Mountain Democrat. [volume] (Placerville, El Dorado Co., Cal.) 1854-1860, 1858-10-30
Shadow and Sunlight.

It is q wearisOmc old world, | said to my.
self the other morning, as sat by my cham
Der window; . dcceitful world, full Of fail
promises that are always broken, Of bright ar
ticipations that are never realized l thOt
Of the long vail Of anguish that Is evcrmorC
rising from the earth; OF tho broken homes
the bleeding hearts, the crushed hopes. | re-
membcred that every time the clock ticks
some soul, gasping, grOaning, agOnizing, il
torn from its frail body and sent forth naked
and shuddering into the mysterious future.
Here bride with the marriage vow scarce
cold ON her lips-thc orange flowers that
wreathe her hair unladcd-is stricken down.
Death claims her for his bride. and they fold
her pale hands over the still BOSOM and the
sunshine and the glory of earth seem buried
in her grave.
Little children, around whom many fond
hopes clustered, fall by the way. Fathers
and mothers, brothers and sisters, loose their
warm clasp Of our hands. breathe n few faint
words of farewell, and pass over the cold river,
leaving US nothing but sad memories and dar-
kcned homes. The green mounds multiply
in the graveyard, and the vacant seats by the
tireSidn
ISit not a wcarisomc world-a lonesome
worldP
crime that with each day s record grows long
or and blacker; how man hates aud persecutcs
his brother man, until the blood Of many
murdered Abcl calls 10 God from the ground,
of the prison houses that dot the earth, each
with its share Of crime and wickedness that
no prison bars confine; of the gross ignorance
and superstition that gil the wOrld-thc deeds
of darkness done for Righteousness sake Of
the Pagan mother throwing the child God has
commieted 70 her care Into the swift river or
burvinkIti tin the ground, even while its sweet,
nieaAin9 ewes are turned to her for protection.
And sesin thought Of the high aspirations
that fimd no fUlfillment-the broken day.
.lreams-the restless search after happiness
Of the many Who seek, tho few who find it.
Fame. pleasure, learning, all have their vo-
tariCS~t hksting, painting for something to fill
the < h-x-deep yearning, and finding but "cis-
terms. broken cistcrnG, that can hold no wa.
ter" A weary, weary soul
But hariel what was It that brought the
glad teAFs to my eyes, and made me say invOl-
unfairly Life is pleasant, and God is good.
twas but birds song-a wild, sweet carol
from the elm tree, but it thrilled through cv
9Fv gloomy corner Of my heart, carrying sun
sh;ne with It and spanning my clouds with
the how Of promise. "Hallclujah! cried my
sxultant aeul, for the Lord God omniPOtcnt
feigneth.n ------- -.
. Eis 4 glorious world to live ina beautiful
world, Cor God made it and from the frozen
North to the burning tropics, he has crowded
Z with scenes Of beauty.
. Out In the wide prairie, where none but an.
81 eyes can see it, he has planted the wild
.owcr, and painted its tiny petals as none but
iod could paint them. Away in the green
- wherv the breath Of the pines is sweet,
ia somshIne falls chcerfully through the
~ boughs and tho old woods are vocal
al liGc-6appy life. Everywhere, in the air
! the water and on the earth, arc myriAds Of