New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1868-08-23
MADE WHOLE.
GFrom Lippinoott's Magazine,

fFrom Lippincotts Magazine
/ was not summer child. The light
that greeted the dim eyes of my babyhood
was the sombre grayness of a winter
cleaning.
Ibelieye that then my cropping soul must
have felt that love for cold aud snow which
has cluug to me and grown with all my
after years.
At twenty-five am in love only with this
world OF ours that has been kind as a
mother to me, Warm within me is an in
exbaustble kindness toward humanity and
yet do not realize that l am perpelually
dependant upon that humanity.
Some influence OF the years of my child
hood may have stamped upon me that
characteristic for was always a lonely
child, with father and mother-a1l who
wonld have fused me to the world of hu-
man beings--dead before knew them. A
lonely child, tended with the promptness
money can buy, not with the unspeakable
softness of love. But l regret nothing.
Homanhood, my art, have bronghta sweet
ness my early years never knew. With
these foaming waters Of wintry gray at my
Rect, with the sheeny sands stretched far
down the bay, l clasp to my soul with a
tenderness others can not interpret.
an haPPJ-iite, hope, the future,
bound within me, and divine love itself
sweeps with every frosty wind over my
glowing cheeks.
So stood that winter day on the bleak
beach of Hull, recalling, without. regret.
the past Of my life-looking forward with
gladness to my future. / had achieved a
beginning in art. Colors had already be-
come my loyal servants, and obeyed me
with Reeter leet than Of yore. Though mn
work was far below my ideal, 1t was moi So
crude as in my first impetuous assaults m.
on the battlemeuts of art.
The incoming tide was lash;ng the beach
behind me. but l was looking across the
marsh, whose halftrozen. slush gave no sign
OF its rank June greenery. The snow came
thickly, and could see only dimly as /
Plodded on over the beach to the bit of a
cottage securely fastened on ledge of rock
Jnst beyond high-tide mark. That was NV
home and my studio through half the year.
Halfway home, and / paused with that
quickly withheld step which is the effect OF
. sudden, unexpected call. But l had
heard no call. No sound save the ocean
roaring had penetrated my ears, yet stood
fastening with alert senses. No human
sound came. TIE snow increased every
anstant, and now shut in arouxd me like
some white, mysterious wall. Turned and
pressed on, retracing my steps with breath
less toll. have no name for that which
felt them save that II was an impression
which | could not disobey--aa sometime
which urged me back. / did not l,nos5
whist went for, and peered with diIat;ng |
eyes az Ipushed on past the place where I |
mad beenstandlngs
4 chose the sands near the Watar far /
there the path was unimpeaed 81 snow
eW rods more, andI knew / shonld Como
She P House, a buiiaiag row
eserted, which stood on high ledge.
rough, precipitous road bareiy passsbie
or horses. winding from ID to the beach.
II will go TO that road, = i said to myself |
hut no farther will follow the inandible I
VOICE.
The last step was taken, and leaned for
nnoment on the gate sthat shut off this
PFiyata way waiting fur the return Of the
breath which had paFsially- left me. Some
aptransiatable Whispering Of a future des
..py mingled ln The WhirliDg Wilderness.
ths y i0r napplneas or sorrow That book
q ny DIN future seemed BALI unelosed 81.
ere ny eonaeloas eyes What leaf vas I /
. tQrn nowf Hfa not decfsls3 nv fsfe , !
Y nof ne UNFINISHED picture on MI easel
! nome ~ mbol q nif lafare liieg Ire.
4oysa ~ Bands from he fsil and stood ;
lprlgntl giving qna gl4nss 1T ID house irlst3
ll9llle above lne. sl S17ll, II
Butthst Kiaacs WIS arrested hnif u,1v
is destinHli8n. Jasa as the nsf1t II Il Fl