The Republican journal., 1870-02-03

\ BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT. Even the OLD
barn, crazy in every timber and gaping al
every Joint, has charms for me. l try again
the breathless leap from the great beams IL
the hay | sit again on the threshold of tho
widely-opened doors-open to the south winC
of spring-and watch the cattle whose faces
| look half human to me, as they sun them
selves, and peacefully ruminate, while drol
| by drop the melting snow on the roof drills
holes through the wasting drifts beneath the
caves The first little lambs of the season
totter by the side of their dams, and utter
their feeble bleating, while the flock nibble
by the hay rack, or a pair of rival wethers
try the strength of their skulls in an cncoun-
ter, half in earnest half in play. The proud
old roosters crow upon the dung-hill throne,
and some delighted member of his family
| leaves her nest, and tells to her mates and to
me that there is one more egg in the world.
The old horse whinnies in his stall and calls
to NE for food. look up to the roof and
think of last wears swallows-soon to return
again-and catcn y glimpse of angular sky
through the diamond shaped opening that
gave them ingress and egress. How know
not, and care not, but the old barn is a part
of mysclf-it has entered into my life and
given me wealth and growth.
But | look into the house again, where
the life abides which has appropriated these
things and finds among them its home. The
hour of evening has come, the lamps are
lighted, and the good man in middle life
though very old he seems to me-takes down
the Bible and reads a chapter from its hal
lowed pages. A sweet mother sits at his
side, with my sleepy head upon her knees,
and brothers and sisters are grouped reverent-
ly around me- do not understand the words,
but have been told that they are the words
of Cod and believe it. The chapter ends,
and we ali kneel down, and the good man
prays l fall asleep with my head in the
chair, and the next morning | remember
nothing of how | went to bed. After break
fast the Bible is taken down, and the good
man prays again, and again is the worship
repeated through all the days Of many gold
en- years. The pleasant converse of the fire
side, the simple songs of home. the words o.
encouragement as | bend over my schoo
task, the kiss as I lie down to rest, the
patient bearings of my restless nature, tho
gentle counsels mingled with reproofs an6
approval, the sympathy that meets and as
suages-all these return to me amidst the
responsibilities which press upon me now,
and | feel as if had once lived in Heaven
and straying had lost my way.
Well, the good man grew old, weary, and
TELL to sleep at last with blessings on his lips
for me. Some of those who called him father
lie side by side in the same calm sleep. The
others are scattered and dwell in new home,
and the old house and orchard have passed
into the hands of strangers, who have learn
ed or are learning, to look down upon then
as | do now. Lost, ruined, forever left be
hind, that home is mine to-day as truly as i
ever was, for have Inot brought it away witt
me and shown it to youp 1t was the home
of my boyhood. In it 1 first found my men
tai food and by it was my young soul fashion
ed To me, through weary years and man.
sorrows, has been perennial fountain 0
delight and purifying influences, simply be
cause it was my home, and is part of me
The landscape comes when | summon it, ano
| hear the voices that call me from lips whicl
memory makes immortal Timothy Tit
comb.