Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1901-09-05
house. Over the chiid's rough crib there
are the chantings of angels. as those that

but they will not until their dying day
forget that humble roof under which their
father rested and their mother sang and
their sisters played.
Oh, if you would gather up all tender
memories, all the lights and shades of the
heart, all banquetings and reunions. all
hlial, frate-nal, paternal and conjugal at
fections, and you had only Just four let.
ters to spell out that height and depth and
length and breadth and magnitude and
eternity OF meaning, you, would, with
agitated hand, write it out in those fouI
living capitals, HOME!
What right does woman want that is
grander than to be queen in such realm?
Why, the eagles OF heaven cannot fly
across that dominion. Horses, painting
and with lathered hanks, are not swift
enough to run to the outpost of that realm,
They say that the sun never sets on the
British empire, but | have to tell you that
on this realm of woman's influence eter'
| nifty never marks any bound.
Isabella fled from the Spanish throne,
pursued by the nations anathema, but
she who is queen in a home will never lose
her throne, and death itself will only be
the annexation of heavenly principalities.
When you want to get your grandest
idea of a queen, you do not think of Cath.
crime of Russia or of Anne of England or
Maria Theresa of Austria but when you
you think of the plain woman who sat op,
posite your father at the table or walked
with him arm in arm down lfe's pathway,
sometimes to the thanksgiving banquet,
sometimes to the grave, but always to-
gether, soothing your petty griefs, cor
recting your childish waywardness, joining
in your infantile sports, listening to your
evening 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 toiled for you so long and put them
together in a dying prayer that commend
ed you to God whom she had taught you
to trust-oh, she was the queen! The cha.
riots of God came down to fetch her, and
as she went in all heaven rose up. You
cannot think of her now without rush
of tenderness that stirs the deep founda
tions 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 tc
speak just once more your name as ten.
derly as she used to speak it you would
be willing to throw yourself on the ground
and kiss the sod that covers her, crying.
queen, she was the queen!
Now, can you tell me how many thou.
sand miles a woman like that would have
to travel down before she got to the
ballot box? Compared with this work Of
training kings and queens for God and
work of voting for aldermen and common
councilmen and sheriffs and constables
and mayors and presidents To make one
such grand woman as | have described
how many thousand would you want OF
those people who go in the round of god.
lessness and fashion and dissipation, dis.
torting their bodies and going as far to-
ward dsgraceful apparel as they dare go
so as not to be arrested of the police,
their behavior sorrow to the good and a
caricature of the vicious and an insult to
that God who made them women and not
gorgons, and tramping on down through
frivolous and dissipated life to temporal
and eternal destruction?
o woman, with the lightning OF your
soul strike dead at your feet all these al
lurements to dissipation and to fashion!
Your immortal soul cannot be fed upon
pire and dominion. VIII you have it?
Oh, give to God your heart, give to God
your best energies, give to God all your
culture, give to God all your refinement,
give yourelf to Him for this world and the
next!
Soon all these bright eyes will be
quenched and these voices will be hushed.
For the last time you will look upon this
far earth. Fathers hand, mothers hand,
sisters hand, child's hand, will be no
more in yours. 1t will be night and there
will come up cold wind from the Jordan,
and you must start. Will it be lone
woman on a trackless moor? All, no!
Jesus will come up in that hour and offer
His hand, and He will say, 'You stood by
Me when you were well, now / will not
desert you when you are sick" One wave
of His hand and the storm will drop; an
other wave of His hand, and midnight
shall break into midnoon, and another
nf han ba obap ,bn, 81, 6
God will come down from the treasure
houses of heaven with robes lustrous,
blood washed and heaven glinted in
which you will array yourself for the mar
rlage supper of the Lamb. And then with
Miriam, who, struck the timbrel by the
Lords host into the fight, and with Han.
nah who gave her Samuel to the Lord,
and with Mary, who rocked Jesus to sleep
while there were angels singing in the
air, and with Florence Nightingale, who
bound up the battle wounds of the Cri-
mea, you will from the chalice of God
drink to the souls eternal rescue
One twilight after l had been playing
with the children for some time l lay
down on the lounge to rest, and, half
asleep and hall awake, l seemed to dream
this dream: 1t seemed to me that | was
IN a far distant land-not Persia, although
more Oriental luXuriance crowned the
than tropical fruitfulness filled the gar.
dens; nor Italy, although more than ftal-
ian softness filled the air. And 1 wan
dered around, looking for thorns and net
ties, but found none of them grew there.
And | walked forth and | saw the sun
rise, and l said, "When win it set again?"
And the sun sank not. And saw all the
people in holiday apparel, and | said,
when will they put on workingman's
garb again and delve in the mine and
swelter at the forge?' But neither the
garments nor the robes did they put off.
And | wandered in the suburbs and /
said, Where do they bury the dead of
this great city," And l looked along by
the hills where it would be most beauti.
full for the dead to sleep, and saw castles
and towers and battlements, but not a
mausoleum nor monument nor white slab
could | see. And l went into the great
chapel of the town and l said Where do
the poor worship? Where are the benches
on which they sit?" And voice an.
swered, I'VE have no poor in this great
city" And | wandered out, seeking to
find the place where were the novels of
the destitute, and l found mansions of am
Der and ivory and gold, but no tear did /
see or sigh hear.