The Brookhaven ledger. (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1875-1883, 1880-10-14
MISS. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 10. 1880
little objects and momentoes which

lent Sucn cHarn TO our nome Weft
no more. l remember seeing
when leaving the ruins of my house
the old kettle lying on the ground
Ii in dilapidated condltion--that
trusty kettle which for years had
sung its same old song on the CRATE
t.Poor, fellow" said ], patting it
l.'you little know how greatly we
Twill miss you" And how often in
after years did l feel pang on mis-
| sing those many small momentoes
lof our ruined Chicago home. An
Iother existence of the love for home
so natural in the human heart is the
following: AT farm house in Nan
ltucket, where the vines twine
|gracefully around the rustic dwell
lings and green fields and fruit-la-
den trees, 1 stopped one day for a
drink of buttermilk. "How long is
it since you were on the mainlandy
/ asked of good old woman who
sat knitting at her door. 'Bless
your soul, sir" she replied, with a
smile, Il havn't been on the main
land at all. Dennis and myself,
coming from Ireland, were wrecked
OH the coast well-nigh thirty-seven
years ago; and we have stayed here
ever since. All our friends and chill
dren are here. Weha all the food
we want and our church is only half
a mile off. Then there's the light
house to look up to at night. What
should we go to the mainland for?"
These good people had made that
once barren island their home, and,
being happy there, the thought of
ever leaving it nevermore entered
their heads.
But many ofus have undoubtedly
an impulse to go out into the wide
world, and to leave our dear homes.
Abraham, the founder of the Jewish
race, is an example of the force of
this impulse. Now, l recollect the
other day seeing venerable old
farmer out in the Catskills. He is
living in the house that his grand
father built over one hundred years
ago. / asked him whether he had
heard of such and such occurrence.
But he knew nothing; his whole ex-
istence had been passed under his
ancestors roof, and he had never
stirred more than mile away. This
very mans brother--a dear friend
of lnine--was the very opposite in
character; he left his home at an
early age, tramped out west, worked
with will, swung himself into a
high position, grew rapidly wealthy,
and is now the proprietor of large
lands and the father of twelve chill
dren. See the contrast, you will
say; but no, the contrast is not SO
great. This mans life is not
naturally different from that of his
brother; it is simply the old life en-.
larged. Where he would have had
one friend at the old home he has
made ten friends at the new one;
where he would have made on. dol
lar there he has made ten here.
But despite the success which ac-
companies our wanderings, we sell
dom continue them without suffer-
ing. Memories spring up of the past,
and we find Croton water never will
taste the same as the lin pid |
water of the brook in our village
home, and that the trees Of G-ti
nIusc vr -na>a4a4,t-tha aame or naIlVe
place. l am great believer in this
attachment to that which is old and
to which we are accustomed. The
community at large is more benefited
by it than one would be inclined to
think. Down town, for instance,
the patent of nobility among the
business houses is the date of their
establishment. The older the firm
the larger the sign bearing the bate
of its foundation and the greater its
reputation. This applies with even
greater force to the Christian Church
that fine old institution that has
braved the storms and turmoils of
centuries.
But to return to the subject of
nv sermon. / recollect asking a
Federal soldier some time ago wheth-
er he did not feel like running away
from his first battle. "Be sure |
did," was the reply; ''but as 1
couldn't run home, and there was no
other place cared to run to, l re-
maiued in my rank, and fought
with the rest" That boy told the
whole story OF the influence home
has on the man. That mother
would never received him in her
arms. that sweet heart would never
have blessed him with her kisses,
and those comrades would never
have welcomed him back, had be
shown the white feather. Thus
| is with us all. The church, th>>
home, the nelghborhood--these are
the pivots of our existence, aud
wander where we will, we are sure
to vearn for them some day or anoth-
er. This love of a home is the sur
est connection with the life that is
to come.
The very fist person | want to see
when 90 to heaven is that little
daughter, with her sweet blue eyes
and her beautiful blond locks, that
was taken away from myself aud my
4 wife in 1853. I believe, as | be-
lieye I am standing here, that the
! greatest joy of life hereafter is that
. Fl will he home over again, home bet
ter. brighter and more blissful thar
any we have here on earth.
n6nIastu