who in the far-off years will clothe this house about with that holy
mantle which will give it the right to that same grand title, Home. Can
we not, in thinking of the good old Home, stand a little nearer to the
blast and warm some tiny heart a little more? Does the merry laugh sing
out as it did in our own youth? Then this is indeed a Home, growing each
day more sacred in the mind of those fledglings who will so soon fly
from the nest to beat a fluttering and a weary way through the tempests
that will encompass them. A Christmas-tree, a picnic, a May-day
festival, make trouble for limbs already weary with labor, but