Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1871-05-04
Comfort for Brown Eyes.

1
1T seems to me, mamma, said
Brown Eyes, looking up with a grieved
and startled expression at the an
nouncement of Alice Cary's death-'it
seems to me that all the nice people are
dying. BY the time I get to be wo-
man I am afraid there will be nobody
worth while left. Last summer Dickens
died, and now Miss Gary is gone, and
nobody can ever write such stories as
he did, nor such sweet poems as the
Lovers Diary"
! Poor little Brown eyes. She did not
know that she was taking up thus early
the plant of all the men and women
who have trod the earth, revelled III its
Joys, tasted its sorrows, and stolen
away, one after another, into the eter-
nal silence.
Life is full of bereavement not only
the "nice people, the poets and story
tellers who delighted our childhood,
pass away, but those who seem essential
to our being, without whom we fancy
there can be no more JOY of sunrise or
beauty of returning spring. The peo-
pie that we live for die, the strong in
terests of life drop from us, and yet life
goes on, new people step into the old
place., larger interest claim us, and to-
day is enriched by all the yesterdays.
| Twenty years ago, when Alice and
| Phebe Cary we're unknown to fame,
living in their country home few
miles from Cincinnati, little dreaming
of the popularity that awaited them,
the former, referring to the death of
near relatives, which had left the sisters
comparatively alone, said, "There
seems little left to live for" And yet,
at that very time, when life seemed SO
bare, there was opening out before her
such field of influence as her widest
imaginations had never pictured.
"Let no one be called happy till he
is dead" says the old proverb. 1 would
set over against it this one, Let no one
call his life failure while he lives. AS
the universal is more than the indlvidu-
al, the soul greater than all its expert
ences, all loss must be compensated by
nobler growth, the failure of to-day
impart the secret of to-morrow's sue
cess. Because our poet knew sorrow
and loss, she knew, also, the sources of
cOUSOldtlOu. DecaiSc SIG uau tIouocu
lonely ways with weary feet, she knew
the sweets of companionship at the
wayside spring. We know what we
have experienced, not much besides, and
by the aggregation of all manner of ex-
periences does "the world grow slowly
into nature" a tender human nature
akin to Gods.
Be comforted, Brown Eyes, there
will always be ''nice people in the
world The children will have their
stories, the youths and maldens their
love songs, and men and women the in
spiration of high thought and unseltish
deeds. Thackeray and Dickens, Mrs.
Browning and Miss Cary have passed
away, but they have left to the world
their wealth, the beauty and fragrance
of their lives. Early friends may leave
us, or we may grow away from them,
but over the hills and across the cont
nent come maturer natures to admins
ter to our great need. Personal ambi
tons may fail, things greatly desired
prove to be only Dead Sea apples, ma
terial satisfactions may take to them
selves wings, but back of all these are
God ana humanity ana the lnulNluual
soul--the eternal verities.
The present is always the greatest
time, for it is enriched by all that went
before. Never had the soul such in
centives to noble living as now, when
it begins to interpret the voice of uni
versal needs: never was God SO near as
when we begin to recognize his incar-
nation in a whole humanity, and to
know that in serving one of the least
of his children we are serving him
cello Blwteigh.