Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1869-07-16
SELECTED STORY
THE LIFE PROBLEM.
BY MEDICUs.

IhE LIFE FhUbLEM.
BY MEDICUs.
In small room, plainly and scantily fur
nished, in tenement house in one of our
large cities, on pillow supported by the
arms Of one Of those good Samaritans that
constantly hover around the bedside of the
sick and sorrowing, lay young boy, dying.
His low moaning and short, quick breathing
indicated that ''life's fitful fever" that had
been very brief to him, was nearly over
but upon his wan countenance, wasted by
disease, there shone heavenly light, as if a
portion Of the divine effulgence surrounding
the throne, impatient to welcome this guilt
less stranger, Ito whom it was necessary for
no repentance to come, had detached itself
from all the rest, and flown from It's native
skies to play upon his face, even before the
disenthralled spirit unfettered and unbur-
dened, had plumed its wings for its future
home I am not believer in spiritual
manifestations. but could hardly help con-
ceiving that this little one saw bright, celes-
tial faces, and felt the atmosphere stirred by
invisible wings.
The mother, tall woman, who at some
time must have been queenly and beautiful,
but whom care and poverty mad attenuatted
sadly, was walking the floor, wringing he1
hands and giving way to the most uncontroll-
able paroxysms of grief. Her large black
eyes were in such contrast with her thin white
face, that you were startled when she turned
them upon you, and in their dark depths
cleaned the intensity Of the. emotions with 4
her.
After walking and sobbing for some time
she stepped to the side Of the dying child
and stood gazing uponN as still and rigid
as if some mysterious power had crystal
lied her into.the marble she So closely sim
ulated. Standing there few seconds she
cried,-
go God was not my cup already full,
that thou must take my child, my darling
Freddie!" And throwing up her arms She
fell to the floor ihsensible.
X y
60 back with us, gentle reader, few
years, and to one of the most picturesque
portions of all the lovely wales through
which the Susquehanna flows to the Chesa-
peake Hard by the river rises Round
Top" a large hill entirely solitary, thrust
up from the level valley land, sugar loaf in
shape except on the last, where it gradually
slopes down and loses itself in the valley. Il
looks as if some Indian chieftain, wishing
for some more enduring monument than the
uncertain legends of his people, had heaped
this up as majestic mausoleum that should
perpetuate his name long after the Cyclops
and Sphinx were forgotten. AS we looked
from its summit early on June morning,
what glorious panorama was spread out
before us! I have been enchanted with
Moore's glowing description Of the Vale Of
Cashmere, but can anything excel this in
beauty? There was nothing grand or start:
ling, bu, solid beauty, if may be allowed
the expression, and such as rests the eye and
gives one sense Of infinite reposc and hap
pincss.
In the east, the landscape batAed in the
virgin rays of the sun, becomes a glorious
inspiration. From the myriad dewdrops
as from jewels, fash innumerable lances Of
light. The Susquehanna in the distance be-
comes a sinuous band Of glittering silver,
and still beyond, miles away, if the air be
clear, we may see, clearly cut against the
azure background, the granite walls Of the
State Inebriate Asylum. On every hane
are broad, fertile fields, level as parlor floors
and now spread with richest emerald car
peting. Farther off the hills are welded to
the sky, and at our feet the little village re.
poses like a gem.
About half mile down the river, and
near it's bank, is substantial brick farm
house, where lived old farmer Weston and
his motherless daughter, Elinor. He was 6
gentleman of the old school, rough anc
blunt, but hospitable, adhering to old Gus.
toms, old-fashioned farm implements, ane
old fashioned furniture looking upon all
improvements as the certain evidences Of
human degeneration. His daughter, how.
ever, had inherited from her mother rega
beauty, intellect, and decided literary tastes
and amid her surroundings looked as much
ont of place as q tuberose in a kitchen gar
den. Notwithstanding, she discharged grAce
ully the duties Of housekeeper for her ia.
Their. who worshipped her, and often urged
her to settle down with one Of her rustic adj
mirers (of whom she had many J but she
invariably vanquished him by saying thai
she :scopid not think Of leaving him, Or IN:
terposing anything between them" and dis,
posed of her lovers in a manner quite as ct
fectual, if not as satisfactory to them.
One evening a stranger stepped from thu
evening train as it stopped at the little de-
pot, and making his way to the only hote
ip the village, engaged engaged board for fey
weeks. His baggage, which vas sent aR +
the morning, was marked p, H." gnl}
this and nothing more. There was nothing
particularly noticeable about this stranger
1wbo was a rather good looking man of per
haps thirty,) except his eyes; they were
large and very dark, and in their dlstlnc
tiyeeness aceusd'to swallow up the pest OF ~
countenance, and after you had seen hllR
you would hardly remember anything bu
his eyes. 7 will not try to describe them
for upon every occasion that l met him ny
impressions we're very different.
Very soon, as lip all rural DISTRICTS, csp
;ectnres were rife in regard to him, but ~