St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1886-01-30


vacillate.
ject. Society has q great multitude Of
grand men, who know how to make home
happy. When they come to be husbands
they evince a nobility Of nature and
self-sacrifcing spirit that surprise
even the wife. These are the
| men who cheerfully sit in dark and dirty
| business offices, ten feet by twelve, in sum-
mer time, hard at work, while the wives
and daughters are off at Saratoga, Mount
| Desert, or at the White Sulphur. These
are the men who, never having had much
education themselves, have their sons at
Yale and Harvard and Virginia Univer-
sity These are the men who work them
selves to death by fifty years of age, and
go out to Greenwood, leaving large estate
| and generous life insurance provision for
their families. There are husbands and
fathers here by the hundreds who would
die for their households If Outlawry
should ever become dominant in our cities
they would stand in their doorway, and
with their one arm would cleave down, one
by one, their invaders, face to face, foot to
foot, and every stroke a demolition. This
country fight more desperately than
| an army of conquest. 1t is not so much
the abstract sentiment of flag as it is the
wife and children at home that turns en-
| thusiasm into fury. The world has such
men by the million, and the homuncull
| that infest all our communities must not
| hinder women from approaching the glory
| of true manhood.
| Twas reading of bridal reception. The
young man had brought home the choice
| of his heart, in her elaborate and exquisite
| apparel. AS she stood in the gay drawing
| room and amid the gay group, the young
mans eyes filled with tears Of Joy as he
! thought that she was his. Years passed
by, and they stood at the same parlor on
another festal occasion. She wore the
same dress, for business had not opened as
brightly to the young husband as he had
| expected, and he had never been able to
| purchase for her another dress. Her face
was not as bright and smooth as it had been
| wears before, and careworn look had made
| it's signature on her countenance. AS
! the husband looked at her he saw the diff
erence between this occasion and the for
| mer, and he went over where she sat and
| said "You remember the time when we
were here before. You have the same
dress on. Circumstances have somewhat
| changed, but you look to me far more
beautiful than you did then" There is
! such a thing as conjugal fidelity, and
many of you know it in your own homes.
| But after all the advice we may give
| you, we come back to the golden pillar
| from which we started, the tremendous
| truth that no one but God can guide you
| in safety about this matter. that may de-
eide your happiness for two worlds, this
| and the next. So, my sister, | put your
case where Naomi put that of Ruth and
| Orpah when she said: "The Lord grant
that ye may find rest, each of you in the
| house of her husband"
Imagine the hour for which you pledg-
ed your troth has arrived. There is much
| merrymaking among your young friends,
| but there is an undertone of sadness IN all
| the house. Your choice may have been
| the gladdest and the best, and the joy of
the whole round of relatives, but when a
| young eaglet is about to leave the old nest
and is preparing to put out into sunshine
| and storm for itself, it feels its wings
| tremble somewhat. She has e good cry
before leaving home, and at the marriage
| father and mother always cry, or feel like
| it, If you think it is easy to give up
| daughter in marriage, though it be with
| brightest prospects, you will think differ
| entity when the day comes. To have oil
along watched her from infancy to girl
| hood, and from girlhood to womanhood.
| studious of her welfare, her slightest i'll
| ness an anxiety, and her presence in your
home an ever increasing joy, and
then have her so away to some other
| home-aye, all the redolence of orange
blossoms, and all the chime of marriage
| bells, and all the rolling of wedding march
in full diapason, and all the hilarious con-
gratulations of your friends, can not make
| you forget that you are suffering loss IL
reparable. But you know it is all right,
| and you have a remembrance OF an en-
barkation just like it twenty five or thirty
years ago, in which you were one OF the
parties, and, suppressing as far as possible
your sadness, you say: "Good-bye."
| L hope that you, the departing daughter,
| will not forget to write often home; for
whatever betide you, the old folk will never
loss their interest in your welfare. Make
visits to them also as often and as long as
! you can, for there will be changes at the
old place after awhile. Every time you
go, you will find more gray hairs on
fathers head, and more wrinkles on
| mothers brow, and, after awhile you
| win notice that the elastic step
has become decrepitude. And some day
one of the two pillars of your early
home win fell, and after awhile the other
pillar Of that home will fall, and it will
be a comfort to yourself if, when they
are gone, you can feel that while you
L a.o fa;thfr,l In; rrn,1. navy home Won n aver