St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1897-03-13
SATURDAY. MARCH R 1897

moons blowing among the hills, and
there were neither lark's carol nor
humminR-bird's trill. nor Waterfalls
dash. but only bears bark. and pan.
ther's scream, and VOLTS howl, then
You might well gather into your
homes only the shadows. But when
God has strewn the earth and the
heavens with beauty and with glad
ness, let us take into our home circles
all innocent hilarity, all brightness,
and all good cheer. A dark home
makes bad boys and bad girls, in prep
aration for bad men and bad women.
Above all, my friends. take into your
homes Christian principle. Can 1t be
that in any Of the comfortable homes
of my congregation the voice of prayer
is never lifted3 What! No supplicatiou
at night for protection? Whatl No
Thanksgiving in the morning for esre3
How, my brother, my sister, will you
answer God In the day Of judgment
with reference to your childrenS
It II . plain question, and there.
fore / ask it. IL the tenth chapter
Of jeremiah God Mys He will pour
out His fury upon the families
that will not call upon His name. @.
parents. when you are dead and gone,
aud the moss ID covering the inscrip-
tion Of the tombstone, will your chill.
dren look back and think Of father and
mother It family prayerf Will they
take the old family Bible and open it
and see the mark Of tears Of contri-
tion and tears Of consoling promise.
wept by eyes long before gcne out
into darkness? Oh, il you do not in
culcate Christian principle in the
hearts Of your children, and you dc not
warn them against evil, and you 30
not invite them to holiness aud to God,
and they wander on into dissipation
and into infidelity, and 1t last make
shipweck of their immortal souls. on
their deathbed and in the day Of judg.
ment they will curse you! Seated by
the register or the stove. what II on
the wall should como out the history
Of your children? What . history
the mortal and immortal life of your
loved ones! Every parent is writing
the history of his child. He Is writing
it, composing it into song or tuning
1t into groan.
Ny mind runs back to one Of the
best of early homes. Prayer, like .
roof over it. Peace, like an atmos-
phere in it Parents, personi6cations
of faith in trial and comfort in dark
ness. The two pillars of that earthly
home long ago crumbled to dust. But
shall ever forget that earthly home?
Yes, when the flower forgets the sun
that warns il. Yes, when tho
mariner forgets the star that
guided him. Yes, when love
has gone out on the hearts altar
and memory has emptied its urn into
forgetfulnesa Then. home Of my
childhood. will forget thee; tho
family altar of a fathers importantly
and = mothers tenderness; the voices
of affection, the funerals of our dead;
father and mother, with inter.locked
arms like INTERVIEWING branches Of
trees making . perpetual arbor
Of love and peace and kindness
then I will forget thee-then and
only then. You know, my brother,
that . hundred times you have been
kept ont Of sin by the memory of such
. scene n I have been describing.
You have often had raging tempta.
tions, but you know what has held
you with supernatural grasp tell
you . man who has had such good
home as that never gets over it. and .
man who has had bad early home
never gets over that
One night, lying on my lounge, when
very tired, my children all around
about me In full romp and hilarity and
lsughter-on the lounge. half awake
and half asleep. dreamed this dream:
I was In . far country. 1t was not
Persia, although more than oriental
luxuriance crowned the cities. It WAS
not the tropics, although more than
tropical fruitfulness filed the
gardens. It was not Italy, al.
though more than Italian softness
filed the air. And wandered around
looking for the thorns and nettles. but
I found that mono Of them grew there,
and l saw the sun rise, and watched
to see it set, but It sank not And
saw the people in holiday attire, and I
said: when will they put Oh this
and put on workmen's garb and
again delve in the mine or
swelter 1t the forge?" but they
never put on the holiday attire.
And wandered in the suburbs of the
city to find the place where the dead
sleep, and locked all along the line
of the beautiful hills, the place where
the dead might most blissfully sleep,
and saw towers and castles, but not
. mausoleum or . monument or
. white slab could l see. And
I went into tho chapel Of the
great town and said: where
do the poor worship and where are
the hard benches on which they sit?"
And the answer was made me: I'VE
have no poor IN this conntry." And
then wandered out to find the novels
of the destitute, and I found mansions
or amber and ivory and gold. but not =
tear could see, not sigh could l hear,
and WAS bewildered, and sat down
under the branches Of = great tree, and
I said: "Where am /? And whence comes
all this sceue7" Aud then out from
among the leaves. and mp the hqwery
paths, and across the bright streams
there came . beautiful group throng-
ing all about me, and n saw them
come I thought I knew their step.
and - they shouted thought knew
their voices; but then they were SO
gloriously arrayed in apparel. such n
I had never before witnessed. that
I bowed - stranger to strang-
er. But when again they clapped
their hands and shouted: "Welcome,
welcome" the mystery all vanished,
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