The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-12-15
HOME, SWEET HOME"
A Day at Ardmore, the Home of Robert
j. Burdette-The Lair" of the
Funny Man.


of the city, but still, as our managing editor
might remark, in his simple and contentious
way, in "close propinquity" to the metropo-
lis where every half hour through the day
the trains go dancing in with such exact
promptness and certainty that the Jester very
seriously asserts that he never winds his
watch up when at home. And what a very
tranquil, happy. perfect little picture of a
home it is! Securely alenated from the rush
and wrangle of the cars, and sitting SNUG
within the center of smooth
square lawn, it looks in its
quaint architecture, porticos and gables,
like picturesque design in some bit of
tinted worsted work that women please their
I cunning fingers building; and then, to carry
out the smile, the trim sward has lace
like fence to edge it, with "open-work" at
either corner where the carriage of "Her
little Serene Highness'' flashes and semi
circles in and out on every sunny day. For
in their new home Mrs. Burdette is more
improved in health, and in contentnent,
too, than when, by travel, up to year ago,
she sought relief from her long suffering.
For this is home!" she said, CHANGING
proudly and most fondly round the twink
ling parlor land although 1 can't s1urry up
and down it with dust-pan and
broom, l can lean back here and
leisurely devise all sorts of things
to do, and have them faithfully
and promptly done-since," she navely
added-"being helpless myself, you know
the blessed household humors me, with such
patience and good-nature, that half believe
sometimes Pm not exacting after ALL" And
then we all laughed, and she as heartily as
any, which merriment in some odd way re-
minded her eccentric husband of numerous
examples of her tyranny" "submissively
endured, he meekly said, through an arid
waste of welded bliss ten years in length
twice that in BREADTH and century in cir
cumference" But all the time the speech
consumed the little wife smiled on unwaver-
ingy, approaching fully the perfect beauty
of the fabrication. and, like the dolls dress
maker with sage look, back of all. suggest
i've of that oracle's net phrase, "Oh! | know
your tricks and your manners my fine gen
tleman'
And the Burdette home is filled with
other music than the TESTERS laugh There
is the piano and the flute and violin-the
latter, now, however, he seldom touches,
since his wifes afflction-she having always
in 1.-THE days lang syne" accompanied his
violin with the piano, and now, the once defu
fingers shut in the close grip of her reent-
less malady, his own refuse to caper up and
down the strings. But they sing together
still-and her bright sister Miss Garrett,
with them-and 1.-The Prince" as well, who,
by the way, is so brimmed with melody he
OF his KTndergGfferp al all tha e5rtetl hHfreu
with vocal scamperings of the Three Blind
Mice" or the staccattoed echoes of the tink-
lings of the koof-tips OF "Old hriss kringles"
reindeer on the roof.
And again. in memory, listening to verita-
BILE specimens OF all this summer melody at
Ardmore, a voice of some kind sings to me
like this:
Forever the birds are there,
And ever the song of the birds,
And ever the exquisite, Intricate air
or laughter aud loving words;
And ever the robin trills-
In the winter as well as the spring.
And even the nest that the white snow fills
Holds ever the birds that sing.
o, ever the birds are there!
Singing so clear and strong,
That the melody OF the joy they share
Is one with the angels song;
And the wee bird wakes in the nest
To twitter ana pipe and call,
Till the world of signs is a world ungueS6ed,
Aud the world of song is all.
And the artistic talents of "the Prince
are onderful. Keeps his thumb parboied
turning the leaves of books for pictures"
said the enthusiastic father, whose early
youth as we'll as the sons must have dogs
cared many pictured volume, as one could
but surmise, seeing him deity 'set copy"
for the boy to reproduce; and, again, ushered
above into the lair" of the versatile author,
one could but acknowledge the conclusive
evidence of his artistic skill, in crayon, paint
and pencil. as III ink.
"The lair" is a cozy corner room, a south
window looking down upon my neighbor's
truck patch" of which the Jester went on to
saw that, as insignificant libel on farm as
it appeared to be, a stranger glancing at it
could have no idea of how much
produce the old man pulled out
| of the ground there annually.
''And this western window" he continued,
moving toward it, gives out, you will OBJ
serve, upon the back lot of the baronial de-
mesne and "a goat. whose unfortunate
temperament you may find suggested by his
being tied to the fence AT considerable ex-
pense" he went on, smiling, II secured that
| goat year ago. to amuse the Prince; and,
| later, | secureD him to save the boy from an
! ignomnious enc But-but''-he continued,
gravely, 'let me not speak further in the
presence of me childe of a subject that can
but recall to him the pangs of memories bet
ter buried in the past foreverl' At the con-
clusion of this speech the expression of the
Princes face grew dubious, and he hinged
out at the door with a rebuking air that
brought a look of genuine remorse to the
fathers eyes, as he hurried to bring back the
truant and reinstate himself in royal favor.
On either side of the writer's desk, which
occupies the center of the room, stand
two homemade bookcases, filled with mis-
cellaneous works, among which the more
prominent are Hawthorne, Dickens, Thack-
| cray Harte and Twain, Longfellow, Holmes,
Hood Keats and Tennyson. And then there
is a scattering number of simply humorous
versifers, together with compilations of the
odds and ends of all the American wits, from
Darby down to Bill Nye, OF the Boomerang.
On the top shelves are heaps of curious me-
mentoes, gifts from adnirng friends, souve-
Mrs and trifles of every conceivable kind and
from all parts of the world-Indian relics,
crystals, corals shells, MOSES, ores, stalacttes
Lila ihnhlc