The Brookhaven ledger. (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1875-1883, 1876-02-10
Ny Castle i'll Spain.
BY MISS L. NJ. H., OF BRooKHAvEN.

Sometimes, when the sun is dropping
westward and the brown earth is g%lorifed
in its tender, crimson light, the shading
columns and turrets of a wonderful ca-tle
softly rise from the feecy piled-up ashes
and cleaning brands OF the burnt-out day.
O, a rare old structure is my castle in
SPAIN Its great walls shield me lovingly
as go to look on their pictures and trace
the designs by which they are wrought out.
There is one that | see in the soft twi-
light, Of a quaint, old farmhouse, with
c~lambering vines and sweet wild roses over
its time-worn sides. Within, are light
footballs and happy voices, and a well
loved group that gather on the broad door
stone, or at the glowing ingIeSide. Low
inglv l trace It's outlines through the misty
veil of years; for it is my boyhood's house,
that dear old farmhouse! Then | hear a
faint snatch of song that was sung long
ago, and all the twilight air is heavy with
the fragrance of roses that have long been
CTllSilGl anu tllSiI L oCC 0IlOtllCl fIOluIt
that was dearer once than all besides
smiling lace framed in ripping golden
hair. In my young fancy, that form fit
ted about the old, bright house, and made
it grow brighter still. The little def
hands that l watched so fondly, wove
dainty trinket8 to which her very presence
seemed to cling. Lightly they touched
the old-fashioned piano, and the house was
full Of melody. But the face grows dim
through & tear that creeps between it and
nv eye, for it has slept beneath the jeweled
touch of many winters, and the skillful
hands are folded over a long-silent h cart,
Then the faces of my college friends
cluster around me as they were wont to do
in the days Of yore. Some seem sad
through the dreamy mist, but others look
as fresh and liie-like as they did when we
lived, and worked, and thought, and play
ed together.
But a still, deep stream flows by my cas-
tie, and it washes away many pictures that
used to hang there. Perhaps, sometime,
these too will swell the tide of Oblivion.
There is one that | see now, as the shad-
ows grow darker; it is of a fine, manly
form, with conscious power in his good,
right hand; and his face shines with a
great love of humanity, while his heart
and his busy brain join in every good and
noble work. The people bless him, and
gather round him with their words of
trust and love; the little children come to
meet him, and lisp his name in gentle ac-
cents. The poor and the wretched call
him benefactor." Ah! he is myself
what l meant to be!
think of the plain man that I am, Just
like all other men, perhaps not so good,
and of him, so different, but | know not
how the change ira inspired. Gradually we
separated, he and HE gone farther OH
and DINNER, and | dropped down into a
beaten path that many we're treading, and
found no great deeds to crown me victor,
only the little, commonplace things that
we all can do, and no one be wiser for
doing. | thought sometimes to bridge the
great gulf between us, and rise to his level
but as the years went on m hands were
tied by little things, and l could not strive
because of them 80 the gulf widened.
But after all, l know that one day a Hand
will touch me, to glorify me, even as my
memory %glorifes him, the ideal of my
early hopes; and the Masters gentle voice
will speak life into those faces, and give
words to the dear lips.
Now, my castle has faded away till it i
but a speck in the last CLEAN of light; bu
[ know that then He will build it on en-
during adamant, and place it in the Pearl,
City that is "%fairer than all our colder
f~ancies, in all our golden Dreams"