Woman's chronicle. (Little Rock, Ark.) 1888-1???, 1889-12-28
HEARTHsTONEs AND LATCHsTRINGs.

"reminiscences and latchstrings have gone out of
fashion. The present advanced state of ciyiliza-
ton has proven itself benefit to many things
more than to the family Preside.
This was an institution in the minds Of the Pill
grim Fathers not even secondary to the family
altar, indeed, it may have been identical with that
shrine before which they might bow down in un-
alloyed freedom.
Civilization has experimental with these two
possessions of the human heart the affairs and the
hearthstones, till they have each ceased to form
essentials in building our habitations. We rear
monuments of architecture toward the skies, we fill
them with the suits and trappings of modern deco
rative art, and then we gather about the little
square of vanished iron filigree in the corner of
the room, which cheerfully sends up blast of cold
air, and we call it home. We gid and garnish the
steam heater, and we prefer its vigorous humping
to the melody of CHEEKY fire and the musical
humming and singing of the tea-kettle.
We have taken in the latchstring and replaced it
with themodern night latch. Our homes assume
naughty and exclusive air, and are not expansive.
Do you know that houses expand with hearts and
hearts expand just in so far as the house is home
to the inmate thereof?
We rear structures of stone with our dollars
we erect an altar, perchance, if we do not forget,
and did we but search in the inner sanctuary of
that altar, the only allusion we would find to the
God of the Pilgrim Fathers would be the neat in
scrption on the round silver dollar therein repos-
ing "In God We Trust
The American has rarely been guilty of such
sentimentality as he exhibited in removing the
bones of John Howard Payne to native SOIL His
immortal words were done in worsted and card
board, and hung over the family mante shelf;
they were printed in old English, surrounded by
impossible nosegays as long as fashion permitted,
and then with other questionable epithets in the
interests of domesticity, such as sThe Old Oaken
Bucket and 1.-THE Old Arm Chair" were finally
relegated to the ragbag, and home slid one step
backward by the transaction.
Civilization whirs us on with the years and man
with his dollars INDUCES every within of modern
taste; he buys all to adorn his habitation, save
one thing, and that his dollsrs are powerless to
obtaln-that is atmosphere. In some hallowed
corner OF his heart, perhaps, where 'twere sacri-
ege for modern thought to invade, is the men,
DRY OF the peaceful home of youth. And are his
dollars powerless to obtain the soul rest of that
home? He will see. 3D..
So he goes to the old homestead whose master
and mistress are sleeping in the quiet church ward
and he drags the old clock from the corner where
it has stood nigh ten decade, and transports it to
his city home. He dusts up the spinning wheel,
and draping it in a crushed raspberry scarf, he
bids them lend to the atmosphere some of the con-
tentment, warmth aye, and some of the truth and
OF the love of the years that are gone. He builds
log fireplace in the center of frowning civilza
ton and carves an appropriate inscription thereon
that the household gods may again materalize
and dwell with him.
Alas, vain hope!
And 1t may be that in the future will hang from
his door panel the old time latchstrng, but it will
be from tickle fashions dictates, and will bespeak
nothing of thespirit of hospitality it so rudely ex-
pressed in the halcyon days of yore. ~.
= WHY'S it that we live in houses and not in
homes! Is it because Truth and Love have ceased
to dwell among us? Has the fire of love and truth