Payne was an author — what would now be called a Bohemian — as
well as an actor in his youth. Of all professions which a youth can
choose for his career, those of literary work and the stage are the
most precarious and the most homeless. The breath of popular
applause is fickle as to both. Two stanzas, suggested by a Sicilian
air and introduced into his opera, did what long years of labor failed
to do : gave him "a name to live " while homes and languages exist
on earth. His remains are to be brought to Washington, where a
statue is to be erected to him, as has already been done in Brooklyn,
Long Island, where it stands in Prospect Park.
Many stories that have good authority, but yet want certainty, are
told about the man in connection with the song. On one occasion,
it is said by those who should be well informed, that he was about
to sell his mule, but that the purchaser made him a present of it
when he found he was the author of " Home, Sweet Home." On
another occasion, when he was taken prisoner by the militia in
Georgia, where he was occupying with his friend, John Ross, Chief
of the Cherokees, a miserable hut, at midnight on their journey,
Payne heard one of their captors singing his own " Sweet Home."
Payne claimed the authorship, and sang it himself with such true
feeling that the soldier swore he should never go to prison if he
could help it, and on telling who his prisoner was at Milledgeville,
he was released. The Bohemian's song to the Sicilian air is, indeed,
like the magic " sesame " to open all doors and hearts. Its simple
pathos, its suggestion of dearest, holiest memories of Home, which
are beyond all words, has made it from pole to pole the song of
songs.
PETS IN THE HOUSEHOLD.
" 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-doj^'s honest bark
Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home."
iHE ideal home has generally a pet in it, one of those
"poor relations" that are not of the human species
but resemble it in some instincts or qualities, such as
affection and teachableness, so that to a greater or less
degree, according to their intelligence, they become
^" one of the family." The dog and the horse become playmates and
fellow-workers, and seem to understand by tacit sympathy the hon-
orable and responsible position they hold in the family circle. They
become the confidants and familiar friends of the kind master and
mistress and their children, and the more gifted of them possess to
a wonderful extent the art of mind-reading. Sometimes their family
and ours have been long together and have kept pace through many
changes in mutual service. The old mare dies, but the colt that kept
so close to her in the meadow grows to the age of equine reason
and physical strength and beauty, and our children gallop on its back
as we did on its mother's. The characteristics of the dog are heredi-
tary, like those of the horse. In pace, build and disposition old Char-
ley's sons and daughters resemble himself, and still more remarkably do
dogs transmit their virtues, and, alas, their faults. The tracing of
these family resemblances is a study of which the wisest philosopher
need not be ashamed. There are dogs whose incorruptible fidelilv
and honesty, and what in human beings would be called strong
moral and religious principle, were conspicuous in their parents and
won for them the affection and regard of those they lived with.
Page 220
Presented as published in 1883. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
Payne was an author — what would now be called a Bohemian — as well as an actor in his youth. Of all professions which a youth can choose for his career, those of literary work and the stage are the most precarious and the most homeless. The breath of popular applause is fickle as to both. Two stanzas, suggested by a Sicilian air and introduced into his opera, did what long years of labor failed to do : gave him "a name to live " while homes and languages exist on earth. His remains are to be brought to Washington, where a statue is to be erected to him, as has already been done in Brooklyn, Long Island, where it stands in Prospect Park.
Many stories that have good authority, but yet want certainty, are told about the man in connection with the song. On one occasion, it is said by those who should be well informed, that he was about to sell his mule, but that the purchaser made him a present of it when he found he was the author of " Home, Sweet Home." On another occasion, when he was taken prisoner by the militia in Georgia, where he was occupying with his friend, John Ross, Chief of the Cherokees, a miserable hut, at midnight on their journey, Payne heard one of their captors singing his own " Sweet Home." Payne claimed the authorship, and sang it himself with such true feeling that the soldier swore he should never go to prison if he could help it, and on telling who his prisoner was at Milledgeville, he was released. The Bohemian's song to the Sicilian air is, indeed, like the magic " sesame " to open all doors and hearts. Its simple pathos, its suggestion of dearest, holiest memories of Home, which are beyond all words, has made it from pole to pole the song of songs.
" 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark
Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home."
iHE ideal home has generally a pet in it, one of those "poor relations" that are not of the human species but resemble it in some instincts or qualities, such as affection and teachableness, so that to a greater or less degree, according to their intelligence, they become ^" one of the family." The dog and the horse become playmates and fellow-workers, and seem to understand by tacit sympathy the honorable and responsible position they hold in the family circle. They become the confidants and familiar friends of the kind master and mistress and their children, and the more gifted of them possess to a wonderful extent the art of mind-reading. Sometimes their family and ours have been long together and have kept pace through many changes in mutual service. The old mare dies, but the colt that kept so close to her in the meadow grows to the age of equine reason and physical strength and beauty, and our children gallop on its back as we did on its mother's. The characteristics of the dog are hereditary, like those of the horse. In pace, build and disposition old Charley's sons and daughters resemble himself, and still more remarkably do dogs transmit their virtues, and, alas, their faults. The tracing of these family resemblances is a study of which the wisest philosopher need not be ashamed. There are dogs whose incorruptible fidelilv and honesty, and what in human beings would be called strong moral and religious principle, were conspicuous in their parents and won for them the affection and regard of those they lived with.