It was the
centre of his world. Around it all the humble hopes and pleasures of the
man had clustered for years. When weary with the long day's heavy toil,
here he had found rest. To this spot his spirit, sorrow-laden, had ever
turned with gratitude and yearning. And here he had found shelter, here
he had found love and comfort, the lonely, despised man. Even care and
grief had contributed to strengthen the hold of his heart upon this
soil. Here had died the only child he had ever lost; and in the old
burying-ground, over the hill yonder, it was buried. Under this mean
roof he had laid his sorrows before the Lord, he had wrestled with the
Lord in prayer, and his burdens had been taken from him, and light and
gladness had been poured upon his soul. Oh, ye proud! do you think that
happiness dwells only in high places, or that these lowly homes are not
dear to the poor?
But now this sole haven of the negro and his family was to be destroyed.
Cruel cold blew the December wind, that wintry morning. And the gusts of
the landlord's temper were equally pitiless.
* * * * *
HEAD-QUARTERS OF BEER-DRINKING.
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