The Louisianian. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1870-1871, 1871-04-23
WHAT IS LIFE?

sody:
We have been writing way off into the
night. The ticking OF the clock-it
brings tears to our eyes,-that steady,
light, heavy,-light, heavy,-light, heavy.
oh! It's ticking our life away!
What little incident! Yes, but it has
turned all our thoughts We were writing
a letter to an old friend, noble-hearted,
genial but dign;fed, Harvard scientist.
We were forgetful of time and place, OF
the bowling storm outside, and the loud
''fick-tack," "ticl-iack," ''tick-tack."
All, what a start it gave us-it was
only little mouse; how quick we felt
the SILVER of the storm-blast outside the
window! We keep turning around,
now, very cautiously, to see if it is still
lying there on the cold, iron gate. We
half expect to see that it has really
scampered of. that it is again jumping
about over the floor and running cum
ningly under the chair, to jump out again
over the rocker and scamper of fright
ened, then to come bounding back, stop
ping, of sudden, cautiously, then ad-
vancing boldly, then standing toyingly,
then springing away to hide. HarlS !
No, it is still lying there on the cold
crate.
1t was cruel, and we can scarce write
it. He had squeezed his little body under
the door, and then, Of course, not HARM
ing us, re- lily amused us with his playing
He doubtless, thought it quite new
sensation to be on carpeted floor, SO he
told us plainly how he enjoyed it. But
We soon happened to think of neat 81
way to trap him, and all SO quickly and
50 quietly. that it was Immediately done.
Having put the edge of the mat under
the door, SO he could not get out, and
then made runaway under the mat,
Ill was fixed. So we ratified the sofa,
when away little dot scampered, not
across the floor as he had done when
less fearless, but siding the wall, like the
Troopers man, "Phil" He found the
gateway closed, SO he sprung by and
went around the large room, past chairs,
secretary, stove, once mo: to the sofa.
Then again we started him on his travels.
Poor fellow! he dolged into the little
runaway under the mat. We then,
very deliberately, kneeled down to his
death. A hand at each end of the run.
way,--a drawing of them together
trembling little lump,-a heartless press.
ure for moment.
Then came a revulsion of feeling and
sorrow that We could lot undo the game
we had just played so hastily. We hest
tated, disliking to lift the mat. Turning
it back, slowly, we saw him there, look
ing to US just as he had done minute
before, but stirring not. Had anything
escaped up through the mat and between
our fingers? We had not seen anything
dy away. Cautiously we touched the
warm body of little mus. 1t did not
tremble. The throbbing of little heart
has ceased; and, yes, the ticking of oul
watch has stopped. Is the watch dead
Ike the Mouse? House did life get on,
If this golden casket, SO tight? Aha
but have we not the key? and each we
not make it live again? Here ''tick
tick, tick. tick" SO, after all, you are
not like poor, Little Muff, here, the key
to whose breath We have not Wha
beautifully bright eyes those are, Furry
now pleading there look, and 80 hk.
black, but lusterful garnets! What Gun
ming teeth, and curious ears, and delicat.
whiskers! Your whole makeup is {
great marvel. But the ife-principle
where is that? All, we have long sat q
the feet Of Agassiz, but have yet to Learn
what life is. To Huxley We have looked
and still uncertainty fills us. We have
been o lover of rocks that We nigh
know little of the ancient forms of life
We have handled FOSSILS studying then
eagerly; yet. where life began, we canno
say; what life is, we do not know!
i Tonight, two fires have gone out Tn
third fire in our room, that within on
own breast, may soon be burning low
even as the lamp which is now gettin;
quite empty. What is life? And what i
It todie? wv.