He that has made it his friend will have little to
fear from his enemies, but he that has made it his enemy will have
little to hope from his friends."
[Illustration]
HOME.
'Tis sweet to hear the honest watchdog's bark
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home;
'Tis sweet to know that there is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter when we come.--Byron.
An elegant sufficiency, content,
Retirement, rural, quiet, friendship, books,
Ease and alternate labor, useful life,
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven.--Thomson.
'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.
--J.H. Payne, in the Opera of "Clari."
No word in the English language approaches in sweetness
the sound of this group of letters. Out of this grand syllable rush
memories and emotions always chaste, and always noble. The murderer in
his cell, his heart black with crime, hears this word, and his crimes
have not yet been committed; his heart is yet pure and free; in his mind
he kneels at his mother's side and lisps his prayers to God that he, by
a life of dignity and honor, may gladden that mother's heart; and then
he weeps, and for a while is not a murderer.
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