PRATTLING LITTLE ONES

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


IT IS THE WEARINESS AND THE SELF-SACRIFICE

as well as the mirth and the innocence which have girt this great word
round about with its bright girdle of true glory. "Suffer little
children to come unto me," says the Lord Jesus, "and forbid them not,
for of such is the kingdom of heaven." We may say likewise, following
the beauteous expression of our Savior, "Suffer little children to come
into our homes, and forbid them not their mirth and their joy, for
their contentment is now the one lesson that will take deep hold on
their lives, and their souls will grow rapidly in such surroundings."
Says the poet Southey: "A house is never perfectly furnished for
enjoyment unless there is a child in it rising three years old, and a
kitten rising six weeks."

"He is the happiest," says Goethe, "be he King or peasant, who finds
peace in his Home." Especially should