The Camden weekly journal. [volume] (Camden, South-Carolina) 1853-1861, 1853-12-20
Misfellanfons.
ssHOmc."
BY MARY IRVING.

had, in the progress of an evening call, taken
up that touching song of Dempster's from the
open piano. Turning to his companion and in,
terpreter-for he was stranger in our land
and novice in our language-he asked eager
ly-
What call you that word home in Fran
caiss'
The question proved a puzzlng one for,
alas the poor French possess, neither in name
nor in reality the counterpart of that sweet
Saxon monosy liable. His friend finally sue.
ceeded, by series Of circumlocuting French
phrases, in conveying shadow of the idea to
the young foreigners mind. His fine face
which had been almost distorted with bewilder-
ment, cleared up like spring morning.
"Ah, seep' he exclaimed, laying his hand
emphatically upon his heart "Home, it is one
good word [ shall it remember"
One good word indeed. Whose soul does
not acknowledge its charm. The pulse OF
prince and Of peasant bounds equally at its
sound.
But who can define the dear word? never,
before the little incident above related, realized
the difficulty of telling, in the words of any
language, what home is.
"lt is the place where people stay, my dear"
was the response once heard rather impa.
tiently given by mother to anenquiring child
leaningaou her lap, who had been teasing her
as to the whereabouts of favourite play
mates home, and wished, as bright children
generally do, to explore the subject throughout
the labyrinth of its.whys and its wherefnres.
"The place where people stay" 1t sounds
plausibly, and it satisfied the chiId.questioner
for the hour. But is it SYNONYM of Home9
Ask the orphan apprentice girl, sitting in
her dreary corner, stitching sishs into the EN-.
brodered velvet Of her mistress wardrobe.-
Ask the bed.ridden pauper in the poor.h"use.
Ask the outcast, in the crumbling city garret.
Are these homes?
Can boarding house, however quiet and
comfortable in its arrangements, b" a home
1t is delicate question to broach; but the
voice Of many hearts and much bitter expert
ence, will bear out the earnest answer-"No!'
Still limiting the word to place of abiding,
halowed by association with kindred ones
ale all homes that pass for such in the worlds
great eye!
We all know what and where chi'd's home
is; it never plays the hypocrite. From the
hour when it's little feet began to make jour.
neys from the maternal door, out among the
flowers and thorns OF life, the first threatening
of danger, or token of unexpected pleasure, is
sure to hurry the grievinS or glad creature
"hoEe" Grown older, it will 60 farther and
farther away-like ripple on disturbed
wave miles over green meadows and ,hrough h
nut bearing woods; but in the hour Of fatigue
or fear it is sure to bound back home. Tired
ofplay, at sun-setting, the boy thinks only OF
his elean-spread supper, his mothers good.
night kiss, his prayer, and then the soft, nice
bed, with its patchwork counterpane Of many
colors. These, and like comforts, make home,
to the butterhy-hearted child. But the time
comes when these are not all Of home to his
heart. He goes farther away-to school, to
college. Years pass, and when next that be.
loved hill and landscape rise on his horizon, he
thinks not of home as place only Of refresh
ment and Of rest. The sisters laugh of wild
delight-the brothers glad hand. pressure
the mothers fearful greeting-the fathers fer
vent blessing-in brief the sweet affections
born and nurtured under that roof:tree, are
what make "sweet home" to him now.
All, well these natural affections are happy
and hallowed things; but they do not always
make nome, dlleT dIl Lie HeaL Will So
abroad into the wilderness of humanity, to
seek his other half, as soon as it is old enough
too often, long before it is wise enough-tor
the perilous quest. How many of the search.
ers find lone in any heart! How many
hearth stones, encircled by family faces, are
worthy to be called homes? How many fash.
ionable parlors, from which the hearth.stone"
of olden days has been razed, over whose soft
carpets little feet tread lightly and on whose
pillowy lounges pale faces lean !anguidly in the
late morning, after the last nights party? How
many Western (and Eastern too) farm. houses,
where the wife wears herself away in toll dis.
proportioned to her strength, and un>oothed
by the sympathy Of the hard d.working but hale
lord and master, who thinks "'ris no use ma
king fuss over womenfoks' complaints
they must bear their end of the log of life,
to be sure; it always spoils them to pct them?"
The same negligent and selfish philosophy has
prevailed over the little yard surrounding the
house, and over all pertaining to the external
adornment of things in general. The main
chance must be minded d''-wheat fields must be
:sown and reaped; and what signifies keeping
scythes, door steps, gates, or any thing else in.
animate in it's proper place! "Home," is it :!
'Tis place to eat and sleep in; It's place,
as the wife knows, to drudge and weep in !;
tits place for children to whimper, dogs to
bark, and careless workmen to lounge and
grumble. But is it that sacred thing home
Forbid it, Peace and Love!