would certainly he but moderate suc- 
cess. The pious rural maiden, who spends her life in 
ministering to the sick, the poor, anj^ the ignorant in her 
little neighborliood, even though her name is never heard 
beyond a radius of ten miles, has achieved a success of 
which the record is in heaven, but had she been endowed 
with the ten talents that God gave to Florence Nightin- 
gale, she surely would have shuddered to offer so meager a 
return to her master. 



^98 OUR HOME, 

When one asks himself the question, ^^ Can I succeed ? " 
he must have before his mind a definite standard of suc- 
cess, or his words become meaningless. Circumstances 
and native ability must determine the scope of the ques- 
tion. The first stage in all success is a preparation for 
success, and the number of stages is limited only by 
natural capacity and length of life. He who has prepared 
for success, even though it has required his lifetime, has 
succeeded better than he who has passed over a thou- 
sand stages, but has missed one stage that he might have 
passed. 

According to this definition of success, which is the only 
proper one, all may succeed, and failure is never necessary. 
All can certainly do their best, and the result will be suc- 
cess. Failure, as the word implies, is simply the failure to 
act according to our highest possibilities. The world is 
full of the brilliant failures of fortune's sons — those who 
seemingly possessed every advantage that fate could be- 
Btow. On the other hand, the poor-house has been the 
theater of many a sublime success. 

He has succeeded well who has met and conquered the 
dark hosts of evil passions that assail so many unfortunate 
fiouls. If he has subdued self, that mightiest enemy of 
humanity, he may count his life a grand success, even 
though the victory came but with the death angel's rein- 
forcement. Success is his if he can greet his stern ally 
thus : — 



SUCCESi> OR FAILURE. 299 

« 

" W«re the whole world to oome before me now,-* 
Wealth with its treasures; pleasure with its cap; 
Power robed in purple; beauty in its pride; 
And with love's sweetest blossoms garlanded; 
Fame with its bays, and glory with its crown,-* 
To tempt me lifeward, I would turn away, 
And stretch my hands with ntter eagerness 
Toward the pale angel waiting for me now^ 
And give myself to him, to be led out 
Serenely singing to the land of shade." 

We are glad, however, that the world contains but few 
who must buy success at such an awful price. 

Success or failure is the natural fruit of character. The 
apple tree cannot bear anything but apples, neither can a 
good character bear anything but success. Failure is the 
only fruit we can reasonably <expect to reap from a bad 
'Character. 

But some may object to this, and point us to the fre- 
quent and brilliant success of bad men ; but what they 
would call success would not probably fall within our defi- 
nition. If dishonest acquisition is success, then is the 
highway robber the most successful of men ; and on that 
toll of honor the brute-hearted pirate must be allowed to 
write his name. Hence the word success loses all signifi- 
<;ance unless we restrict it at least to honest acquisition. 
This must be done even by those who claim that dollars 
and cents are its only standard. Yes, it is character that 
determines our success or failure. Our deeds, both the 
•good and the bad, are the visible herd which the unseen 
ishepherd, character, drives across the desert of our lives. 



300 OUR HOME. 

If he be a good shepherd, the herd also will be good, and, 
fearless 6f the prowling wolf, will move in orderl}' proces- 
sion straight to the fold of success; but if he is a bad shep- 
herd, the flock will not obey him, but will scatter in wild 
confusion, and hide themselves in the dark and noisome 
caves of failure. 

Since, then, it is the character that brings us success or 
failure, we must go where characters are formed, to the 
home, in order to speak our words of warning and advice. 

The chief cause of all failures is a lack of persistency. 
He who begins life as a fruit vender, with nothing but a 
persistent mind, has a better chance of success in life, than 
he who begins with a million dollars and a vacillating mind. 

In America, financial success is possible to every young 
man of ordinary ability. It is certainly important that he 
should choose the vocation for which nature has best fitted 
him, but it is far more important that he persist in the one 
which he does choose. 

There are certain excesses and deficiencies which are 
national peculiarities, and this lack of persistency is surely 
a deficiency in Americans. With the Germans the reverse 
is true, thoroughness with them is almost an excess. Fail- 
ures are very rare in Germany, because every man is so 
thoroughly taught in his one special subject that he has 
the advantage both of a perfect knowledge of his business, 
and a natural tendency to be contented for life with one 
occupation. 



SUCCESS OR FAILURE. 301 

By failure^ we do not mean what is generally called a 
" financial failure." But rather the failure to do justice to 
one's native powers, failure to attain to what most men 
regard as success. 

Perhaps there are more failures of this kind among 
Americans in proportion to the population, than among 
any other people in the world, and the ..-ct accords well 
with their known fickleness. 

The young American has much difficulty in deciding 
what occupation he shall follow. He is usually undecided 
whether he shall be a shoe-maker or statesman. He gener- 
ally thinks quite favorably of all the intermediate trades 
and professions. As a rule, he tries as many of these as 
time and circumstances will permit. He enters a store as 
a clerk, and while the novelty lasts his mind is fully made 
up that he will be a merchant, and have a store on Broad- 
way, but after a time his work becomes prose instead of 
poetry. His hasty decision was based on no abiding rela- 
tion between himself and trade. He leaves the store and 
obtains a position in a bank, and immediately he decides 
that he will be a great banker. He reads and studies 
about the mysteries of Wall Street. But in a few weeks or 
months it occurs to him that he didn't stop to measure the 
distance between a chore boy in a country bank and a 
great stock operator on Wall Street, so he thinks he won't 
be a banker or a broker, but perhaps decides to be a printer, 
and goes into a printing office fully determined that he has 



802 OUR HOME. 

at last found out what nature intended to do with him^ 
He is well satisfied for a time. He reads the life of 
Benjamin Franklin. His ambition is awakened. He be- 
gins to see; too, that the printer is only the servant of the 
writer. This touches his pride, and he conceives the idea 
of going to college, and becoming a great writer and 
speaker. So his father*s little farm is mortgaged and he 
starts for college, carrying with him that same indecision^ 
and after four years of aimless study comes home to 
choose his life work, having forgotten all about his last 
resolution to be a great writer. So habituated has he be* 
come to frequent change of occupation, that it is now abso- 
lutely impossible for him to be satisfied in any sphere of 
Hfe. 

There is no objection to a mere change of occupation if 
circumstances render it desirable. The evil is in the men« 
tal condition that prompts a change. A young man may 
be a clerk, a banker and a printer if he chooses, and be the 
better for it, provided these occupations are used simply as 
means for the accomplishment of some definite and specific 
purpose. If a boy chooses to be a printer, let liim be a 
printer, and if circumstances render it necessary or desira' 
ble that he should for a time engage in some other occupa* 
tion, let him do it feeling that he is simply for a time work' 
ing out of his element. It is the mental change, the 
change of motive and desire, and not the mere physical 
change which produces the best result. 



SUCCESS OR FAILURE. 305 

Now, since success and failure are products of the chaiy 
acter, and since character is formed by the influences of 
hame^ it is easy to determine \^ith approximate certainty 
from an inspection of the home, what are the prospects of 
success or failure in life. ^ 

Moreover, one derives a feeling of fortunate relief from 
the thought that all evils which can be foreseen, and which 
owe their origin to human volition, can be prevented. 

Children should be taught the importance of persistency. 
It is not necessary that they should early choose their 
vocation ; yet it is necessary that when they do choose it, 
they should choose it for life- An occupation once chosen 
should be entered upon with a feeling that there is no 
other occupation. The ships should be burned behind. So 
long as there is in the mind a lingering thought that after 
all some other occupation will constitute the life work, 
failure is almost certain, for the mind is not concentrated^ 
and its acts are like the acts of those who are half in jest. 

Young men who contemplate a profession are sometimes 
advised to learn some trade first, then, they are told, if they 
fail in the profession they will have something to "fall 
back on." This is a first rate way to make certain their 
failure in the profession. If you wish to ensure the defeat 
of an army make elaborate preparations for an easy retreat, 
but if you wish to make them invincible, tear up the roada 
and burn the bridges behind them. So if you would en- 
sure success in your boy's career don't foster nor tolerate 



304 OUR HOME, 

the feeling that it isn't absolutely necessary that he should 
succeed in that particular trade or profession. 

But what if the man has made a mistake ? Suppose he 
has entered the medical profession, and then discovers that 
he was doubtless intended for the law ? In that case it is 
a matter to be settled by his own judgment and the advice 
of his friends whether he shall continue in the medical 
profession or change to the law. If he is young and cir- 
cumstances are favorable, perhaps it would be advisable to 
make the change. It would not as a rule be advisable. 

We have said that it is less important that a young 
man should choose just the occupation for which he is best 
adapted, than that he persist in the one which he does 
choose. There may be exceptions to this, but it is true as 
a rule, from the very fact that without persistency failure is 
certain, even in the occupation for which he is best adapted. 
With persistency he is sure of a moderate success at least, 
6ven in the vocation to which he is poorly adapted ; but 
without this quality he is sure of failure in any vocation. 

We would not convey the impression that we attach but 
little importance to the right choice of pursuits. There 
are few things in human life more important than a right 
matrimonial selection, and yet it is far less important than 
a firm determination to live through life peacefully and 
lovingly with the one who has been chosen ; so it is very 
questionable whether one should attempt to correct anr 
mistake that may have been made in choosing his calling. 



SUCCESS OR FAILURE, 305 

It is not to be presumed that the young man has made 
any mistake in the choice of his occupation. If he has 
been advised and counseled by wise and cautious parents, 
there is but little probability that he has made a wrong 
choice. Nature has so kindly and wisely blended our 
tastes and talents that what we desire to do most, that, as 
a rule, we can do best. 

But unmingled success is not always the best thing for 
a young man. There are few who would not be spoiled 
by it. There is hardly a great orator whose biography 
does not contain some story of an early failure. He who 
has never failed is necessarily a weak man. Temporary 
failure is the best cure for egotism. It reduces our stand- 
ard of self measurement to the denominations of the 
world's system. 

Temporary failure sustains the same relation to th» 
character that sorrow does ; if not administered in over- 
doses, it strengthens and develops. 

'* What most men covet, wealth, distinction, power» 
"Are bawbles nothing worth; they only serve 
To ronse us np, as children at the school 
Are ronsed up to exertion ; our reward 
Is in the race we run, not in the prize. 
Those few, to whom is given what they ne*er eainadt 
Having by favor or inheritance 
The dangerous gifts placed in their hands. 
Know not, nor ever can, the generous prido 
Thai glows in him who on himself relies. 
Entering the lists of life, he speeds beyond 
Them all, and foremost in the race succeeds. 
His joy is not that he has got his crown. 
But that the power to win the crown is his." 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS. 



^NIUS may be defined as an irrepressible im- 
pulse to work for work's sake. He whoso 
whole soul does not quiver in response to 
the very name of work is not a genius and 
never can be. 

There is, perhaps, nothing that more forci- 
bly betrays the weakness and folly of human 
nature than the tendency in almost every 
young man, to fancy himself a genius and hence beyond 
the necessity of labor. The object of this chapter is to ex- 
pose that folly, and to show the wide-spread misconception 
concerning the nature of genius. 

If work costs you effort, you may be talented bat you 
are not a genius. If it is easy for you to work, and costs 
but little self-denial, you are'on the border-land of genius: 
but if you cannot help working, if work is your spiiit's 
breath, if when the spell is upon you the very spheres must 
hush their music to give yon sleep, if the insanity of cease- 
less impulse lays its frenzied fingers on your brain at mid- 
night, you may pitch your tent upon the star-lit heights, 
and yoar mission is to reach up to God and down to man. 
Great achievements, although they always accompany 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS. 307 

genius, do not constitute it, they only indicate it, they are 
the natural language, the gestures of genius. 

We are told that intense application, and concentration 
of effort and purpose will accomplish the results of genius. 
And why should they not, for they are genius itself. It is 
wonderful that men who are so remarkable for common 
^ense in the e very-day affairs of life should show to such 
poor advantage when they attempt to elucidate the princi- 
ples of mental science and human nature. There are no 
subjects on which the popular writers become so hopelessly 
confused as on those pertaining to psychology. Let it be 
understood once and forever by the world, that there can 
be no act of being that is not the outgrowth of an organic 
function, and this pernicious indefiniteness which makes 
ludicrous and insignificant distinctions between synony- 
mous words, will vanish from our literature. Concentra- 
tion of purpose and intense application are as truly ele- 
ments of genius as the imagination of the poet. From 
these writers we should gather that there may be one or 
two faculties essential to greatness, which may be native 
and individual, but that all the other elements, such as will, 
concentration, perseverance, self-reliance, etc., etc., are 
possessed in equal quantities by all, and those who do not 
use them as extensively as the gi*eatest men, are to be 
censured. 

Now it is as reasonable to censure a boy because he can- 
not compose music like Beethoven as to censure him be- 



308 OUR HOME. 

cauBe he '^ docs uot want to/' The elements that give the 
desire are the same that give the ability. You maj a& 
well exhort him to write poetry like Shakespeare as to ex- 
hoi't him to have the concentration, the perseverance, or 
the self reliance of Shakespeare, for all these qualities are 
as much parts of genius, and are just as dependent on 
hereditary and organic influences as those which are recog- 
nized as the prime factors of genius. 

Genius has many and unmistakable characteristics, and 
among them the earliest, if not the most marked, is in- 
tellectual boldness. The first symptom of genius is a 
scorn for the opinions of men. Genius sees through 
the clouds that intercept the world's vision, and hence 
the world never sympathizes with genius. Hisses are the 
highest compliment the world can pay to genius. He 
who does not sometimes enrage his fellow men may well 
question his claim to genius. 

This rule, however, applies with less force in certaia 
spheres of genius, as music, painting, sculpture, etc. Yet 
even here the grandest efforts have been scorned by the 
critics, the interpreters of genius. But in that highest 
sphere, in which it rough-hews the timbers of the worldV 
new thought, it cannot receive the sympathy of men. 
" Loose unto us Barabbas " is the world's cry. It i» 
genius they would crucify, for it is genius that moTe» 
them to wrath. For it reveals itself not in soft words and 
** pretty thoughts," but in discordant words and uglj^ 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS, 309 

thoughts ; tumultuous thoughts ; thoughts that burn into 
the tablet of the centuries with a hiss. It is the honied 
words of talent that please the ears of mankind. 

Another distinguishing characteristic of genius is that it 
Always tells the world something that it did not know be- 
fore. Genius stands nearest to the source of all wisdom, 
and catches whispers that never reach the common ear. It 
is God's interpreter. It reveals and interprets the unwrit- 
ten language of nature's pantomime ; hence the world, in 
spite of its antipathy for genius, instinctively recognizes its 
power. For in all ages men have made the words of 
genius canonical. Homer was the world's first Bible. 

Genius works without regard to the value of the prod- 
uct. It works, as we have said, because it cannot help it. 
And herein seems to consist the divinity of genius, for it 
appears to be guided by a divine influence. It forgets 
that it is hungry and works all night. Tested by the re- 
ceived canons, it is radical and fanatical. It recognizes no 
formulated law of thought or logic. It both walks upon 
the earth, and flies in the air. It knows that which talent 
doubts, and believes that which talent laughs at. 

It is not our purpose to discourage youi.g men, yet we 
do not hesitate to do so, if thereby we may dispel from 
their minds the foolish fancy that the}^ are geniuses. Nor 
need this discourage them. Every mind is satisfied wit!i 
its own sphere. Talent does not suffer from disappoint- 
ment because it cannot be genius, any more than the child 



310 OUR HOME. 

suffers because it cannot be a man. The child is ambi* 
tious only to be noted among his playmates as possessing, 
in a remarkable degree, the qualities of a child. So talent, 
unless there be a want of harmony in the mental constitu- 
tion, is satisfied ^vith its own sphere, and does not seek to 
rise in its aspirations into the cloud heights of genius. 
We do not mean that a person without genius does not 
frequently wish that he might occupy the highest place ii> 
the estimation of his fellows. There are few to whom 
this wish is a stranger, yet it causes no suffering and does 
not touch the question of disappointed aspirations. In its 
relation to genius we have used the word aspiration with 
its strongest meaning, that in which it signifies not merely 
a wish to be great, but a burning, sleepless impulse, which 
suffers all things, forgets the weak pleadings of sense, and 
labors unceasingly for the accomplishment of its purpose. 

So we are not actuated by a malicious desire to dash the 
cherished hopes of college boys who mistake that indefinite 
desire for greatness which every one has felt, for that 
divine uplifting which not only seeks the goal of greatness^ 
but actually rejoices that the path to glory is so rough and 
steep. It is a characteristic of genius that it loves to tread 
stony paths, for the sake of crushing the stones. 

No ! no ! young man, don't wait any longer for genius 
to blossom, for the fact that you are waiting proves that 
there is no bud to blossom. 

We have paid this exalted and possibly extravagant 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS. 3H 

tribute to genius solely for the purpose of placing in the 
hands of that class of young men who fancy themselves 
geniuses, a means of detecting their own folly. These 
young men are proverbially the lazy young men ; they are 
those who from some strange cause have conceived the 
idea that to work would be to surrender their claim to 
genius. Hence they abandon themselves to idleness. They 
have been told that Poe and Byron were idlers. But if 
the truth were known it would, doubtless, be found that 
these unhappy geniuses through sleepless nights of wast- 
ing toil worked themselves into untimely graves. 

Since genius consists solely in spontaneous and involun- 
tary labor in contradistinction to the irksome effort of 
mediocrity, it follows that these young men are barred, 
at the outset, from all claim to genius. 

Probably more talented young men have been rendered 
useless by the delusion that genius is a compound of wine 
and laziness than by any other one cause. But let no 
young man entertain the foolish idea that by getting 
drunk and being lazy he can be a Poe. 

In the first place, Poe was not lazy. Genius, it is true, 
often works somewhat irregularly, because the moving 
power in genius is impulse, whereas in talent it is usually 
motives of economy or duty. And in the second place, Poe 
would probably have been a much greater poet had he 
been temperate. But there seems to be in perverted 
human nature a propensity to copy after the incidental 



312 OUR HOME. 

weakness of greatness. Let a man of genius display one 
trait of the idiot and hundreds of young men will appropri- 
ate it and complacently consider themselves possessed of 
at least one characteristic of genius. 

So long as the young man of talent can readily find a 
field for the full exercise of his powers, and one in which 
the rewards of toil are worthy of his highest effort, he need 
not feel discouraged because he cannot be a genius. As 
well might he lament because he was not born into a more 
refined and beautiful world than this. So long as he ful- 
fills the duties which his talent imposes, he should be con- 
tent and happy in his sphere, and never stop to considei 
whether he be a genius or a mediocre. The semi-idiot, if he 
employs to the best possible advantage the weak talenta 
that he possesses, may be as deserving of praise as Plato« 
Paul, or Newton. 

It is the function of genius to go in advance of the world's 
march, and ^^ set the stakes " to guide the advancing col- 
umn. But one genius can do this for an army of ten thou- 
sand, while the lieutenants and corporals of talent must be 
scattered all along the line. Genius in every relation of 
life is more or less independent of experience. It knows 
things without learning them. It exemplifies the doctrine 
of '^ innate ideas." Talent knows only what it sees, but 
genius does not see what it knows. In its loftiest moods 
the beams of truth flash into its inmost chambers, and it 
cannot tell from whence comes the light. It is awed at itf 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS. 313 

own achievements, and looks with wonder upon its own 
offspring. It sees, as mere talent can never learn to see^ 
the infinite significance of wholene99. 

Genius is creative rather than executive. It may exist, 
however, in the line of any one of the several faculties of 
the mind, and hence may find its expression in the execu- 
tive faculties themselves. Yet even in this case genius 
finds its chief function in marking out the lines of action 
and in telling others what to do and how to do it, thus 
leaving the ultimate execution in the hands of talent. 
So it may be true that genius is always creative and not 
executive. The girl may surpass Beethoven in the mere 
execution at the piano-forte, yet it is the fiat of Beethoven's 
genius that directs every quiver of her flying fingers. The 
inventive genius is proverbial for its lack of executive 
ability. This quality, together with intuitiveness, to 
which it is closely related, and upon which it chiefly 
<lepends, is, doubtless, the most distinguishing character- 
istic of genius. 

But talent and genius may and often do exist together. 
There is nothing in the nature of the one that necessarily 
precludes the other. Those in whom they exist together 
will exhibit that same irrepressible impulse to labor, but 
there will be, in their labor, the method and regularity and 
moderation which characterizes that of talent. It is doubt- 
ful if pure genius is ever of the highest order. Poe was 
perhaps one of the best illustrations of pure genius in all 



314 OUR HOME, 

history, and yet we cannot regard him as worthy of the 
highest honor. Pure genius is fitful and irregular. It is 
only when it is mixed with talent that it becomes grand, 
imposing and effective. The genius of Caesar, Napoleon or 
Shakespeare would not have produced the grand results 
that it did, had it not been mixed with talent, whereby it 
was tempered and made self-regulating. Goethe, perhaps^ 
furnishes the best illustration of the combination of genius 
and talent. 

We have indicated a very sharp contrast between genius 
and talent, r rather between the results of genius and 
talent. But the question, what is genius, remains un- 
answered. 

There are all degrees of genius, as there are all degrees 
of talent, and the line where the highest degree of talent 
meets the lowest degree of genius is a question that can be 
determined only by the arbitration of mankind. There is 
no natural law by which we can say with certainty that 
one mind is on this side and another on the other side of 
that line. There are doubtless thousands far below the 
line who have passed for geniuses, while thousands more, 
as far above the line, have hardly received the rank ta 
which mediocrity should entitle them. Yet notwithstand- 
ing such injustice, resulting from weakness and prejudice, 
the fact of genius still remains. The distinction of kitten 
and cat, of cub and lion, of child and adult, are genuine 
and natural distinctions, yet who shall designate the mo- 



FALLACIES ABOUT GENIUS. 315 

ment wLen a boy becomes a man ? This moment cannot 
be ascertained with certainty within several years. A 
margin of at least five years must be allowed for variation 
of opinion concerning definitions. 

Genius, then, is but developed talent, and the lowest 
degree of talent holds in potentiality the highest degree of 
genius. 

Talent in man corresponds to strength of material in the 
engine, which is approximately indicated by the figures 
on the steam gauge. It is the steady power of resist- 
ance. But there is another quality of the engine of a sub- 
tiler nature. It may be called sensitiveness. This qual- 
ity depends not upon the size and strength of material, 
but upon the " finish " and the nice adjustment of parts, 
whereby friction is diminished. It enables us to deter- 
mine the per cent, of discount that must be made, on the 
indications of the steam gauge, in estimating' the efficiency 
or working power of the engine. 

Now genius is that in the organization which corre- 
sponds to this quality in the engine. It may be termed 
organic quality. It is the finish of the brain, and by it 
the mental powers are made responsive. It is great just 
in proportion to the per cent, of organic power utilized. 
Hence spontaneity is the one word that approaches near- 
est to a synonym of genius. 

Since genius results from a quality of the organism, we 
see why it often seems to defy the organic law that size 



.316 OUR HOME. 

measures power. Emerson is a puzzle to the phrenologists, 
even with all the qualifications implied in their *^ ceteris 
paribus." This fact, however, is no disparagement to the 
science. Even astronomy, the oldest of sciences, must 
recognize its insolvable problems. It cannot trace the 
comet through its hyperbolic and parabolic orbits. So 
mental science cannot solve the " mystery of genius." For 
genius lies beyond the reach of science. It is a comet 
whose orbit is the infinite parabola. 

There are degrees of organic quality far above that 
whicA the phrenologist marks ^^ seven," and in these rare- 
fied realms dwells genius. Nay, genius is the reigning 
spirit of the realm itself. 

It should be a pleasing thought to the great mass of man- 
kind, that the most glorious achievements of the race, the 
aggregate of which constitutes most that we prize in his- 
tory, have not been the products of what men term genius. 
But talent, with toiling brain and sweating brow, has 
wrought the revolutions whose issues are the landmarks 
of history. But this does not debase the glorious mission 
of genius. Had it not been for genius, the great problems 
that talent has solved, would never have been formulated. 

Let the young man, whether he has talent or genius, be 
content to labor in his own sphere, and let his motto be — 

" Seize this very mlnate, 
What 7011 can do, or dream yon can, begin it. 
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. 
Only engage, and then the mind grows heated, — 
Begin, and then tlie work will l>e completed." 



COURAGE 
TO MEET LIFE'S DUTIES. 



life in fraught with duties. Th« 
existence imposes them upon 
me. There is no hour of our lives 
oes not hold a note Against us. 
moment is a creditor. Our lives 
lat they signify are so woven into 
b of universal heing that there is 
I moment of release, 
by far the larger portion of life's 
lie along the soul's path of ag- 
e movement, and require some- 
pf courage to meet them. 
I Courage is that quality of the soul 

irhich makes it fearless of consequences in the presence of 
opposition. With tliis definition, courage Iwcomes an ele- 
ment in (he perfommiiee of every duty <if life, for the 
human soul is confronted by no duty which is not armed. 
Every duty demands an aggres-sive act, and hence courage — 
and he who shrinks from a duty is a coward. The duties 
of life consist in the aggregate of all the acts toward which 
the sense of right, of honor, and of self respect impel us. 



