Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1870-10-13

Too Late.

Too late! says that young man as he
passes the door of school room and
sees groups of little boys and girls busy
with their books, and hears class re-
citing their lesson in a branch much
higher than he has ever studied. He
looks in, pauses moment, then passes
on with a sigh and saddened express
sion of countenance which is painful to
the beholder. He bitterly reflects on
his childhood-of the time when his in
dulgent parents paid his tuition, sent
him to school, and tried in vain to
urge upon his young mind the necessi-
ty of an education. How his fond
mother, at night, when her daily labors
were done, drew him beside her chair,
taught him to read and with all moth
er's patience aud forbearance sought to
instill into his youthful brain a love Of
useful knowledge. He went TO school
but his heart went not with him. His
mind was not on his books. He loathed
his studies. He went on thus from one
term to another with a dull drag, until
he finished his educational career, and
at the close of his sehoolboy days, be-
hold himl a stupid dolt, unfit for busi-
ness and dead weight in society,"
He loiters about in certain aimless
way. He feels his deficiencies deeply,
and understands the looks of scorn and
pity which are showered upon him by
the intelligent masses which compose
the ranks of society. He observes an
impossible gulf between his mind and
theirs, and thinks if he could live his
life over again he would study, he
would be a scholar. But he cannot go
to school now, those little children
would laugh at him and call him Ig-
noramus, and he drags on through life
with respondent hopeless air which
plainly says, too late.
Too late! says the coquette as she
sits down before the mirror and lays
aside her superhuous array of ribbons
and jewelry, utterly sick of the shallow
tinselry of fashion and the hollow de-
ception of her own heart. She has had
a long, brilliant career in society, but
turns away from the world tonight,
weary and disguised with the folly and
dissipation of her life She sits alone
with her head bowed and meditates de-
spairingly on the many conquests she
has made, of the manly hearts she has
trifed with, of the pure esteem and af-
fection she has won and cast aside.-
The years have passed by rapidly, and
one by one her score of genteel suitors
have married and left her. She finds,
also, that time in his onward flight has
left wrinkle on the fair brow and
woven thread of gray in her glossy
wringlets. She sheds regretful tears
over the memory of those lost years.
She would like to marry now, perhaps,
but she won for herself the title of CO.
quette, and no earnest man wants her.
IT'S too late.
Too latel says that sloven looking
fellow yonder, as he pays his last dol
lar for a drink. He had fair start
in life--money, friends, and a good
name. But he was led off little by lit
tie, into the habit of dram-drinking,
and to-day he forms most degraded
picture of confirmed sot. The habit
has such powerful hold on him that
ne has lost all his manly pride, and
instead OF the handsome, neatly dressed
youth of few years passed-see the
ugly, bloated, shabbily dressed drunk
ard! A piteous wreck of his former
self He says, if I had back nv youth
and money l would try to reform. but
alasl my money, health and friends
have fai led me and l have no object in
life but to drink down the memory of
my youth; aud he empties the glass
purchased with his last dollar and
walks away with murmur, Too lafel
MAGGIE MILES.