SWEET, RESTFUL HOME.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 549, 22 March 1876, Page 3

SWEET, RESTFUL HOME.

[Danoury News.']

It is Saturday night—the dear close ( f a tossing, struggling, restless week. To-morrow is the Sabbath —when all labour and care are held in abeyance. Saturday night stands like a rock before the day of rest, and says to toil and worry. ' Thus far shalt thou come, and no further.' Blessed Saturday night. The wearied husband and father approaches his home. He looks ahead, and sees the light streaming in cheerful radiance from the windows, and wonders if that boy has got in the kin Hinge; He steps upon the stoop and opens the door. His faithful wife meets him at the entrance, and greets him with, ' Why on earth don't you clean your feet, and not lug the house full of mud? Don't you know that I've been scrubbing all day 1 ' And thus he steps into the bosom of his family, grateful for the mercies he has received, and thankful that he has a home to com-i to when the worry and care and toil of the week are done; Yes, he is home now, and has set his dinner pail on one chair, and laid his coat and hat on another, and with his eyes full of roap from the wash, is shouting impetuously for the towel. Saturday night in the household ! What a beautiful sight! The bright light and cheerful figured carpet, the radiant stove, the neatly laid table with the steaming teapot, the pictures on the walls, the spotless curtains, the purring cat, and the bright eyed children rubbing the plates with their fingers, and looking hungrily at the canned cherries. Even the wearied wife is visibly affected, and, as she steps to a closet with his coat and hat, she unconsciously observes to her husband : 'Will you never learn to hang your things up, or do you- think I've got nothin' else to do but chase after you all the while you are in the house V

He makes no reply, but as he drops in his seat at the table, with a sigh of relief, he says : ' What's the matter with that infernal lamp? Is the oil all out, or ain't the chimney been cleaned ? It don't give no more light than a fire-bug.' ' Turn it up then,' she retorts. 'lt was right enough when I put it on the table, but I suppose the children have been fooling with it, They never can keep their handa out of mischief for an instant.'

' I'll fool 'm,' he growls, 'if they don't keep their fingers off things.' After this sally a silence reigns, broken only by the subdued rustle of plates and cutlery. Then comes a whisper from one of the youths, which is promptly met in a loud key by the mother—- ' Not another mouthful, I tell you. You have had one dishful and that's enough. I ain't going to be up all night wrastling around with you, young woman ; and the quicker you straighten that face the better it'll be for you.' The offender looks with abashed inquiry into the faces of her brothers and sisters, and gradually steals a glance into the face of her father, but finding no sympathy there, falls to making surreptitious .grimaces at the mothc, to the relief of herself, and the intense edification of the other children.

The tea is finally over, that delightful Saturday night's meal, and as the appeiscd father stretches back in his chair and looks dreamily at the flame dancing in the stove, he says to his first-born ; 'ls them kindlings cut, young man V Of course they have not been, and the youth replies : ' I'm going right out to do it now,' and steps about lively for his hat. ' You'd better ; and if I come home again and find them kindlings not cut, I won't leave a whole bone in your body. Do you hear me V

'Yes, pa.' ' Well, then, start your boots.' They are started, and the relieved father comes back with his eyes to the glad flame, and watches it abstractedly, while his thoughts are busy with bright anticipations of the coming day of rest.