318 OUR HOME. 

Life is the arena of many forms of courage, as many as 
there are possible lines of human action. There is physi- 
cal courage, which dares to meet and overcome physical 
opposition. It is that which makes us willing to take the 
possible consequences of the physical danger, in the accom- 
plishment of an effort. This form of courage is by no 
means low. It is true that it is the form of courage which 
defends the cub of the wild beast, and which belongs to 
that department of man's nature which he possesses in 
common with the brute creation, yet without it all the 
higher powers of man would be helpless prisoners in the 
hands of circumstances. We would not exalt physical 
courage to that position which we would assign to reason, 
and yet we must regard it as one of the noble attributes of 
man. Washington's integrity and honor and patriotism 
might have existed in vain, for without physical courage 
they could never have made a nation grand. The early 
Christians might have died from the very excess of their 
joy, but without the physical courage that scorns the flame 
there would never liave been a martyr. 

But there are higher forms of courage. To be a martyr 
one must have something more than the courage to meet a 
high degree of temperature. He must have the courage to 
think the unthought and ^peak the unspoken, and not 
only to think and speak thus, but to do it amid the jeers 
of hatred and the hisses of calumny. Without this form 
of courage no triumphant vessel would to-day move upon 



COURAGE TO MEET LIFERS DUTIES, 319 

the waters, no engine would jar the earth with its iron 
hoofs, no magic wires would belt the globe with zones of 
love. 

History would be unstained with blood, and the simple 
record would read as sweetly as the story of a maiden's 
life ; and yet out of the rayless midnight of that history 
would rise no star. The darkness of the past has been 
illumed by the fagot fires kindled at the feet of courage. 
No grand libraries would adorn our cities, had not moral 
courage dared to pen its own doom. 

Every great book in history was bom amid the death 
throes of its heroic author. 

The steps of the world's progress have been over the red 
altars of human sacrifice. 

Physical, intellectual, and moral courage have been the 
grand leaders in the ceaseless conquest of thought. God 
bless the martyrs to science and religion ! bless those 
whose pale, thoughtful brows have pressed through weary 
days and lingering nights against the bars of prison win- 
dows! 

It is often said that the age of heroism is past, since, as it 
is claimed, there is no longer any demand for great displays 
of courage. The inventor is no longer pointed at with 
scorn, nor accused of too intimate association with the devil. 

The authors of new thought are not now doomed to 
starvation. But notwithstanding all this there never was 
a period in the history of the world when life demanded so 



320 OUR HOME. 

much of courage as to-day. The most dastardly form of 
cowardice is that which makes us afraid to be ourselves. 

The highest need of human society to-day is a bold and 
fearless spirit of individuality. A thousand years ago one 
could be conservative and not fall behind the race. But 
now, while humanity rides on steam and lightning, one 
cannot afford to imitate the clumsy gait of those who went 
through life on foot. 

With the momentum of six thousand years behind him, 
man is now rushing with terrific speed toward the goal of 
his destiny. He started as a long train starts from its sta- 
tion, with snail pace and amid the tolling bells of dying 
martyrs. One did not need then to have a high degree of 
individuality. He could keep with the race while he re- 
mained almost at rest. There was little demand then for 
this form of courage, for every one was like every other, 
and individuality was an attribute of the nation rather 
than of the man. Then the individual man was a part of 
the mass with no visible line of demarcation between, but 
now he is a detached fragment, and must maintain his 
own identity and assert his own individuality by a cease* 
less act of courage, or be hurled as refuse into the world's 
intellectual and moral sewer. 

No age of human history has otfered such a grand re* 
ward to courage as the present. In politics and religion 
we see the disgusting cowardice that makes men slaves ta 
base schemes and cunning tyranny. 



COURAGE TO MEET LIFE'S DUTIES. 321 

There are few men wlio dare to think fur themselves ; 
they must see what the political paper or the minister says 
fcefore they have the courage to say what thej*^ believe. 
Few ever consider what a powerful factor in life's pro- 
gramme is moral courage. Let the young man learn to think 
foi himself. The feeblest thought that was ever born of a 
human brain, if it be the unrestricted product of that 
brain and comes forth unfettered by fear of nonconformity, 
is a grander thing than the proudest creal ion of genius, ^ 
if that creation be shaped in trusting subserv ience to man. 

One courageous thought is worth more than volumes of 
prostituted genius. Originality is not a peculiarity of 
great minds. The smallest minds may become wonder- 
fully original simply through courage, by daring to ques- 
tion that which they read and hear. Of course the disa- 
greeable habit of egotism is not to be encouraged. One 
should presume himself ignorant of all things and then 
•dare to question all things. 

Authority should not be disregarded, and yet it should 
be taken as affording merely a presumption, and not a 
demonstration. The truths that fall within the ken of 
human vision are few. All truths cannot be seen even by 
the most gifted. The spider sees many things tliat the 
•eagle overlooks. As much depends upon the attitude of 
the eye as upon its power, and there are little truths and 
certain aspects of great truths which must, from their na- 
ture, be discerned by little minds alone. It is cowardice 

21 



3-^2 OUR HOME, 

to believe or disbelieve because Plato says so. The first 
symptom of genius is the bold daring with which it dis- 
putes the fables of the nursery. We would not, however,, 
have it understood by young men that the disagreeable 
and unmannerly habit of disputing for the sake of disput- 
ing is in any way a symptom of greatness. 

We have used the word dispute in a broader sense, that 
in which it means to question why, to weigh the probabili- 
ties, to demand consistency, and to doubt, if need be. The 
civilization of the nineteenth century was born of doubts^ 
and questions, whose answers have been hisses. Emersoa 
says: "Have courage not to adopt another's courage." 

That certainly means much. It means that we should 
stand upon our own individuality, and dare to respond to- 
our own name in the roll call of life. 

Courage gives a man a kind of magic control over every- 
thing in nature. It actually strengthens the muscles of 
the body. 

The courageous man can lift a heavier weight, other 
things being equal, than the timid man ; he can do more- 
work in the same time and with less exhaustion. 

Courage adds to one's peace of mind. The timid maa 
is never at peace. To him life's duties assume the form 
of living, malicious intelligence, whose only desire seem* 
to be to defeat his efforts and cause him pain. 

Fear weakens every fiber of our being, physical, intel- 
lectual, and moral; which, in effect, is the same a» 



COURAGE TO MEET LIFE'S DUTIES. 323 

streDgtheuing the obstacles and resistances of life. Whafr- 
ever streDgtheos the muscles virtually lightens the weight. 
Thus does courage give to man a control over inauimate 
nature. 

But not alone over inanimate nature, for he who pos- 
sesses courage holds the wand that rules the world. He 
sets the world a thoughtxiopy which it gladly follows. 
There is something in the glance o£ courage, born of con- 
scious power, before which man and beast alike quaiL 
Under the gaze of the wild beast, man is safe till he loses 
hia courage. 

" Abl from joat boww banlab, If jon eta. 

Those fatal goeats: and f nt Ihe demoa fear, 

Tbat trembles at impossible events; 

Lest aged Atlas should reslga hia load. 

And heaven's eternal bacilements rueb down. 

Is there an evil worse than fear itself? 

And what avalU It tbat Indulgent heaven 

Ttom mortal eyes liaa wrnpt the woes to come. 

It we, ingenious to tornieiit ourselves, 

Qrotv pale at hldeoiu fictions of our aivaT 
I Enjoy the present; nor with needless Care*, 

' Of what ma7 spring from blind misfortune's womb 

', Appall the surest honr that life bestows. 

Serene, and master of yourself, prepare 

Tor what may come ; and leave Uie rest to baana." 



THE IMPORTANT STEP. 



the history of every one there comes a time 
vben an important step must be taken and a 
aomentous questiou decided. The period in 
vhich this step is taken is a most critical one, 
<ne fraught with the mightiest consequences 
or weal or woe. It holds the destiny of hu' 
aan life. An error here cannot be corrected. 
A happy decision is a fortune to which 
nothing on earth can be compared. 

It is the custom to speak lightly on this subject, and to 
consider the most awful issue of life as a fit occasion for 
mirth and idle jest. There can be no doubt that this cus- 
tom lies at the root of a large percentage of the miseries 
that mar the happiness of the'^ce. 

So long as young boys and girls are allowed to trifle 
with each other's affections, as if that were their highest 
use, the world will he the theater of untold sorrow. It is 
true that the love element will not bear to be reduced to 
the standard of a commercial transaction. It must have 
the liberty to spread its wings in the atmosphere of its own 
divine romance. We must not take away the poetry which 
is its vital breath. 



TUE IMPORTANT STEP. 325 

And yet there are certain phases of it that may and 
should be submitted to the tribunal of reason. We do not 
believe that reason can in any sense furnish the motive 
power of love. We even doubt if nature intended it to 
play any part whatever in the programme. 

We belong to that school which teaches that each and 
every part of man's nature contains a principle of wisdom 
in itself, and holds the elements of its own regulation. It 
is not the natural office of reason to dictate the amount or 
quality of food that we should take, and yet in the case of 
dyspepsia it often becomes necessary that reason should 
perform this function, for the natural instinct is then de- 
throned and there is no longer any trustworthy guide, and 
reason may in this case serve as a poor substitute. 

The foregoing illustration contains the whole truth con- 
cerning the relation of reason to the love principle. If the 
delicate sentiments have not been outraged, and the tastes 
are unvitiated, they will invariablj' lead to desirable re- 
sults, when the proper conditions are supplied. But in 
most cases this subtile instinct is but an imperfect guide, 
because it has been perverted by improper action. 

Under these circumstances it becomes necessaiy to sub- 
mit the dyspeptic caprice of the unregulated love to the 
sound judgment of reason. 

It is said that "love is blind," but this fancy originated 
in the observed phenomena of its perversion, and not of 
its normal action. There is nothing that can see so well 



326 OUR HOME, 

as pure love. It is all eyes. No nicely adjusted lenses of 
science can detect the motes which its naked eye discerns. 

The young man or woman whose love intuitions are 
unclouded will seldom make a mistake in the disposal of 
the affections. 

There is, however, a danger from one other source, which 
we will presently mention. It is the theory of most par- 
ents that girls and young ladies should never be permitted 
to associate freely with gentlemen until they contemplate 
matrimony. There seems to be a sickly sentiment preva- 
lent on this subject. The young lady must feel that there 
was a kind of special providence in her love affair, and 
that it would have been absolutely impossible for her to 
love any one else. This diseased sentiment is common to 
both sexes, but it exists for the most part in those who 
have been excluded from the society of the other sex. 
The fact that girls who have brothers and boys who have 
sisters always make the wisest matrimonial selections, is 
one that bears significantly on this subject. The lady who 
has never been permitted to associate with gentlemen, and 
who has no brothers, is very likely to make a mistake in 
the bestowal of her affections. The conjugal choice is 
made through an instinct that is attracted by the con- 
genial, and repelled by the uncongenial. But there is^ 
however, a faint attraction between the sexes even when 
the parties are not conjugally adapted, and if the young 
lady has never had an opportunity to compare this faint 



THE IMPORTANT STEP. 327 

attraction, which she may have felt, with stronger ones, she 
will be ver}' apt to misinterpret its significance, and regard 
this slight attraction as a positive impulse of her nature. 
This, then, is the source of danger. It is the fact that 
nature seldom permits an absolute repulsion between ladies 
and gentlemen, even between those who are ill adapted as 
<5onjugal partners, but simply a weakening of the attraction. 

Hence it becomes necessary in order to rightly interi)ret 
our impulses that we should have the opportunity to com- 
pare them. 

If nature had sharply drawn the lines of attraction and 
repulsion between the compatible and the incompatible, 
there could be no such thing as a matrimonial mistake. 
But since she prefers to suggest, by a weakened attraction, 
rather than to command by a positive repulsion, it requires 
^ little acuteness to underatand her suggestions. 

It is a fact proved from every realm of natural history 
that it is the female's rightful function to make the matri- 
monial selection. The lioness accepts her mate only after 
ample opportunities for comparison and choice. In this, 
as in many other respects, the higher intelligence may 
learn a lesson from the lower. The younijf lady should 
have the opportunity of making her selection from a wide 
<5ircle of gentlemen friends, otherwise she cannot so easily 
distinguish the false from the true. 

The highest possible compliment that can be paid to a 
young man is to be "singled out" by the divine instinct 



328 OUR HOME. 

of a pure maiden who has been the idol of her brothers^ 
and who through lier early years played with the little 
boys of her acquaintance. 

We are not by any means advocating that fatal vice 
known as flirting. A flirt is one who purposely wins, or 
tries to win, the affections of the other sex with no serious 
intention, or simply for sport, and the wicked pleasure 
that some experience in being able to pain another's heart. 
Perhaps more hearts are won by cunning coquettes for the 
ruthless purpose of seeing them bleed when cast aside 
than for any other purpose. 

We do not hesitate to express our firm belief that the 
evils of flirtation are more widespread and disastrous in 
their consequences than those of intemperance. They 
blight the tenderest sentiments as the frost blights the 
buds. They freeze the holiest emotions of the soul, and 
leave the heart a barren waste. Like the cornfield whose 
fences have been burned awaj% they leave the heart open 
to the devouring herds of vice. 

But young ladies and gentlemen may associate without 
flirtation. There is nothing better for a young man than 
to associate as a friend with a pure-minded young lady» 
and the benefit is equally great to the young lady. 

When love begins in friendship it rarely mrtkes a mi^ 
take. Love should never be contemplated between par- 
ties who cannot first be firm friends. But such exclusive 
association is not at all necessary. It is, perhaps, as well 



THE IMPORTANT STEP. 329 

that the young man or woman should have a circle of 
friends and acquaintances made up of both sexes. In this 
case, if the early training has been what it should have been, 
and the natural and pure impulses of the child have not 
been interfered with, there will seldom be a need of any 
other form of association. 

One of the worst things a parent can do is to shame a 
little girl because she is inclined to play with little boys. 
She should be taught to feel that there is nothing wrong 
or unladylike in such conduct. So the boy should not be 
teased by his parents or older brothers and sisters because 
he smiles upon a little girl, or manifests a preference for 
her society. Such preferences, of course, should not be 
strong, since they would then be unnatural and would in- 
dicate precocity, which should be dreaded as among the 
worst calamities to which childhood is subject. 

Young ladies may allow themselves to be frequently es- 
corted by gentlemen, but should not permit the exclusive at- 
tention of any particular one unless from the divine motive 
of pure affection, which alone can sanctify such association. 

The best girls, the best sweethearts, the best wives, and 
the best mothers are those who have been the intimate but 
innocent associates of young men. 

But so long as so many, especially of young ladies, have 
not been permitted to associate with the other sex, and 
still more have, by flirtations, so vitiated thei;* intui- 
tive perceptions of congeniality that these are no longer 



330 OUR 110 ME. 

safe guides, it is, perhaps, as well to give some advice in 
regard to those eases in which it becomes necessary to sul>- 
stitute reason in place of instinct. 

In the first place, it is necessary to ascertain what direc- 
tion, under the given circumstances, instinct would take if 
it were in a healthy state, or if it were to act under more 
favorable conditions. 

Its action is as strictly subject to law as that of gravita* 
tion and may be studied with the most satisfactory results. 
Love's preferences are not unreasonable. The tall, spare 
<lark-eyed, young man does not single out the plump, 
blonde, blue-eyed maiden without a cause. 

The rosy cheeked brunette, with face and shoulders 
shaped like her father's, does not toss her raven locks invit- 
ingly to the blue-eyed, fair-skinned, short, stout and san- 
guine young man, from any mere whim of lawless caprice. 
The liand that guides the stars is not more unswerving 
than the law of sexual preferences. Nor is this law hid- 
den and inscrutable. It lies upon the surface and may be 
easily discovered and formulated. 

Briefly stated, it is simply the law by which individual 
eccentricities are prevented from coming under the law of 
entailment, or niore properly, by which the law of entail- 
ment is made to neutralize them. Without this provision, 
eccentricities would perpetually accumulate and reinforce 
themselves until all the affinities of the race would be lost 
in unapproachable differences. 



THE IMPORTANT STEP, 331 

Just in so far as one departs from symmetry in his own 
physical or mental make up, this law causes him to prefer 
in the other sex, those opposite peculiarities wliich will 
counterbalance his own, and which, when blended, and 
subjected to the law of heredity, re-establishes the lost 
symmetry. Each sex desires in the other the complement 
of its own eccentricities. There is a neutral pouit where 
each desires its own likeness. This point is absolute sym- 
metry and perfection. It corresponds to the neutral point 
of a magnet. On either side of this point like eccentrici- 
ties repel, and unlike attract. 

If a human being could be found perfect and symmetri- 
cal in all respects, that person would be drawn toward one 
of the other sex exactly like himself. This law of sexual 
preference would in his case be entirely suspended, as 
there would be nothing for it to do. 

He would be left to act in accordance with another law, 
which is antagonistic to that of sexual preferences. It is 
that by which we are drawn toward those possessing the 
.same peculiarities as ourselves. 

These two tendencies, though antagonistic, are not in- 
consistent. The one acts between the sexes, the other 
between those of the same sex. In the case of perfect 
Bymmetry which we have supposed, the latter law would 
act even between persons of opposite sexes. 

Human eccentricities may be conceived as arcs of circles 
circumscribed about the point of absolute perfection. The 



332 OUR HOME, 

field of this sexual law lies within these circles, and the 
strongest affinity is that between corresponding arcs which 
would be joined by a line passing through the center. 

Having discovered the law then, all that is necessary in 
order to make application of it when our instinctive per- 
ception of conjugal adaptation becomes untrustworthy, is 
simply to ascertain our own peculiarities, excesses and de* 
ficiencies, and match them with opposite ones in the other 
sex. 

There is a limit, however, to the degree of difference 
that is permissible. It should never be so great that each 
cannot sympathize with the other, and take an interest in 
those things which interest the other. The lady who \i 
unusually refined will naturally be attracted by a man not 
over refined, but somewhat gruff, and she will often b< 
* proud of his deep voice and uncombed hair. Yet coarse 
ness and vulgarity she cannot sympathize with, and shoul<^ 
never seek that degree of difference. One who is musica! 
need not select one who cannot distinguish one tune from 
another; but the one should be sufficiently endowed, at- 
least, to appreciate the superiority of the other. 

It is not so necessary that there should be a diversity 
in respect to talent, as in respect to character and disposi* 
tion. The talents, tastes and proficiencies may be in the 
same general line in both parties, but all physical peculiar- 
ities and all eccentricities of disposition should be consci 
entiously submitted to the law of sexual preference. 



TUE IMPORTANT STEP. 333 

But a right matrimonial selection is not all that is nee- 
essary. The preservation of love is the finest of the fine 
arts. To win a heart is within the capacity of most men, 
but to keej) it lies within the power of few. He who shall 
discover the magic secret of preserving love, and shall in- 
duce the world to adopt it, shall confer the grandest bless- 
ing ever yet conferred by mortal. He shall deserve a 
prouder fame than ever draped a funeral car, or marched 
beneath a nation's drooping banners. Humanity shall 
write his name close beside that which is written upon the 
universal heart. 

This tribute will not seem overwrought to those who 
understand and realize how much of human sin is traceable 
to the absence of love in parentage. The world can never 
know how large a part of its idiotic, its intellectually and 
morally deformed, were the unwelcome offspring of un- 
loved and unloving mothers. 

It cannot be that loVe was intended only for life's rosy 
dawn, that its first thrill is its death throe. Could God so 
mock the brightest and sweetest hopes of earth as to or- 
dain that love should grow cold and vanish like a summer 
dream while yet the fragrance of the orange blossoms lin- 
gers, and the bridal vow still trembles on the unkissed lips? 
Is it true that love is but the brilliant rainbow that spans 
the storm wrapt arch of life, and trembles for a moment 
through the silver mist of human tears, then fades forever 
while we gaze ? 



334 OUR HOME. 

We cannot, will not, believe that God has made the hu> 
man heart to single out this one gay hour from all the 
hours of life, as the brightest star in all the firmament of 
human joys, while yet that star is but a meteor which dart& 
a moment, flame-winged and glorious, then sinks and falls,^ 
consumed by its own breath, leaving behind its brilliant 
train a darkened path forever. Ah no ! the very law of 
heredity demands the preservation of love. Nature pun- 
ishes its withdrawal with intellectual and moral idiocy. 

The magic secret of which we spoke lies not in the 
means of preserving love, but in securing the world's con- 
sent to use the means that lie within its reach. There i& 
no secret in the means. 

They are contained in the formulated expression of a 
well known law that love cannot live unless its physical 
phase is entirely and completely subjected to its spiritual. 

Spiritual love lives by its own right, but the physical 
lives only by lease of the spiritual. They can live together 
only on one changeless and eternal condition, and that 
condition is the perfect supremacy of the spiritual over 
the physical. This then is all that is necessary to the pres- 
ervation of wedded love. When this condition is reversed 
the spiritual phase soon dies altogether, and at last even 
the physical itself, and two hearts that once beat together 
are severed past reuniting. 

'Tis passing strange that the world so stubbornly re» 
fuses to profit by its own experience. Every untried ship 



THE IMPORTANT STEP. 335 

that sails so proudlv from the port with its "freif:lit of 
spirits twain" passes on ever}' side a shivering wreck ; yet 
they heed not the wailing cries from the perishing, but 
sail straight onward to the fatal rock on which nature has 
set the seal of her deepest damnation. 

We have pointed out the divine means by which alone 
love can live. Try it, O man ! O woman ! and be blessed. 
Try it by all the holy visions of your hopeful youth. Try it 
by all the divine significance of heredity, by all that being 
signifies, by all the prayers and tender yearnings at the 
cradle side, by your hopes of heaven, try it. 

Let woman remember that this doctrine appeals to her 
with doubled force. It is through you, O woman, that the 
world must heed it. Whatever other wrongs you may sub- 
mit to, whatever rights may be denied you in the social 
world, remember that in this matter you should proclaim 
yourself the sovereign ruler, nor brook a question why. 
Your voice may be silenced in the roaring mart, you may 
be pushed j^iide by the mad crowd, but behind the silken 
folds that hide the sanctity of wedded joy you are the 
sovereign divinely ordained. By the necessities and consis- 
tencies of your being, by every argument from the exhaust- 
less realm of natural history, by every law of nature and 
of God, yod bear the badge of rightful sovereignty, 

* fair youth, too timid to lift yonr eyes 
fo the maiden with downcast look, 
hA yon mioj^Ie the gold and brown of your onria 
Together orer a book; 



V 



336 OUR HOME. 

A flottering hope that she dare not name 

Her trembling bosom heaves; 

And your heart U thrilled, when your fingers mea^ 

As you softly turn the leaves. 

" Perchance you two will walk alone 
Next year at some sweet day's close, 
And your talk will fall to a tenderer tone, 
As you liken her cheek to a rose; 
And then her face will flush and glow, 
With a hopeful, happy red; 
Outblusliiug all the flowers that grow 
Anear in the garden-bed. 

** If you plead for hope, she may bashful drop 
Her head on your shoulder, low; 
And you will be lovers and sweethearts then 
As youths and maidens go: 
Lovers and sweethearts, dreaming dreams^ 
And seeing visions that please, 
With never a thought that life Is made 
Of great realities; 

** That the cords of love must be strong as death 
Which hold and keep a heart. 
Not daisy-chains, that snap In the breeze, 
Or break with their weight apart; 
For the pretty colors of youth's fair mom 
Fade out from the noonday sky; 
And bliLHhing loves in the roses bom 
Alasl with the roses die! 

*' Bnt the love, that when youth's mom is pss^ 
Still sweet and true survives. 
Is the faith we need to lean upon 
In the crises of our lives: 
The love that shines in the eyes grown dim. 
In the voice that trembles, speaks; 
And sees the roses th;\t a year ago 
Withered and died in our cheeks; 

" That sheds a halo round ns still, 
Of soft immortal light. 
When we change youth's golden coronal 
For a crown of silver white; 



THE IMPORTANT STEP. 

A love tor sickness and rnr health, 
' For rspture and for leara; 
That will live tot us, and bear with aa 
Thconfuh all our mortal years. 

" And snch there Is; there are lovers hero. 
On the brink ot the grave that stand, 
Who shall cro» to the hilla beyond, and mlk 
Forevei hand in hniiil! 

Pnt;, ^nth and iti;(<d, thut your end be theiiK- 
Who are Joined no more to port; 
For death cornea not to the living (oul, 
Hot age l« the loTing bearti " 



LEAVING HOME. 



Y one must leave hie home. The young 
it cannot forever nestle beneath the pro- 
ng wing of its mother. It is a law of 
itself that we cannot always stay at 
e. If the children were to remain at 
e through life, if this were the natural 
r of things, the institution of home would 
mpossible, for each home would grow 
the accumulating generations, till at 

jjth it would outgrow the boundaries that 

must define a home, and the institution would be lost in 
general society. To avert this disaster nature has ar- 
ranged tliat the child shall leave his home when he has be- 
come competent to care for himself, and should oi^nize 
another home. Thus each generation repeats the pro- 
gramme of the preceding. 

