New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1873-08-18
THE TWO IMlMORT1LS.

li0naIres and paupers, scholars and swells
fade out of view, and one catches sight OF the
Man and the Woman, smiling, frownng
coouettng meeting, turning away, but withal,
gradually approaching each other. They have
been approaching each other and playing their
pretty pantomime since the days before the
Flood until now; the same two immortal lovers
under many names. What were History with
out their sweet story going on from age
TO ages Where would Achilles and Hector
have found their chance of career but for
Helen,s coauetries7 Whence could have arisen
the chaos out of which was born the later
civilization of the middle ages but Tor the
Crusader going about, lance in rest. to vlndl-
cate the shape of his lady's nose or the color
of her bairf Science to those happy children
of the old time was nothing but the same old
story personifed When the harvest was
plentiful it was Jove who had wooed the earth
to warmer smile If the moonlight slept
softly on hidden, forest nook, behold the
chaste, cold huntress Diana from the skies
Weakening EndymiOn with kiss
Nowadays, here are the two lovers still clad
In redingote and suit of linen duck instead
of thunders and moOnbeams, but still lmmor-
tai, still young, still, in their own peculiar
sense, divine. Summer is their holiday.
They play their wonderful enchanted drama
in a thousand shapes and under thousand
names. Which of us has not seen them, this
week, to-day, at Long Branch, swashed over
head in salt water and jelly-tsh, climbing
the Kaatskills, floating in mackerel-b0at
off Nantucket, jolting side by side in city
street-car9 But dust, nor mackerels,
nor jelly-ish can destroy the dreamy
| glamour about them, nor the signs by
| which they are known. All mankind and
womankind recognize them, hide as they will,
and have for them kindly, indulgent SMILE
Whether Celadon gives Celia diamond ring
in her ballroom bouquet, or hands her leg of
the lamb his folks have just killed, in at the
kitchen window-whO does not know the sign OF
the hot, delicious fever that began in Eden, and
has spread its sweet contagion from ancient
Asia to the frozen North All mankind love
lovers, it is said, only because they, too, have
taken the part of the immortal pair. Which
of us has not played that wOrld-Old, I'M
changing drama to its conclusion, well or i'll
Not YOU, only, blushing little shop-girl jean
nette with your honest, shabby Jeannot, but
the gray haired, hoOknOsed gambler, with his
| racing stables, and the widow clearinghouse
| keeper in her frouzy front" and black alpaca,
and oldest of all, the fast New-York belle on
the lookout for good match. Which OF us
| has not, while that fond fever lasted, risen to
nights of unselfshness and generosity I'M
known beforei How wonderful, as though
| newborn, was the world to us thenf How
every man was brother, who had known
our pain and tasted our joy; how dreadful
thing it was to be alive; how near was God
| behind that life! Now, perhaps, our thoughts
| run into banking or housekeeping channels,
! and our "brother" is lost behind clerks or
grocers, and God behind the unpaid debt on
| the new church.
So now if Celadon and Celia coming into
view in this bright August weather engross too
much of its air and sun, let us forgive them
their innocent selfshness in the remembrance
of the days when we too acted their divine
drama and so were better men and women
than we are, and bid them godspeed upon
their way, "thridding the somber boscage of
this wood unto the morning star"