The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1901-12-28
HONE, SWEET HOME.
Reveries Of a Young American In the
Eternal CITY,

Reveries Of q Young American In The
Eternal City.
The following tender thoughts on
Home, Sweet Home"-so vivid at
this festive season in the breast of
one who has roamed afar-has been
sent to the Union and Times, by Mr..
John ORourke, Il young man of bright
promise, now in Rome, Italy:
:
Let us review the scene,
And summon from shadowy past
The forms that once have been.
The picture of home was without
doubt wildly and lovingly fixed in the
mind OF the poet when he penned the
above lines in which he exhorts us to
cast a glance in imagination across the
waves of time at objects that once
i1ourlshed. and, bids us recall from
death the mantle of years memories
now departed.
In the life of every person there are
certainly faded marks to which the
mind frequently reverts, "reminiscences
from which the thought cannot be div
creed. and recOllections which beget
enjoyment in the free intervals of
time. But, if there is any impression
of the past which haunts, if there is
any shadow which we may not divert
from our path, or. if there is any re-
membrance too sacred to be relin-
quished. it is beyond dispute the i'm
preston, shadow and remembrance Of
home, sweet home"
How comes this? Is it that the sum
beams cast across the dwelling where
in we were born were brighter than
those rays which enliven the scenes
that have met our eyes in after life?
Is it that the leaves we plucked in
days of yore were greener than any
that since attracted our notice? Is
it that the palmy breeze which gently
swept the meadows when we thought
lcSsly wandered hither and thither,
forgot to return? Is it that the pale
neon we silently watched when it
sailed through the surfs of the cloud
ell Sky wears different tint? Or,
is it that the single chord of country
chapel or village church bell sounded
swcctcr when it announced that
Christmas morning had dawned, than
the merry pcals that echoed the
"Adleste" from Cathedral turret? No.
How comes it then?
1t requires but very little reasoning
to come to the conclusion, MS to why
home possesses such power. since
the very mention of the word, home,
paints instantly before us, childhood
the happiest period of life, boyhood
made sacred by ignorance of the
world. family life which may justly
he styled the shrine of affections.
Yes, childhood though transitory
must have impressed itself, spent as
it is midst the endearing surround
ings OF mothers affection and a
fathers early love. During this por-
ton of our life, days and months glide
by unnoticcd. Childish prattle and
babylike sports are the only things
that engage our attention. The leni-
Ity, license and liberty extended to us,
make us believe that there is scarce.
ly anything in life but kindness, and,
MS for harshness, we hardly under
stand it's etymology, much less ex-
periencc it's effects. AS yet, the sting
Of envy has but little power over us,
while hatred finds 10 place whatever
within us, and, even the occasions by
those that surround us, that would
tend to bring either passion into dis
play, are deemed cruel in the extreme.
We are fawned on by every one, and,
we dote on all. We rise in the MORN
ing looking forward to nothing but
the enjoyment Of the day, and we lay
ourselves to rest Mt night regretful
that the hours have vanished so quick
ly. However, as everything has its
time. SO also childhood has it's, and, MS
all things come to an end, in like man.
ner this period of life comes to close,
and as we glance at it, we surely feel
compelled to say:
Oh! could l recall them,
The gay joyous years.
Childhood vanished, new and
novel scene presents itself when the
sun of boyhood tops our horizon. Life
seems very enjoyable and the world
doubly bright. We imagine the hap.
piness of those who are little be.
yond us in years to be untold, and as
matter of course, when we cannot
make ourselves men in reality, we do
1t in thought, so much SO, that mir
ror is betimes scarcely sufficient
guarantee to warrant us, that the i'm
'aginary moustache we had been curl