The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1880-04-28
THE TEMPLE OF HOME
One Built With Hands and Hearts-Tv
Near Approaches TO the Ideal Home.
lSign0r Max, I'm Detroit Free Press

lsignor Max, in Detroit Free Press.
Home Is temple made with hands-a1
hearts. In it are conferred the least selfish 7 |
human aspi ations, and there arises from j /
affairs kind of incense, through the pc |
fumed clouds of which those who people IL |
sacred temple seem to see each other j
aspects different and better than those the
were otherwhere. 1t is Loves transfigurin,I
There lies the secret, and out of that sprin
all the sweet and dear impulses that max |
up the sum of domestic joys.
That which we ordinarily call pleasure II
not often associated with the calm happines
OF nome. There is in mere pleasure-in tn |
qualification of the sensuous instinct--a gic |
dIness of which we soon tire. Complete r. 4
lief from the WEAKNESS that waits on selfis
and physical indulgence is found nowheI
but in the placid retirement of well-ordere
home, wherein that which is merely earthly
not suffered to come. Here all grossness Dor
of the selfish; 81 that has the vulgar tain,
all violent and disturbing rebellion againi
the law OF love is forbidden. Every devotee
the home altar is armed against invasion
and all are bound in loyalty to the commo
veal. Such conditions are the foundatio
on which the superstructure of the ides
home is reared. 1t is a happy thought t
and when l remember how much depend
upon them l wonder that we do not aim
them with greater steadfastness of purpose
The simples of which the happiest homes ar
compounded are lying all around at hant
for those TO take VINO will. They cost moth
ing and their value is beyond computing
No special education is needed to enable u
to get the greatest possible good out of THU
universal largess. 1t is mans best inherit
ance, and l should have no hesitation il
signing quit-claim to all contingent pos
essions for a consideration of such wortE
The dear joys that bloom and bear fair fruit il
such homes as L have in mind are not inn
possible ideals; not the product of fancy; no
an Intangible dream; but the very natura
effects OF very common causes
am aware that all homes can not be made
happy in like degree, but the mass of meu
and women can make themselves the pivots
around which revolve so many joys of home
that complaint or discomfort were mean in
gratitude. The labOrer can not afford costly
conservatory nor walk on Persian rugs. As
a matter of fact he does not need them; bet
ter still, he does not want them. The breath
OF spring, the summers perfumes and the
velvet earth are his in equal share with Dives.
who spends his surplus income for artificial
luxuries to stimulate a jaded sense, and who
vainly regrets the far richer happiness he
knew when his ''feet were bare and his cheeks
were brown" / have seen the street laborer
eating his homely dinner on the curb with
his wife or child sitting by him in content,
when he seemed to be embodied happiness
| have known his coming home at nightfall
the signal for chorus of glad welcomes that
millions of treasure could not buy for the
childless man--that even he would not forego
for Dives Persian rugs and gilded state.
Last summer L was sauntering along a
street little way out Of the current of the
city's busy trade. / noticed a cottage with
latticed porch, over which ran a mass of
dark green vines A flower bod filla1 al tl,..
space between the house and the neat fence
that shut it from the street, and a pretty walk
bordered with common white shells led up to
the side door, through which saw the din.
ner table spread and evidently waiting some
body's coming. L confess that the white
cloth, the tasteful arrangement of the dishes,
and a bunch of lilac blossoms fall of which |
saw at glancel impressed me as in charm
ing keeping with the clean and cozy aspect
of the surroundings. l was so full of these
things that did not at first notice what
now recall with glow ofpleasure, and which
made me young again for mouth after the
event. Standing by the open gate was a
woman of perhaps twenty-three. Her face
was eloquent of health and radiant with the
double Joy of happy wifehood and mother
hood. She wore neatly-htting calico dress,
her hair was coquettishly arranged, and her
we'll rounded, erect figure expressed the or
ganic grace and elasticity which belong in
the highest degret to the type of woman of
which she is striking representative. Held
high up in her arms was baby girl that
might have been two years old. 1t was
obviously her first baby. The soft hair was
carefully brushed, and dainty white dress
was set off with pink knot at either shoulder.
1t leaped in its mothers arms and elapped its
hands with eager delight on catching sight
of figure coming down the walk nearly a
block distant.
"See," said the mother. f'Baby's papa's
coming" And "Papai papal papa" answer
ed the child, accompanying each repetition
of the word with an effort TO spring into the
air.
The picture held me rooted to the spot,
and when the husband and father approach
ed near enough L saw a manly, proud and
happy face, the sight of which sent the blood
dancing through my own veins and revived
recollections of the time, long gone, when l
might have been one of a like radiant group.
He wore blue jean oversuit and his face
was swart with the SCOT exhalations of the
forge; but his square shoulders, firm tread,
clear eye and unconscious strength were his
unmistakable patent of manhood. 1t was
not strange that the pretty mother at the
gate hailed his coming with beaming face
and bounding heart. l did not wonder that
his ringing step quickened at the sight, on
which even stranger, with frosted and
sluggish blood, could not look without pleas
urable emotion. One need not enter that cot
tage to know that in its sweet and wholesome
air thrives blest and holy union of hearts
and hands. l shall never forget that
summer MONDAY picture, nor shall
ever cease to be grateful for the
chance that led me near that cot
tage gate The treasures of the Louvre could
not move and thrill me as did that simple
fresh and bloomful touch of nature. 1t was
| like an unexpected watt of the odor of new