Des Arc weekly citizen., 1867-06-08
sentinel.]
 Home and Hearth.

Home, home, sweet home! How few fathers ever call to mind and dwell upon, in the busy and continuous struggle with the cold, callous and un- sympathising world without, how in estimably happy it is for them to have a home--a shelter-a refuge from the fierce conflict between man and man in the battle of life! How few properly value and appreciate the Joys ana piess- ings which dwell in the happy little world of home, so unlike the other world just left at the gate, and over which they reign, wise and proyident rulers! How few feel that the bless ings surrounding them are blessings. or that the little joys, cverpresented to them, are joys, or that the little world at home is different in all respects from the greater one without, Does the man of the world, returning to this minute world of his own. around whose portals none may intrude without his consent, ever ponder and dwell upon the gracious blessings surrounding him, and weigh the responsibility God has placed in his hands, of which he must sooner or later render account?
 How few parents, alas! ever enter their own homes approaching the blessings God has given them, and un- derstanding themselves and their rela- fiAnchir. fn tl,a,,. ..l,tllronf M ha among the thousands who battle daily with a dishonest and over-exaeting world, go home and enter it's loving portals with that keen appreciation of, and admiration for, all that is pure and innocent upon earth, which should fill the heart of the God-fcaring and thankful among Christians, brothers and men.
 Of all carth's blessings for man, God has given nothing so immeasurably dear, and so deserving of his every good wish and provident desire, as Home--that republic over which he is chosen monarch--that earthly heaven, VI NuiNt hC To hiu-. iuici. ta'hNit "i
 The thousand alluring and disgust ing vices of the outside world-alas too familiar too him it may be-are unknown to the darlings who are growing up at home. The guilt and shame of a rotten world have not yet cast their baneful allurements across the hearth around which his own blood and flesh have multiplied to bless his name and call him father.
 The little ones prattling around him as he sits quietly by the hearth, peer ing into the glowing coals whose lurid fcrvency, like the lulling wings of a seraph in dream, have drawn his overtaxed brain into an abstracted and thoughtful revery, look up with tell. tale eyes and peep into pap's face, to read the story of love or anger. Has papa ever thought how inexpressibly dear to these little pets is one kind word from him or an approving smile
 How few of us, alas arc competent to appreciate the blessings of the dcai | little Haven at Home-the innocent world of love, when the great world without frowns upon and hunts down the dropping spirit within with relent. less persecution! How few of us real. i ly appreciate the little world we have lpeopled with innocence, whose inquir. ing eyes look upon the passing menag' erie of the world without in rosy at mosphere and brilliant colorings How many of us can understandings, and enjoyably appreciate that blessed llittle world at home, which, at close o day, in loving circle greets papa n the hearth, and whose loving little