Urbana union. [volume] (Urbana, Ohio) 1862-1872, 1864-06-22
Queer Estimates.
: How much did it weigh?'
{ Is it possibleY


been asked, and thousands of times has i
been wondered at and I never'd.'
And what commodity is it great a
ten pounds and a marvel at thirteen
Don't mind the Price Current, for it ism
there. It was something bundled in Z
flannel blanLet-the blanket securely
pinned and knotted at the eorners-the
something in active state of unrest
The steelyards had been called into requi-
sition, and its bended iron was indeed
'hOoks to hang hope upon. The little
bundle was swung up; the weight click
ed along the bar. That's the notch
Eight and halfP Eight and half of
what? Why, Of-humanity. By the
memory of Nautilus, there's baby in the
blanketl So their is-a little voter, or,
if not that, as Shakespeare says, a child.
Something that may cut a figure in the
world, break heads or hearts-bave a
great name, and be a man or woman.
Eight pounds and half of hero or he
rOine, monster or a minister Piety
and patriotism by the pound. Beauty
and baseness by the blanketful. Queer
measurement, isn't it? But there are
queerer still.
Time wears on apace with US all, and
the something in the blanket, too. He
is boy Of Eve He stands erect as God
made him, that he may look, as a wri-
ter finely says, upon the stars They
are talking again, but the steelyards hang
undisturbed in the ceIIar-way, No use
for them now. But they are talking, and
we are listening.
Tall Of his age, isn't he2 He looks
over the table like a man the high
chair was put away ns5ntts ago.
Tall, is he? Three feet and an inch
high, and this is the altitude of humani-
ty. Weight is out of the question; osti-
mates all run to height. Ambition is
but another name for altitude, and sue
cess a synonym for getting higher.
The boy is a r,an; the man climbs ros-
trums to get higher; thrones, to get
higher. Monuments go up; shouts go
up; favorites go up to court; conguerers
go up to glory. Height, height, every
where height. SIX feet of glOryj six feet
two of honor and dignity. Queer again
don't you think so?
By and by-melancholy trio-the form
is bent a little, and there goes an inch or
two from stature. He or she is looking
at something in the dust. What can it
be? Surely it is not a grars they look
at. Eyes grow dim, and they bend low
er to see. To see? What can there be
to be seen, We wonderl
By and by they weary, and throw them
selves along the bosom of the dusty mo-
ther Of US all. They sleep-sleep, but
they do not dream! Where is your alti-
tude nOw-your mountains, monuments
and thrones? Men take up the sleeper,
carefully, slowly, as it were a treasure.
And SO it is-a treasure of dust. The
old estimate is sresuned; weight has come
again; tbs "a dead weight'-nothing
more.
And this would be queer, too, if only
it werezpot SO sad.
But they are talking again. she had
three names, hadn't she? Indeed, I can
remember but two
And two words-tUo breaths of air
two murmurs, are all that is left Of what
was once man or woman.
Years clapse, and age is talking again:
There was-was-I cannot remember
the name now-well, well, it's what we
are all coming to-, and the old man sighs
sadly.
The last syllable of all has died on the
lip, is erased from memory, ripples not
on the still and listening airs lost;
not murmur of it fingers in 'the fear
full hollow of human ear! PAIL how
the dust fiesl' Dust do you say? lis
ten, and we will whisper just a word
that dust was warm once, loved once,
beauty once.
"Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop hole TO keep the wind away;
Oh! that the earth, which kept the world IN
awe,
Should patch a wall TO eypel the winters fawu'