The proper function of the home is to serve as the nur- 
sery of the race, to protect the young germs of manhood 
and womanhood till they have become sufficiently strong 
to compel society and the world to yield them the required 
physical and mental sustenance. And yet this metaphor 



V 

I 



LEAVING HOME. 339 

hardly serves our purpose, since the child does not leave 
his home to enter into the great tide of the world and be- 
come a floating speck on the turbulent surface of society, 
but, like the young tree, he is simply transplanted from 
the nursery to become the fruitful source of another nur- 
sery. There is no natural requirement of life that is not 
preceded by a desire and impulse in that direction. Ac- 
cordingly the young man, as he approaches the age of ma- 
turity, begins to feel the gentle stimulus of a curious 
enterprise urging him to look beyond the walls of the old 
home out into the great world. He hears the distant hum 
of the great city, he feels the electric throb of the rushing 
train, and longs to mingle in the ceaseless tumult of life, — 

In the strife of brain and pen, 

'Mid the rumble of the presses 
Where they measure men with men. 

Under the impulse of this feeling, he leaves the old 
home, but not forever. No young man or woman ever 
leaves home with the intention of abandoning it forever* 
The dutiful child carries away the home with him. He is 
himself a product of the home. • Every feature of his char- 
acter reflects the character of the home. As the tree re- 
cords the character of the soil and climate, so the young 
man carries ever with him the old home. Every mother 
is carried into the city on the brow of her son. Her care, 
her love, her examples, her prayers, are all written there. 
The city knows the country in this way. It reads the 



340 OUR HOME. 

history of the country on the brows of the farmer boys. 
How careful, then, should parents be in regard to these 
reports which they are sending into the cities. The little 
home that nestles among the hills shall be published to the 
world, and the silent influence of its daily life shall blend 
with the surging passions that drive the tide of human life 
along the crowded streets. 

Mother I your life is not insignificant. It is not and 
cannot be isolated from universal significance, for your 
boy shall bear it into the great tide that never ebbs. The 
story of the fireside is written upon the altars of great ca- 
thedrals, in senate chambers, and in the busy mart. It is 
inscribed in invisible characters upon the sides of steam- 
boats and railway trains, and on the marble fronts of the 
brilliant temples of trade. The gi-eat outward world of 
commercial storm and sunshine, of laughter and weeping, 
of honor and "dishonor, draws its life from the home. It is 
linked to the hearthstone by a thousand ties that run far 
under the surface of society. The leaving of home is an 
experience in one's life freighted with momentous conse- 
quences. It is a fact in botany that the critical period in 
the life of a plant is when it has consumed all the albumen 
stored up in the seed for its support, and is just beginning 
to put forth its tender little rootlets into the outer soil, to 
draw henceforth in independence its life from the earth's 
great storehouse. So the critical and dangerous period of 
a child's life is when he has burst the environments of 



LEA VING HOME, 341 

home, and steps out from the little quiet circle to earn his 
first morsel of bread with his own hands, and to negotiate 
independently with the great crafty world. This is the 
period that tries the character and tests its genuineness. 
If the young man withstands tl;e shock that comes with 
the first wild consciousness that he is in a city, and that 
the currents and counter currents of life are dashing 
in bewildering torrents at his feet, if amid the surges and 
the clinging spray, he stands firmly anchored to the rock 
of home-born principle, if he does not grow dizzy and mad 
with the ceaseless roar and rumble, if he, in safety, passes 
for the first time the brilliant fronts of illuminated hells, 
and with mother's benediction on his lips, turns coldly 
from the first alluring invitation of the tempter, he has 
passed the fearful crisis of his life. We would not, of 
course, contend that the only danger to this young man 
from city influences comes with his first actual entrance 
into the city, that he is never in danger after he has once 
passed by a brilliantly lighted den of iniquity. 

We simply mean that if the young man succeeds in 
resisting the temptations that beset him during that period 
in which he feels the elation of his independence, he has 
passed the most ciiticiil period. This is the period in 
which the young man's cliaracter is particularly suscepti 
ble to evil influences, and if he succeeds in establishing his 
social relations in the city on the proper basis, and becomes 
himself established as a permanent member of society, he 



342 OUR HOME, 

is gomparativelj safe. There is always a feeling of romance 
which accompanies the young man on his first entrance 
into the city. There is a poetry in the rhythmic vibrations 
of the living mass. He feels himself a part of this mass, 
and in a certain sense he feels that he is the mechanical 
equivalent of its never ceasing motion. Under such cir 
cumstances one is peculiarly susceptible to social influences. 

Those things which awaken the sense of the poetical and 
the romantic are the most powerful in their influences over 
one who is trying to veil the rural and take on the airs of 
city life. Unfortunately for the race, the most poetical 
and romantic in life is often that which is in some way 
associated with profligacy and vice. Thousands of young 
men of literary aspirations and brilliant tcalents, through 
the glittering but deadly romance of Poe's life, and the 
poetry of Byron's gilded vice, have gone out like stars 
which the veil of the storm has hidden. 

Hence the evil influences of the city which appeal most 
strongly to the young country lad, suddenly transformed 
into a poet through the inspiration of the great city, are 
those which clothe themselves witli the livery of beauty, 
which sparkle with the gems of wit, and lull to sleep on 
enticing couches with the drowsy strains of tinkling music. 

Were it not for that perverted principle in human nature 
that sees poetry in vice, the leaving of home would not be 
such a catastrophe to the young man. Parents should be 
careful not to allow their children, except in cases of neces- 



LEAVING HOME. 343 

sity, to leave home until their characters are so far estab- 
lished as to be comparatively safe from the evil influences 
that must surround them elsewhere. Young children are 
never safe away from home. 

There is no age in which a person can enter for the first 
time into general society away from home with absolute 
safety, yet the danger is particularly great to the young. 
If a child is of a romantic turn of mind and enjoys the 
reading of novels, Ids parents should be particularly solici- 
tous concerning his welfare when he goes for the first time 
into society. 

Even a fondness for poetry, which would seem to be the 
purest and most innocent affection of the mind, indicates 
the presence of those characteristics which render one pe- 
culiarly susceptible to the temptations of the great city. 
The wisest precaution that a parent can take wlien his 
child is about to leave home, is to arrange his social rela- 
tions in advance for him. Arrangements can almost al- 
ways be made for his introduction into those circles of 
society where he may find desirable amusements, and at 
the same time be surrounded by good and wholesome in- 
fluences. 

Probably the most "frequent cause for which children 
leave home earlier than they ought, is for the purpose of 
attending school. The practice of sending young children 
away to boarding schools is, however, not so common as 
formerly, from the fact that the common schools are be- 



344 OUR no.vi^:. 

coming more efficient. Boys can now be fitted for colle(5«> 
in many of the free public schools, while they still remaia 
at home and under the supervision of their parents. 

This is certainl}^ better than sending them away. In- 
deed, except in rare cases, the latter practice should be 
abandoned altogether. There are several circumstances^ 
that combine to render children at boarding school pecu- 
liarly liable to danger. In the first place, they are usu- 
ally at that age when they would be most easily led astray ; 
and, second, the occupation at school being of course 
wholly" mental, the body is left without siffficient exercise^ 
and, in consequence, the whole physical being feels a buoy- 
ancy which is very dangerous unless under the guidance 
and oversight of parents. Again, the stringent rules of 
conduct at most boarding schools always have a tendency 
to awaken the mischievous in boys and girls. 

It is a fact which has been proved by the experience of 
every educational institution in which such rules exist, 
that the tendency to violation is almost in direct ratio U> 
the stringencj' of the rules. Consider, for example, the 
ordinary boarding school rules relative to the association 
of the sexes. In many cases the young man might call 
upon a lady school-mate with profit to both parties, if there 
were no rules prohibiting such an association, but when a 
young man calls clandestinely upon a young lady, the se- 
cret sense of having violated rules whose authority they 
are supposed to recognize often has a disastrous effect upon 



LEAVING HOME. 345 

their whole moral nature. But whatever we may believe 
concerning the proprietj' or impropriety of such rules, it 
cannot alter the fact of their existence in almost every sem- 
inary and boarding school. The rules may be the choice 
of the smaller evil. On this subject, however, we have our 
doubts, and yet we do not deny that there might be danger 
without them. 

Under the circumstances we think the wisest course for 
parents is to secure the education of their children where 
they can exercise a personal supervision over them. What- 
ever may be thet)ccasion for leaving home, whatever may 
have been the character of the home, there comes to 
every soul at that moment a pang of regret which scorns- 
the finest ministries of language. Earth has no more pa- 
thetic scene than that divine tableau of youth's departure 
from the old home where mother and child, beneath the 
changing colors of joy and sorrow, stand folded in the final 
embrace amid the silence of tears and kisses. That gush 
of holy emotion serves a purpose in the economy of our 
nature ; it is to bind the soul with cords of everlasting 
remembrances to that firm anchor in the great deep of life, 
the home of childhood. 

" I never knew how well I loved 
The little cot where I was born, 
Until I stood beside the gate 
One pleasant, early summer morn, 
And listened to my mother's voice. 
She spoke such words as mothers speak— 
Of cheer and hope — and all the while 



OUR HOME. 

Tb» tMx droiN flistan«d on Iiet cheak 
A&d liMii ibe tnmed and placked  M 
Hut gienr beside ilie cottuge door, 
And. BmiliDg, pinned It to my coat, 
A< she bad oltan dops befora. 
IweDtdiTity: 'twas lonjc >ro, 
Btill «Ter, till mr Ute shall cIom, 
"Os dearest tieaaore I can kiMW 
WIU ba a faded Utile loae." 



MEMORIES OF HOME. 




EAR to us still are the friendships we formed 
at the public schools, and hard was the 
breaking of those ties, yet we cherish no 
such memories of our school-mates as we do 
of home and mother. 

If we have not already sundered the ties of 
home, the time will come all too soon when 
the silken cord ipust be severed. This 
thought should make us eager to enjoy alL 
we can the sweet dream of childhood. If we 
are making preparations for a new home 
which the poetry of youth has painted with 
brilliant colors, we should not forget that the 
walls of that new home must be forever dec- 
orated with the picture of the old one. You 
may place the wide expanse of ocean between 
the two homes, but memory will paint the 
home of your childhood, and whatever you 
may say or do, will persist in hanging the 
picture on the walls of your parlor, your chamber, and 
your library. We may make our new home all that wealth 




348 OUR HOME. 

and taste can produce, we may lavish upon it all the rich 
accumulations of youth and manhood, but beside the costly 
paintings that adorn the walls of its parlor, there must hang 
that ^Id picture. Do what you will, it must hang there 
forever. If you take it down, an invisible hand rehangs 
it. It is a magic picture, and it requires not the light of 
day to see it. Ton can see it better in the hushed still* 
ness of the night than in the light of day. If the associa- 
tions of that old home have been unpleasant, if there is in 
that picture a mother, who, in the little room you used to 
occupy, sits weeping over your waywardness, with the 
dark autographs of sorrow written across her brow, if 
there is a sister with downcast look, a father sitting by the 
fireside with his head resting upon his hands, prematurely 
old because you broke his heart, how will that picture 
haunt your guilty soul in the night, how will its sadness 
embitter every cup of joy, and turn to wormwood every 
pleasure. 

You cannot ask that father's forgiveness, it is too late. 
You cannot go to mother, whose loving hand might, per- 
haps, put a veil over that hateful picture, or hang in its 
place a more beautiful one. It is too late for this, fqr you 
helped bring a coffin to that old home, long, long ago, and 
be assured that coffin will be painted in one comer of the 
picture. You can go co the old home, but tlie shed where 
you played with yoKf little sister will be torn down, the 
house will be changed, everything will look strange except^ 



MEMORIES OF HOME. 349 

perhaps, the old orchard. But this will revive no pleasant 
memories, nothing but the sad day when you quarreled 
about picking the apples, and struck your little brother, 

 

who is now sleeping just back of the house in the garden 
beside his mother. .You can go out there and call his 
name, but he will not hear you. You may strew with 
flowers the grave of father, mother and brother; you may 
erect costly stones, but these will not atone. 

No: dp not wait for that sad day, but while mother and 
father are still alive, and your little brother is with you, 
make home cheerful. Keep mother's forehead smooth, and 
father's hair unsilvered just as long as you can. 

If you cannot love mother and make her happy, you 
cannot truly love and make happy the heart of any woman. 

We exercise the greatest care in selecting the real pic- 
tures with which we adorn our homes, and if we do not 
afterwards like them, we can dispose of them and forget 
them. Why should we not,* then, be infinitely more care- 
ful concerning the character of that picture on which we 
shall be compelled to gaze through life? 

Through the power of memory the influences of hom^ 
again become active in our lives. The peculiar circum- 
stances of any particular portion of our lives after we have 
left the old home, seldom produce lasting impressions upon 
our mii^ds. We are not likely to remember vividly our 
experiences between the ages of thirty-five and forty, at 
least, not in such a way that the remembrance exerts an 



350 OUR HOME. 

influence over our lives and thoughts. But by a wise and 
beneficent plan we are so constituted that the memories 
of our early home, the memories of that period in which 
our characters were shaped, shall be influential through 
life. There seems to be a subtile and peculiar propriety in 
this fact. 

The ordinary influences of life leave a sufiiciently deep 
impression upon our characters as they pass without being 
repeated, or, at least, not oftener than their periodical na- 
ture may ensure. But here we find a special provision 
made to meet a required exception. Just at that period 
in our lives when the good and kindly influences of home 
are supposed to mold into consistent form the chaotic ele^ 
ments of our character, a principle is introduced whereby 
those influences are made to be self repeating through life. 
The instrumentality through which tliis is effected is the 
spirit of poetry which pervades the memorj- of these early 
years. No other period of our lives so lends itself to the 
play of our own imaginations. 

There is nothing in life's experience that so quickly and 
effectually awakens in the heart those better elements that 
ally us " to angels and to God '' as the sacred memories of 
home. This fact constitutes a positive power in our lives, 
and growing out of this fact is the highest duty of life, the 
duty to make the character of our home such that its cher- 
ished memories shall be a developing and gladdening influ- 
ence through life. 



MEMORIES OF HOME. 861 

** O memory, be sweet to me — 
Take, take all else at will, 
So tboa but leave me safe and 8Qimd» 
Without a token my heart to wound. 
The little house on the hill! 

^ Take all of best from east to west. 
So thou but leave me still 
The chamber, where in the starry lin^t 
I used to lie awake at night 
And list to the whip-poor-will. 

" Take violet-bed, and rose-tree red, 
And the purple flags by the mill. 
The meadow gay, and the garden-ground. 
But leave. Oh leave me s^afe and sound 
The little house on the hill! 

** The daisy-lane, and the dove's low plain 
And the cuckoo's tender bill, 
Take one and all, but leave the dreams 
That turned the rafters to golden beams. 
In the little house on the hill! 

^ The gables brown, they have tumbled dowa. 
And dry is the brook by the mill; 
The sheets I used with care to keep 
Have wrapt my dead for the last long sleepy 
In the valley, low and still. 

** But, memory, be sweet to me, 
And build the walls, at will. 
Of the chamber where I used to mark. 
So softly rippling over the dark. 
The song of the whip-poor-will! 

" Ah, memory, be sweet to me I 
All other fountains chill; 
But leave that song so weird and wild. 
Dear as its life to the heart of the child« 
In the little house on the hill! " 



TRIALS OF HOME. 



Bhall consider in another chapter, under 
he head of sorrow and its meaning, those 
;reat sorrows which sometimes visit individ- 
lala, but which are not universal. They 
:onstitute the heroic treatment of the few 
vho languish in the silent and more terrible 
vards of earth's great hospital. 

But by the trials of home we mean those 
housand little annoyances of life whose 
phere of action is for the most part home, 
n their individual capacity they are insigniS- 
ant, and perliaps unworthy of notice, and 
yet their aggregate significance is written in 
dark and heavy lines on many a mother's brow. They are 
the crosses from which none escape, the inevitable experi- 
ences of every human being. Those who acorn them as 
unworthy of notice do not understand their meaning. 

If every human desire were adequate to its own immedi- 
ate gratification, tliere would be no such thing as trials and 
diaappointmenta. But every want of humanity is sepa- 
rated from its gratification by the length and breadth of an 
«£fort, and the greater the want, the longer and broader the 



TRIALS OF HOME. 353 

required effort. And it often happens that the effort is too 
short to span the chasm. There is no system of measure- 
ment by which we can . adapt the effprt to the intervening 
chasm. Every effort of man is an experiment. It is like 
building a light bridge on land, with which to span a 
stream, the breadth of which we have not measured. 
When we come to lay it across the stream it may be too 
short. 

Trials and disappointments for the most part owe their 
origin to this fact, that human effort is found falling short 
of its goal. 

The path of life runs so crooked that we cannot see 
around the curves. Then there are so many junctions that 
the time tables are forever getting mixed up. 

Under these circumstances life can never run smoothly. 
There will be trials as long as humanity exists. 

The mind desires ease, and only so much exercise as is 
prompted by its own spontaneous impulse. When it is 
required to step aside from the path of its own preferences 
there is a spiritual resistance, and a tendency to chafe and 
Eret. These little tendencies and influences are what ws 
mean by the trials of home. 

One has said, '^ It may not seem a great thing to have a 
constantly nagging companion, or boots* that always hurt 
your corns, or linen that is never properly starched, or to 
have to read crossed letters, or go to stupid parties, or 
consult books without indexes, — ^but to the sufferer they 



354 OUR HOME, 

are very tangible oppressions, and in our short space of 
working life not to be made light of." 

No truer words were ever uttered. Who has not no- 
ticed the almost absolute control which an uneasy boot 
will sometimes assert over the whole mind ? 

A sermon to-day may sound almost divine to us in a 
pair of slippers, but yesterday, in a pair of new boots, we 
should have regarded the same sermon as intolerably 
stupid. 

A star actor, if thrown suddenly into the presence of 
his lady love, in a pair of overalls, will appear awkward in 
his movements. 

How fretful we sometimes feel when we are hungry. A 
baked potato will produce such a change in us that we 
hardly know ourselves. The toothache has been known 
to transform in half an hour a saint into a sinner. How 
quickly will music calm an angry child. 

" The trifles of oar daily lives, 
The common thlDprs scarce worth recall, 
Whereof no yisible trace sarvives, 
These are the mainspring after all. 
Destiny is not without thee, bat within, 
Thyself most make thyself." 

All these facts only show what a powerful influence lit- 
tle things may have over us. Our lives are made up of 
moments, and the character of each moment depends upon 
the influences of that moment ; and it requires but a very 
small influence to change the character of a moment. 



TRIALS OF HOME, 355 

All growth is but a perpetual conquest over opposing 
forces. There can be no growth, physical, intellectual, or 
spiritual, except through the resistance to that element in 
which it grows. It is not necessary, however, that these 
conquests should come as the issue of great efforts or over- 
whelming sorrows. The triumphs of life are those which 
we win over self, and these are won on little battle fields ; 
in the kitchen, in the nursery, at the breakfast table, on 
Mondays at the wash-tub, in the stable with a fractious, 
exasperating horse, in the field with the cattle, or amid the 
little vexations and annoyances of every day; as the 
breachy sheep, the broken mowing machine, or the disap- 
pointment of a rainy day. 

It is by trifles like these that human souls are tested. 

In overlooking these little trials, we overlook a very 
important principle along with them. It is that principle 
which distinguishes the effects of little sorrows from those 
of great ones. Simultaneously with the great sorrows 
there is developed in the soul a power, of heroic endurance. 
Most of us have experienced at least one great stroke of 
grief, one which we had contemplated with such a shrink- 
ing that we believed it would be impossible for us to stand 
up beneath its weight; but when the blow came we were 
surprised at our own heroic calmness. This experience 
will always be found to accompany a great sorrow, and 
serve in part as a compensation. This arises from the 
sense of the inevitable which always accompanies a great 



356 OUR HOME. 

stroke. There comes over every one in the moment of 
utter despair a feeling that approaches to satisfaction, and 
so strong is this tendency in some that whefi the despair 
has been found to be groundless, there has actually come- 
with the first instant of relief a wish that it might hay& 
been otherwise, that they might have seen the worst. 

The testimony of Du Chaillu concerning his feelings- 
when he had been stricken down by a lion confirms the 
existence of this principle in human nature. He expresses- 
his feelings as those of perfect satisfaction and resignation 
to his fate. Edgar A. Poe, with his almost divine intuition,, 
makes one of the characters in his '^ Descent into the Mael- 
Strom " experience something of this same feeling. 

These feelings of course are but momentary flashes of 
insanity, but they show that God has implanted in us an 
instinctive satisfaction with the inevitable, however deeply 
it may involve our own souls in pain and sorrow. When 
one refuses to be reconciled to a great bereavement, there 
is still in his heart a secret feeling of rebellion. It may be 
because he possesses this instinct in a less degree than 
others, since all the instincts of human nature 'vary in dif- 
ferent individuals ; but in most cases it will be found that 
his sorrow is superficial and does not take hold on the 
depths of his nature. 

In the little sorrows of life this principle is seldom mani* 
fested. This is why small troubles weigh far more heavily 
upon the heart in proportion to their magnitude than the 



TRIALS OF HOME. 357 

f^eat ones. We are of the opinion, however, that it was the 
'divine plan that this principle should manifest itself even 
in the smallest sorrows and trials of life, but that through 

« 

constant rebellion the race have come to that condition in 
which they do not experience it except in the emergency 
•of great sorrow or danger. 

But however this may be, the cultivation of that instinct 
in us can do no harm, and if we can so cultivate and 
•develop it that we shall feel a sense of acquiescence and 
resignation in every little trial of our lives, till the gnat 
and the mosquito shall seem to us to have rights equal to 
our own, we have surely won a triumph that would become 
An angel's crown. 

This, then, is our advice to those who are weighed down 
with the little trials of life : cultivate the instinct of resig- 
nation, try to feel satisfied with every fate that befalls you. 
This is not an impossible task. Your efforts will be re- 
warded. It will become easier and easier for you to at- 
tempt to do it, until at last your trials will become joys. 
If you cannot feel that God ordained your trials, if you 
oannot regard them as a part of the infinite plan, you must 
-certainly consider them as the just penalty for your own 
transgressions. In either case you can reason yourself into 
a feeling of satisfaction. 

Little sorrows, like the great ones, are disciplinary in 
their nature, and if the sufferer does not degenerate into a 
fretful and irritable being, they will develop his spiritual 



358 OUR HOME. 

health. If he keeps ever in mind that he suffers chiefly 
because his soul is divinely receptive, that his very suffer- 
ing but measures his spirit's capacity for joy, — his charac- 
ter will in the end blossom forth and bear fruits all the 
sweeter for the trials. 

" What's the use of always fretting 
At the trials we shall find 
Ever strewn along our pathway ? 
Travel on, and never mind. 

** Travel onward, working, hoping. 
Cast no lingering look behind 
At the trials once encountered; 
Look ahead, and never mind. 

" What is past, is past forever; 
Let all the fretting be resigned ; 
It will never help the matter — 
Do your best, and never mind. 

" And if those who might befriend yon* 
Whom the ties of nature bind. 
Should refuse to do their duty, 
Look to heaven, and never mind. 

" Friendly words are often spoken 
When the feelings are unkind; 
Take them for their real value, 
Pass them on, and never mind. 

" Fate may tlireaten, clouds may lowor» 
Enemies may be combined; 
If your trust in God is steadfast, 
He will help yon, — never mind." 




SORROW AND ITS MEANING. 




HETHER sorrow should be regarded as pos- 
sessing a rightful place in the economy of 
being, or simply as an intruder, for whose 
stealthy entrance into the halls of joy and 
beauty man is wholly responsible, is a prob- 
lem which many regard as too difficult for 
solution by finite mind, and which it is 
blasphemy to attempt to solve. 
Yet we cannot help asking : Why the mighty wail of 
anguish and pain that goes up unceasingly from the lips 
of Nature ? Why does the rose conceal a thorn ? Why 
blossoms the loveliest flower just where the deadly-night- 
shade distills its poison dew upon its snowy petals ? Why 
are the heavens deaf to the cry of wounded innocence ? 
Why are the fairest and the loveliest in the armies of the 
just and good permitted to fall like withered roses before 
the iron hail of treason's hosts? Why has all that is 
good and lovely in human history been bought with blood, 
while virtue's victorious shout is preceded by the martyr's 
shriek ? Can an agency so wide-spread and vast in its 
relations as that of pain and suffering exist in nature, and 
implicate no higher instrumentality than human folly? 



360 OUR HOME. 

It may be said that, since all suffering comes from the 
breach of natural law, and since God has given us the fac- 
ulty of caution, by which we are enabled to guard against 
danger and accidental suffering, it cannot be true that sor- 
row and suffering are natural, and hence divinely sauo- 
tioned, but, on the contrary, they must owe their origin 
wholly to the voluntary action of man. •» 

But God has given us no faculty by which we can pre- 
dict an earthquake. He placed us upon the earth before 
he had finished it, while yet his engines were roaring, and 
his furnaces glowing, while the deadly sparks were still 
flying from his mighty anvil. 

Now, in order that man should be wholly responsible for 
pain and suffering, he should have faculties sufficiently 
powerful to grasp and analyze the divine plan, so that he 
might anticipate and make provision for all possible 
movements in the universe. The fact that man cannot 
thus anticipate the changes of direction in the universal 
movement, proves danger and pain and sorrow to be di- 
vinely appointed. The ant cannot anticipate the move- 
ment of the foot that steps upon its little mound. 

