it brought the worst storm we have had this winter. this season will pass on into history as about the roughest we have had in 20 years. there came a whirl of snow which filled the air and sifted in through every crack and hole. we let the storm alone, and got away from it. merrill sorted out seed corn at the barn. philip had some inside painting to do, the women folks kept at their household work, and the children got out into the storm. they came in now and then to stand by the fire—with faces the color of their hair. as for me, i cannot say that i hurt myself with hard labor. we piled the logs in the open fireplace and started a roaring fire. with a pile of books on one side and a pen and paper at the other, my big chair gave a very good foundation for a lincoln celebration. i presume we all have our personal habits of reading. some people read only one kind of books, and stick to the one in hand until it is finished. my plan is different. right now i am reading dante, “rural credits,” “manufacture of chemical manure,” whittier’s poems and lowell’s essay on abraham lincoln. a poor jumble of stuff for a human head you will say, but i turn from one to another, so that instead of a mixed-up jumble i try to have these different thoughts in layers through the mind. in this way one may get a blend which is better than a hash. it may seem absurd to think of putting poetry into rural credits or fertilizers, but unless you can do something of the sort you can never get very far with them.

that was the great secret of lincoln’s power. as judged by knowledge or training or what we call “education,” there were many abler men in the country at his time, but lincoln knew how to appeal to the imagination of the plain, common people. read his speeches and papers and see how he framed a fact with a mental picture which the common people could understand. there were some wonderful pictures at the world’s fair in chicago. some were called masterpieces of fabulous value. people stood before them and went on with something of awe in their heart—not quite grasping the artist’s meaning. one less pretentious picture was named “the breaking of home ties,” and day by day a great throng stood before it, silent and wet-eyed. it was a very simple home scene, picturing a boy leaving his country home. men studied it, walked away and then turned and slowly came back that they might see it once more. as long as they live people will remember that picture, because the poetry of it appealed to them as the higher art could not do. i think lincoln held the imagination of the plain people much as that picture did. he was one who had suffered and had been brought up with plain and simple family habits which were fixed.

the children have come running in to warm their hands. they are lined up in front of the big fire, rosy-faced and covered with snow. they stand looking at me as i write. dinner is nearly ready, and there is no question about their readiness for it. here comes mother to look out at the storm, and she forgets to remember that this group of snowbirds by my fire have forgotten to stamp the snow off their feet. there will be a puddle of water when they move off—but it will soon dry up. as i watch them all it seems a good time to pick up lowell’s essay on lincoln:

“he is so eminently our representative man, that, when he speaks, it seems as if the people were listening to their own thinking aloud.... he has always addressed the intelligence of men. never their prejudices, their passion or their ignorance.”

now i think that intelligence and power to speak as people think can only come out of good family relations. do i mean to say that the family group is superior to the college, the school or the other great institutions for training human thought? i do, wherever the family group is bound together as it should be by love, good will, ambition and something of sacrifice!

this nation and every other is ruled by the family spirit. all public government is based on self-government, and the family is the training school for all. what could the college or the school do with a great crowd or mob of students who have never known the restraints of good family life? ask any teacher to tell you the difference between children reared in a clean, careful family and those reared where the family relations are much like a cross-cut saw. line up the adults you know, make a fair estimate of their character and see whether you can select those who in their childhood had a fair chance in family life. there are, of course, exceptions to all rules, but generally the boy or girl will carry through life the habits and the human policies which are given him in the family. as a rule these will be carried into the new family which the boy or girl may start, and thus be handed on like those qualities which are transmitted through blood lines. no use talking—the family unit is the most important element in human society. a nation’s fame rests upon the nation’s family.

i think a man may fairly be judged by the way he treats his parents, his children and his wife. i do not care how he gets out and shows himself off as a great man and a good citizen. he might get an overwhelming vote for congress or governor, but god will judge him more by the votes of father, mother, son, daughter, wife! to me there can be nothing more beautiful than the best relation between a man of middle years and his aged parents. perhaps the latter are feeble and not well-to-do. when they can sit in their son’s home happy and comfortable, knowing that the entire family has been taught to put them first of all in family regard, you have struck about the finest test of a man’s character that good citizenship can offer. when the children chase their father about and, out of their own thought, run to anticipate his wants, you can make up your mind that in that family are being trained men and women who can go out and absorb education and financial power which will be used for the true benefit of humanity. most of us can never hope to be great men or to handle large public affairs, but we can make our family a training school for good citizenship. i have no thought that in this group of bright-eyed youngsters lined up by my fire we are to have any great statesmen or authors or merchant princes or big folk generally. on the whole i hope not, as it would seem to me that the great man has a rather lonely life. i do expect, however, that these children will always remember hope farm, and that in future years when the world may turn a very cold side to them they will remember this stormy day and will feel the warmth of this kindly fire.

i have wandered away from what i wanted to say about lincoln and his power over the people. it was this family feeling which made him strong, and if you want your boy or girl to be really worth while you must give them and their mother the best family surroundings you can possibly secure. the man who taps the spring or the well and sends the water running through his house does far more for his country than he who runs for congress and taps the public pocket-book.

but here comes mother again, with “come now, dinner’s ready. don’t let it get cold!” get cold? the children are already at the table! i wish you could come right along with me. i would put two sausage cakes on your plate and fill it up with mealy potatoes and yellow turnips. then you would have rice in another dish. there is a dish of thick, brown gravy and nothing would suit me better than to have you call for an egg—fried or boiled. the reds are laying well now. there are two kinds of bread and plenty of butter, and we will take a family vote as to whether we shall take peaches, strawberries, kieffer pears, cherries or raspberries off the pantry shelves. i vote for crosby peaches, but you will have a free choice and all you can eat. surely the table makes a very strong family tie. come on!