Weekly Trinity journal., 1872-12-28
"ROME, SWEET HOME"

John II. Payne, the author of that
touching and immortal song, "Home
Sweet Home," was not only poor in
pocket, but homeless wanderer. In
conversation with friend, he once gave
expression to the following recital:
" How often," said he, have l been in
the heart Of Paris, Berlin and London, or
some other city, and heard persons play
ing Home, Sweet Home, without shil-
ling 10 buy the next meal, or a place to
lay their head. The world has literally
sung my song until every heart is iamil-
lar with its melody. Yet have been Il
poor wanderer from my boyhood. My
country has ruthlessly turned me from
office, and in my old age l have to sub
NIT 10 humiliation for my daily bread"
Disguised with The treatment in his
own country and still impelcd by his dis
position to roam, his only wish was to
die in a foreign land, and to be buried by
strangers, and to sleep in obscurily. He
obtnined an appointment as United States
Minister to Tunis, where he died. We
now turn to period anteccdcnt to the
composition of his song. At times he
was greatly depressed, and seemed to feel
most acutely his loneliness. One day u
friend called to see him, and on entering
said:
How are you TO day, Payne?"
"Downhcarted enough; but last night
had one Of the most glorious visions in
dream Tint ever met mortal eye"
"Ah indeed, what was it ?"
"Well, viii tell you. suppose you
think it scene of vast wealth, or pal
nee, or something Of that kind chat mans
desires set upon. 1t was nothing Of that
kind. | do not often have dreams but
when do they impress me greatly. In
this home ! was in home OF most tran
scendcnt rural beauty. 1t was all that
poet or painter could imagine. The land
scapc was composed Of gently rolling
hills, sweet, still valleys, and mcandcring
streams. There were flowers and birds,
crops, aocks and herds. In the midst OF
this stood various habtatons of men,
women and children, and head pleas
ant voices, laughter, music and song"
"Truly beautiful picture OF human
contcntmeut," said friend.
"Thc lifelong imagery Of my brain, "
cried The poet, of "IIome, Sweet Home" "
Oh how my soul rcvoled in the picture.
But gradually it faded from my light.
strained my eyes to catch the outlines rs
they grew fainter and fainter; but at last
it mad faded. then looked up and saw
a cloud gathering, which grew dark and
terrible.
"Ah said l, that cloud is significant of
my own lot.
''As | said these words, / saw traced
upon it in burning letters, these words OF
the Almighty to another miserable man
"A fugitive and a yagabond shalt thou
be on earth"
"In terror | recognized my doom, and
Nwokc to find it both dream and a sad
reality"
Tha unhappy man buried his face in his
hands, and Tor some time lie seemed to
be in the deepest misery.
"a very wonderful drcam," said his
companion.
(" Well, do you know what I am going
to DO 2" said Payne looking up. "In
tell you. I've been thinking n great deal
over the matter, and intend to write q
song called "iIome, Sweet Home" The
picture Of my dream shall be my inspira-
tion for the task, and my lonely heart
will give a touching pathos to my words -
Not long after the beautiful and i'm
mortal song Of "Home, Sweet Home,n
was given to the world by John Howard
Payne. The dream is moro specially re-
called by the closing verse
An exile from home; pleasures dazzle in vain!
All, give me that lowly thatched cottage again!
Tic birds singing sWoetly that come at my
call
Give mo then that peace of mind dearcr than
all.
Home, Sweet Home
There's no place like homo.