The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1895-06-28


That realm no one has ever disputed
with her Men may come home at
noon or at night, and then tarry a
comparatively little whilei but she,
all day long, governs It. beau. lilies it,
sanctifies it. 1t is within her power to
make it the most attractive place on
earth. IL is the only calm harbor in
this world. You know as well as do
that this outside world and the business
world are long scene of jostle and
contention The man who has a dol
lar struggles to keep it. Prices up.
Prices down. Gains. Misrepresenta-
tions- Underselling. Buyers depre-
ciatirg; statesmen exaggerating. Ten
ants seeking less rents; landlords de-
handing more. Struggles about office.
Men who are in trying to keep in; men
out trying to get in. Slips. Tumbles.
Defalcations- Panics. Catastrophes.
oh, woman! thank God you have a
home, and that you may be queen in
it. Better be there than wear Victo-
ria's coronet. Better be there than
carry the purse of a princess. Your
abode may be humble, but you can, by
your faith in God and your cheerful
ness of demeanor, gid it with splen-
cors such as an upholsterer's hand
never yet kindled. There are abodes
in every city-humble, two stories;
four plain, unpapered rooms; undesir-
able neighborhood; and yet here is a
man who would die on the threshold
rather than surrender.
Why? It is home. Whenever he
thinks of it he sees angels of God how
ering around it. The ladders of Heav-
ep are let down to that house. Over
tne child's rough crib there are the
aantings of angels as those that
sroke over Bethlehem. 1t is home
These children may come up after
awhile, and they may win high posi-
ton, and they may have an affluent
residence; but they will not until their
dying day forget that humble roof, un-
der which their father rested, and their
mother sang, and their sisters prayed.
Oh, if you would gather up all tender
memories, all the lights and shades of
the heart, all banqueting and re-
unions, all filial, fraternal, paternal
and conjugal affections, and you had
only just four letters with which to
spell out that height and depth, and
length, and breadth, and magnitude,
and eternity of meaning, you would,
with streaming eyes, and trembling
voice, and agitated hand, write it out
in those four living capitals, HOME
What right does women want that
is grander than to be queen in such a
realm?
Why, the eagles of heaven can not
fly across that dominion. Horses,
painting and with lathered flank, are
not swift enough to run to the out
post of that realm. They say that
the sun never sets upon the English
empire; but 1 have to tell you that on
this realm of woman's influence, eter-
nifty never marks any bound. Isabella
fed from the Spanish throne, pursued
by the nations anathema; but she who
Is queen in home will never lose her
throne, and death itself will only be
the annexation of heavenly principal
tiles.
When you want 70 get your grand
est idea OF a queen, you do not think
of Catherine of Prussia, or of Anne of
England, or Marie Theresa of Ger
many; but when you want to get your
grandest idea of a queen, you think of
the plain woman who sat opposite
your father at the table, or walked
with him arm-in-arm down lifes path
way; sometimes to the Thanksgiving
banquet, sometimes to the grave, but
always ogether-soothing your petty
griefs, correcting your childish way
vardness, joining in your infan-
tile sports, listening to your even
ing prayers, toiling for you with
needle, or at the spinning
wheel, and on cold nights wrapping
you up snug and warm. And then at
last on that day when she lay in the
back room dying, and you saw her
take those thin hands with which she
had toiled for you so long, and put
them together in dying prayer that
you to the God whom she
had taught you to trust-Oh, she was
the queen! The chariot of God came
down to fetch her; and as she went in,
all Heaven rose up. You can not think
Of her now without rush of tender
ness that stirs the deep foundations
OF your soul, and you feel as much
a child again as when you cried on her
lap; and if you could bring her back |
again to speak just once more your
name, as tenderly as she used to speak |
it, you would be willing to throw
yourself on the ground and kiss the |
sod that covers her. crying: Mother! |
lnother!" All, she was the queen-she |
was the queen. Now, can you tell |
me how many thousand miles a !
woman like that would have to |
travel down before she got to the !!
Lallot-box. Compared with this work |
of training kings and queens for God |
and eternity, how Insignificant seems |
all the work of voting for aldermen |
and common councilmen, and sheriffs, |
and constables, and mayors, and presi- |
dents! To make one such grand wom-
an as / have described, how many thou
sands would you want of those people !
who go in the round of fashion and |
going as far toward dis |
graceful apparel as they dare go, so as
not to be arrested by the police-their |
behavior a sorrow to the good and |
caricature of the vicious, and an insult |
to that God who made them women |
and not gorgons, and tramping on.
down through frivolous and dissi- |
pated life, to temporal and eternal |
Oh, woman. with the lightning of /
your soul, strike dead at your feet all |
these allurements to dissipation and /
TO fashion. Your immortal soul can /