Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1855-09-27
T6y 10 Fayetteville Obserpsr.
/" T O 9 late"
By HENRY W.

n0uTulht poStIy IL tusso sHo uItio
words How sad ythey eohothrosgh
the hearts Utmost recessss ere lan-
guage can give utteranee to Their
truth. "Too lkte,p is the continual
song Of mankind az each days dis
embittsr life's sunniest
hours and, teaOh the ,fallacy of seek
ing true happiness from earthly
sources. As life kngtbens out its
weary chsiA suds one by one its love-
lest links are sioken-a the chill,
blasts Of adversely forever drown tho
syren song Of hope aud obscure IN
gloomy clouds Of DARK despair the
beacon star of life,, and man looks
aIar down the vale of dim faturity and
sighsia ssiafor the happiness this.
earth denies him-ths mournful echo
Of "Too lat" returns in knocking
tones 70 GIL the aching void Of lone.
ly heart. Meditation but serves to
rskiadls the flame Of sunui, that
hope had we'll nigh extingnished, a.
thought travelled back Ger TIE sick-
sning dssolstion of-s misspent life,
and that pleasing song - ~. :.
Is "WeuM ! were boy again."
lie known only to, the fancy, who're
brightest colorings have yielded to
shines" desolating hand, and We
behold but the wreck Of years; in the
which, hope would in vain search for
another bud Of pronaisa-could she
but silence that mute melody, "Too
late" Cast thou the horoscope Of
coming y ears, and upon the shsok'
cred page Of thy destiny casst thou
zee those two little words, "Too lats!'
or from thence, csnss thou gaze into
that unknown future, Of which the
grave il but the threshold, and from
whence no traveller Nturns 20 unfold
its sscrsts--in which gazing there il
no dsfnitesconcIusiop sttsissd--snd
tell me, stranger, shall We ever hsal
the echo Of disappointment WHERE
SORROW never comes! Rsnenbe,
then, ON the confines Of that gfoamy
shore between you and which there
now rolls the boundless sea of eterni
| ty,, you'll utter your last "4oo late
[-perchance in . more heart-rending
tone than you can nov imsgsne.
We heard it long ago, when th,
melody of childish innocence rested
Ger US and We could hardly Lisp the
mimic sound: We've heard it evel
since, upon every corner and turn O
life, and after an intimate association
with ayicious world, have labored il
vain to ascertain it's loc.lity. "Toe
Ilate, "sang the conductor Of an Ex'
press, as the bridegroom elect shout.
led "wait minute!" while she who had
1forsaken home and friends, was borne
upon the wind in laughing mockery,
from him she loved and gave herseli
Ito: Twas indeed . pity tosee 80 much
anticipated bliss thus Unexpectedly
delayed; and then, too, when long
years have interviewed from its date
and this much-wished-for day.
"Too late!" like most other momen-
tous words, has caused a world of
trouble, sin and sorrow, by miscon-
stuction and too firm a belief in its
literal import. @Too Late has filed
many drunkard's grave, peopled our
penitentiaries, and built many seafolds,
It has ruined virtue and encouraged
vice, and is now the burden of q song
in those regions Of dark despair where
"the worm dieth not and the FIRE is
not quenched." / had vision: listen
reader, and I'll tell you what I Saw
Twas sunset on a summers eve, a
young man lay stretched upon one of
those low cushioned lounges, so invi-
ting to the invalid Of = tropical cline
placed near an appraised window,
with folding doors opening on the
verandah, at the residence of one of
the wealthiest citizens Of Havana
He seemed asleep-so motionless
had he lain for nearly an hour, onaI
co,,ld scarcely geo he lived save from