Blackstone of course had his opponents, and when he entered his house, stung with insults from impeached motives, and felt how faithless had been those upon whom he had leaned, a word or two of kindness, one intimation that he could and would survive all such attacks. One gentle, soothing strain from a wife who knows or ought to know the most sensitive spot on which the public thong had fallen, and who can apply the soothing ointment of affection—one cheering word would have lifted him over the difficulty and made him feel that in himself he had the material of resistance, and the weapons of final victory. A glass or two of brandy stiffens the nerves and rallies the mind to its wonted tone—that application must, of course, be increased in amount whenever renewed, or the effect will cease—and we need not tell what must be the consequence of such a resort. The remedy of wife-like sympathy, domestic soothing, may indeed, like the latter, need augmentation by frequency of application—but it comes from a source that is never dried up by use, that increases by drafts upon it—and produces no injurious effects upon the mind or body made recipient of its soothing power. I know now, because I know more than I have above related, that the errors of Blackstone, his short-coming, the comparative dimness of his once glowing fame which seemed marked to “shine more and more unto the perfect day;” his want of perseverance—his new habits of remissness—his loss of fame—all, all are due to a want of _home_—of that which makes his house his home—makes home—home. I speak not here of the thousand instances in which incompatability of temper forever precludes family enjoyment—where vice, or what is next to vice, want of domestic proprieties, disturb the peace of home; I cite no instance of the defeat of a man’s high purpose, and the baffling of the noble aims which elevated talents and finished education may form—I quote not shipwrecks like those which may be due to the vulgar mind or the vicious course of the wife—such causes are usually as obvious as their effects. The men of more spirit than judgment breaks away from the destructive cause, and tries to acquire an independence of home. Man is not independent of home, if he has a place which he calls home, and all his life, and all his conduct, and all his experience must and will derive their coloring in no mean degree from that home, however man may treat its condition or seek to place himself beyond its influence.