Wood River times. [volume] (Hailey, Idaho) 1882-1915, 1893-10-09
"HOME, SWEET HOME. "

HOME, SWEET HOME"
Twas a winter eve and a wild one.
The gas lights on the streets of Il.
shone dimlY and titfully through the
storm. 1t had showed all day and
was still showing. Not soft and
featherly as in the morning, but in
those sharp dry fakes that cut like
shot. The wind was high too, piling
the snow in long shifting drifts in
the cross streets and alleys, blocking
the way. How it whistled around
the corners, tearing and Juggling at
tiles and paling. 1t seemed alive
with tiendish delight, bowling and
shrieking in the wayfarer's ear. Few,
however, we're exposed to its fury,
the streets were almost deserted. An
occasional belated straggler founder
ing along through the drifts was all.
No matter how meager, there was too
much cheer and warmth indoors to
tempt many beyond their own TIRES
hold this night.
She crept in from the street and
srouched under the steps OF stone
front to escape the cold. The wind
was less biting here and the snow as
yet had not penetrated its deepest
corners Here was heap of Ieaves
and litter. swept together by the
wind from the street She drew her
stockingless feet beneath her scanty
robes and sank back into the shadows.
She was safe here at least, till some
sharp eyed Waterman espied her and
made her "mOve on"
The rich glow of gaslight from
dimmed windows shimmered on the
snow before her; happy childish
voices and merry music sounded
within. AS she listened awhile,
full sweet voice struck up those sal
soul sick words; Home, Sweet
Home"
Spellbound she listened. Home?
Her old Home? She hadn't thought
Of it for months What mUckery it
was to her. What was it to her any
how, where was her home? Nowhere
In the wide world was place that
she could call "home." And she
wrapped herself closer in her rags
and tried to shut the home sick mel
ody from her ears
She knew what want and suffering
was. she knew what sin was; her face
told that. She knew what it was to
be spurned by all mankind, to have
even the children shun her and point
the finger of shame. She had seen
those she had brushed by on the
street draw their robes closer about
them and shudder as if contaminated
by her contact. Lower and lower she
had sunk, further and further away
from virtue and God, until now she
had reached the lowest ebb House.
less and friendless; wanderer on
such a night as this; in a land too
where mems hearts are open widest
and the sympathy of their fellow
beings deepest. PitifuI indeed are
those who can call no man 'friend"
After a while as she crOuched there
a dreamy stupor crept over her. A
strange. delicious warmth tingled
through her veins, swift burst Of
heavenly music sounded near. 1t is
no longer winter. but balmy spring.
In place of the bowling of the storm
was singing birds and murmuring
water. The narrow walls of her
refuge stretched away, she was in
wide green fields and shaded lanes
Why, what is this? How familiar
everything looks! Can it be that she
is back again to the old place?
Surely, for here are all the same old
landmarks.
Yes, there was that old maple--the
one over the spring by the roadside,
its trunk all gashed and name carved.
Hers among the rest and just beneath
it carved in the same boyish hand
was another-but it doesn't matter;
she has no right to think Of that
now. Where Is he now, she wonders
and docs he ever remember her?
Does he ever think of his boyish love,
of the golden. happy days agone?
Dces he ever pause in the rounds Of
his uneventful life to wonder where
the erring one is? She has forfeited
all this she knows, but still it's pleas
ant to linger here.
And there, further back from the
road, until it Is half hid In the shell
tering orchard is the old homestead.
How natural it looks! The wide paths
that lead up from the land and mead
ows lined by the great box beds OF
marigolds and chimney pinks. The
high brown gables and dOrmers with
the diamond paned windows; behind
the great weather beaten wide doored
barn. And the little vine-covered
stoop with fathers easy chair, and
the wide door.stone, white with the