The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-03-22

Of sIeaves and stubbisr upturned by the plow-
share of the poet, has been, as rustic picture,
set in gilded frame of verse; and hung up long
ago in the gallery time; or the worm, which
| from its own body spins the tGread whose woven
fabric forms fer II alike habitation and tomb
l-au are builders.
We scan with curious eye the handful OF leaves
and moss, the last years nest, where the life OF
some feathered sOngsier began, or the bit OF
earth whose fragment reveals the shellof worm
or insect that has long since risen on gaudy
wings to its higher life in air aud sunlight. And
shall we not with greater interest regard the
once common places of earth which, as the homes
or haunts of men. have received a baptism Of
fame from heroes whose touch or presence trans
figures them with lustre no time can dimi
Not alone in stately castles lordly halls where
greatness has sometimes had its home, but in
humble dwellngs-even In hoyels-the place
needs to borrow nothing from art to perpetuate
it's memory So we visit alike cot or castle not
to view magnificent ruins, but to pay homage to
souls that have dwelt there and to borrow, il
we may, something of the inspiration their
thoughts reveal
Not Of less interest to the tourist is "Stratford
upon Avon than the stately halls Of the New
stead Abbey nor is AYR or Eilisland, where lived
and sung 1.-The bonniest bard of all time. than
the famed mansion of Abbotsford, from whence
the Harp of the North" awoke such thrilling
| numbers And to what spot do more tender mem.
cries cling than "Haworth," where quiet genius
lit its lamp in that humble cottage home, sur
rounded by graves and overlooking that barren
Yorkshire heath3 Or what an unfading light IL
umines the dungeon Of Bedford jail from the
lustre of Bunyans presence there So, too, our
Western world, whose slopes and hillsides are
growing green with memories Of her illustrious
dead-as Mount Vernon, and Monticello. and
Marshfeld.. and the tombs of Lin
coin, and Longfellow, and Irving,
aud Hawthorne, Thoreau, and many others
whose names have become part OF tho history
Of their time and country, and whose graves are
| to be shrines for pilgrims in Coming years And
| there are thousands OF homes where the life
| drama has been played as well in all its acts.
| though in humble spheres-homesteads moss
grown and crumbling beneath the hand Of time,
in whose darkened halls the warm, bright gleam
of 'shousehold fires was once reflected by happy
faces, now faded from the light and the air
was stirred by sounds of human Voices whose
echoes have died in the long ago-upon the sol
emn stiffness of the place the intruding football
seems to jar as in the presence of the dead, and
the rude laugh or careless jest sounds like pro-
family
Few objects are of moro interest TO the
thoughtful mind than an old house. once enliy-
ened by the touch Of humanity, now forsaken
and des0late the light from whose darkened
windows like the life that once quick ened it, gone
out forever. So like ia it to human ,iecrepitude
as it totters under the weight of years. how it
teens with memories thick as the dust or mold
that have settled upon its dingy walls. Could
the thoughts, the passions and emotions that
once held sway here be summoned again.
what ghostly train from out the shadowy past
would como trooping across the stage in this lit
tie theater of life What unwritten records
do these walls contain of human life--strange as
any story of history or romancel How the sol
emn stiffness that broods over it contrasts
with the sounds of voices that
once made its air vocal! And
its wind-swept floors seem strewn with blighted
hopes, like withered leaves What scenes-is has
witnessed, of JOY or sorrow, of devotion or de-
spair: What shouts of laughter, or what cries Of
| anguish have broken the stiffness of it's cham
bers. What loves have been born, or what hopes
what sad partings it has witnessed. It has held
the merry throng whilst in joy and mirth the
happy bride crowned, and it has heard the
low sobs of mourners, and the last sad words
that fell from lips fast whitening for the grave;
and in its hushed silence the mourning wreath
has been placed by the gentle hands of loving
| ones above the coffined dead. It Is consecrated
by all the dear associations that spring from
early life and Irvine like ivy their tendrils of at
lection about the human heartily q mothers
prayers, fathers blessing, and sisters love.
Let it be kindly remembered for the cheerful
light that once blazed upon it's hearth for the
shelter it has given from storm or heat for the
rest it has afforded in WEAKNESS or pain, for the
happy thoughts that its peaceful hours have
borne, and for the reflected light Of hope which
it casts upon the dark future, as life's shadows
lengthen. and Its house of this body begins to
feel the touch of decay; pointing to that house
not made with hands of many mansions whose
foundations are eternal, and upon whose walls
no moss or lichens cling to hide the footsteps Of
decay. L. 1T
MARCH, 1885,