Is it not possible, after all, that history with all its crim^ 
son blots, with all its agony uttered and unuttered, with 
all of that which we call evil, but which to God may be 
but a necessary and momentary discord in the tuning of 
being's mighty orchestra, — is it not possible that all this, 
just as it is, constitutes a mighty whole, of whose sublime 



SORRO W AND ITS MEANING. 361 

and infinite meaning we catch as yet but a feeble hint? 
Does not any other philosophy necessarily assign to the 
human will the power to intercept at any desired point 
the Divine plan ? Is not the highest and grandest philos- 
ophy after all, that which lays the human will itself in the 
hands of God, the only '* Uncaused Cause," and acknowl- 
edges the endorsement upon the parchment of human his- 
tory, of him who holds in liib volition the potentialities of 
all history ? 

« 

Sorrow and pain when projected into the atmosphere of 
divine and eternal significance may lose the superficial 
•qualities that we assign to them, and find their places in 
the "eternal fitness of things." 

Perhaps, if we could see creation in its entirety, and know 
the inter-relations of its myriad parts, we should rejoice 
over that which now causes us sorrow. To us, the grand- 
eur of the ocean is marred by the sight of a wreck, but to 
him who holds that ocean in the hollow of his hand, the 
wreck, the pale lips and the despairing cry may be nec- 
essary to the expression of a higher and grander meaning. 
The toad sees evil and only evil in the crushing wheel of 
the fire-engine as it flies on its errand of good. So we, in 
our worm-like ignorance and isolation can see nothing but 
•evil in the engines of sorrow that pass over our souls, where 
they must pass, since our souls lie across their path. 

The univei'se is all of one purpose, "so compact" that if 
we could know perfectly any nook or corner we should 



362 OUR HOME, 

know all, for the awful secret of the Absolute is concealed 
in every finite entity. If we could read all the meaning 
there is in a single strain of music, we could translate the 
infinite harmonies of the universe. Could we tell why an 
atom of oxygen prefers an atom of potassium to one of gold 
we should know not only the secret of love's caprice, but 
the essence of the Divine Fatherhood. 

r 

" Flower in the crannied wall» 
I plack yon oat of the cranDies;^- 
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
Little flower, — ^but if I could understand 
What yon are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what God and man is." 

Human knowledge cannot reach the essence of things* 
We cannot know our dearest friend only a few manifesta- 
tions of him. The ulterior essence that makes all things & 
unit, we can never know. We are like insects viewing the 
motions of a machine. To them each wheel moves independ- 
ently and from its own caprice. So we regard each move- 
ment in the universe as separate and independent. The 
belts and bars and gears by which each and every move- 
ment is linked with every other, lie beyond the horizon of 
our vision. If we could but discern the inter-relations of 
things, we might learn that the grandest event in human 
history is linked in sequential relation with the flutter of 
an insect's wing, and that the annihilation of an atom and 
a star would be equal catastrophes. Perchance we might 
see, in the ineffable light of that awful vision, how po- 



SORRO W AND ITS MEANING. 36» 

tential joys unspeakable have been bom in darkened chani' 
bers; how every wreathed casket bears a universal min- 
istry, and that, 

'* The brightest rainbows ever play 
Above the fountains of our tears." 

But sorrow has a more obvious ministry than that which 
is discerned only by such generalization. If, then, sorrow 
is a natural agency; that is, if we have been made capable 
of sorrow, and then placed in a world of danger and disas- 
ter where the causes of sorrow cannot be anticipated, 
surely this sorrow and affliction must have an individual 
ministry commensurate with its cost, or the wisdom of Him 
who ordained it is implicated. We may rest assured that 
sorrow serves some purpose in the economy of being, as 
definite as that of magnetism and light. We cannot reach 
the secret of its deepest meaning, and yet there seems 
to be within us a spiritual instinct that seeks to justify its 
existence and to find in it a ministry. 

*' The gods in bounty work up storms about voi. 
That give mankind occasion to exert 
Their hidden strength, and throw out into practice 
Virtues that shun the day, and lie concealed 
In the smooth seasons and calms of life." 

Pain and sorrow are wasting processes of the soul, just 
iS labor is a wasting process of the muscles. But who 
does not know that this very waste is the only condition 
under which a muscle can grow strong ? If you wish to 
strengthen any muscle, the first thing to do is to weary 



304 OUR HOME. 

that muscle by labor. A muscle grows strong only in the 
process of recuperation, the act of recovering a loss. It is 
a universal law of nature that every loss is just a little 
more than repaid. 

Now sorrow is the labor of the spirit. It is the instinct* 
ive struggle of the spirit against the effects of maladjust- 
ment, and sustains to it precisely the same relation that 
physical labor sustains to the muscle. Every adult soul 
that has never known a pang of sorrow has long since 
ceased to grow. 

It is true that the soul does not require pain with that 
degree of regularity with which the muscles require labor, 
but it is simply because, through memory and reflection, 
the influence is distributed. A single great stroke of sor- 
row will often soften,* subdue, and ripen a whole life, for, 
aince it is lived over and over again in the silent solitude 
of thought, it becomes life-long in its ministry. Who has 
not read this sacred ministry of sorrow on those brows of 
saintly triumph, — the thrones of peace ? 

We have not yet, it is true, caught the divine secret of 
how justice is maintained in the unequal distribution of 
human suffering. 

We must, at once, and forever, abandon the idea that it 
can be found along the narrow line of individual merit. 
The world has sought it there long and diligently, and 
found it not. 

One student is compelled by his instructors to practice 



SOR&O W AND ITS MEANING. 365 

more Uours a day in a gymnasium than another. The 
practice is irksome, and the other is allowed to sit with 
folded arms in smiling complacency, while his companion 
toils at the rope and bar. To this young toiler there 
could be nothing more unjust, for, like most students, he 
does not look forward to the effects of the discipline to 
which he is subjected. And yet in the future years his 
proud physique and glow of health beside his friend's 
puny form and pale cheek, may prove that the injustice 
was on the other side. There may not, however, be in- 
justice in either case. 

Perhaps the gymnasium is not the treatment best 
adapted to the weak student. Perhaps his constitution is 
such that he is incapable of developing a strong physique, 
and, perhaps, he could more surely reach the height of his 
physical capacity through the ministry of some gentler ex- 
ercise. It is wisesf to allow the physician under whose 
superintendence he is placed to decide these questions. 
Perhaps, again, these physicians may see in the stronger 
student the germs of a possible ministry, whose fruition 
will require the fullest development of all his physical 
powers. It may be that the forces of creation have con- 
spired to make him by nature a performer of great physical 
deeds, a builder of bridges, and a leveler of mountains. 
One, at sight of whose mighty achievements, his fellows 
will bow in the willing acknowledgment of conscious in- 
feriority. All these conditions and qualifications may 



366 OUR HOME. 

have been discovered by those having charge of the twc 
students. 

Now let us suppose the students actually incapable of 
perceiving the reason for the difference in treatment to 
which they have been subjected. They cannot understand 
that the purpose which nature intended them to serve in 
the economy of being has any relation whatever to this 
problem of justice which they are trying to solve. 

Does not this illustration cover all phases of the great 
problem of human sorrow? Are we not all in a vast gym- 
nasium, under the superintendence of one who not only is 
the architect of the gymnasium, but who has adapted its 
every appliance to the requirements of our spiritual mus- 
cles? Every obstacle to our spiritual progress, every 
temptation, every pang of sorrow, is a weight or a cross- 
bar in that great gymnasium, and we in our infinitesimal 
knowledge and prescience can weigh only the justice or 
injustice of apparent discrimination. We murmur as we 
bend beneath the weight of grief, and bitterly complain as 
we are made to revolve in agonizing contortions around 
the cross-bar of adversity. Yet could our eyes be tem- 
pered to the light of an universal sun, and we permitted 
to pierce the starry vistas of infinite meaning, with one 
glance through the lens of infinite intelligence, beneath 
the burning focus of that lens how would the nebulous 
haze bum from off the shining disk of this great problem. 
Justice. 



SORRO W AND ITS MEANING. 307 

Perhaps the divinest ministry of bereavement and sorrow 
is seen in the lofty moods that grow out of it, and that lift 
the soul above the reach of its own discipline ; till it can 
stand with face wreathed in the smile of peace, subdued 
and tender and god-like, while with never a sigh it beholds 
the waves of desolation sweep over its fondest hopes. Thou- 
sands of souls have been educated in sorrow's school till 
they were able to do this. Almost every one has experi- 
enced certain exalted moods in which he has felt himself 
above and beyond the reach of all outward conditions; and 
clinging to the one fact of his existence and its inward re- 
lations, he has felt that he could smile at every possible 
catastrophe. It is sorrow alone that gives us the capacity 
for this the divinest of moods. How weak and tAseleas are 
those " pulpy souls " that never have known afiSiction ! Such 
are the ones that cover their faces and flee from the scene 
of suffering. They are the feeble characters that tremble 
and fall when shaken by great emergencies. But who are 
they that stand calmly and firmly against the fiercest charge 
of calumny. It is they who know the meaning of midnight 
watching and buried hope. It is they who have put the 
cup of sorrow to their lips and held it there till they have 
drained the bitter dregs. 

** The grape mast be crashed before 
Can be gathered the glorious wine; 
So the poet's heart mast be wrang to the core 
Ere his song can be divine/' 

We cannot doubt that every xjang, every disappointment, 



368 OUR HOME. 

eveiy blinding stroke of grief, holds in potentiality, a bless^ 
ing that in some way follows a law analogous to that phys- 
ical law of recuperation by which wasting, wearying toil 
ministers to muscular strength. The blessing may not 
always be immediate and visible, it may not, indeed, always 
be to our own selfish selves, but somewhere in eternity to 
the sum of all being. It would be impious to attempt to 
trace its divinely appointed course. It may require eternity 
to solve the problem of a blighted hope. We are silent 
when they ask us to point out the hidden blessing in war's 
dread scourge; or when the scorpion lash of pestilence 
smites the back of dying Memphis; or when the brilliant 
foot-lights with fiery fingers have caressed the oily scenery 
and the public hall becomes a tomb for charred and un- 
known corpses. We are staggered by the awful mystery 
when the light-hearted girl steps from out the merry throng, 
and reappears in sable drapery with a story on her brow. It 
requires a quick ear to catch the secret from the frozen lips 
of death, when the fair youth who but yesterday plucked 
the wild , roses to twine in golden hair, comes to-day to 
those same woodland haunts to gather roses for lovers 
speechless tribute, that he may lay them on the pulseless 
bosom of the maiden he adores. 

But notwithstanding all this, we cannot resist the con- 
viction, which comes to us with the force of an instiuctp 
that sorrow is a natural phenomenon and bears the en- 
dorsement of the Divine hand. How else can we explain 



SORRO W AND ITS MEANING. 369 

the philosophy of that instinctive acquiescence in the 
ineyitable, of which we have spoken in the preceding 
chapter? Why, when the shadow of the angel's wing falls 
on the face of one we love, do we almost instinctively turn 
to the physician to learn if no power could have saved ? 
and why that sigh of relief when he assures us that the 
result could not have been otherwise. The inevitableness 
of a friend's death will partially reconcile us to our be- 
reavement. When one knows that he must die, he is iisually 
cairn and. resigned, but he is wild while there is hope. Why 
is this? Why does utter despair always gives birth to 
calmness and resignation ? Is it not a hint from the infalli- 
ble book of human instinct, that whatever may be true of 
moral accountability and free agency, it is not inconsistent 
with a higher and grander truth that, in the infinite alti- 
tude of divine meaning, "Whatever is, is right?" We 
cannot see the purpose that is subserved in the universal 
economy by the poisonous plant, by thorn and sting, and 
deadly fang, yet the highest philosophy assigns to them a 
consistent meaning, even while it acknowledges that mean* 
ing to be above and beyond the proudest effort of human 
analysis. I cannot say that I ought not to suffer, till I am 
able to analyze every relation of my being. This I can 
never do. I cannot find in the great machine a single 
gearing by which one wheel is connected with another. 

" Yet I donbt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs, 

And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns." 
24 



370 OUR HOME, 

la it not possible, nay, probable, that the same great 
principle in the universe which creates the deadly night- 
shade, and arms the insect with a fatal gland, also arms 
even ignorance with that which slays the objects of our 
fondest love ? * 

The mother who bends over a little casket to leave her 
triune gift of roses, tears, and kisses, upon lips that never 
more will lisp her name, may yet perceive, in the light of a 
higher revelation, that though the rose-wreathed casket 
bears the ashes of her cherished hopes, it is also ministrant 
to a need she knows not of. 

** Who knows of this inward life of ours ? 
Of the pangs with which each joy is bom ? 
Who dreams of poison among the flowers, 
Or sees the wound from tlie bidden thorn, 
O'er which we smile when most forlorn ? 

" Who knows that the change from grave to gay 
Was wrought by the deadly pain we bore, 
As we lay the hopes of years away, 
Like withered roses, to bloom no more 
Upon life's desolated shore ? 

"Who knows, as we tread these careless ways. 
That we think of our sainted dead the whilo» 
That the heart grows sick, in summer days. 
For a blessed mother's tender smile. 
That held no taint of worldly guile ? 

V «< Who knows of the tremulous chords of loTt^ 

To the lightest touch that vibrate still. 
As under her wing the stricken dove. 
Unmurmuring folds~although it kili-— 
The cruel mark of the archer's skill ? " 



The W^idow'k Home. 



THE W^IDOWS HOME. 




WORK treating of home and the various 
phases of the home-life, could not be con- 
sidered complete, were no chapter de- 
voted to the widow's hon.e. For the 
widow's home finds its justification in the 
normal and primitive constitution of 
things, as proved by the undisputed facts 
that marriage is an institution of nature, 
and that no organic hiw demands the 
simultaneous dissolution of husband and 
wife. Indeed, such a coincidence is of re- 
markably rare occurrence. 

Widowhood, then, is an ordinance of 
nature, and perhaps the strongest evi- 
dence that sorrow holds a rightful place 
in the universal economy is to be found 
in this fact. 

If, then, widowhood is inevitable, it 
seems right that provision should be 
made for its possible occurrence, at least, in so far as 
occasional and wholesome contemplation can so dispose 



372 OUR HOME. 

our minds that the dark angel cannot come to us or 
ours by absolute surprise. We do not mean bj this 
that husbands and wives should perpetually dwell upon 
the possible catastrophe of each other's death. This- 
would be entirely unnatural. Indeed, nothing so surely 
indicates a morbid condition of the whole being as a con- 
stant tendency to dwell upon the possible death of our- 
selves or our friends. It indicates a disordered state of 
the nerves to be unable to sleep in consequence of a con* 
stant dread of fire. And yet it is surely the duty of all to 
make due provisions for such a catastrophe by way of fire- 
escapes. So while we should not allow ourselves to be ii^ 
constant dread of bereavement, we should in our thought 
and meditation frequently acknowledge to ourselves the- 
possibility of such an event, with an effort to realize that 
which we acknowledge. In this way we may prepare our- 
selves for almost any affliction, so that when the alarm 
comes we may not be suffocated and bewildered in the^ 
blinding smoke of our own grief. 

But the liabilities to widowhood impose the duty of a 
more substantial provision. This affliction falls most heavily 
upon her who has leaned with the most childlike dependence^ 
upon the support of her husband. It is, perhaps, natural 
for woman to look to her husband for support and protec- 
tion, but that complete surrender of her individuality which 
makes her a mere household pet, is to be condemned, not 
only as unnatural, but as a sin against herself and society.. 



THE WIDO W*S HOME, 373 

Those who wear the badge of widowhood with the most 
beroic fortitude are those who, ia the stern battle of life, 
have stood abreast with their husbands, who have never 
shirked the aVful responsibility of womanhood, wifehood, 
and motherhood. When the fearful summons came that 
left them to fight alone, it found them with weapon in 
hand. And it was then that the glory and majesty of their 
womanhood shone through a veil of tears with a beauty 
that was divine. It is not the bereavement alone that 
lends sadness to the thoughts of widowhood, but it is the 
fact of added responsibility. There are often young chil- 
dren dependent upon their sorrowing mother, and no mat- 
ter how nobly that mother may have performed her part 
in the conflict of life, in the present conditions of society 
there are few in whose homes would not be felt the sudden 
, interruption and suspension of the husband's business, 
though it were preceded by years of industry and economy. 

It requires something of a fortune, at least more than 
most men possess, in order that the interest alone may be 
sufficient to maintain the home, and to feed, clothe and 
educate a family of children ; so that some form of re- 
munerative labor often becomes necessary even for the 
mother. And this adds to the sadness of the scene, for if 
there is a scene on earth that is sad, it is that of grief 
struggling in the toils of want. 

But we would not be understood to mean that the 
widow's home is always and necessarily the scene of want. 



374 OUR HOME, 

for it is not always, by any means, that there is a family of 
young children dependent on the mother's efforts for the 
supply of all their varied needs. It is, perhaps, as often 
that the children are able to support themselves and their 
mother. Nor is the widow's home ever the abode of un- 
mitigated sorrow. We cannot, it is true, from the very 
nature of the case, eliminate sorrow from the widow's 
home, yet God has so constituted the human heart that 
even amid the darkest scenes of sorrow and affliction there 
come to it hours of mirth and joy. And, perhaps, the 
widow's home, where the necessary conditions of love and 
confidence exist, is not less potent in its formative influ- 
ences upon character, than those homes where sorrow has 
never come. There is something beautiful as well as pa- 
thetic in the family scene where loving children recognize 
mother as the head. The sons and daughters who come 
from families of this kind are usually noble and generous. 
They have learned to be unselfish not only from the heroic 
discipline of their own lot, but from the tireless example 
of a mother's denial and self-sacrifice, qualities which be- 
long emphatically to the widowed mother. 

The angelic qualities of a mother's love never fully re- 
veal themselves till the wand of sorrow touches her heart 
and writes a story on her brow. 

" Arise and all thy taskR fulfil, 

And as thy day thy strength shall be; 
Were there no power beyond the ill, 
The ill could not have come to thee. 



THE WIDOWS aOME. 

"TlMiigh elond uid atorm enoompui tbM 
B« not afflicted Dor kfnld; 
Ihoa kDoweit the sbaduw ooold not b* 
Were there nn aun beyond the iluda. 

"Tot Chj beloTed, dead aod goDe, 

Let sweet, Dot bitter, l«ius b« ihed; 
Vol ' open thy dark saylog on 
Tb» haipt' ai tboDgh th; faith wet* dM 



HOMELESS ORPHANS. 



TREATISE upoD the home life would be in- 
complete without, at least, Bome mention of 
the homeless. We cannot exhaustively con- 
sider any fact without also cousideriug its 
negative. 

The word orphan is one of the saddest in 
human Ungu^e. It is a word at sound of 
which the gayest hearts are sad. It brings 
to OUT mlnda a lone wanderer who finds no 
object on earth to evoke a smile. When the 
child that has a happy home and loving parents imagines 
himself deprived of them, he experiences an oppressive 
feeling that may be likened to that of suffocation. It is 
probable, however, that the actual suffering of the home- 
less is far less than one would naturally suppose, for that 
principle in us which tends to makes us satisfied with th« 
inevitable doubtless asserts itself here. 

When we look upon the cripple who is obliged to sub- 
stitute a wooden crutch for a leg, our hearts are moved to 
pity, and we feel that in some way we owe bim something. 
We cannot feel at ease when we look upon bim, while we 



Wltbont »H»m«. 



HOMELESS ORPHANS. 37 7 

ourselves enjoy the free use of our limbs. But the cripple 
himself has no such feelings. He feels that the wooden 
crutch is his other legL and he in turn pities his unfor- 
tunate neighbor who has lost both limbs. And so it is 
with life. He who dwells in a palace pities him who 
dwells in a cottage, and he in turn pities him who dwells 
in a hovel. In the working of this principle may be dis- 
cerned that law of compensation which underlies all hu- 
man affairs. 

But this fact does not justify selfishness nor allow us to 
neglect the rights of the unfortunate. For in spite of all 
compensatory tendencies the world is full of suffering. The 
air is rent at noonday and at midnight with the wails of 
sorrow and the shrieks of agony. What if every wave of 
sound around the earth could reach our ears ! Think how 
the stifled sob of sudden sorrow would blend with the mu- 
sic where beauty moves to the pulses of the viol, and where 
in the great orchestral movement of human life could be 
found a place for the weird, discordant note of orphaned 
anguish. How the thunderous discords of that mighty or- 
chestra are reduced to harmony by the dullness of our ears I 

Pity is an element of human nature that, in many re- 
spects must be considered as distinct from the disposition 
to help. It is true that they both originate in the primi- 
tive faculty of benevolence, but this faculty seems to have 
these two closely related functions. The feverish and ex- 
travagant desire for wealth that the indolent pauper expe- 



378 OUR HOME. 

riences originates in the same faculty as the thrift and hon- 
est effort of the industrious man, and yet these two products 
are not equally meritorious. Pity in its ultimate analysis 
is doubtless selfish. It is the pain that we experience on 
witnessing pain in others. Of course its chief tendency ia 
in the direction of help, just as any pain leads us to remove 
the cause. But in the case of pity, the tendency does not 
always produce this result. Indeed, it often produces an 
opposite result, as when a lady through excess of pity flies 
from the scene of suffering. After the close of a certain 
battle, Florence Nightingale was called upon to witness 
the most terrible suffering in the hospitals, and to yield 
her tender ministrations to the shrieking and the dying. 
She had under her charge several young ladies as assist- 
ants. As they approached the couch of one mortally 
wounded, torn and mangled and writhing in the awful 
throes of the death agony, these young ladies covered 
their faces and fled from the place. The noble woman 
with a majesty almost divine, with no agitation, no weak- 
ening tears of pity, turned and rebuked them, and com- 
manded them to return. Who of those ladies, think you^ 
possessed most of that god-like love that dares to do and 
die for others? This act on the part of the young ladies, 
however, was not a selfish one in the popular sense of the 
word. They desired to aid the sufferers, they were there 
for that purpose. They were noble and generous, but 
they could not match the ^reat soul of Florence Nightin* 



HOMELESS ORPHANS, 379 

gale, and in their comparative weakness they gave way to 
pity. Neither was Florence Nightingale destitute of the 
power to pity ; she was capable of deeper pity and more 
copious tears of sympathy than her assistants, but she 
crushed down her selfish pity, in order to give free scope 
to the grander sentiment of help. She knew that pity's 
tears could not heal those awful, gaping wounds, and that 
the hour demanded a higher ministration than tender words 
of sympathy. 

But not alone in such an hour does the grandeur of hu- 
man love display itself. The principle of benevolence is 
represented by two classes, the pitiers and the helpers. 
The pitiers are represented by the sentimentalists, who 
speak in touching generalities about the sufferings of hu- 
manity ; the helpers, by the asylums and homes, the public * 
and private charities of the land. One class is represented 
by words and tears, the other by the w^ordless energy that 
feeds, clothes and protects. One orphans' asylum is worth 
more than all the tears of pity ever shed. The grandest 
ministration is that which gives with a heart too noble to 
express its own pain. The divinest love is that which 
builds its own monument, of brick and mortar, with dry 
eyes and lion heart. 

But how shall the homeless orphan profit by what we 
have said on the subject of home and its advantages? 
Surely, if he have no home, there can be no relations 
between himself and *iat institution except negative 



380 OUR HOME. 

relations. The first thing to do, then, is to seek some 
place where he can eat and sleep, and this place he should 
call home, even though it have no other characteristic of 
home than that it affords him a secluded place in which to 
eat his crust, and a protection from the dew and rain at 
night. He should never change his quarters unless he 
can change them for the better. This rule should be ob- 
served as far as circumstances will permit. Perhaps the 
poor reader into whose hands this book may chance to fall 
may not understand the force of this advice. But when 
he subjects it to the light even of that rude philosophy of 
life which he has developed upon the street, we trust it 
will appear plain to him. He should call the place where 
he eats and sleeps home, in order that his heart may not 
lose that sacred word from its vocabulary. He should per- 
sist in eating his meals and spending his nights in this one 
place, in order that he may not lose that divinely bom 
home instinct in which the institution of home has origi* 
nated. If you are a bootblack upon the street, with no 
parents and no home that you can call your own, you must 
surely have some place in which you sleep at night. This 
you can call home, and it will soon come to be in some sense 
a home to you. And if, by blacking boots, you can earn a 
living, you can without doubt earn a little besides, and with 
the saved nickels and dimes, that nobody supposes you 
possess, you can buy good clothes, and thus appear to bet- 
ter advantage on the street and in that society in which 



HOMELESS ORPHANS. 381 

you move. In this world of unjust discriminations^ fine 
vestments are often mistaken for hearts, while real hearts 
wrapt up in rags are often carelessly thrown away. So if 
you have a good heart it is well to wrap it in as fine a 
piece of cloth as you can afford. 

There are few orphan boys or girls who cannot obtain 
good situations, either in the city or in the country, where 
they may be clothed and fed, and be allowed to attend 
school, and to pay for such guardianship with moderate 
labor, in the same condition as the children of the house- 
hold. 

It is no disgrace to be sent to an ^^ orphans^ home." Of 
course such a home cannot be a perfect home, for it lacks 
the elements of " the fireside " and parental love. But it 
has enough of the essential elements to entitle it to the 
name of home. If the semi-public life which is inevitable 
is displeasing to the unfortunate one, let him remember 
that in all institutions of the kind the merits and demerits 
of the inmates are considered, and those who have proved 
themselves most worthy are the first who are permitted to 
avail themselves of the situations in private families that 
are constantly presenting themselves. Officers are em- 
ployed expressly to search out such situations. And an 
orphans' home may be regarded as a kind of temporary ac- 
commodation where orphans are provided for until their 
applications for situations are successful. We believe that 
the active, benevolent element of society, if properly re- 



I 



I 



382 OUR HOME. 



minded of its duty, is capable of absorbing the entire eld* 
meut of the world's orphaned ones. 



