time again the next day and every day. Her children she scarcely sees, and the management of her house is entirely removed from her hands. The housekeeper takes all the accounts to her husband, who meekly pays the same, and lives for the most part at his club, or at the houses of his various sporting friends. "Home" is for him a mere farce. He knew what it was in his mother's day, when his grand old historical seat was a home indeed, and all the members of the family, young and old, looked upon it as the chief centre of attraction, and the garnering-point of love and faith and confidence; but since he grew up to manhood, and took for his life-partner a rapid lady of the new Motor-School of Morals, he stands like Marius among the ruins of Carthage, contemplating the complete wreckage of his ship of life, and knowing sadly enough that he can never sail the seas of hope again.
The word "Home" has, or used to have, a very sacred meaning, and is peculiarly British. The French have no such term. "Chez-moi" or "chez-soi" are poor substitutes, and indeed none of the Latin races appear to have any expression which properly conveys the real sentiment. The Germans have it, and their "Heimweh" is as significant as our "home-sickness." The Germans are essentially a home-loving people, and this may be said of all Teutonic, Norse and Scandinavian races. By far the strongest blood of the British is inherited from the North,—and as a rule the natural tendency in the pure Briton is one of scorn for the changeful, vagrant, idle, careless and semi-pagan temperament of southern nations. As the
