If I were an artist I would now place before you a picture of an ideal American home.  I would not make it the fine mansion on the avenue, nor would I make it “the old log cabin in the lane.”  I would make it a neat country home with garden of flowers, orchard of fruits, a barn lot with bubbling spring and laughing brook.  In the door of this home I would place an American mother with the youngest of four children in her arms; the oldest son driving his tired team to the barn, the second one the cows to the cupping, the daughter spreading the cloth for tea, and the head of the house sinking the iron-bound bucket in the well for a draught of cold water when day’s work for loved ones is o’er.  Approaching the door a commission appointed by Congress on political economy lift their hats as the spokesman says:  “Madam, are you mistress of this mansion?”

“I am the wife and mother of this humble home, gentlemen; the man at the well is my husband.”

“Madam, we are commissioned by Congress to investigate the home life of the country and would like to learn what this home is doing for the republic.”

“Come in, gentlemen, and be seated, while I call my husband.  We feel honored by your visit and would be pleased to have you take tea with us.”

The invitation is readily accepted and after a good country supper the investigation proceeds.  In answer to the question as to the relation of the home to the welfare of the republic, the head of the house says:  “Gentlemen, we are trying to keep our home pure; it is our purpose to make our boys patriotic American citizens and our daughters true American women.  We love God and endeavor to keep His commandments, and this is about all I can say about our home.”

“That is well so far, but may we ask what sacrifice would this home be willing to make for the republic if its flag were in peril?”

The wife exclaims:  “You alarm us by your question.  Is our country in danger?”

“Yes, madam.  The combined forces of the Old World are nearing our shores and the republic is in peril.”

“Wait, gentlemen, until we talk it over.”

The family retires for consultation and soon the mother appears, and with tears in her eyes says:  “Gentlemen, we’ve decided.  Take our oldest boy, who is eager to go.  Take him to the battlefield; if he falls in defense of his country’s flag, come back, we’ll kiss the second one and tell him, ‘go fill your brother’s place.’  Gentlemen, we love our country next to our God and this home is pledged to this country’s honor.”

I say, any country that has such mothers for its patriotism, such guardians for its homes, should protect these homes and mothers with all the power of police, all the majesty of law, and any evil that attempts to destroy these homes ought not to be licensed, but should be buried as the old Scotch woman would bury the devil—­with “face down, so the more he scratched the deeper he would go.”