«f 



Only a newsboy, under the light 

Of the lamp-post, plying his trade in vain: 
Men are too busy to stop to-night, 

Hurrying home through the sleet and rain. 
Never since dark a paper sold; 

Where shall he sleep, or how be fed ? 
He thinks, as he shivers there in the cold, 

While happy children are safe abed. 

" Is it strange if he turns about 

With angry words, then comes to blows, 
When his little neighbor, just sold out. 

Tossing his pennies, past him goes ? 
'Stop! '—some one looks at him, sweet and mildt 

And tlie voice that speaks is a tender one: 
' You should not strike such a little child, 

And you should not use such words, my son! ' 

" Is it his anger or his fears 

That have hushed his voice and stopped his annf 
'Don*t tremble,' these are the words he hears; 

' Do you think that I would do you harm ? ' 
'It isn't that,' and the hand drops down; 

' I wouldn't care for kicks and blows; 
But nobody ever called me son, 

Because I'm nobody's child, I s'pose.' 

•• O men ! as ye careless pass along. 

Remember the love that has cared for yon; 
And blush for the awful shame and wrong 

Of a world where such a thing could be tmel 
Think what the child at your knee had been 

If thus on life's lonely billows tossed; 
And who shall bear the weight of the sin, 

U one of these ' little ones ' be losti " 



HOMES OF THE POOR 




[ISTORY records no great reforms, no rare 
efforts of philanthropy and love, whose actors 
have not felt the restraint of at least moderate 
want. Out from the ten thousand unpainted 
cottages that dot the land have stalked forth 
the great thoughts and the mightj'- deeds. 
Luxury is the concave lens which disperses 
1 the rays of human energy, while poverty is 

the convex lens which causes them to converge, often 
bringing them to a powerful focus, and like the mirrors of 
Archimedes burning the fleets of the enemy. 

Let no young man despair because he is poor. As well 
might the engine despair because the iron bands confine 
the restless energy of the steam. The engineer computes 
the resistance to physical force in what he terms foot- 
pounds. So poverty is a term that simply designates the 
resistance to the divine energies of a human soul. There 
are two indispensable conditions to the development of 
power in the engine; first the application of heat, and 
second the outward resistance to confine the force gener- 
ated. So in the soul these same two conditions must exist; 



884 OUR HOME. 

the heat of a persistent volition, of a dauntless purpos^ 
must be applied, and also the outward resistance of cir- 
cumstances to confine and concentrate the power thus 
generated. 

The gigantic power of the engine is obtained by confin- 
ing those restless particles of steam which are struggling 
for release, and which, if they do not soon obtain it, will 
burst their iron bands asunder. 

How impotent is the most terrific heat if the steam which 
it generates have no resistance to overcome. Just so with 
the most gigantic volition and the grandest purpose, if they 
are not hedged about by some awful resistance. If they 
have no fetters, either seen or unseen, in some way pro- 
portionate to their own strength, they will be dissipated as 
harmlessly as the vapor which rises at its leisure from the 
open boiler. 

By poverty we do not mean the condition of those who 
moan with hunger and shiver with cold, but more particu- 
larly the condition of that great class whose desires and 
needs are separated from their gratification by the breadth 
of a wearying eflfort. In this sense we attach to the word 
the significance of a natural law, obviously designed and 
ordained by the Creator to meet the necessary conditions 
of human development. 

If we would trace the proudest achievement of human 
genius to its origin, we must follow it back through wind- 
ing pathways, from the brilliant hall, from the deafenin|r 



HOMES OF THE POOR. 385 

thunder of human applause, to the silent, dim-lighted cot- 
tage of poverty. If the gratification of every want lay 
within the leisure grasp of that want, the very atmosphere 
of human society would become pestilential with stagna- 
tion. Go to the sunny tropics where nature with curious 
caprice empties her lap of spoils in the presence of men, 
and behold the weakness, the languor, and the inanity. 
Humanity there has just activity enough to be vicious. 
Where must we go to hear the hum of sj I -idles, to feel 
beneath our feet the jar of rushing trains, i;iid to see the 
fimoky signals of human industry waving over a thousand 
hills? We must go where winter, the genius of poverty, 
throws up his icy bulwark between the wants of man and 
their gratification. 

Force and resistance constitute the eternal polarity of 
existence. The one cannot exist without the other, any 
more than there can be boreal magnetism without austral ; 
any more than there can be action without reaction. 

In order for force, either physical or mental, to be cumu- 
lative the resistance must exceed the force so as to elicit 
the increase. Hence the mission of poverty. 

Not only is poverty necessary to develop human nature 
and make its forces accumulative, but it is necessary to 
prevent the extravagant and irregular expenditure of those 
forces. It may be that human nature absolutely perfect 
would be self-regulating, even when all its desires could be 
gratified without laborious effort ; yet under present condi- 

v25 



386 OUR HOME, 

tions it certainly requires resistance in certain directions. 
The son of affluence soon runs the rounds of all possible* 
pleasures, and then life becomes insipid. We enjoy life's 
blessings just in proportion to their variety and the effort 
that they cost. All pleasures are enhanced by preliminary 
effort. This fact explains the adage that ^^ stolen fruit is- 
always sweetest." It is because of the exciting effort 
which accompanies the unlawful procuring of it. That 
fruit, however, which is bought with honest labor should 
be sweetest, while the most insipid is that which lies 
within the reach of the appetite without the aid of labor. 
When will men learn that ease and rest and luxury are 
misnomers? It is the subtile and divine alchemy of 
sweat which transforms sorrow and languor into joy and 
peace. 

Homes of the poor I Sacred shrines of earth where- 
the altar fires of genius have been lighted. May the 
world forever be blessed with moderate want. The hu- 
man mind is never whole till it has suffered, and it is bet^ 
ter that the angel of poverty should mete out the required! 
suffering in the form of a perpetual restraint, than that it 
should burst like the thunder storm from the azure sky of 
luxury, darkening with its baleful clouds the sun of life. 
The home of the poor is the only home in which disinter- 
ested love can dwell, for the pride that inevitably accom- 
panies wealth is in its very nature selfish, and thus usurps 
a place in the mind that might be occupied by a nobler 



HOMES OF THE POOR. 387 

sentiment. Nearly all the common interest there is in the 
rich family is simply the pride that they take in each 
other's display, and this feeling usually engrosses most of 
the time and energy of the rich. That pride which de- 
lights in the family wardrobe and equipage is simply the 
pride of the several individuals aggregated, and as such 
pride is the excuse of selfishness it is, of course, incompat- 
ible with true affection ; and if affection among the mem- 
bers of the family cannot exist with this pride of wealth, 
surely affection for mankind cannot. This fact is what 
closes the doors of human sympathy against the rich man, 
and compels him to live alone in his glory. Hence it is 
that philanthropic movements and institutions almost al* 
ways originate among the poorer classes. 

The home of the poor man does not necessarily mean 
a home of suffering, save in that humiliation and re* 
straint to which it is necessary for all souls to be subjected 
in order to develop. The poor man's home need not be 
devoid of a certain degree of luxury. Beautiful pictures 
and works of art can no longer be monopolized by the 
rich, for the busy brain of invention has brought them 
within the reach of all. The price of ten cents worth of 
tobacco smoke saved each day for fifteen or twenty days 
will purchase a fine book. The very poorest of men find 
no difiiculty in purchasing this amount of tobacco smoke 
each day. Only think how many days there are* in a life- 
time. Three hundred and thirteen working days in a 



388 OUR HOME. 

year at ten cents a day would give $31.80. Twenty years 
would give $626.00, which would purchase at least five 
hundred volumes, a library of which most men should be 
proud. For five hundred volumes of the best books com* 
prise nearly all there is of pre-eminent worth in literature. 
What an inspiring thought for a poor boy I the gist of all 
literature purchased with the little self denial that it costs 
to refrain from making bacon of one's self. 

Young man I promise us that as soon as you have read 
this chapter, you will begin to lay up ten cents a day, and 
if you will smoke cigars, then be a little more economical 
in other things, and lay up at least five cents. You have 
your life before you, and it would soon be so natural for 
you to lay by the small amount daily, that you would 
drop it from habit into your private treasury almost un- 
consciously. Try it, and reap the harvest. 

" He sat all alone in his dark little room, 

^ His fingers aweary with work at the loom, 
His eyes seeing not the fine threads, for the tears, 
As he carefully counted the months and the years 
He had heen a poor weaver. 



it 



Not a traveler went on the dusty highway, 
But he thought, ' He has nothing to do but be gay; ' 
No matter how burdened or bent he might be. 
The weaver believed him more happy than ha^ 
And sighed at his weaving. 

** He saw not the roses so sweet and so red 
That looked through his window; he thought to be dead 
And carried away from his dark little room. 
Wrapt up in the linen he had in his loom, 
Were better than weaving. 



HOMES OF THE POOR. 

" Joit theo ft vbtle aogel came out of tlie akles. 
And BhDt np bis lemes, and sealsd ap hU ajt». 
And bore him niray (rom the waric at bU loom 
In a tIbIod, and left blm alona by tlie tomb 
0( hkadeuliCtledBugbter. 

" 'Hf darllngt ' be crlsB, ' what a'blesaing was mlnel 
How I siDiied, having yon, against goodnesa dlvfnel 
Awakel O my lost one, m; sweet one, awakel 
Aod I neTer, aa long as I Utb. lor your sake, 
Will sigh at my weaviQgl ' 

" Tbe sonset was gilding his low little tootn 
When tbe weavei awoke from his dream at tlia loon^ 
And dose at hii knee eaw a dear little head 
Alight wlih long caria, — sba was living, not daad,— 
Hb pride and his treasure. 

" He winds tbe fine thread on his sbnttle anew, 
— At thought of hU bleeslng 'twas easy to do, — 
And sings as he weaves, for the Joy ia hU brsai^ 
Peace cometh of striving, and labor Is lest: 
Qn>wn wlM was tbe weavei." 



HOMES OF THE RICH. 



is the duty of the poor man to live withia 

lis income, but it is no less the duty of the 

ieh man to make liis expenditures propor- 

ionate to his income. People sometimes 

lold up their hands in holy horror when they 

ead or hear that some millionaire has spent 

,n enormous sum on his buildings, his ward- 

obe, or his garden ; but they do not stop to 

hlnk that he is thereby discharging a duty 

rhieh he owes to society. He is redistribut- 

Qg the money that lie has gathered. The 

;reBt mass of the people must earn their daily 

_iread by performing labor for others, but 

only the wealthy can hire people to labor for them. Hence 

those who possess wealth and will not spend it in being 

served, are the thieves and robbers of society. No wealthy 

man has any business to live in a cottage. There are poor 

people enough to live in cottages. It is his business to 

live in a palace, and to hire those to build it who live in 

cottages. 

We have, perhaps, used the word gerved unadvisedly. 
We do not mean that the wealthy man discharges his obli- 



HOMES OF THE RICH. 391 

gation to society when he expends large sums to increase 
his personal comforts. He should make his wealth serve 
himself by first making it serve society in the promotion of 
legitimate business enterprise. Nor do we mean that he 
should expend upon his dwelling and for his ovvji personal 
gratification more than can normally and lawfullj^^ minister 
to his comfort^ convenience and SDsthetic faculties. 

And yet there is concealed in the very sentiment of 
-extravagance to which wealth prompts, a kind of compensa- 
tory principle ; one of nature's curative efforts, by which 
the economic interests of society are made self-acting. 
The world's wealth cannot be hoarded by individuals save 
for a brief* period. All attempts to do so are thwarted by 
nature herself through instrumentalities so cunning and 
subtile as to deserve our applause. She has three pro- * 
messes by which she robs the rich man of his unjust acquisi- 
tions and gives back the spoils to the poor. The first 
process she employs when she deals with the miserly rich 
man, the man who has sacrificed all other sources of enjoy- 
ment to this one instinct of hoarding. She has so consti- 
tuted him that this sacrifice, this concentration of all the 
energies of his being upon the one organ of acquisitive- 
ness, necessarily results in the withdrawal of potency 
from the intellectual. The miser's intellect, accordingly, is 
hever broad and comprehensive. He has, it is true, a certain 
degree or kind of intellectuality, but it is for the most 
part of the same nature as that of the fox. He makes a 



392 OUR HOME. 

use of his intellectual powers that is below their normal 
function, and hence tends to weaken them. This is the 
process by which organs and functions become " abortive/* 
as the evolutionists would term it. When the wings of the 
bird are used chiefly for a purpose below their natural 
function they are becoming " abortive." We see the re- 
sult of this process in barn fowl that use their wings only 
to aid their running. Hence hens and turkeys are unable 
to fly any considerable distance without great exhaustion. 

Just so the intellectual wings of the miser are becoming 
abortive, for he uses them not to fly with but simply to aid 
his running. In very many cases we have only to wait 
one generation to see this abortive process completed. 
The children of the miser rarely have the executive force 
to keep the lock upon the father's chest. Thus naturct 
by a process subtler than the necromancy of the Egyptian 
wizard, gives back to the world that which has been taken 
from it. 

Nature makes use of her second method when dealing 
with the energetic, active, shrewd, and executive rich man, 
the accumulator rather than the hoarder. The two are in 
many respects opposite in their characteristics. The meiv 
chant, the manufacturer, and the railroad king show na 
tendency toward the abortive intellect. Indeed, their 
function is usually such as to develop great strength and 
activity of intellect. But the miser proper is one whose 
motto is, ^'a penny saved is a penny earned." His sole 



HOMES OF THE RICH. 393 

delight is in the consciousness of his possessions, and in 
counting and sorting his valuable papers. His money is 
all in bonds and mortgages, hence he lives in idleness and 
gloats over the self-accumulation of his wealth. 

Now this second method which nature employs in her 
ceaseless effort at equalization is simply this: she has 
made human nature such (and consequently society, which 
is but an outgrowth of human nature,) that the individual 
want cannot be met except by a contribution to the gen- 
eral good. Wealth is simply potential gratification. But 
it cannot minister to the desires of him who holds it save 
as it yields a secondary ministration to the general inter- 
est, whose relation with it is the sole source of its poten- 
tiality. The natural wants and desires of man lie within 
comparatively narrow limits. Bacon wisely says, " The per- 
sonal fruition in any man cannot reach to feel great riches.'^ 
A very moderate income will meet all the personal wants 
and desires of man. He cannot want or desire anything 
outside the bounds of his nature. He desires food, but the 
quantity has a very obvious limit, and there must also be 
a comparatively moderate limit to its costliness. He de- 
sires raiment, but, even if his caprice demands golden gar- 
ments, the inevitable limit is easily reached. All the 
potentiality, then, which his wealth possesses, beyond a 
small per cent., must redound to the general good in spite 
of him. The rich man is the smallest stockholder in his 
own wealth. 



394 OUR HOME. 

Two men were once conversing about John Jacob 
Astor's property. One was asked if he would be willing 
to take care of all those millions merely for his board and 
clothing. "No," he indignantly replied, "do you take me 
for a fool ? " " Well," said the other, " that is all Mr. 
Astor himself gets for taking care of it ; he's founds and 
that's all. The houses, the warehouses, the ships, the 
farms, which he counts by the hundred, and is often 
obliged to take care of, are for the accommodation of 
others." "But then he has the income, the rents of all 
this large property, five or six hundred thousand dollars per 
annum." " Yes, but he can do nothing with his income but 
build more houses and warehouses and ships, or loan money 
on moi-tgages for the convenience of others. He's/own<i, 
and you can make nothing else out of it." The world 
ought not to complain so long as it gets ninety-nine per 
cent, of the rich man's income. If the rich man uses his 
wealth in building tenement houses to rent, he not only 
furnishes remunerative labor to the workmen who build 
them, but by his competition he lowers rent and thus con- 
fei*s a general blessing. The same is true if he invests it 
in raih'oads, for the more railroads the more competition, 
and hence the lower the rate of transportation. There is 
but one thing he can do with his money that will not 
yield the general good a much larger contribution than 
himself. He can lock it up in his own vault. But in that 
case it not only yields himself notliiug, but nature will 



HOMES OF THE RICH 395 

make usiB of her first method and will take the money her- 
self and leave his children or grandchildren penniless. 

Nature*8 third method is a modification of her first. 
She uses it in her dealings with the children of the active 
rich man. It is simply that law of which we have already 
spoken in our chapter on ** Homes of the Poor/' by which 
restraint upon desire develops executive power. In the 
children of the rich we see, perhaps, little if any tendency 
to the abortive intellect, but the abortive tendency is 
chiefly or wholly confined to the executive powers. There 
is much difference between earning a dollar, and asking 
papa for it. The boy who toils all day for a dollar and 
brings it home at night, hungry and tired, not only knows 
the value of that dollar, but by such a practice he is 
developing in his soul a power of action that will enable it 
to laugh at every obstacle that earth can offer. Take the 
wealth from the children of the rich and they become 
objects of charity. This is especially true concerning the 
slaughters of the rich. Little prettif things I what can they 
do ? What are their lives worth to their kind ? One good, 
noble factory girl, who has earned her diiily bread auiid 
the roar of machinery, who knows what it is to " breathe 
the factory smoke of torment from the fuel of human 
lives," and on whose heart is stamped, with the die of 
agony, the value of a penny, is capable of yielding a higher 
ministration to the world than a thousand of the pulpy 
daughters of luxury and ease. God bless the toiling 



Vt'JQ OUR HOME. 

factory girls I And may the time shortly come when Social 
Science shall solve the great problems of hunger, and cold^ 
and want, and shall release them from their menial thrall^ 
and place in their hands the golden key to the secret of a 
nobler life- 

We would not be quoted by the poor in justification of 
their poverty. Poverty is unnatural and undesirable ta 
all, and there is little excuse for most people to remain in 
its fetters, making due allowance, however, for exceptional 
cases. Poverty, like temptation and sin, yields its minis- 
try only in the process of being overcome. The tribute 
we have paid to poverty in the preceding chapter would be 
almost as applicable had our theme been temptation, yet 
we would hardly advocate exposing ourselves needlessly to 
temptation for the sake of its possible ministry. 

All normal action is disciplinary, for every possible 
gratification implies an aggressive movement. The eternal 
warfare between want and satisfaction is a natural war- 
fare, and one which cannot cease till the army of creation 
shall give the signal of surrender. And he who refuses 
to engage in this warfare is a traitorous deserter, and 
deserves the deserter's fate. He who is contented with 
poverty, and seeks not to subdue it, must be reckoned with 
this class ; he has mutinied against the generalship of his- 
Maker. 

Wealth, then, if it be the representative and co-relative 
of service done to mankind, so far from being an evil or a. 



HOMES OF THE RICH 397 

necessary accompaniment of moral demerit, is a badge of 
honor. It is the war record which shows how far one has 
triumphed over the divinely appointed opposition to hi» 
progress ; and in this sense may even justly be compared 
with the moral virtues, which are the spirit's war record, 
and show how far it has triumphed, in the spiritual war- 
fare, over the forces of temptation and evil. Wealth is an 
evil only when it is allowed to release its owner from hon- 
orable and worthy labor. No possible condition of life can 
release one who is physically and mentally able, from the 
moral obligation to toil. 

But suppose one inherits a million. Shall he toil for his 
daily bread? No 1 not for his daily bread, but in behalf of 
mankind. We have but a secondary claim upon our own 
powers. Wealth augments our natural endowments. Two 
men with equal talents, the one poor and the other rich, 
possess very unequal power for doing good. So that the 
man who inherits a million should begin life as though he 
were penniless. We do not mean, of course, that he 
should chop wood or learn the blacksmith's trade. But 
that he should regard the million simply as a re-enforce- 
ment of his faculties. He is by so much, a more talented 
man, or rather his natural talents are supplemented by 
that which virtually makes them more powerful. 

The rich in the majority of cases violate the laws of the 
home life, from the fact that they allow their wealth to 
release them from toil, the only thing that can render the 



398 OUR HOME. 

" earth-life worth living." Indolence will render ereij 
possible joy insipid. 

We have said, in the early part of this chapter, that 
those who possess wealth and will not spend it in being 
served are the thieves and robbers of society. But that 
service should be simply for the purpose of releasing them 
from a lower duty in order that they may perform a higher 
duty which their wealth enables them to fulfill. Hence, if 
the wife and daughter will not engage in some form of ser 
vice to their kind, they have no moral right to hire a ser 
vant to serve their food for them. Indeed, they have no- 
moral right to the food itself. Labor is a natural ordi* 
nance, and riches cannot release one from the obligation to- 
a universal law. It is as binding upon the millionaire as 
upon the pauper, and he who seeks to evade this law is a^ 
criminal according to the statutes of the universe. 

Let every rich man's daughter engage in some regular 
and useful vocation ; and thus bless herself by the labor, 
and mankind with the product. Not that we would im* 
pose upon her, simply because she is wealthy, the somber 
duties of a nun. But we would have her labor daily in 
order that she may fulfill the mission of her life, in order 
that she may develop in herself and entail upon the com- 
ing generation that which labor alone can develop. The 
wife who does not, at least, exercise a general supervisiofi 
over her own household affairs is a drone in society. 

There is, however, no objection to the employment of 



UOMES OF THE RICU. 39^ 

domestic servants, provided it be necessary; but that Ia\r 
of the home life which demands seclusion, privacy, and per- 
sonal management of one's own affairs, releases the rich 
from any obligation to furnish employment in this way^ 
and, all things considered, renders it far better, both for 
themselves and for mankind, that under ordinary circum- 
stances they should not do so. In very many rich families 
the position of servant is but little better than that of a 
slave, so that the employment which such rich families 
furnish to the poor is of slight account. And in those 
families where the servant is treated approximately as an 
equal, she usually, either through the ignorance or indo- 
lence of the wife, has the whole management of affairs, 
which makes the home a kind of boarding-house or hotel, 
so that the home-life becomes semi-public. Yet if the wife 
will treat her servant as her equal, and at the same time 
exercise a general supervision over her own household, 
both these evils may be obviated. And if the employment 
of a servant will thus afford the wife leisure to engage in 
some higher service to her kind, it is surely her duty to 
employ one. But she should consider herself as truly a 
servant as the one she employs, only in a higher capacity, 
for when wealth makes one anything but a servant of 
humanity, it makes him a robber and a thief. 

The only absolutely selfish motive that the highest 
morality permits in the accumulation of wealth, is the 
normal desire for independence in all the relations of life ; 



400 OUR HOME 

and if beyond this, nature has endowed one with a special 
capacity for acquiring wealth, the product of that capacity, 
like the product of every other form of genius, is mankind^s 
and not his. 

The home of the rich man should represent as much 
wealth as, thus expended, will have a tendency to increase 
the comfort and convenience of his family. Beyond this, 
however, he has no moral right to lavish wealth upon his 
home for the mere gratification of his vanity. He should 
invest it in some honorable and useful industry, where it 
will yield humanity a higher rate of interest than that of 
mere taxation. 

Burns has given us the licenses of wealth in the follow* 
ing lines : 

" Bat gather gear by every wUe 
That's justified by honor; 
Not for to hide it in a hedge, 
Nor for a train attendant, 
But for the glorious privllega 
Of being independent." 




THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME. 



hitlda a legitimate place in humaa 
It is based in a constitutional pecu- 
' human nature, which is a sufficient 
e that it has a right to be. It is 

abuse of fashion tliat makes it re- 

to the better instincts of man. 
e proper definition of fashion ia pre- 
I the mind it meets with an instinct- 
val. 

)uld define true fashion as the uni- 
[lat results from the coDserration of 
1 beauty. That which is true and 

is naturally conserved, while that 
False and ugly contains the seeds of 
lissolution. This necessary untfor* 
Iting from a constant law is natu- 

>hiou of the world, for the most part. 
IS anincial and false. It is simply a tem- 
porary uniformity resulting from caprice. There are two 
elements that enter into the composition of the &sliion 



402 OVB HOME. 

Bentiment, and tk'« virtue or ^'ice of the fashion is deter- 
mined by the proportion of these elements. First, a love- 
of the beautiful and true, and second, a love of novelty. 
Any given fashion is capricious, short-liv^d, and generally 
absurd, just in proportion as the latter element predomi- 
nates over the former. 

There is no more appropriate sphere for the display of 
legitimate fashion than the home world, which, perhaps, in 
part accounts for the fact that in all ages architecture has 
stood foremost among the arts. And, perhaps, it is in this 
field that fashion has maintained itself purest from the- 
adulterations of caprice. Few houses or buildings in the 
construction of which there is any pretense to archi* 
tectural skill, exhibit a serious violation of natural and 
wholesome taste. Unlike the varying patterns of ladies' 
bonnets and gentlemen's coats, which vibrate from extreme 
to extreme, the architectural ideal seems to recognize cer- 
tain fundamental and unchanging laws of ta^te and har- 
mony. 

It is true that there have been marked changes in archi* 
tecture. It has grown with the race from the rude struc- 
ture of the savage to the imposing palace of the nineteenth 
century. 

But in every period there has been an evident tendency 
to abide perpetually by principles, as fast as men have 
been able to develop them. 

