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T is perfectly natural for most young people to live in the anticipation of having "some day" a home of their own. Such a prospect leads them over and over again to indulge in bright visions of its joys and pleasures. Many, as they look forward to this happy time, say :

"When daily tasks are done, and tired hands
Lie still and folded on the resting knee;

When loving thoughts have leave to loose their bands,
And wander over past and future free;
When visions bright, of love and hope fulfilled,
Bring weary eyes a spark of olden tire,
One castle fairer than the rest we build,
One blessing more than others we desire;
A HOME-Our HOME, wherein, all waiting past,
We two may stand together and alone;
Our patient taskwork finished, and at last
Love's perfect blessedness and peace our own.
Some little nest of safety and delight,

Guarded by GOD's angels day and night.

"We cannot guess if this dear home shall lie

In some green spot embowered with arching trees
Where bird notes joined with brook notes gliding by
Shall make us music as we sit at ease.

Or if amid the city's busy din

Is built the nest for which we look and long,

No sound without shall mar the peace within,
The calm of love that time has proved so strong.

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We have a home, but of its happy state

We know not yet. We are content to wait."

Such sentiments are shared alike by all classes, and prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that a HAPPY HOME exerts influences upon us of a more impressive character than anything else with which we are acquainted. Everywhere HOME is a matchless word of influence. It will start the tears when all other things fail. Ask the soldier who has been exposed to the dangers of the battle-field, what thoughts were uppermost when the bullets were flying, and the conflict raging the fiercest? He will say that over the rattle of muskets, the roar of cannon, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying, there came over him thoughts of "his mother and home, and the girl he left behind him." So if you ask the sailor who has clung to the mast amid the fury of a storm, not knowing but any moment he might be washed away, what he thought about, he answers, "My old

mother and the cottage home where I learnt my first prayer, and had a father's parting blessing." It was the same sentiment which Montgomery has so well expressed in the following words :

"O'er China's garden-fields, and peopled floods;

In California's pathless world of woods;

Round Andes' heights, where Winter from his throne
Looks down in scorn upon the summer zone;

By the gay borders of Bermuda's isles,
Where spring with everlasting verdure smiles;
On pure Madeira's vine-robed hills of health,
In Java's swamps of pestilence and wealth;
Where Babel stood, where wolves and jackals drink,
Midst weeping willows on Euphrates' brink;
On Carinel's crest; by Jordan's reverend stream,
Where Canaan's glories vanish'd like a dream;
Where Greece, a spectre haunts her heroes' graves,
And Rome's vast ruins darken Tiber's waves;
Where broken-hearted Switzerland bewails
Her subject mountains and dishonoured vales;
Where Albion's rocks exult amidst the sea
Around the beauteous isle of Liberty ;-
Man, through all ages of revolting time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own Land of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside;

HIS HOME A SPOT OF EARTH SUPREMELY BLEST,
A DEARER, SWEETER SPOT THAN ALL THE REST."

Home, it has been said, is the sweetest word in the English language, and although it contains but four letters, it is impossible for the mind fully to conceive, or the tongue to express, all that is included in its meaning. It is exhaustless in its influence, and powerful in its teachings in many ways. The baker tells us his bread is "home made," the shoemaker assures us that he sells "no slop goods," they are all home made. The lady with mistaken kindness tries to persuade her young friends to have a glass of wine, with the assurance that "there is nothing in it, for it is home made." All this implies superiority and excellence beyond others, and at once suggests that we should give it a place

in our hearts without delay, and do all we can to retain its beauty and sweetness.

Sweetly does Frederika Bremer say, "Is there, in truth, any blessing of heaven which is more beautiful, more worthy of our warmest gratitude, than the possession of a home, where goodness, kindness, and joy are daily inmates; where the heart and eye may sun themselves in a world of love; where the mind is clear and elevated; where friends, not merely by words but by actions, say to each other, Thy gladness, thy sorrow, thy hope, thy prayer, are also mine?'

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"See how, within the good and happy family, all inequalities are smoothed down, so as to form a common element of goodness and beauty, in which each member of the family finds his life, each power its development, each feeling its reception and its return, each pure pleasure its expansion. Behold how the tears are like heaven's dew, the smiles like the sun's light, which call flowers into life; and love, love. is the blessed, the consecrated earth, from which all germs of goodness and joy spring gloriously forth. . . . . Life in a happy family is a perpetual development, a continual spring day."

Now if the word HOME is so suggestive of that which is lovely and happy, is it not worth while asking, "How is it that so many of the so-called 'Homes of the people' do not correspond with the beauty and sweetness of the word " Is it an accident over which people can exercise no control, or is it one of those results which we ought to expect? The celebrated Lord Bacon has observed that " A cripple ou the right road will beat a racer on the wrong." This is the case with those who have gone to work the right way to secure a Home. Depend upon it a good start is half the battle. If young people neglect the needful means to secure a home, wretchedness instead of happiness as the consequence will continue. Many marry as birds pair, not knowing where or how their home nest will be built or furnished! The following illustration will be readily recognised as

a truthful picture. It is a nice summer's Sunday evening, and as I stroll down one of our main roads leading from town into the country, I happen to meet a young man say of about twenty to twenty-two years of age. By his dress and general get-up I naturally come to the conclusion he has put on his best, and is expecting to meet some one whom he knows!

"Ah, my young friend, I am glad to meet you," I remark, as I give him a hearty shake of the hand. "You are just the very person I wanted to see."

"And I am very pleased to meet with you," he replies. "I hope you are well ?"

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Yes, thank you, and I hope you are the same?”

Quite well; indeed, never better in my life. All well at home, I hope ?"

'Yes, all of them. I trust yours are the same?"

"Yes, I'm thankful to say all are quite well. By-the-bye, John, I heard a curious report about you the other day, and I am rather glad I just dropped upon you in this unexpected manner, for I can soon find out whether there is any truth in it or not."

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"A report about me!" exclaims John, in evident surprise. Why whatever can it be, and whoever has taken the trouble to bother about me or my affairs?"

"Well, it's rather a serious report 1 can assure you, or I should not have felt so much concerned."

"And pray in the name of goodness whatever is it ?". "You won't mind my telling you, will you, nor be offended at my inquiry ?"

"Oh no, not a bit. I know you too well to feel at all afraid of you thinking anything seriously wrong about me."

"Just so," I reply. "I have watched over you for some years with growing interest, and it is because I do feel specially anxious about your welfare that I venture to ask whether this rumour is false or not."

"Well, I promise you that I'll acknowledge either one

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