Outside, there stood my friend, the master, a simple, upright man, with no

mortgage on his roof, no lien on his growing crops, master of his land and

master of himself. There was his old father, an aged, trembling man, but happy

in the heart and home of his son. And as they started to their home, the hands

of the old man went down on the young man's shoulder, laying there the

unspeakable blessing of the honored and grateful father and ennobling it with

the knighthood of the fifth commandment.

 

And as they reached the door the old mother came with the sunset falling fair on

her face, and lighting up her deep, patient eyes, while her lips, trembling with

the rich music of her heart, bade her husband and son welcome to their home.

Beyond was the housewife, busy with her household cares, clean of heart and

conscience, the buckler and helpmeet of her husband. Down the lane came the

children, trooping home after the cows, seeking as truant birds do the quiet of

their home nest.

 

And I saw the night come down on that house, falling gently as the wings of the

unseen dove. And the old man--while a startled bird called from the forest, and

the trees were shrill with the cricket's cry, and the stars were swarming in the

sky--got the family around him, and, taking the old Bible from the table, called

them to their knees, the little baby hiding in the folds of its mother's dress,

while he closed the record of that simple day by calling down God's benediction

on that family and that home. And while I gazed, the vision of that marble

Capitol faded. Forgotten were its treasures and its majesty and I said, "Oh,