Home There always is a mother by the family's vacant chair, And the wayward son or brother always finds her waiting there; There are gems of true affection that the son has left behind, Thus the old homes sweet reflections form the household ties that bind. There are tears of true devotion that the humble parents shed; 'Tis that sympathy in motion which restores the sheep misled. Man has seen Life's bounding billow from his little sailing-smack; 'Tis the homestead's couch or pillow that directs the boatman back. Life's long pathway has its roses, but the sweet rose has its thorn; 'Tis the nettle Time exposes, says that "Man was made to mourn." Earth is richer for the pleasure that succeeds the gloomy rain. Ev'ry token has its treasure as a healing balm to pain. Home is placed here as a station where the traveler may rest, Where he spends a sweet vacation with the old birds in the nest; Ev'ry arm shakes hands with Sorrow where the truant's bare feet roam, But there lives a bright To-morrow back in ev'ry home' sweet home. Walter Emmett. Success Success crowns only those who work. Not those who idly watch and wait. She never leaves her castle wall And gives her golden crowns to all The idle shiftless ones who shirk And drift along the road of fate. Success' home is far away; The road to it is hard and rough; And they who to Success would throne Must journey this rough road along. Alas to trudge on day by day. There are but few with strength enough. To you who think, sometime, someday. If you are patient and but wait. Success will bring a crown to you And you have nothing else to do But watch to all of you we say. Not of Success is this a trait. Florence Woolley.