Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-11-12
THE SANGTITY OF THE HOME.

ories-more hallowed than the home.
Around it cling the fondest dreams,
the Hottest hopes, the tendencies that
point one to the summit of all he is to
reach. To it, belong the first instincts
of all that leads to a higher, nobler
life; not alone for this ephemeral life,
but for that one wherein we become
the gamers OF the fruits of this.
It is here that the first prayer is
lisped, where we receive the first in
stinct of our Creator. In it, we get
the first lessons calculated to fit us for
the launching upon the perilous jour-
ney of life. 1t is the shield Of cur
youth, the haven of refuge a life that
has grown restless and weary. 1t is
the altar upon which has been con-
secrated all that life holds dear; a
shrine to which we kneel to meet the
inevitable. Upon it our tears of joy
have been shed, and likewise those Of
our grief.
Around it clings all that savors OF
good, and the truest value of it is new
err attained, the fullest appreciation of
it never known. until life's work is
done and it becomes the soothing Grad
lie of cur sleep.
My heart goes out in genuine pity
to the man who knows not this peace
of home: and | do not marvel at the
fact that men fall, but that more do
not fall who are not blessed with such
gift I pity the man who has felt
not the touch of this mystic hand to
grasp him from the pitfalls that be-
strew our paths. | love to think that
there are few men in the world who,
no matter to what foreign chimes their
restless feet have roved. nor to what
CULTS of depravity he may have fallen,
does not still feel that benign influence
CT the home.
Except it be the awakening to the
realization of an illspent life, l know
of nothing as sad as the severing of
the home ties. He is lifting anchor
from the rock Of refuge, to sail, rudder-
less, upon a sea that leads to soundlexs
depths, and out amid shallow-hidd' 4
crags and reefs that yawn for all that
neareth them.
The rapid migration from the coun-
try and the village to the large cities.
where more advantages are enjoyed. Of
fer countless instances of this. 1t is
often not so much comDulsion, As
it is to crafty and adventurous spirit;
vet. not unfreuuently it is the occa-
sion of shere necessity and quite ex-
pedient to the maintaining Of those at
home less fitted to support.
To leave the home, does not seem to
us to be occasion for tears and regrets
it produces in us a peculiar state of
manly pride that cannot be defined; to
lN,, 10 y
master. our own guide, is freedom
of which it appear to us we will never
tire.
The grief, however, is not for those
go abroad: it is rather for those who
are left behind You little guess of
the hidden grief of that sainted moth
er, who laying her folded hands upon
your head asks for your guidance; your
protection and your safe return: and
above all, land this is given with a
reverance that you could not define
until in after years. she asks God to
bless you and keep you pure. You can
but detect a half-shed tear in her eye,
but schooled as she is in reserving her
deepest grief for the sancity Of her
chamber, she smothers it in her caress-
es. All, could you but have stolen into
the privacy of her apartments and
witnessed the tears that flowed unabat-
ing, / feel sure that never would man
suffer arrangement from that home to
mar its happiness.
Your exuberance fades away as YOU
view the last endearing marks that
form the boundaries of your home,
and it is the first tear, the first heart
tear Of your life; and ali me, il it were
but the last.
You struggle on for a time from one
pursuit to another, and finally, after de-
feat and disappointment. you can call
yourself fairly successful. You have
already fallen into new customs, which,
so foreign to those which you have
been used, that you question just
whether they are the proper thing or
not; but custom is an ardent teacher,
and soon you cease to question it at
all, You have made new acqwintan-
ces; gay, hale fellows we'll met;
through their aid you gradually gain
a social footing and you are fairly set
adrift upon the social sea-
The letters to home have been full
of interest, and to a certain degree not
without affection; but from some I'M
hEO"A SOulCS tlielt HAS CT6pt III upon
you the fact that it all sounds senti-
mental; you cannot we'll remember just
how it came about. but for the first
time the regular Sunday letter home
was omitted; it was not Indifference;
Oh, no; but for all that the letter was
not written: you rather expect a child
ing when you next hear from home;
but you need not fear there is too
deep love in that mothers heart to
allow her to either chafe or chide YOU
she not SO much as even refers to it's
absence, except Il missed your dear
letter so much" and that 81 am sure it
must have gene astray"
For time you are as punctual as be-
fore, then, from some trivial cause you
again omit the Sunday letter. and re-
Numbering how unexpected the other
omissions wre received, you take cour-
age and the loving missive that tends
to keep the home relations fresh and
green is deferred for another week.
And thus is spun the first silken
thread that is finally to multiply the
strand that forms the cable 'twixt Won
and the home
You are moving, possibly, in a So
cial circle whose advantages have been
superior to your own; you find a way
into homes, which, so elegant and re-
fined that you covet them with all the
jealous ardor of your nature; and, al
though you will scarce even secretly
admit II Won pnnSI1ra vn,r 70