Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1876-01-05

1t was scarcely more than an hours
drive along a quiet country road. For a
mile or tive the reluctant village strag-
gled after. Then We passed solitary
farmhOuses and labOrers' cottages, a
vineyard, an old graveyard, and the
rugged sides of rocky hill. And
then little belt of wooded swamp
lands stretched out its arms of fir, and
pine, and heml0ck, full of spicy odOrs,
and merry little birds, and squirrels
and gray rabbits, all the summer long.
In the winter this was the place where
the fairies hung out their washings,
and sometimes their pearls and dia-
monds. Beyond, the road grew rOugher
and narrower, winding up hill and
down hill, over tumbling brooks and
a noisy river. r.
But every rod of the way was as IA
miliar as our fathers house. We knew
where and when to look for the waxen
cups OF shining laurel, for pink azaleas,
for the earliest May flowers, and the
latest trails of clematis and swinging
southern moss, We knew, too, when
a meadow fence had been built, or
mended, and saw, with ready interest,
every patch of new shingles on a way
side house or barn. We noted whose
hayiDg was coming on earliest, whose
wOOdphe was largest, and whose corn
promised best while every face We
met was the face of friend. So with
many a nod and smile, and word of
neigibOrly greeting, We drove at last
faster. as We came to the end of our
journey, up to our fathers door.
They had heard from within the
sound of our coming wheels, and there,
on the threshold, stood our mother,
smiling, and stretching out her hands.
Presently, from across the street, and
across the gardens, one and another of
our friends came in, always so glad to
see us. Glad to see us for ourselves,
and glad for the ripple of outside life
we brought to the quiet neighbOrhOod.
The table was laid with the choicest of
farm and dairy; the little family trOu-
bles were brought out for cOnsidera-
tiOn and sympathy as well as the fam
lily joys and for our brief stay we were
the centre of the household and neigh
borhOOd.
But of all the pleasures of the well
come home, the smiling mother with
the Outstretched hands is the dearest
symbol now. Ii is eight years since
the eager hands were folded for their
rest under the grass on the hillside.
Folded forever! We go and come, and
come and go, but they beckon never
more. We see the white headstone
that says SO little, and yet so much,
from the windows of the room that
was hers, but we see nothing besides.
Has that loving heart forgotten thenf
Are the hands to be stretched out to
US never again Are the swift feet
stayed forever in their comingf Mo-
No! 1t is only that our journey home
is not yet accomplished. This empty.
hungry, aching "mOther-want"w will be
some day satisfied.
We are on our journey, up hill and
down hill. and IN all sorts of weather.
Along familiar scenes, and among
friendly faces. Nearer and nearer.
faster and faster. Already they, with
in the veil. may have heard the sound
of our coming, and be pressing to meet
us with Out-streching welcome. The
things which God hath prepared have
not entered into the heart of a man.
but we have each our own thought and
expectation of heaven. And for me,
my heaven is as going home. And
as the heavens are higher than the
earth, so will be the joy of that home
coming higher than the joy of this.