The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1856-1888, 1857-01-15
For the P. C. Advertiser.


The night was dark. A drilling rain fell noiselessly
on the wet pavement, and the chill damp hung in
big drops on porch-railings and door-steps, and stole
silently into half-elosed entries. Here and there a
solitary water-spout sent forth its monotonous pat,
pat, pat on the streaming fag-stones. The streets
looked dismal and deserted. From some attic-win-
dow, or some halfclosed shutter, stole through the
damp mist the light of some solitary lamp like the
g~low-worm's dull and sepulehral CLEAN; and who can
tell the tale of the dim chamber, or the gorgeous hall,
where the dull light of the glow-worm appeared!
Perhaps there was joy, perhaps there was hope, and
love and charity-and q garland was woven and hung
round the Sc dear old hearth-stone'' that would last
for the year to come-fowers that never would die
perhaps there was sorrow and grief. and dark never
dying despair and remorse, tearing with sharp tai
ons, wounds into the heart, which the coming year,
and years on years would not heal-neyer more heal.
And the rain kept on falling, falling, and the dark
night grew more gloomy and sad, and the moon scarce
in her first quarter hid her face, and the misty clouds
swept past, past, increasingly they swept past on
their airy traek-and we looked above, and we looked
beloT-dar&, dreary the night-the last night of the
year, the dying year L wrapt myself closer in the
folds of my cloak, and musing on the past and the
present, and the hidden future, L plodded along the
dark streets, and the long rows of silent houses looked
gloomily down upon the solitary wanderer Of the new
years night. l turned around a corner, and before
me rose up from the pavement a wall high above
houses and steeples, and touching the hay clouds
and [ heard a voice, trembling and feeble. haste,
brother, haste thee l am weary and sad lam weary
and sad 20 and when I came nearer I saw a large
portal and massive gates, but they were closely shut,
and an old man leaned against the vet stones, and
with trembling hands clasped the heavy handle On
- -. - II -
rain drops, and his anxious looks rested on the
closed gates. At his feet lay a basket, nearly empty,
except a few withered flowers. spoke to him kindly.
"Who am To- he said 81 am a wanderer-
a wanderer without pause and rest-but my course
is run, my journey is ended: and here l stand at the
gates of home. weary and sad. have wandered far
and wide, and never rested my weary feet, but few
have asked me who 1 am, or taken note Of me on my
eeaseless journey. Look at this basket, it is empty
now, but it was filed to the brim with the most lovely
flowers, when In the strength of ny youth I started on
my journey. Most lovely flowers they were, and some
were fraught with heavenly odors, and broug ht celestial
balm to heal every wound, hope and peace, and JOY
patience. and the living water which quells for
ever thirst ; and I distributed my gifts with a free
hand and a generous heart-but few, few only were
the thanks I received ; the most received my gifts
without even a thankful nod, and many despised
them. o l am weary and sad ! Haste, brother
haste thee 20
"Pray tell me, I said, who is your brother: L
expect my brother to open these gates When IT.
enter them for my haven of rest, my younger brother
forth on the same errand as mine-his baskets
loaded with precious gifts, and he viii be weleon@
cherished. but alas how longs We are a nun
dred brethren, children of one father. whom the woria
calls odd Father Tme'-but few know how kinu
he IS. and love him for his kindness sake. AT stated
he sends one of his hundred children. foade'
precious gifts. on his journey from which [ no"