The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1880-07-22

ratter Of merriment-the loaf Of bread
turned into a geological specimen, the
slusbv custards, the jaundiced or measly
biscuits. 1t is a very bright sunllgnt
that falls on the cutlery or the mantle
ornaments Of a new home,
But after awhile the romance 10 all
gone. and then there is something to be
prepared for the table that the book
called Cookery Taught in Twelve Les
sons" will rot teach. The recipe Tor
making it is not a handful OF this, q cup
of that, and a spoonful o fthat; 1t is not
something sweetened with ordinary c0n'
diments, or favored with ordinary ma
yors. or baked in ordinary ovens. II is
the loaf of domestic happiness; and all
the ingredients come down from heaven
and the fruits are pluCked from the tree
of life, and is sweetened with the new
wine of the kingdom, and it is baked In
the oven of home trial. Solomon wrote
out of his own experience. He had a
wretched home. A man can not be nap
nv with two wives, much less with Six
hundred, and he says: Better is a din
ner of herbs, where love is, than a stall
ed OK and hatred Herewith" =.
How great are the responsibilities OF
housekeepers. Sometimes an indlgesti-
Bile article of food, by its effect upon a
commander or King, has defeated an
army or overthrown an empire. House
keepers, by the food they provide, by
the couches they spread, by the BOOKS
they introduce, by the influences they
bring around their home, are deciding
the intellectual, physical, moral, eternal
destiny of the race. You say your life
is one sacrifice. l know it. But, my
sisters, that is the only life worth living
That was Florence Nightengale's life;
Payson's life; Christ's life. We admire
it in others, but how very hard it is for
us to cultivate it. How few of us have
the Christ.like spirit; a willingness to
suffer for others. A rough teacher in a
school called upon a poor, half-starved
lad who had offended against the laws
of the school, and said: Take off your
coat directly, sir" The boy refused to
take it of; whereupon the teacher said
again, "Take off your coat, sir" as he
swung the whip through the air. The
boy refused. 1t was not because he was
afraid of the lash, he was used to that at
home, but it was from shame, be had no
undergarments; and as at the third COM
mand he pulled off his coat, there went
a sob all through the school. They saw
then why he did not want to take off his
coat, and they saw the shoulder blades
had almost cut through the skin, and a
stout, healthy boy rose up and said to
the teacher; "0h, sir, please don't hurt
this poor fellow, whip me; he's nothing
but a poor boy" The teacher said: "It's
going to be a severe whipping, am will
ling to take you as a substitute" The
boy said: II don't care; whip me; and
let this poor boy CO." The stout, heal
thy boy took the scourging without an
outcry. "Bravo!" says every How
many of us are willing to take the fail.
ing, and the suffering, and the toll and
anxiety for other people! Beautiful to
admire, but how little we have of that
spirit. God give us that s~elf'denying
spirit 30 that whether we are in humble
spheres, or whether we are conspicuous
in life, we may perform u whole duty
for this our struggle will soon be over.
One of the most affecting reminiscen.
ces of my mother is my remembrance OF
her as a Christian housekeeper. She
worked very hard, and when we would
come in from summer play and sit down
to the table at noon, | remember how
she used to come in with beads of per-
SEPARATION along the line Of gray hair, and
how, sometimes, she would sit down at
the table and put her hand against her
head and say: "Well, the fact is, I'm too
tired to eat" Long after she might have
delegated this duty to others, she would
not be satisfied unless she attended to
the matter herself. In fact, we all pre-
ferred to have her do so; for somehow
things tasted better when she prepared
them. Some time ago, in an express
train, l shot past that old homestead. l
looked out OF the window and tried to
peer through the darkness. While l
was doing so, one of my old schoolmates
whom l had not seen for years, tapped
me on the shoulder and said: Dewitt,
l see you are looking out at the scenes of
your childhood" | said: "0h, yes; /
was looking out at the old place where
my mother lived and died." That night
in the cars the whole scene came back
to me. There was the country home;
there was the MONDAY table; there were
the children on either side Of the table,
most of them gone never to come back.
At one end of the table, my father, with
a smile that never left his countenanCe,
even when he lay in the coffin. 1t was
an eighty.six years smile-not the smile
of inanimation, but Of Christian cour-
age and of Christian hope. At the other
end of the table was a beautiful, benig-
nant, Woodworking, aged Christian
housekeeper, my mother. She was very
tired. l am glad she has so good a rest
ing place. "Blessed are the dead who
die in the Lord; they rest from their la.
hors and their works do fOlloW them