Each decade witnesses modifications in the details of 



THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME. 403 

architectural adornment, but this does not touch the fact of 
permanence in the architectural ideal. 

It is, in part, such permanence that makes the old-fash- 
ioned houses seem beautiful to us, for these houses, with 
their well-sweeps, huge chimneys, and naked gables violate 
no essential law of beauty. 

To be beautiful and tasteful a thing must violate no law 
of its relations. So essential is this that some have defined 
beauty as "superior fitness." According to this definition 
a thing may be beautiful to-day and otherwise to-morrow. 
When it loses its fitness it loses its beauty. But no argu- 
ment of fitness or unfitness can take away the beauty from 
the old-fashioned fire-place with its cheerful flames, which 
like a band of gold-capped spirits, half in earnest, half in 
jest, chase each other up the broad chimney. No person 
of sensitive mind can sit without emotion beside those 
century-old hearthstones and watch upon a stormy night 
" the great fires up the chimney roar." 

We seem to see reflected from the ever changing golden 
sheen of the blaze the images of merry boys and girls at 
play, or with their slates and pencils solving by the flicker- 
ing light the problems assigned them by the old school- 
master who long ago dismissed the school for the last time. 
Oh I the visions that we see in the fire, visions of the for- 
gotten long ago, of joys and sorrows strangely blent ; vis- 
ions of romping boyhood and laughing girlhood, visions of 
love's first dream, of eyes that caught the broken story 



404 OUR HOME. 

from trembling lips that could not speak it ; visions of the 
bridal queen crowned with coronet of maiden blushes ; via* 
ions of lifers stern battle; visions of sorrow's first shadow, 
of red-eyed grief and midnight watchings ; visions of all 
life's checkered pathway, as it winds through flowery fields 
or over pain's hot desert sands, through the fragrant spice 
groves of joy or over sorrow's mountain crags. 

We would not proclaim ourselves '* fogies " ; far from it. 
We are enthusiasts in every conceivable species of human 
reform, and yet we are compelled to consider the old* 
fashioned home as the typical representative of the natural 
institution of home. We speak now, not so much with 
reference to the mere outward difference of architectural 
designs, etc., which superficially distinguishes the old from 
the new-fashioned home, but more particularly with refer- 
ence to those inner and vital differences that distinguish 
the two modes of home life. 

It is painful to know that the modern home life differs 
from ' the old-fashioned chiefly in its departure from the 
standard of nature. 

There is hardly a feature of the modem home that does 
not proclaim itself to the most casual observer a defiant 
breach of natural law. Let us imagine ourselves members 
of the board of health, and in that capacity let us inspect a 
typical modern home. A servant responds to the ringing of 

the bell and informs us that " Mrs. is not in," meaning 

simply that she has not yet — ^at ten o'clock — arisen. This 



THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME. 406 

is simply a patent process of elongation, to which the truth 
is subjected to meet the demands of fashionable society. 
Of course it is not at all injurious to truth. When we 
make known our official business we are admitted, and the 
servant shows us to the kitchen, where we learn nothing in 
particular except the most approved process of shortening 
human life, and of destroying the teeth, morals, etc., of the 
next generation. We next enter the sitting-room. We 
fire almost nauseated by the sickening odor of coal gas 
that is fast escaping through the open door of the coal 
stove while the back damper is closed. The servant as- 
sures us, however, that it is nothing unusual, and declares 
she "can't smell a thing." We go to the window and try 
to raise it unobserved, but to no purpose. There are two 
windows, and the outside one doesn't " shove up." The 
house, of course, has all the modern improvement, includ- 
ing that beautiful invention of double windows, which has 
perhaps lengthened the "consumption column" in the 
statistics of human mortality more than any other inven- 
tion of man. "There is a register in 'the chimney, but 

Mrs. says the room doesn't heat up so well when it is 

open, so we keep it closed all the time." 

Do the children frequently have colds with sick head- 
ache ? " O, and to be shure they do most all the time, 

but Mrs. thinks it is because the house isn't war-rm 

enough, and shure it looks rasonable. She's put a coal 
stove in their slapin' room." As we find it impossible to 



^6 OUR HOME, 

answer Bridget's argument, we will proceed to ins[)ect the 
parlor. As we enter we shudder with a sensation of 
dampness. Bridget draws aside the curtain, and raising 
the window a few inches turns the slats of one blind on 

the north side. " Mrs. says we mustn't let the light 

shine in the parlor, because it fades the car-rpet. There 
ain't been no drop o' light in the room afore since six 
months ago." 

Let us leave the parlor in its darkened beauty and go to 
the children's sleeping room, where the coal stove has been 
set up to keep the little creatures from " catching cold.'* 
We find a room nine feet by twelve with one window. Of 
course the door must be kept closed during the night tliat 
the coal stove may be effectual in preventing the children 
from taking cold. Economy dictates that it isn't necessary 
that the coal stove should do it all, so a double window is 
put on and cotton is tucked in around the joints ; anything 
to keep the " cold air out." 

One of the most ingenious and economical inventions of 
modern times is the process of warming our dwellings with 
our own breath. Air that has been breathed once or twice 
is iipt to be a little unwholesome ; but then it saves coal, 
and so we can afford to have sick headaches, and to rise in 
the morning with heavy, dull spirits, with furred tongues 
and yellow skins. 

We have not overdrawn our picture of the modern 
home. Nor have we selected one of the fashionable homes 



THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME. 407 

of the rich ; for these, indeed, in many respects, approach 
the old-fashioned home. They generally have more spa- 
cious sleeping rooms, and the greater size of such houses 
secures better ventilation throughout. It is the average 
home of the great middle class that we have described, 
though, perhaps, we have made a freer use of hyperbole 
than is consistent with ordinary descriptive writing. We 
do not hesitate to express our conviction that the un- 
hygienic principles involved in the construction and man- 
agement of the modern home are the prime causes of 
•consumption and dyspepsia, those two fell scourges to the 
human family, from which probably a far greater number 
perish than from the stereotyped curses of ^' war, pestilence, 
4tnd famine." 

If society has a moral right to compel men to train them- 
selves in the use of sword and musket, in order that they 
may be able to meet and repel the onslaughts of war and 
conquest, and thus save their children from bondage and 
•disgrace, why has it not also a right to compel them to so 
train and govern their bodies hygienically as to repel the 
fiercer onslaught of foul disease, and thus save their chil- 
•dren from the darker bondage of inherited weakness and 
premature death ? There may be a shade of the ludicrous 
in our claim, but we believe that society has the same 
moral right to prohibit, in the construction cf all new 
"dwellings, the nine by twelve " bed room " that it has to 
prohibit the grog-shop ; the same right to enforce ventila* 



408 OUR HOME, 

tion and all the general laws of hygiene in our private" 
dwellings, that it has to make laws for the prevention of 
suicide and infanticides. 

Such an exercise of civil authority would violate no 
natural right of man. Man belongs not to himself, but to 
the world. The wheel is not its own but the engine's. 
We possess but one fiatural right vouchsafed to us by our 
Maker, the right to make the most of ourselves, and all 
sub-divisions of this one great right are inseparably con- 
nected with corresponding duties. Indeed, one can have 
no natural right to perform a single act which it is not hia 
duty to perform. This may not at first receive the ready 
credence of the general reader, especially of the American 
who has been accustomed to give such extravagant defini- 
tions to the word liberty. But upon careful thought we^ 
trust that all will assent to its truth. Probably no human 
being is able at any time to tell just what kind or extent 
of action is allowed by his natural right, or demanded by 
this natural duty. We surely have a natural right to eat 
just that quantity of food that will meet the requirements- 
of our physical nature, no more, no less, and no one would 
contend that the verdict of duty, if the exact ];)ounds could 
' be ascertained, would not be precisely the same. 

This illustration is no more obvious than that which it 
is intended to illustrate, viz., the application of this princi- 
ple to every function and relation of life. When one 
ceases to act in accordance with this principle, and in se 



THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME, 40^ 

doing falls below the aggregate intelligence of society, h& 
becomes a proper subject for civil guardianship and gov- 
ernmental regulation. Few question the right of society 
to prevent a man from taking into his stomach poison liquid 
in the form of alcohol, but why should they question it& 
tight to prevent him from taking into his lungs poison gaa 
in the form of air that has been robbed of its oxygen and 
charged with carbonic acid by the vital demands of half a 
dozen persons in a tight, unventilated room, its atmosphere, 
perhaps, still further vitiated by the liberal contributions of 
a kerosene lamp or two ? Are fluids and gases so different 
in their nature that society has a moral right to prohibit 
the use of the poison fluid of the grog-shop, while it has na 
right to prohibit the free use of the deadly gas of the small,, 
unventilated sleeping-room ? 

Our condemnation of the unhygienic features of the 
modern home may seem somewhat strange, but while we 
acknowledge the views to be radical and the language 
strong, we are sure they do no injustice to our convictions. 

While we believe emphatically in all the civilizing 
forces ; while we would bid God-speed to every useful in- 
vention ; and while our faith in man's progression and ulti- 
mate achievements amounts almost to fanaticism, — we 
must still contend that the modern home in most of its fea- 
tures is a retrogression and not an advancement. 

Yet this is not necessary. Nor is it due to the refine- 
ment of the modern home. It is not attributable to the 



«lO OUR HOME. 

piano and the cooking range, to the fine picttires, the 
decorations, the drapery and the beauty, but to the un- 
hygienic influences, the carbonic acid and the enervating 
luxury. The people of America need entertain no fears 
from the frequent ebullitions of political passion. They 
are the necessary accompaniments of self-government. 
But on the garnished walls of ten thousand private houses 
there appears, to him who can read it, a handwriting that 
hints at possible doom. In the dim, uncertain shadows of 
the hour a finger points to the deserted banquet halls of 
Nineveh and Babylon and Persia, and in our languid 
luxury there is a sickening suggestion of the feast-couch, 
Rome's death-bed. The same spell of public and private 
effeminacy seems to be settling over us that has prefaced 
the doom of every perished empire whose pathetic wrecks 
now strew the shores of time. Physical weakness, espe- 
cially of women, in every age has been the almost invari- 
able prognostic of national downfall, and who will deny 
that there are indications in this direction that may justly 
excite alarm ? We have no sympathy with those mourn- 
ful, dyspeptic alarmists who are forever sounding the sig- 
nal of " trouble ahead," for the mere pleasure of listening 
to the music of their own blast. And yet we believe 
there are forces at work in American society that should 
cause thoughtful men and women seriously to reflect. 
We have not criticised the modern home thus severely 
because it is a modern home. We condemn only those 



THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME. 411 

evil features that constitute no necessary part of the 
home. 

The more modern the home the better. The world's 
latest thought is its best, and we can truly say from our 
heart, God bless the noble inventors of our land who are 
lifting the burden of drudgery from the shoulders of 
women. We are glad tliat the old-fashioned loom has 
been used for kindling wood. We are glad that spinning 
no longer constitutes the chief occupation of our girls ; and 
yet if this release from the bondage of labor results only in 
idleness, as it does in too many homes, better a thousand 
times that the hum of the spinning-wheel should again be 
heard ! 

If the modern home with its many true improvements 
would conserve the naturalness of the old-fashioned home, 
we should have one that would be typical of all that hope 
points to in the great hereafter, but until it does this we 
must regard the old-fashioned home of our fathers as the 
best and truest type of that which we hope awaits us. 

" Isolated, bleak, and dreary, Rtatids the old house on the hill. 
Rooms that ran^ with mirth and music now are empty, silent, stlU. 
Desolation reigns supremely, and the old houso bare and lone 
Stands with many a broken window, through which cheerful lights once shone; 
Wrapped in dust and hnng with cobwebs, how each empty, low-oeiled room 
Seemingly resents in echoes every loudly spoken tone. 
Houses old and bare and lonely, thickly o'er this land of ours. 
Stand, like long-forgotten headstones, *midst their tangled growth of flowerSi 

*' Never then forsake the roof-treo. from its shelter do not roam; 
Like a sacred shrine of incense, keep the altar fires of home. 
For of all the piteous ruins, nor one comes so near my heart 
Ab some old deserted homestead where once life and love had iMtrfc '* 



OUR LAST FAREWELL OF HOME. 



the programme of every human life is ■writ- 
en "final scene" — monitory of the hurried 
arewell, the choking sob, and the parting 
orever. No matter how bright has been the 
-ainbow of youth's promise, no matter how 
'air and Berene life's course has been, the 
;nd of that life shall be sobs and tears. But 
)ne is never called from his earthly home 
antil he is willing to leave it. He is pcr- 
maded, instead of compelled to seek an- 
)ther home. We refer, of course, to the 
>rocess of a natural death, resulting simply 
I'rom old ago. No provision has been made 
to lighten the agonies of suicide, or an untimely death. 
The principle, however, which wo shall mention, seems 
even in these cases to act to a certain extent, but it is only 
during the actual process of death. It does not lessen that 
instinctive tenacity to life that makes the very thought of 
death a source of sorrow. 

It has ocen said that one may live as long as he 
chooses, and as a rule this is true, for as a rule one may. 



OUR LAST FAREWELL OF HOME, 413 

by temperance and moderation, die a natural death ; that 
is, by the gradual decay of all the powers. When this is 
the case the instinct of life is one of the first to die. 
Hence when one cannot live any longer, he will not choose 
to live. This is the means by which God persuades, us to 
leave our earthly home. He convinces us and makes us 
feel that it would be better for us to leave the home that 
no longer has any charm for us. He takes away the in- 
Btinctive love of life and transfers the home love. 

We have said that the love of life is one of the first in« 
stincts to die. It would, doubtless, be the first were it not 
for the fact that nature preserves it as long as it can be of 
any use to us. It is this same instinct that gives the 
power to resist death, and to live amid infiuences that 
tend to destroy life. Without this we could not live an 
hour. Now it would not be wise in nature to allow this 
instinct to die so long as we are capable of living any 
longer. But no sooner has this stage been passed than all 
dread of death at once ceases, and the person softly sinks 
into the arms of death as the child sinks into slumber. 

The death of this instinct is not instantaneous, for it is 
subject to the same law of decay as the other powers. 
But its death always precedes that of the general system. 

The testimony of the old will confirm this doctrine, that 
the love of life and the fear of death gradually vanish as 
they approach life's goal. The poet has said, ** There is a 
heauty in woman's decay." But this beauty of decay is 



|U OUR HOME. 

not confined to woman. There is a beauty in the decaj 
of humanity. The law of beauty is the law of complete- 
ness. It is embodied in the principle of the circle. AU 
forms of beauty may be reduced to this principle. Hence 
old age must be the very symbol and embodiment of beauty, 
for is it not the typical example of completeness? It repre- 
sents the completion of a life's experience. It is the tri- 
umphant period in which the arcs of the great circle are 
closing with a divine beauty that appeals not to the eye, 
but to the soul. It must be felt by the spirit that can per- 
ceive a beauty in the universal plan. 

We are so constituted that in any given period of our 
lives we are best satisfied with the conditions and circum- 
stances that naturally surround us at that period. The 
youth wishes that he might always be a youth, the young 
man wishes that he might always be twenty-five. The 
mature man thinks he would like to stop just where he is,, 
and forever remain at the height and glory of his powers^ 
but the old man thinks the best time to stop is when 
the labor of life is done and he can sit down and enjoy 
rest. It is the old man alone whose wish is granted. He 
is permitted to rest, and as he has nothing to do but rest 
and feast his soul on divine beauty, he is not particular 
whether he takes that rest and drinks in that beauty while 
gazing at the sunset of this life or the sunrise of the next. 

Contentment is the natural condition of the human 
mind. Discontent is an abnormal condition, and the ten* 



OUR LAST FAREWELL OF HOME. 415 

dency to be satisfied with present conditions and circum- 
stances descends into the minuter relations of life. In 
summer we feel that we could not possibly endure the 
winter, but when the winter comes there comes with it 
new pleasures and delights which we would not exchange 
for those of the summer. Even on a beautiful morning 
we are apt to wish it would always remain morning, and 
when enjoying ourselves at some evening entertainment 
we think the evening the most delightful part of the day. 

This principle in our nature manifests itself still more 
forcibly in old age. When we reach that period we are in 
that condition spiritually as well as physically in which 
the only pleasures that we can enjoy, or that we desire to 
be able to enjoy, are just those which are given us. 

In the process of death we see that the lowest powers 
die first. If the face of the dying be watched there wiU 
be seen to play over it, in regular succession, the expres- 
sion of the various faculties in the order of their rank. 
The last to die are the moral and religious. 

These leave their divine impress upon the countenance, 
hence the calm, holy and serene look so often seen upon 
the faces of the dead. 

The terror of death recedes just as fast as we approach 
it, and when we reach the last stage of decay the dark 
river is found to be illumined by the mirrored stars of 
faith. 

There are joys in age which youth cannot know. Thej 



416 OUR HOME. 

come not as miserable compensations for infirmity, but 
they are the oues which approach nearest to perfection. 
They come as a free gift ; those of youth and manhood 
must be won by toil. The youth finds no joy in rest nor 
in meditation, for his history is unwritten and he has noth- 
ing to meditate upon. A feverish ambition bums in the 
brain of the young man, for he feels that he has every- 
thing to accomplish in a few short years, and whatever 
joy he receives he must receive it discounted at the bank 
of toil. 

Youth and manhood have their joys, pure and deep and 
holy. Joy is the only natural and normal condition of 
every human soul through every hour of its being from the 
€radlc to etornity, and yet we must draw this wide distinc- 
tion between the joys of youth and tliose of age. The 
former have in them the element of exhaustion, and are 
allied to those of intoxication, while the latter seem in their 
very ' nature strengtli-giving. Age derives no mean joy 
from tracing through their complex evolutions the great 
events of human history. It is to age alone that these great 
events are visible from their inception to their completion. 
Where age beholds beauty, order and divinity, youth be- 
holds but fragments, chaos and chance. The old man 
derives a conviction from his long experience and observa* 
tion that " there's a divinity that shapes our ends." He 
sees, as youth cannot see, the beauty and significance of a 
life completed. To him death is but the crowning act in 



OUR LAST FAREWELL OF HOME. 417 

life's great drama, the opening of a golden gate at the end 
of life's narrow lane. 

Life and death are counterparts of each other. There 
lire those, however, who belieye that physical death came to 
man as a punishment for sin, and that had it not been for 
sin, all mankind would have lived eternally upon the earth. 
But the law that dooms man to physical death is the same 
which dooms the animalcule. If the coral reefs were in 
process of formation when the first sin was committed it 
was because the corals were dying then. Did not death 
obtain among the finny tribes of the ocean, perhaps a 
single year would be sufficient to crowd the deep to over- 
flowing; but if the animals were dying, then must not all 
which is subject to the organic law have died also ? Mao 
is as subject to the organic law as any other member of 
the animal kingdom. He eats and drinks and breathes 
and sleeps as they do. Some of these animals are not 
only made on the same general plan as man, but they 
possess every physical organ corresponding in position and 
action, and both anipals and man owe their lives to the 
vital action in these organs. 

Now can any one believe that the great process of vital 
action in man, of digestion and respiration, was governed 
by some other principle before he did wrong for the first 
time, and was afterwards changed? Of all the outgrown 
doctrines of dogmatic theology, this must be regarded as 
the most childish and unscientific. We must not be mis- 



418 OUR HOME. 

led by creeds which are at variance with natural law. 
We must not regard death as a penal expedient. It can 
afford us no hope or consolation to regard it as such. 
Human death is as much an ordinance of nature as the fad- 
ing of the rainbow or the withering of the rose. The 
doom of eternal change is written with a pen divine upon 
all that lives. We can regard death only as a voyage that 
separates us from those we love. We gaze upon a face 
while over it there falls a stillness deeper than slumber, 
and the last smile that reaches us from that receding spirit 
is like the waving of a kerchief far out at sea. The ship 
sinks beneath the horizon into the unknown beyond, and 
with sad steps we move away from the dark wharf, not 
knowing whence our friend has gone. 

The doctrine which teaches that physical death is a pun- 
ishment for sin, we believe, has done much to weaken the 
faith of mankind in the doctrine of immortality, by giving 
to it the air of superstition. A genuine outgrowth of 
man^s nature cannot be at variance with the highest philoso- 
phy. Man is the highest specimen in the great cabinet of 
natural history, the chrysalis that holds a prophecy of 
higher environments. 

We must look beyond the fact of death for hope. We 
must look to the analysis of that which suffers the change, 
and see if its nature and relations be such that death can 
doom it to oblivion. 

In our next chapter we shall try to show that man^s 



OUR LAST FAREWELL OF HOME, 419 

nature itself holds the credentials of his immortalitj, that 
just as the nature of the lungs would prove the existence 
of air, so man's spiritual organization proves the existence 
of God and the fact of immortality. 

But in this chapter we are considering only the mid- 
night tragedy of death, in which the scenery is dark and 
the actors are cruel. We have reason to believe, however, 
that the curtain falls before the play is ended, for the last 
scene is too stupendous for the stage appliances of earth. 
The lights are too dull to represent the glory of that sub- 
lime tableau. Hence the cunning* plot, that makes the 
curtain fall with a rush that extinguishes the lights and 
leaves the death-bed watchers frantic and bathed in teara 
wailing audience in a darkened theater. 

" Lo! His a gala night 

Within the lonesome latter years I 
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight 

In veils, and drowned in tears, 
Sit in a theater of hopes and fears, 

While the orchestra breathes fitfully 
The music of the splieres. 

" Mimes, in the form of Gkxl on high, 

Mutter and mumble low, 
And hither and thither fiy; 

Mere puppets they, who come and go 
At bidding of vast formless things 

That shift the scenery to and fro, 
Flapping from out thetr condor wings 

Invisible woe! 

** That motley drama I ah, be sure 
It shall not be forgot! 
With its Phantom chased for eyennor*, 
By a crowd that seize it not, 



Tlironfch x eirale tlutt sTsr ratarneCh la 

To tlie Mlt-same spot ; 
And mucli of Madacos, ud more of Sia, 

And Horror, the toiil at Uu) plot! 

" But Me, amid tbs mimla rout 

A crmwUng shkpa Intnidel 
A blood-red thing that wiithea fnun oU 

The scenic BOlltndet 
It wiithetl— It writhes)— with tnortkl put 

The mimes become iti food, 
And the sarspha sob M Yennln fug* 

In humtui gore Imboed. 

"Out— ODt are the ijghia,— oat all! 

And OTer each quivertng (onn, 
The cnrt&ln, a fnueial pall. 

Comes doim with the rnsb of a itoiiu— 
And th« angels all pallid and wan. 

Uprising, UD veiling, afOnn 
That the play U the tragedy ' Man,' 

And its hero, the Conqneror Wona." 



HEAVEN OUR HOME, 




JE have thought it expedient to consider this 
chapter wholly in the light of reason. And 
should the devout Christian feel that the 
coldness of its logic is inconsistent with the 
subject, we assure him that it is not because 
we are not in the fullest sympathy with the 
Christian ideal, but because we have pur- 
posely aimed to treat the subject from the 
standpoint of science. 

This is why we have avoided all reference to Scriptural 
authority, ieven where such reference would seem peculiarly 
appropriate. 

It is the skeptic who most requires to be convinced of 
the cardinal truths of religion. But with him Scriptural 
•evidence has little weight, while he is usually proud of his 
scientific attainments. So we believe the thoughtful Chris- 
tian will rejoice in the method we have chosen. 

It is not our purpose in this chapter to attempt any 
<lescription of that place or condition toward which the 
instinct of faith in all ages has pointed mankind. Our 
•eflForts will be simply to satisfy enquiring minds that the 



422 OUR HOME. 

objective of that universal instinct through which humaib^ 
ity looks Godward and heavenward, is real and not a delu 
sion. The great need of our age is a firm belief in the 
reality of man's religious nature. The most pernicious 
effects of modern skepticism are seen in its attempts ta 
undermine this belief. Let mankind once be firmly con* 
vinced on scientific grounds that man is a religious being, 
that there is a real significance in his religious intuitions* 
that these intuitions spring from faculties that corre- 
spond to objective realities, and that his earthly home fore- 
shadows an eternal home, and the question of creed will 
take care of itself. 

However painful may be the fact, it cannot be denied 
that the startling interrogations of the present age mean 
something more than can be answered by the old time 
exhortation. The problem of human destiny is one that 
deepens with the evolutions of history. The hour has come 
when the great question must be discussed in prose in- 
stead of poetry. The awakened spirit of doubt to-<lay 
confronts religion with the awful questions : " Is there a 
God ? " " Is there a heaven ? " " Is it true that the earth- 
home is but a type, a working model of * a home to be ? ' '* 

The answer to these questions must be accompanied by 
reasons that appeal to human logic, for in the flashing 
revelations of modern science, the eye of faith has seemed 
to grow dim. 

And yet it is but the clamor of the immortal instinct 



HE A VEN OUR HOME. 423 

itself that gives rise to these questions, for the belief in 
God and immortality is as universal as that in obligation 
and human rights. Every human heart is the theater of 
this immortal instinct. We care not how the heart may be 
blinded with the self-deception of atheism, — ^and atheism is 
always and necessarily self-deception, — when the mask is 
torn off we find immortality written there. 

