The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-10-12
HONE, SWEET HOME"
Interesting Clipping About John
 Howard Payne.

&npofestiu8 VllpPluB Apout SohA
 Howard Payne.
 The following clipping from an Ala bama journal of 1857 is sent to The Ad- vertiser by MT. J. R. McLendon of Naf- tel:
 Home. Sweet Home
 Though the trite old song. Home, Sweet Home has been sung within the hcme circle of almost every household, yet. how few persons of all who have heard its sweet strains know who was the author of those beautiful words, Mid pleasures and palaces tho we may
 roam,
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place
 like home
 'It, perhaps, never occurred to the mind of any one unacquainted with the circumstances, that the author of the song has found an echo in so many hearts could be other than one who had expe- rienced all the pleasures of a happy home; but sad as is the reflection, it Is necertheiess true. that John Howard Payne, the author of Home. Sweet Home." though he has contributed to the happiness of many homes, never had 8 home of his own
 we clip the article below, suggesting that a monument be erected to the mem- ory of Payne from the Boston Olive Branch and give 1t a place in our col umns. believing, that 1t will find re- sponse. in the hearts of our journals readers.-Alabama Journal.
 'The Author of Sweet Home"
 As I sit in my garret. here in Wash ington, watching the course of great men and the destiny of party, I meet often ful life. The most remarkable was that of John Howard Payne the author of Sweet Home."
 knew him personally. He occupied the rooms under me for some time, and his conversation was so captivating that I often spent whole days in his apart ments. He was an applicant for office at the time-Consul at Tunis-from which he had been removed. What sad thing 1t was to see the poet subjected to all the humiliation of office-seeking! Of an evening we would walk along the street. Once in awhile we could see some fami- ly circles so happy and forming so beau- tiful a group, that we would stop and then pass silently on. On such occasions he would give me a history of his wan derings, his trials and all his cares incl dent to his sensitive nature and his pow erty. How often," said he once. have I been in the heart of Paris. Berlin and London, or some other city, and heard persons singing or the hand organs play ing Sweet Home" without a shilling to buy the next meal or a place to lay my head.
 The world literally sung my song until every heart is familiar with its melody. Yet have been a wanderer from my boyhood.
 My country has turned me ruthlessly from ofice and in old age have to sub init to humiliation for bread |"
 Thus he would complain of his hapless lot His only wish was to die in a for eign land, to be buried by strangers and sleep in obscurity. I met him one day looking unusually sad. Have you got your consulate" said I. Yes and leave in a week for Tunis; T shall never re- turn.'
 The last expression was not a political faith. Far from it. Poor Paynei his wish was realized: he died at Tunis Whether his remains have been brought to this country I know not They should be, and if none others would do it, let the homeless throughout the land give a penny for a monument to Payne. knew him well and will give my penny for an inscription like the following:
 Here Lies
 J. Howard Payne, The Author of Home, Sweet Home. wanderer in life, he whose songs were sung in every tongue and found an echo in every heart
 Never Had a Home,
 He Died
 In a Foreign Lana"