Year: 1866


"T's sweet to hear the watch-dogs honest bark,
Bay deep mouthed welcome as we draw near


home.'-BWoa.


Home ! what music in the sound, what heartfelt
pleasure in the possession Is there word, whose
every letter calls forth sweeter strain of music to
move our innost souls to pleasure and delight?
We leave the Threshold of our homes, bowed down
with sorrow, hoping by absence from old scenes and
associations TO WOO to our hearts happiness and
forge,fulness, vain hope, the remembrance of home
with all the feelings experienced therein, whether
of pleasure or pain, are ever with US, and though
beyond the sight and sound of familiar scenes and
voices, We have not found haven of hearts rest,
there is void within vainly seek to fill, We sigh
we think of home. 1t matters not if our old home
stead has clapboard roof and sides, rough plank
and canvas walls, let it be ever so humble


Love still retains some deathless chains


That bind the heart to home.


We return and sweet home what
sound so peasurable so full of welcome as the bark
of our own faithful watchdog let his name be
what it may, Davis, Lincoln, or Jackson, he is our
and tried friend, who will never leave for
sake US, and on our arrival at home, bounds to
greet us with joy equaled only by our own.


In lifes desert, what is home? A green oasis.
The love of home is confined to neither age, SEX
nor condition in life. In the Gipsy alone it is al
most extinct. Foundness for home is developed in
our childhood, for see how anxious the little ones
are to return TO their homes from school. What
thought is the last that fits before the dying sol
diers view, whether on the battle field or in hos
pital and brings that smile, that radiant glow of
happiness seen in his countenance as his spirit
takes its flight and he opens his eyes, all uncon-
scious TO earthly objects it is what his parted lips
feeblv articulate Mother hone!"


See that young and lovely girl, who has travelled
to warm congenial climes in search of health re-
turning home, dying, reclining in a carriage, her
feebed form supported by pillows, how eagerly she
looks for some familiar object near the old home
stead, at last her gaze falls upon the well remem
bered popular trees Oh, what heartfelt prayer
from her ascends to heaven, that she may die at
home but was not so to be, death claimed her as
his own too soon, and as she feels life ebbing, no
longer able 10 discern earthly objects she family
whispers, 'ase we almost home?'


In youth what pleasure in home, in old age what
calm delight, retrospectively we see our beloved
children growing mp around u.s. realizing our iohu-
est hopes. Hard and devoid of feeling must be the
heart which cannot appreciate home where CEN
tiers our best holiest eDjoyments, and lost must
be the finer feelings of that soul, whose every hope
of happiness is not in home for surely if there is
place on earth in which the heart rest and OBJ
tain peace that place is home. And when our
pgrimag is ended, and our souls bear this tene-
ment of elay it is To A hrigter, happier home we
wish to 60 a home in heaven.


There in our Fathers presence blest,


Tasting the sweets He gives His own,


Rejoicing in eternal rest,


To our enraptnred soul is known


The bliss of home, NJ.