We do not mean that the human heart has not also been 
the theater of doubt and fear. God seems to have or- 
dained that in every department of life we should find 
the hand 'of truth and grasp it in the dark. Into the un- 
answering ear of the ages man has poured his wailing cry. 
Through the dark gorges he has climbed to the star-lit 
height whence a struggling beam has fallen upon the mid« 
night of human history. 

He has listened in the darkness 

To the music of the spheres, 
He has solved night's awful secret 

Throu;];h the alchemy of fears. 

From the dawn of time he has been trying to say father ; 
and shall we say that his lisping annuls the infinite argu- 
ment of instinct? Who would question the reality of the 
parental instinct when once he had heard the unsuccess- 
ful attempt of the little child to speak the honored title ? 

As the child instinctively questions his father concern- 
ing the great untried future of his life, so humanity with 
the same instinct pours its anxious yearnings into the ear 
of the universal father. 



424 OUR HOME, 

Shall man live beyond the grave ? was the involuntary 
question, of startled humanity in the shadow of the first 
death. That question was asked, not of the empty air, not 
of the silent wood, not in the forgetfulness of self-commun- 
ing curiosity, but beneath the eternal stars, upon the wait- 
ing knee of faith, it was whispered into an unseen car. 
" * If a man die, shall he live again ? ' is a question older 
than Job, newer than the latest grave." Formulated the- 
ology has entertained it as the fundamental problem, but 
cannot settle it. Science has grappled with it in vain. 
Above the proudest flights of reason, above the sweep of 
tube and lens, beyond the language of the spectroscope, 
where human eye has never rested, lies the mysterioud 
realm through the silent gate of death. 

The instinct of immortality was not bom of any creed. 
The church cannot claim it as her offspring. It is the nec- 
essary outgrowth of the human organization. . It was old 
when love for the first time bent over the conch of death 
and left its rdses and kisses there. In spite of conflicting 
creeds and dogmas, the universal soul of man rebels 
against oblivion with an instinct that implicates nature. 
Either love and devotion and honor and heroism and 
genius are immortal, or nature, at whose hands we receive 
the unanswerable instinct, is false. The argument of in- 
stinct is in its very nature conclusive. It is of the same 
nature as that of sense. 

This is an age peculiarly sensitive to the charge of su- 



WUaperluga of Heaven. 



UEAVEN OUR HOME. 425 

perstition. Skepticism is rife among the masses, but 
this fact is itself fraught with a weighty meaning. " His- 
tory repeats itself " is an adage, but its vast significance is 
understood and felt by few souls. The life of nature is 
but the ceaseless movement round a spiral, a circle with an 
«ver increasing diameter. Through doubts and questions 
the world crept into the light of faith. One grand revolu- 
tion of the divinely ordained process has been completed 
■and doubts and questions now begin again, but this time 
farther fi-om the center, on a grander scale. 

These doubts and questionings will lead humanity to 
prouder heights and more glorious beatitudes when they 
shall have completed another revolution. The world's 
highest faith to-day began in the doubts and questions of 
brutal ignorance. What, then, shall be the issue of those 
which were born of the telescope and the laboratory? 
The proud champions of unbelief are doing a grand work. 
Every triumph of Ingersqll will in the great revolutions of 
•God's design be found to be a sermon for the truth. He 
is fast defeating his own ends by hastening the world over 
its second desert of doubt. 

Science will struggle on with glass and lens till it learns 
that love gives no lines in the spectroscope, that honor is 
without physical properties, and conscience is unaffected 
by the galvanic current. 

Skeptical scientists object to the doctrine of immortal- 
ity, because they cannot demonstrate it with their science. 



426 OUR HOME. 

We cannot scientifically demonstrate that we love our 
friends, but we know we love them* We cannot prove 
that beauty exists, yet do we not know that it exists ? It 
may be that the scientist is unable to prove the existence 
of God, but every spirit knows that God is. No mathe- 
matical formula can prove the immortality of the soul, but 
the unformulated science of intuition assures it. 

The conservatism of the universal mind retains the 
achievements of science, and will, by and by, use them in 
the demonstration of those very truths which now they 
are used to disprove. 

Whether against the will of science, or in accordance 
with it, her grandest revelation is that the Christian re- 
ligion is based in the organic constitution of man. 

Every element of the soul, every faculty of the mind, has 
its mate in the form of a cosraical law. We possess the 
faculty of reason, and accordingly there exists the law of 
causation. We possess an instinctive love of music, a dis- 
tinct and separate faculty of the mind, and there exists 
the law of harmony. Our mathematical instinct finds its 
counterpart in the eternal relations of time and space, 
number and quantity. There are just as many faculties 
of the mind, hence functions of the brain, as there are 
laws in the universe. No more, no less. There is no uni- 
versal principle that has not its representative organ in the 
human brain. Hence the mental faculties and the natural 
laws are mutual keys. We believe that the evolutionists 



HE A VEN UR HOME. 427 

have unnecessarily weakened their own cause by a false 
definition of faculty. They would make the primitive fac- 
ulties of the mind only so many habits. But the question 
arises, whence the first impulse that was the necessary 
antecedent to the first act of the faculty ? Acts cannot 
become habitual nor hereditary until they have been per- 
formed at least once. But it requires a faculty to perform 
them for the first time. Hence the essential characteristic 
of the faculty, — the power to give impulses and the skill 
to perform, — must have existed prior to the influences of 
habit and heredity. The fact of manifestation through 
the instrumentality of a cerebral organ is the one and 
only unmistakable evidence of a primitive faculty. 

Light is doubtless the natural agency by which the 
power of vision has been developed. Yet light could no 
more originate that germ of a distinct mental faculty that 
lies behind all phenomena of vision, and by which we 
translate those phenomena, than it could create the acorn 
whose involved potency it simply evolves. The eye existed 
potentially or the light could not have developed it. Man 
is as he is because of his environments, but we cannot say 
that man is because of his environments. We are at least 
driven to the assumption that matter held a human po- 
tency independent of all environment. That potency was 
the germs of human faculties, God-created and God-im- 
planted. The magic finger of the sunbeam touched them 
and they awoke, and hammering upon the anvils of mat- 



428 OUR HOME. 

ter began to forge, from the materials of their environ* 
ments, the only weapons they can use,— organs. Thus 
we see why an organ is the only infallible criterion and 
oredential of a faculty. And we see the force of the fore- 
going reasoning when we remember that the human brain 
holds an organ whose function is Divine worship. Envi- 
ronments could not have created that organ. They could 
only have developed it. Its "living germ" lay back of^ 
all environments, as a divine prophecy, and proof of the 
reality of that to which it corresponded. 

Since faculties are as their organs, and since organs are 
formed by the living principle, out of the material of their 
environments, it is not wonderfid that man should be as 
his. environments. Different environments would doubtless 
have caused a different mode of action in the faculty of 
Divine worship. Indeed, we have a proof of this. In the 
heathen mind this faculty gives an instinctive desire to 
iind an objective in idols of wood and stone. Yet after all 
the essence of its action is Divine worship. And there is 
a limit beyond which environments cannot produce modi- 
fications. They may, however, thwart the effort of the 
faculty to forge a material organ, hence the significance of 
extinct species. 

The atheist tells us there is no God, but science puts its 
finger on the God-organ, an organ whose function it is to 
produce that moral sensation known as reverence for God. 
It produces this effect invariably in savage and in civilized 



HEAVEN OUR HOME, 429 

man. Has nature thus erred ? Has she given us a God- 
organ, and no God to meet its demand? A stomach 
forever doomed to hunger in the presence of imaginary 
food ; lungs strangling for air in the depths of a universal 
vacuum ; an ear forever straining to catch the voice of har- 
mony while nature shrinks beneath the wing of everlasting- 
silence ; an eye forever gazing into the blackness of uni- 
versal night, while no wave of ether touches with its trem- 
bling fingers the bosom of the stars. 

What should we say of such inconsistency in nature ? 
And yet to give us a love of God, when there is no God to 
love, would be as base a falsehood. Every one believes in 
the eternal consistency of nature. The atheist has but 
transferred his worship from God to nature, and no argu- 
ment can convince him that she would for once be incon- 
sistent, but he must tell us why she gave us a God-organ 
and no God. 

Every precept and every exhortation of the Christian 
religion is the recognition of some particular function of 
our being, and every prohibition is tlie recognition of its 
liability to perverted or diseased action. 

The ethics of the Christian religion is based on the prin- 
ciple of right and wrong, and science lays its finger on the^ 
organ of conscientiousness. Prayer is as much an organic 
function of the soul as digestion is of the physical system^ 
and for the same reason there is a prayer organ. 

Will the atheist tell us that nature has given us a prayer- 



430 OUR HOME. 

organ and has given us nothing to pray to ? One has said 
that " if there were no God, it would be necessary to in- 
vent one," for the prayer-organ demands a God as much as 
the lungs demand air. 

Christ said, " Love thy neighbor as thyself," which was 
only the organic language of benevolence. He taught 
the doctrine of spirituality, and science points to the organ 
of spirituality. And so it is that every teaching of Chris* 
tianity responds to an organic necessity of our being. The 
decalogue is written on every human brain. Immortality 
is an organic instinct. As the migratory bird flies toward 
the south guided by the faultless pilot instinct, so the soul 
flies heavenward by an instinct as faultless. 

Christianity is a reality or our instincts are false. God 
lives or nature lies. We leave our earthly home but to 
find a better and a brighter one, or over all that is there 
hang the spectral lenses of deception, and falsehood's ele* 
ments were blinded in the womb of being. 

Whether heaven be a material place or a spiritual condi- 
tion is a problem that falls outside the pale of our intui- 
tions. For aught we can know, it may be the grand center 
of centers around which revolve in eternal gyrations the 
unmeasured systems. Or it may be that it e^cists inde- 
pendently of space, that its place is wholly spiritual, and 
that just under the thin veil of materiality around us, 
above us and beneath us lies the ineffable realm of the 
EtemaL 



HE A VEN UR HOME. 431 

Whatever may be the essence of heaven, we may rest 
assured that it will afford the opportunities and conditions 
of eternal soul growth. The buds that on earth have 
fallen before their time shall blossom there in fadeless 
beauty. Genius shall exhibit its divine allegiance, and 
love shall be crowned the eternal queen. 

There comes a time to the reverpnt soul when the veil 
is lifted, and in the awful hush of that moment we call 
death, when the fetters are falling from the spirit's limbs, 
amid strains of music soft as the rustle of wings, it is per* 
mitted to look upon the unveiled splendor. And often, 
very often, it beckons to us and whispers with its latest 
breath, " I hear them now^^'* alwaj^s laying peculiar stress 
upon the word " now," which indicates that through the 
presence of this divine instinct it had been listening. On 
how many a dying couch have the sacred words, "The 
pure in heart shall see God," found their last and best veri- 
fication ! 

But science cannot reproduce the vision of the dying. 
Their own faint whispers cannot portray it. We must go 
down to the dark water. The details of the passage are 
known only to those who embark in the unseen ship. We 
cannot tell how, nor when, nor where, nor amid what sights 
and sounds we shall enter the unseen realm. We only 
know that while beyond the chill flood silence reigneth and 

No BOUDd of gent]y dipping oar 
Hints to US of the other shore. 



432 OUR HOME, 

there is still the voice of a divine fact within that whis- 
pers, ^^ It is well." The spirit lays its listening ear against 
the great heart of being, and learns an awful secret that it 
cannot tell. A secret, at the sound of which it leaps 
triumphant from the arms of pain, flame-wreathed and 
singing, thorn-crowned and rejoicing. 

" It must be so: Plato, thon reasonest well. 

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 

This longing after immortality ? 
. Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 

Of falling into nanght ? Why shrinks the soul 

Back on itself, and startles at destruction ? 

Tis the diyinity that stirs within us; 

Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter 

And intimates eternity to man." 




Tbstimoiciami fi^p^ fiiQH AmrHOi^iTT. 



GEORGE C. CHASE, A. M., 

Professor of English Literature, Bates College. 

I am convinced tliat "Our Home" will prove not only a highly enter- 
taining but a most valuable work. It is in every way worthy of its beau- 
tiful and comprehensive title. It not only appeals strongly to the home 
sentiment, the maintenance of which is the best guarantee of purity in 
both individual and national life, but it is also a complete manual of in- 
struction in regard to the duties and responsibilities of all the members 
of the home circle. Its forty-two chapters, every one of them dealing 
with its subject in a most admirable manner, contain more of wit,, wis- 
dom and poetry than I have ever seen epathered into any other book devo- 
ted to similar themes. It is replete with instruction for both parents and 
children, is inspiring to the young, helpful to the middle-a^ed, and con- 
soling to the old. The author has succeeded to a degree seldom equalled 
in combining good sense and originality. The book, wherever circulat- 
ed, cannot fail to develop and foster in its readers a love for whatever is 
"true, beautiful and good." I sincerely believe that in carrying it into 
the homes of our land, you will be making a valuable contnbution to 
those moral and intellectual forces on whose predominance depend the 
true welfare of our people, and the permanence of our free institutions. 
May it meet with that reception from the public to which, both by reas- 
on of style and contents, it is so richly entitled. You know how ample 
have been my opportunities for weighing the merits of the work, and 
you may be assured that it gives me great pleasm*e to write these words 
of o>mmendation. 

REV. W. C. WHITFORD, A. M., 

President Milton College. 

"Our Home" is truly a valuable work for the fireside. It is full of 
thoughts, beautiful and grand, and its influence will be only for good. 
The book should find its way into every family in the land. 

EDWARD n. PHELPS, 
Editor of The New England Homestead, the Leading Agri- 
cultural Journal of New England. 

I have examined your new book, "Our Home," with a great deal of 
pleasure. What a mass of interesting, suggestive and valuable reading 
the author has crammed into its pages ! As the strength of the nation 
is in the homes of its people, you are doing good and patriotic work in 
sending forth a book which will make every home into which it enters 
happier, purer and better. The book is worthy of a place in every home 
in America. 

G. A. PECKHAM, A. M., 

Prof, of Greek and Latin, Hiram College, Hiram, Ohio. 

I have carefully examined "Our Home," and find it to be a voluma 
contauiing many valuable suggestions to both young and old. 



W. S. EVERSALE, 

Superintendent Public Schools, Wooster, Ohio. 

I have examined the book entitled "Our IIomk,'* and can heartily reo- 
oramend it to every /io77i<». It treats of subjects that should be well un- 
derstood by the members of every household. "Well read, well consid- 
ered, well heeded, it will be of untold value in addin«^ to the happiness 
of the family, and in directing the members of the household to good 
and useful lives. "The strength of a nation lies in its homes." 

JA:MES WALLACE, A. M., 

Professor of Greek, University of Wooster, Ohio. 

I have examined "Our IIome'' with considerable care, and find that it 
treats of a groat variety of interesting and important themes; that it is 
written in good style; and that the moral tone of the work is wholesome 
and elevating. In thfse days of trashy literature it is a pleasure to recom- 
mend a work of this character. 

KEV. H. S. WILES, 

Pastor Evangelical Lutheran Church, Wooster, Ohio. 

Having examined, briefly, "Our Home, or the Key to a Nobler Life," 
I believe it will meet a felt want in the home trainmg of the family, and 
should be placed in the library of (very home. 

eev. J as. black, a. m.. 

Prof, of Greek and Literature, University of Wooster, Ohio. 

A hasty glance at the book entitled "Our Home" revealed some just 
sentiments expressed upon different features of a well-ordered home. 
Their perusal in the attractive make-up of the volume in which they are 
contained may serve to while away some moments of leisure in a profit- 
able manner. 

M. D. HAWES, D. D., LL. I)., 

Pastor Centenary 31. E. Church, Jacksonville, III. 

I have examined "Our Home" sufficiently to satisfy myself that it is 
a very worthy book. Excellent in matter and style, pure, exalting and 
beautiful in its i>ui*pose and scoj^e, I cheerfully coumiend it. 

REV. W. A. SMITH, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Ladoga, Ind. 

Having examined "Our Home" I can heartily recommend it ad wor- 
thy of a place in every family. Certiiinly the greatest guarantee to our 
children and the surest guarantee of their future success is that the very 
atmosphere of home be love. The aim of this book is to show what a 
model home is, how to have it and how to enjoy it. 

KEV. THORNTON D. FYFFE, 

Pastor Presbyterian Church, Ladoga, Ind. 

LTnless I be deceived in "Olti Home," it is calculated to do good. It 
appeal's a "thing of beauty," and reads as though it would prove a "joy 
forever" to those who heed its directions. Give us more Christiaii 
homes, and a brighter future is assured to the coming generations. 

PROF. JOHN CLARK RIDPATH, 

The Historian, Asbury University, Ind. 

I have examined the work entitled "Our Home" and find it of an ex- 
cellent moral tone, and well calculated to improve the tastes of those 
who read by that much-neglected place called the hearth-stone. I truat 
that the work will receive from the public such substantial recognition 
as its merits deserve. 



s 

c. F. i\)s::.K, A. :>i., 

Prof, op IIistoiiv, ^outiii::;x Illinois >o::mal Uxiveksity. 

I liave can^fiiily cxiiiiiiiicd *'Oi:u IIo:i:r,*' and find it a niopt admira- 
ble book. The l3inguji»;'e id chaste and ehxiucnt. I coinmeiid it 
to a'l J arpnts who desire to ])hice iii tlie hands of their childreu a book 
which will give them correct views ol life. 

GEO. D. B. PEPPER, D. B., LL. D., 

President of Colby University. 

I have looked through *'Oi:r Home,'* and judge it to be one of the 
best books of its cluss. It treats iniportanc subjects in a sensible and 
pleasant way. 

REV. E. N. SMITH, 

Pastor Congrlgational Church, AVaterville, Me. 

I have examhied "Ouu IIo^ie," and find it an excellent work in 
every respect. A liealtliy religious tone ix^rvadea it, and it is replete 
with e!iliglitened and practical arlvitjo. I can recommend it as a book 
that deserves to go into every houseliold. 

ROBERT ALLYN, A. M., 

President Southern Illinois Normal 1" iversity. 

I have examined "Ouu Home,'' and consider it a . aluable work, full 
of excellent advice on excellent topics useful to all. i trust it may have 
a large sale. 

REV. WILLIAM H. SPENCER, 

Pastor Baptist Church, Waterville, Me. 

A brief examination of **OuR Home'' has shown me that it abounds 
In useful and practical suggestions on self -culture and home culture. 

REV. A. M. PATTLE, 

Presiding Elder M. E. Church, AVaterville, Me. 

I have examined "Our Home" with care, and do not hesitate to rec- 
ommend it as a very desirable work. The excellent moral tone, the 
broad scope of the author, combined with the fine mechanical execution, 
make it of more than common interest. 

REV. R. E. McBRIDE, A. M., 

PitiNCiPAL Western Reserve Seminary, Farmikgton, Ohio. 

I have examined with care the book **OuR Home," and find it well 
written — superior in stjde — and containhig many useful suggestions on 
home life and duties, and advice that is sound and wholesome. 

REV. 0. E. MANCHESTER, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Burton, Ohio. 

I have examined with great pleasure "Our Home," and find it to be 
a wise and thoughtful work, containing many rare and beautiful reflec- 
tions, as well Jis choice selections from noted writers. Such a work, 
carefully studied, can hardly fail to produce a harvest of good things, 
where greatly needed— in our homes. 

REV. B. S. DEAN, A. M., 

Vice President Hiram College, Hiram, Ohio. 

After examining "Our Home*' I am sure every home would be e» 
Hched by its attentive perusal. 



WILLIAM KELPLEK, A. M., 

Prof Nat'l Science, Baldwin Untversitt, Onio. 

**There is no place like home*' is a sentiment that needs more ana 
more to be realized bv American youth; every page of this book I am 
ceilain, will help in this direction. Its style and sentiment is elevating, 
and I am pleased nvith its teachings. 

FiEV A. n. POST, 

Pastor Congregational Church, Berea, Ohio. 

After examining the volume entitled **6ur Home*' I can commend 
it to the reading public. The spirit and purpose of this 
book, and the main principles it inculcates are unmistakably good ; and 
no one whose mind is open to truth, however he might differ as to any 
of the details, can read the work without benefit. The American home 
needs purification and reconstruction, and this volume will be helpful 
to that end. 

REV. A. J. LYON, 

Pastor M. £. Church, Berea, Ohio. 

The book, "Our Home," is nmon^ the very best of its class and de» 
serves a large sale. It is written with care, and its pa^es will be full of 
interest ancfhelpfulness to every member of the family. The articles 
on "Con'espondence," "Manners at Home" and "Duties of Home," art 
of themselves worth the price of the book. 

• A. SCHUYLER, LL. D., 

Pres. Baldwin University, Berea, Ohio. 

I have examined the book entitled "Our Home" and am much pleased, 
both with its appearance and its contents. It is a book that ought ta 
find a ready sale and a place in our home libraries. In range of topics 
tt is comprehensive and instructive. 

REV ALFRED OWEN, D. D., 

President Denison Untversitt, Granville, Ohio. 

I have examined "Our Home," and find it full of practical and nsefol 
suggestions. I do not see how it can fail to be useful to those who read 
it. 

REV. LESTER L. POTTER, 

Pastor First Baptist Church, Springfield, Mass. 

I have read with e^reat interest the larger part of "Our Home" and will 
certainly complete ft. I desire to recommend the book heartily, and 
since long communications and book notices are often thrown aside, I 
will simply say that "Our Home" is woiiiiy of a place in every hoase> 
hold. 

REV. E. B. THOMPSON, 

Pastor Second Presbtterian Church, Crawfordsvillb, Inb. 

As far as I have had time to examine "Our Home,'' I can recommend 
It as.of great value and oalculnted to do good. 



FROM PKESIDENT AND FACULTY 
OP Bates College, Lewiston, Me. 

"Odb Home, or The Key to A Nobler Life," is an interesting and 
belpful book. It exhibits in a forcible yet atti*activo manner the vari- 
ous duties and relations of home life. The author's method is practical 
And sensible, his thought clear and suggestive and his style entertaining;^ 
His work deserves a generous welcome from all who value at its ti'u<,' 
woith a happy and well-ordered home. 

O. B. Cheney, D. D., Pres. B. F. Hayes, D. D. 

6. C. Chase, A. M. J. H. Rand, A. M. 

J. Y. Stanton, A. M. T. L. Angell, A. M. 

SARAH A. BARNES, 

Prof. English Literature, McKendell College, Lebanon, III. 

After a cursory examination of ^^Our Home" I am glad to say that 
from its pure moral tone, elevated sentiment, sensible and practical sug- 
gestions, it is worthy of a place in the libraries of all our people. 

W. BRINKERHOFF, A. M., 

President Uopedale Normal College, Oino. 

I am very favorably impressed with "Our Home.** Its style is 
(dear, simple and concise, and in matter very interesting und instructive. 

CYRUS McNEELY, 

Founder Hopedale Normal College, Ohio. 

I have no hesitation in commending this book to the public. The ti- 
tle "Our Home" is significant of its character and of its aim in the Im- 
Srovement and development of society. I should like to see it in the li- 
rary of every family m the community. 

REV. I. VILLARS, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Champaign, III. 

I have examined "Our Home,'* and regard it a very desirable book 
for the family. I hail with delight the advent of pure books in our 
homes. This is a work the very contents of which makes us hungry to 
read. May the agent succeed in placing a copy in every home. 

J. F. M. GATCH, A. M., 

Principal Central Indiana Normal School, Ladoga. 

Let every one who can afford it buy a copy of "Our Home," not 
merely to add one more book to the shelves, but to read and profit by 
the gems of thought and advice within its lids. 

^*The above is endorsed by the entu-e faculty. 

REV. GEO. JEFFERIES, 

Pastor Prim. M. E. Church, Nili.v, (,::io. 

It gives me pleasure to recommend "Our Home." It is a woiuUm- 
fnl book, complete in every way, and a grand idea adinirai)ly niado ji ro- 
alitv. It is ail invaluable work for families, teachers nnti all uiio love 
to vend and umicrstand the duties of home. I anticip.Mte ilori.lJMl «i:'i<*i*«*««» 
for the work. 



REV. E. HOLDSTOCK, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Greenfield, Ind. 

I have examined, to some extent, ^*Our Home," and find it to be, in* 
deed, "A Key to a Nobler Life." It will be of great usefulness in the 
family, both to children and parents : and I feel no hesitancy in recom- 
mending it to all who may wish a good book in their homes. 

REV. W. K. WILLIAMS, 

Pastor Baptist Church, Greenfield, Ind. 

I have examined the book entitled "Our Home," and can truthfully 
say that I believe it would be a valuable appendancy to the home circle. 
Tlie vJ"0«-k ooutains a vast amount of helpful knowledge on many import- 
ant, practical questioTia Indeed, "Our Home" is no ordinary book; it 
lives with us in our homes, goes with us in our sorrows as well as in our 
joys, and finally leads us to view our home in Heaven. 

MR. R. A. SMITH, 

Superintendent Schools, Hancock Co., Ind. 

From the cursory examination that I have made of the book, "Our 
Home," I believe it to be a Truly Valuable book, and one that ought 
to have a place in Every Library. 

REV. O. N. HARTSHORN, LL. D., 

Pres. Mt. Union College, Ohio. 

I have carefully examined "Our Home" and find it the best book of 
the kind that has come to my knowledge. In matter and style it is ex- 
cellent. I shall not only be glad to re^id it myself, but also have my wife 
and children read it, and recommend it to other families. The book is 
well gotten up and its price is low. 

