Produced by Charles Aldarondo
By
1853.
IF it were possible to trace back to their beginnings, in eachindividual, those good or evil impulses that have become rulingaffections, in most cases the origin would not be found until we hadreached the home of childhood. Here it is that impressions are made,which become lasting as existence itself. But the influence of homeis not alone salutary or baneful in early years. Wherever a homeexists, there will be found the nursery of all that is excellent insocial or civil life, or of all that is deformed. Every man andwoman we meet in society, exhibit, in unmistakable characters, thequality of their homes. The wife, the husband, the children, theguest, bear with them daily a portion of the spirit pervading thelittle circle from which they have come forth. If the sun shinesthere, a light will be on their countenances; but shadows, if cloudsare in the sky of home. If there be disorder, defect of principle,discord among the members, neglect of duty, and absence of kindoffices, the sphere of those who constitute that home can hardly besalutary. They will add little to the common stock of good in thesocial life around them. We need not say how different will be theinfluence of those whose home-circle is pervaded by higher, purer,and truer principles.
A word to the wise is, we are told, sufficient. He, therefore, whospeaks a true word in the ear of the wise, has planted a seed thatwill surely spring up and yield good fruit. May we hope that allinto whose hands this little book is destined to come are wise, andthat the few suggestive words spoken therein, as "hints to make homehappy," will fall into good ground. If this be so, "The HomeMission" will not be fruitless. Though no annual reports of what ithas accomplished are made, its silent and unobtrusive work, wetrust, will be none the less effectual.
THE tempest of grief which, for a time, had raged so wildly in theheart of Mrs. Freeland, exhausted by its own violence, sobbed itselfaway, and the stricken mother passed into the land of dreams.
To the afflicted, sleep comes with a double blessing—rest is givento the wearied body and to the grieving spirit. Often, very often,the Angel of Consolation bends to the dreaming ear, and whisperswords of hope and comfort that from no living lips had yet foundutterance.
And it was so now with the sleeping mother. A few hours only hadpassed since she stood looking down, for the last time, on the fairface of her youngest born. Over his bright, blue eyes, into whoseheavenly depths she had so loved to gaze, the pale lids had closedfor ever. Still lingered around his lips the smile left there by theangels,