No. 7. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE. 705 



they ought to stay on the farm. For a man in such a way impressed, 

 there are but two places possible, the farm and heaven. These 

 things of nature, if we love them, will be our giiardian angels. So 

 long as our soul is open to these messages they bear to us, our life 

 will be pure, holy and serene. 



WHAT (ONSTITUTES A COUNTRY HOME? 



By MISS CLARA PARKINSON, Prospcnty, Pa. 



Home! What is it? When different persons hear this magic word, 

 think of the many pictures that pass before the mind's eye. Some 

 see a costly palace, some the magnificent city home, others a beauti- 

 ful country home or a simple cottage, while another sees the old 

 log cabin. The urchin on the street sees a dismal corner on an old 

 attic or perhaps an old store-box, with scarcely enough clothing to 

 keep the piercing winter blast away. Before each one the picture 

 of home will change; yet there is one common picture that rushes 

 in before all others. It is the one place and the one word which 

 is dear to our hearts. It is here the fondest memories cluster. 

 Whether it is the palace or the hut, it is the place we love. 



Ask the little child, "W^hat is home?" We find that to him it is 

 the world. He knows no other. Here he finds all his joys and sor- 

 rows. All he loves is here. The childish heart tires of all things and 

 places except this one. Ask the lonely wanderer as he plods the 

 weary way of life, broken by cares, bent with the weight of age and 

 white with the frost of years, ''What is home?" He will say '"Tis 

 the spot in memory around which all fond recollections cluster, the 

 one bright spot of life." 



"Fight for your homes!" What command could be given a com- 

 pany of soldiers that would put more enthusiasm into their work. 

 The weary and disheartened soldier becomes a new man. What can 

 he not do with thought of home and loved ones before him? Watch 

 the hardened face of the criminal. Can his heart be touched? Plead 

 with him, do all you can, and the hardened features are unmoved. 

 Mention home; take him back in memory to the little cabin, mention 

 his sister and the dear old mother, sing the songs she used to sing. 

 Cold indeed is the heart if 'tis not touched. Yes, 'tis the magic word 

 which moves each heart. 



Several years ago a large crowd gathered in the old Castle Garden, 

 New York, to hear Jennie Lind sing. She sang as no other song- 

 stress had ever sung, the most beautiful songs of a master hand. At 

 length she thought of her far off home. She paused and seemed to 

 catch inspiration from on high. Then with deep emotion she began 

 singing ''Home, Sweet Home." The crowd no longer remained quiet 

 and unmoved. Tears gushed from the eyes of the thousands and 

 all else was forgotten. The simple song of Howard Payne tri- 

 umphed over the great masters of song. This old song, lisped by 

 the childish voice may move the hardened heart as nothing else can. 

 45—7—1904 