REV. E. A. TANNER, D. D., 

Pres. Illinois College, Jacksonville, III. 

The body of Howard Payne has just been brought back to us for 
final burial. America could not let a foreign land continue to be the 
last resting-place of him who wrote "Ilomp, Sweet Home." The forty- 
three cliJiptcrs of "Our Home" are so many prose variations of the old 
song. As a book it is most wholesome reading for every family. May 
it have a wide circulation. 

REV. E. A. CARLISLE, 

Pastor M. E. Church,* Mourisonville, III. 

I have examined "Our Home" and heartily recommend the work as 
being worth a hundred fold more than its cost to every family. 

REV. E. PERSONS, 

M. E. Church, Mt Vernon, Ohio. 

"Our Home" is an excellent work for family reading, covering a Va- 
riety of topics and expressing choice sentiments and helpful principles. 

REV. ALFRED D. P0R1T5R, 

Pastor Universalist Church, Woodstock, Ohio. 

Having carefully examined "Our Home," I pronounce it the best 
work of the kind that has ever come under my observation. The one 
who reads it cannot fnil to be made wiser, better and ha])pier. I wish 
lliat a coDv could be placed in every home in our huv\. 



REV. J. M. DAVIES, 

Pastor Presbyterian Church, Niles, Onto. 

It gives lue great pleasure to say a p^ood word for **Our Home.^ It 
is a book well qaalitie<l to aid in reiideri!!*^ home attractive. The me- 
chanical exociitioii is elej^ant, while the thought is fresh and the range 
of topics sulticicntiy varied to sustain the interest throughout. 

• IlEV. E. P. RANKIN, 

Pastor Presbytekiax Ciilucii, Mouuisoxville, III. 

"Our Home'' is a very worthy book, its subject -^ most iinjjortant. 
"Tli<» home," says Ex-Gov. ().j;Iesby, "is tlio mo^^t iniport:iMt I'ac^or in 
our politic-^.'* No dan;rer need ])C IVjirod whon the home-* oT o.r t'oun- 
try are wh:it they ought to be. Kv«'ry eflort to solve the proi)l'^.iii of 
making our homes more pure, lielpf ul and good deserves encouragi'iuent. 

REV. IRA G. SPRA(a:E, 

Pastor M. E. Ciujkcii, Aluurx, Me. 

I have examine<l "Our Home*"' with pleasure and iirofit. It is i»ure 
hi its design and practical in it** sug^^^^tions. JJoMi parcjity au.l children 
will be led to a purer and happier liic by its perusal. It is w ):*thy of a 
place in every home. 

REV. J. K. WHEELER, 

Pastor Flsut BArnsT Ciiiucii, Teure IIalte, Ind. 

I have examined the book entitled "Our Home" and think it well 
adapted to the family. needs; a good book for parents and children to 
read. 

REV. E. J. LAMPTON, A. 31., 

Christian Minister op Camp Point, III. 

fhave examined with some care the book entitled "Our Home," and 
would say that I find it rich in thought, beautifully expressed. Every 
point is stated clearly so the reader can't fall to understand the autlior. 
And as a book for the family I most cheerfully commend it. 

REV. J. F. MILLER, 

•Pastor M. E. Chuiicii, Newark, Ohio. 

Tlie contents of "Our Home" ])n'sents at once a richness in variety 
and matter which attracts tlie mind and at once leads to a desire to inves- 
tigate and ascertain the value of the contents, which is worthy of being 
a "companion" in every liome. 

REV. H. A. THOMPSON, D. D., 
Prof, op Mental and Moral Science, I^kesioent Otterbein 

University, WF:sTEitviLLE, Ohio. 

"Our Home" i*? an earnest, discreet and intelligpnt presen'^ation of 
the value of home life and the influences that niake or mar it. It is well- 
written, safe and prudent in its teachings, and full of valuable les>o?is 
for both old and vounc:. It is a book which every on^ may read v.ith 
profit, for all are'interested in the homes they no '.v have or those tlioy 
expect to make. It i«5 one of the very best books on \]\U subject wiii -li I 
have ever been privileged to read. 1 most heartily conunend h to the 
public. 



GEO. P. BROWN, A. M., 

President Indiana State Normal School, Terre Haute. 

^^Oiir Home/' a book by Mr. C. E. Sargent, is a work nobly coH' 
eeived and admirably executed. It is said to be a young man's ideal of 
home. It is to be hoped that every young man and young woman in our 
land may become imbued with its sentiments. It should be in every 
home where there are young people. 

REV. MR. TELROE, , 

Pastor M. E. Church, Lancaster, III. 

I would recommend to your favorable notice the elegant book ^^Our 
Home.'* It will be found useful in every household. 

REV. J. VAN CLEVE, A. M., 

Pastor M. E. Church, Bridgeport, III. 

I take pleasure in recommending ^^Our Home." It is practical and 
elevating in tone, and worthy of a place in every household. 

^ C. S. LEONARD,' M. D., RAVENNA, OHIO. 

With pleasure I recommend *^Our Home." It is a book worthy of 
careful study. One important feature is the instruction on molding char- 
acter, urging that our children be not only ornaments at home, but able 
to successfully resist temptation and become useful members of society. 

A. W. ALCORN, M. D., RAVENNA, OHIO. 

After scanning the bill of fare for ^^Our Home," my interest to know 
what the author had new or savory to place before me was excited. I 
ordered a sample of each article. I liave only tasted, but I am so well 
pleased with the flavoring and healthfulness of each dish, that I most 
heartily recommend all my fnends to secure rooms in this home. The 
scholarly author must be most happ^ in presenting to the i-eader some- 
thing worth reading and inwardly digesting. 

FROM THE LEWISTON (Me.) GAZETTE. 

It is something notiible in these days of dudeism, literary and other, 
to find evidence of a leaven of young manhood still working with an 
earnest purpose and a high aim in behalf of the general good of human- 
ity, in taking Home ana Home training for his subject Mr. Sargent has 
gone to the root of social life, the fountiiin of that "stream of tendency,'- 
which flows onward through life in the direction either of evil or good. 
The subject is of pammouut impoitance and the author gives evidence of 
his keen appreciation of that fact throughout his work. He han<lles his 
theme vnth practical results in view, and not for the sake of indulging in 
more of the sentiment and sentimentalism with which Home literature is 
more than saturated. There is trouble in our homes. Too many of them 
are stupid, dreary, almost insufferable — a place from which fathers fly to 
clubs and nails, and boys and girls to streets. "The restoration and 
pre.servation of ^e old home love and reverence by a more rational and 
scientific conception of the home relations" is what Mr. Sargent, in rhis 
book, has endeavored to help forward. Home education is a subject, as 
Harriet Martineau points out, so important in its bearings on every one^s 
happiness, and so inexhaustible in itself that no person can undertake to 
lecture upon it authoritatively as if it were a matter completelj- known 
ind entirely settled. Mr. Sargent does not so undertake to lecture, but 
he has drawn with discriminating care the best suggestions of wisdom 
and experience on the manv subdivisions of his subject, and so fused them 
in the alembic of his o^oi intelligence that his book leaves no essential 
phase of home life unexplored. 



DR. S. W. SETLER, 

Pbopribtor Niles (Ohio) Sanitakiah. 

*K>ar Home** should find a place in every family library in oar land. 
The chapter on ^'Economy of Home** is well worth the price of the en- 
tire book. 

A. B. SLUTZMAN, 

Superintendent op Schools, Kent, Ohio. 

**Oar Home*' merits an extensive sale. Every parent, son and 
daughter should read it. Next to the Bible this book should form a part 
of tno home library. 

REV. ANDREW WILSON, 

Pastor Untversalist Church, Ravenna, Ohio. 

I heartily recommend ^^Our Home*' to the earnest attention of all in- 
terested in niakiDg the home atmosphere and life, purer and happier. 

REV. M. N. SMITH, 

Pastor Baptist Church, Kent, Ohio. 

Home influence is all powerful in molding character. I commend 
*^Our Home** as a valuable assistant in this dlm^tion, and should be in 
every family. 

HON. O. S. ROCKWELL, 

Hator op Kent, Ohio. 

I consider ^^Our Home*' a most excellent work and commend it heart* 
lly to every household. 

REV. J. F. JOHNSON, NASHUA, N. H. 

I cheerfully commend "Our Horae,-^' believing it will yield ma6^ 
more than Its cost in sound and valuable information. 

REV. H. C. PARKER, NASHUA, N. H. 

I find "Our Home** abounding in timely and practical information. 
It is written in charming style. It will do much towards making our 
homes the purest, happiest and sweetest spots on earth. 

REV. W. B. TOOLMIN, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Leominster, Mass. 

Having examined "Our Home,** I believe it a most excellent book 
and valuable for the family. 

REV. H. P. CUTTING, 

Pastor Congregational Church, North Leominster, Mass. 

I believe ^^Our Home** to be true in spirit, and eminently designed 
to make our home life better and happier. 

REV. F. G. RAINEY, 

Pastor M. E. Church, Dalton, Mass. 

I have examined ^^Our Home,** and And it a treatise of merit. The 
ideas of the author are to be trusted because right and pure in sentiment. 
In the influences of home life lies our hope as a nation. I can commend 
the book as worthy a place in every household. 



/ 



10 
FROM EX^OV. DINGLEY OF MAINE, 

IN LEWISTON (ME.) JOURNAL* 

Mr. C. E. Sargent has proven his wisdom in the title of his book, and 
touches every heart, "Our Home, or the Key to a Nobler Life," and w« 
are ready to join hina when, in his i)reface, lie says, "What the home Is 
society will be. The moral corniption and the dark vices of the city 
would perish in a single night did not their cancerous rootlets reaoh down 
into the foulness of perverted liomes." 

Mr. Sargent is not a believer in corporal punishment. He claims 
that "every argument that can be deducted from the wide range of hu- 
man nature, forbids us to inflict corporal punishment on children." If 
Mr. Sargent can teach one parent to so control and discipline liimself 
that he, walldng up the paths of life, may lead by the hand, not drive 
by the rod, his children with him into tlie green pastures and by the 
still waters of truth and righteousness, — if his book does this and noth- 
ing more, he will have done all things for that one home, for to the 
home where such a father and mother belong, will ail the world come. 

Running the eye over the chapters, "The Nature of Home," "Influ- 
ences of Home," Buds of Promise," "Childhood," it falls upon *'Home 
Training," and we are glad to find that Mr. Sargent's argument for the 
training of our little men and women is — to let them alone. Not to take 
from them the good and leave them alone with evil, but having removed 
the evil, leave them to grow, unhampered by the fetters under whose 
weight older people groan. "The disposition," says Mr. Sargent, "De- 
pends upon the condition of the stomach," which fact everybody will 
probably admit while they go on making their children slaves of that 
old giant Dyspepsia, whom John Bunyan no doubt referred to under 
the name of Giant Despair who lived in Doubting Castle. 

"Books for the Home," "Evenings at Home," "Sundays," "Corres- 
pondence," "Manners at Home," "Success or Failure," "Trials of 
Home," '^Heaven our Home," we select as heads of chapters to show 
the large field the work covers. But we want to let Mr. Sargent speak 
for himself. Of intemperance, he says : "The problem of home training 
to-day covers the problem of intemperance." "Dyspepsia tends not so 
much to make people cross at their meals, as being cross at their meals 
makes them dyspeptics." "So long as children are growing up with a 
taste for the nostrums with which babies are universally poisoned, the 
world will be full of drunkard.^." "Scholarship, culture, refinement 
and inborn nobility nowhere betray themselves so conspicuously 
as in the correspondence." "Men too often forget that they owe 
any special duties to their wives, and yet there is no man who has a 
worthy wife but owes her a debt he can never pay." "Patience is the 
grandest representative of God." *• Probably more talented young 
men have been rendered useless by tlie delusion that genius is a' com- 
pound of wine and laziness than by any other one cause." 

Mrs. Gai-field has wi'itten a letter of introduction to "Our Home," 
in which she says, "To tlioughtful men and womrn whose attention has 
been directed to these subjects, the interest would not be in finding 
new ideas, but in the fact that our young men are beginning to think in 
the ri^ht direction — ^that they look to the true home as the great' school 
in which the hope for humanity lies." 

It is much for an author to be able to say he has sent out a book 
which he does not regret ; it is, perhaps, all he can ask if words of his 
lead men and women to higher and holi^^r vi»nvs of life, and we think Mr. 
Sargent's book will do this. John G. Whittier said to a friend not long 
since, "At my time of life, literary fame is nothing, but if thee tells me 
I have written anything that has helped a brother or sister, that is the 
hiirhp't i)v.n}<e I c.in receive." 



11 

REV. E. A. BRINDLEY, D. D., 

Pastor Methodist Protestant Church, Youngstown, Ohio. 

Were there no other indorsement of this boolc, "Our Home/' we 
should consider the letter of uitroduction by Mrs. GaiDeld a suflicient 
guarantee of its excellence. It is a work that should And its way into 
every family, and perused and be studied by every mother anxious for the 
welfare of her children. Its style is simple, chaste and eloquent, with 
the power of truth enforcing every line and convincing every unpreju- 
diced mind. Next to the Bible this work should be the treasure of every 
household. 

REV. J. A. SXODGRASS, D. D., 

Pastor Baptist Chukcu, Youngstown, Ohio. 

Having carefully and with no little interest exnmhied the book **Our 
Home," 1 take gi-eat i)loasure in recommending it to ))arents as the very 
best book, of human origin, I know of for the family circle. I wish 
every family in which 1 have any influence could have a copy. 

REV. A. M. HILLS, D. D., 

Pastor First Congregational Church, Ravenna, Ohio. 

I have examined "Our Home'' by C. E. Sargent, with Introduction 
by Mrs. Garfield, and find it full of interesting thoughts and valuable 
suggestions. It ^Wll elevnte our liome life au(i save our homes from 
neglect and dangers. 1 wish for this book a wide circulation and in- 
fluence. 

REV. DANIEL IJ. EVANS, D. D., 

Pastor First Pres. Church, Youngstown, Ohio. 

After examining *'0ur Home," I anv happy to say that it is marked 
with wholesome counsel and written in a vigorous and interesting style. 
Its presence would be a tieasure in every f.-nnily. Light shines from 
this work upon the i)arental patliway which is sometimes wrapt in un- 
certainty. 

REV. J. L. DAVIES, D. D., 

Pastor Second Cong. Church, Youngstown, Ohio. 

After an examination of *'Our Home," I cheerfully commend it as a 
i^ook that cannot fail to make home life plea^anter, liappier and nobler 
for those who will read. its pages and heed its teachings. 

REV. WALTER QLINCY SCOIT, D. D., 

President Ohio State Universitit, Columbus. 

•*Our Home" is a good book to be kept in the sitting room. 

REV. C. V. WILSON, D. D., 

Pastor M. E. Church, Voungstown, Ohio. 

I have given *'Our Home" a careful examinntion, and would say that 
it seems to be an admirable work, calculated to do much good. An ex- 
tensive circulation and careful reading cannot fail to have its influence 
upon our homes. I most heartily commend the work to all. 

REV. SAMUEL G. HAIR, D. D., 
Pastor Belmont Ave. Pres. Church, Youngstown, Ohio. 
With pleasure I commend this book, "Our Home." Having exam- 
ined its pages I find that it will be a valuable help to parents, especially, 
in secunntj a well ordered home. In the teachings of this book we will 
find truly '*The Key to a Noble^* Life," and it is worthy of a place in 
every home. 



REV. J. C. STONE, 
Pastor Christian Church, Bridgeport, III. 

I heartily recommend *^Our Home^* to every family and hope tt mill 
And its way into many homes. 

KE V. THOMAS SMITH, 
Pastor Pr£S. Church, Bridgeport, III. 

I take pleasure in recommending ^^Oor Home.'* It is worthy a 
place In every library. 

REV. J. SCOTT DAVIS, D. D., 
Pastor Pres. Church, Sumner, III. 

*'Onr Home,'' with its rose-tinted paper and elegant binding, but 
above all its most entertaining and instructive matter, is not only an or- 
nament but a very valuable book of domestic culture. 

REV. JAMES D. CROOKS, D. D., 

Pastor M. E. Church, Worden, III. 

I take great pleasure in recommending ^'Our Home,** and hope U 
win find its way into every family in our land. 

REV. JOHN LEEPER, D. D., 

Pastor M. E. Church, Sumner, III. 

Our Home" is not sentimental but practical and Instructive and 
Dught to be in every home, where it should be read and studied by every 
member of the family. 

REV. O. H. CLARK, D. D., 

Presiding Elder, Olney Dist., Southorn, III., Coxperexcb. 

Whatever helps us to appreciate that place which most nearly ai)- 
proaches heaven must be always welcome. I can say in behalf of "Our 
Home'' that its sentiments are pure and true and cannot fail of inculca- 
ting those virtues that make home the dearest spot on earth. 

REV. W. H. HILLIS, D. D., 

. Jacksonville, III. 

It is with pleasure that I recommend Mr. Sars^ent's book entitled 
**Our Home," as worthy a place in every family. Few books would be 
more appropriate as a present for a young friend. The style is interesi- 
ing and the moral tone of the work is excellent. Such chapters as those 
on "Manners at Home," and the "Education of our Boys and Girls," are 
specially important in this day when these subjects are, by many, but 
Uttle heeded. The teachings of this book adopted in the homes of oui 
land will fill many hearts with new views of domestic duties, and spread 
the light of joy in many families where it is not now known. 

REV. ISAAC BOBST, 
Pastor Lutheran Church, Laxcastes, III. 

Having carefulljr examined "Our Home," I believe it to be an exct»i 
lent hook.and heartily reeommenil it to the homes of my i>eoi)lrt. 



13 

GEORGE P. BROWN, A. M., 

President or Ixdiaha State Normal. 

''Our Home" is a work nobly conceivod and admirablj execnted. It li 
•aid to be a yoaug maD's iMeal of home. It is to be hoped that every youn^ niaii 
and yoang womau in our laud may become imbued with its sentiments. It should 
be iu every home where there are young people. 

REV. GEORGE ALCORN, 

Pastor M. £. Church, IIuumelstowk, Pa. 

Having examined " Odr Home/' I feel justified in commending it as a book 
designed to do good. Everything that tends to inspire uo^^e purposes, and stimu- 
late the mind and heart in the pursuit of all that is hone ., pure, and lovely, is a 
blessing. We feel satisfied that this book is calculated to do all this, and recom- 
mend it to all lovers of pure literature, and consider it worthy of a place in every 
home. 

REV. THOS. HILL, D. D., LL.D., 

Ex-President of Harvard College. 

I have examined *' Our Hove " with some care. There can be no question 
that the book possesses much merit. The style is attractive, the matter good, 
and its introduction will prove a benefit to every home. 

8. G. BURNET, D. D., LL.D., 

Professor of Theoloot, Cumberland Uniyersitt, Lebanon, Tbnn. 

" Our Home " is a good book. This is saying a great deal. It suits all 
classes and well deserves a place in every family library. 

J. D. KIRKPATRICK, D. D., 

Professor OF Church History, Cumberland Uniyersitt, Lebanon, Tbnk 

I Iiave had time to give " Our Home " a ha^ty examination, but a very pleas* 
ant one. It is indeed a book for the home, and I wish it could be in every family 
in our land. It is well written, the thoughts good, the language pure and 
chaste, the style pleasant and attractive. I cordially recommend the book to all, 
and no parent, son, or daughter can read it carefully without being benefited. 

J. L D. HINDS, A. M., PH.D., 

Professor of Chbmistrt, Cumberland Uniyersitt. 

I have examined *'Our Home" and find it an exceedingly valnaUe book. 
It can but carry a blessing into every home in which it finds a place. 

R. V. FOSTER, A. M., 

Professor of Hebrew, Cumberland Uniyersitt. 

** Our Home " is a good book. Its sentiment is excellent, though it It not 
exclusively a " sentimental" book. If you buy a copy and read it carefully yon 
Md your home will be the better for it. 

REV. J. J. PORTER, 

Pastor of Baptist Church, Lebanon, Tbnn., and Editor ov 

The Missionary Baptist. 

I have reviewed "Our Home" and it affords me pleasure to commend it to 
the homes of all our people. All mothers should be acquainted with its piactieal 



i4 

REV. DR. H. F. WOOD, 

Pastor Broadway Baptist Church, Dover, N. H. 

I regard the work of C. E. Sargent, entitled "Our Home," one of the 
best on the subject ever written. It treats in a most practical and com- 
mon-sense way of almost every phase of home life, its style is such 
that it entertains as well as instructs. If its practical suggestions were 
carried out in our homes, it would, indeed, be, as it claims to be, *'The 
Key to a Nobler Life." It is worth all it costs, and worthy a place in 
all our homes. 

REV. FRANK K. CHASE, D. D., 

Pastor Washington Street Church, Dover, N. H. 

I have given "Oui Tome" a careful examination, and commend it as a 
remarkable book. It deals with questions of vital importance and ad- 
vances some of the best rhoughrs th:it have ever been expressed upon 
this subject. The book shows originality an^l common sense and insists 
upon that integrity of heart and life which alone can make our homes 
attractive and helpful. 

C. A. BICKFORD, 

Editor Moiining Star, Dover, N. H. 

I take pleasure in commending the excellent work entitled ^'Our 
Home." 

REV. C. H. DANIELS, 

Pastor Congregational Church, Portland, Me. 

I have read ''Ou"' Home" with great interest; if all cur homes could 
catch its spirit, great good would come. Every chapter is full of com- 
mon sense, and wisdom beams from every page. 

REV. A. II. WRIGHT, D. D., 

Portland, Me. 

The book bearing the expressive title, "Our Home" is an able pro- 
duction, thoujrhtfm and serious; its suggestions wise and practical. The 
literary style is excellent. It cannot nelp making the home what it 
should be : the nursery of all noble minds and pure lives. 

REV. W. B. TOULMIN, 

M. E. Church, Leominster, Mass. 

"Our Home" i^ a work of groat merit, and superior to anything of the 
kind before published, to my knowledge. 

REV. GEO. M. HOWE, D. D., 

Congregational Church, Princeton, Mass. 

I have examined ''Our Home"' and believe it to be a most excellent book 
and invaluable for cver^' home. ** 

FROM THREE ABLE DIVINES OP GARDNER, MASS. 

We heartily commend "Our Home" as beinar a work of great value and 
worthy of a place in every home, where it will aid all who read It, to the 
attainment of that true culture which mark a gentleman or a lady. 

REV. J. H. TWOMBLY, D. D., Meihodist. 

REV. LAWREVCE PHELPS, D. D., Congregational 

REV. J. C. HEWLEIT, D. D., Episcopal. 



15 

REV. X. EDWARDS, 

Pastor 31. E. Church, Naugatuck, Conn. 

T have read **Our Home" with nmch interest and profit. . It dcservea a 
place ill every home, and I liopc it will have a wide circulation. 

REV. J. G. BURGESS, D. D., 

Waterbuky, Conn. 

**Our Home" is a work of rare worth and literary merit, and deserves a 
large sale. 

* 

REV. D. L. R. LIBBY, D. D., 

Nkw Britain, Conn. 

I take pleasure in coramen(iin<; **Our Home." It is a grand book for the 
home, aud will delight old and young. 

REV. GEO. P. MAINS, 
M. E. Cmmrcii, Watkrbukv, Conn. 
I have examined **Our Home*' and find it a wholesome and indeed help- 
ful volume. 

REV. JOSEPH ANDERSON, D. D., 

Pastor Congregational Church, Wateubury, Conn. 

It is becomin;^: more and more evi<ient tliat the liome i> a factor of cen- 
tral importJince in our social and nati(»nal life. One of the ^reat questions 
with thoughtful men, is, how to protect it from the evils which bo-ct. it, 
and to develop it to th^ highest perfection. *K)ur Home*" is an honest 
er.dcavor to answer this difiicult (jucstion. As the subject is one whirh 
concerns the people at large, the discussion is in j)opular form ; but it is at 
the same time thoroughly earnest and sincere. The list of topics is of it- 
self sulRcient to show' the extent of the subject, and the many good things 
whi(*h the reader will find within these 430 pages. It is a book which 
ought to find its way into every home. 

REV. JOHN G. DAVENPORT, D. D., 

Pastor 2nd Conguegational Church, Waterbuky, Conn. 

From an examination of ''Our Home". I find it a worthy treatment 
from a ]>o|)ular standpoint of a most import.-mt theme. In the-e days 
when the family and home are so violently assailed, it is well for us to 
look carefully jit the found itions of our domestic happiness, and at the 
methods by which it may be preserved. 

FROM THE GARDNER RECORD, (MASS.) 

The name '*Our Home or the Kev to a Nobler Life" is the key no»3 to the 
book and expresses in itself the beautiful lesson on home life taught in the 
work. To be ftilly appreciated it must be read and re-read; new i(ieas 
and new thoughts suggest themselve-^ at each reading. In a word it is a 
companion for every member of the family. 

REV. L. TENNEY, D. D., Barre, Vt., 

Sdpt. of Pubijc Schools and Pres. of Barre Academy. 

The volume entitlc'd "Our Home'' is judiciously arranged, pleasantly 
written Hnd is a benutiful book. It will interest, instruct and profit all 
who give it a caref'u perusal. It jhould be in every home. 



[. 



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SEP 1978 
WAUiiAM, MASS. 02154 



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SEP 1978 
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