Sioux City register. [volume] (Sioux City, Iowa) 1858-1871, 1861-04-13
NOT DE AID.

NOT BEAD.
All nature went to sleep last fall--all
but the giant powers that contrsl the
winds, keep the blood coursing through
our veins, and keep the earth spinning
through space. The cheeks of the gods OF
the winds are always distenled the pow
er that gives us being never sleeps and
the engine Of our train never stops for
wood or water. But when the chilly winds
and the frosts come on last fall, the birds
ceased their music in the woods, the leaves
turned red and gold and brown, and fell
to the ground, the life blood of the trees
froze in their veins, and as the tempest
howled, we heard the death rattle as it
proceeded from the dry seed-pods of our
departed flowers. The snow fell, and there
was nothing left to tell of the beautiful
that had been bat the leadess trees that
swayed and creaked. and the red bulbs on
the rose bushes. We said that all the We
getable world was dead, but it was not
The months Of winter have flown by And
the rays of the sun are warmer each day.
The snow has melted off in patches. and
disclosing the withered leaves, shorn OF
their beauty, and returning to the dust
from whence they were formed. But their
Office is not yet fulfilled, and they have not
utterly perished, even though they be un-
distinguishable mould. The vitality that
rendered them so beautiful to the eye has
| fled but to enter into new forms and vigor
We are apt TO forget this and as we look
upon their PROSTATE forms to 81 gh in sad
ness that so soon they faded and pershed
We mediate upon the fate Of these
leaves. until the mind is lost to all things
else We recall how fair they were to view
how exquisitcly formed--and as we re-
fleet it seems that never were leaves so per-
tectly formed as those. Joyous voices sung
to US from among them when the sun
slanted across them from the east: at
noontde they sheltered us from his
scorching rays and at evening, when toe
summer twilight had deepened into dark
ness, their gentle voices, waited into our
window by the passing breeze, lulled us to
repose. They were a perpetual fountain
Of pleasure, But ons night the frosts came
and they died.
They had not lived in vain. The sap
had c3ursed through the veins Of the par
ent trunk, and entered into the leaves,
where it was elaborated By nature, return
ing again into the bole of the tree, and
forming a strong fbrous band, ring, as
we say. around its heart. We cannot see
il, for it is hidden by the rough bark, but
we know it is there. The tree is stronger
and nobler than it was, and will stand
erect now under the tempest that would
else have swayed it like a reed. We cah-
no. always think thus about those dead
leaves. 1t is only when we fall into "a
trance to the busy, iostling world about
us; we can see clearly then, and the Wis.
ions are all beautiful
We awake from our reverie, and see
tha. the world Of mankind is moving on as
ever. But we see sad faces, and the tok-
ems of grief. Families are sad from
thinking of "the little child that died. -
Had we not learned well our lesson in
nature this morning, we might have tho't
that Heaven had sent blight on these
schools, and that their JOYS were gone
forever. Perhaps they may think so them
selves, in their passionate grief but is it
true? The wounds, however laceratei,
will heal. The thoughts will turn, in some
quiet hour, to the little one departed and
when the mind is diverted from the things
Of time and sense, little voice will whis-
per to father or mother that all is we'll
that the body alone is dead, but the spirit
which they loved is still living and return.
ed TO comfort them. Father. mother-you
who have little ones in the brighter land,
do you not feel that band of strength
against the temptations and alluremonts
Of the world has grown about your hearts
that would not have been there but for the
"little child that died p
Then cease repining. This is no time
for woe. The little one came and remain
ed out for season, but fulfilled its mis-
sion, and you are the better for it. An
other hand is beckoning you to the better
world; and when you reach its confines
you will recognize the voice of the little
child that died.