As I leaned back in our own
luxurious carriage, I tried to picture the poor fellow's home going, and
hoped that a welcome would be given that would help to lighten his
burdened heart.
CHAPTER XIV.
HUMBLE CHARITIES.
Mr. Winthrop had telegraphed Reynolds that morning that we were coming
home, and when we came in sight of Oaklands, just in the dim twilight,
we found the house brilliantly lighted. There was such a genial warmth
and comfort when we entered the door that I exclaimed joyously:
"After all, there is no place like home."
"Is Oaklands better than New York, do you say?" Mr. Winthrop questioned.
"This is home. To every well regulated mind that is the sweetest spot on
earth."
"Without any reservation?"
"We do not need to make any when it is such a home as Oaklands."
"Possibly you may think very differently when you get better acquainted
with the fascinations of city life."
"One might enjoy both, don't you think, Mr. Winthrop? The contrast would
make each more delightful."
"You must try the experiment before you will be able to give a correct
decision."
"It seems to me to-night one must be hard to please to want a better home
than this, especially with an occasional change to city life. I cannot
understand why I have so much more to make life beautiful than others--so
many others--have."
"Do you think, then, that your lot is a peculiarly fortunate one?"
"If I did not think so, I would be worse than those Jews who fell to
murmuring on their way to Canaan.
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