Rocky Mountain husbandman. [volume] (Diamond City, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1877-08-09

"Ch. mother he cried Il was at the /
Princess, and she was such a good. beauti-
tul woman like you, lear mother, that / had
to throw my arms around her neck and kiss
u
ALI" said the mother: .'you should not
have done that. for they are strangers and
high dignitaries." aY5
And what are strangers" he said. "afay
| not love all people who look upon me with
friendly and atfectionate eyes?n s=as
"1ou can love them, my son, but you
must not show it,"
rs it then wrong for me to love people,"
said he. ''Wlly cannot Ishow Il"
"Well, perhaps you are right" she said.
But you must do as your father says, and
when you are older you will understand
why you cannot embrace every woman who
regards you with ufftectionate and friendly
eyes"
That was a sad@dav. Atnight his mother
put him to bed, and he prayed but could not
sleep, and kept wondering what those
strange people were whom one must not
love.
"Thou poor human heart. So soon in the
spring are thy leaves broken, and the feath-
ers torn from thy wings. So soon the child
learns that there are strangers, and ceases to
be a child. The spring of love becomes
hidden and soon filled up. Our eyes CLEAN
no more. and heavy hearted we pass one
another on the busting streets. We scarce
~ greet each other. for we know how sharp
ly it cuts the soul when a greeting remains
unanswered, and how sad it is to be sunder-
ed from those whom we have greeted and
whose hands we have claspcd. The wings
OF the soul lose their plumes the leaves Of
the flowerfast fall off and witler, and of the
fountain OF love there remains but a few
drops.'' uo
Alas. how often VIC close our hearts and
put our fingers in olll ears lest we should
hear and, feel the music that memory bells
so often ring out, telling us sometimes SO
l%nockingly that life is not SO lovely as our
youthful ideas painted it, and then seeming
to laugh when. some fancied pleasure turns
to gall as we drain the cup-like the apples
of Sodom, SO comedy, yet nalght but bitter
/ tltlSt. t NV lGtSl lB@ IItIoC SllIII1SSSiiNGSa ASttA
after leaf Of bright memories are folded
down and sealed tight, lest some time a
spectre should, peep forth, either of sorrow
Or of Joy, and IN ali unguarded m the
world should see that we have a heart by
the. quiycring of the lip and glistening OF the
eye. All our hearts and lives arc full OF
the graves of ''dead hopes, dead aspirations.
living trust, a dreary casket full of priceless
dust,'' vet sometimes with a favoring breeze
we kindle into Il semblance Of life the dead
and dying embers of our hearts, once all
afame, but now so shrill aud cold; then We
feel y
cit is not what i've lost that I do mourn, Z
But what l might have gained;
Our satdcst loss is what this world might give
With lavish hand to those who know to live
AS | sit and dream, and these Waywarc
fancies cross my brain, comes the thought
that it is not best for mankind to live as they
do, for this world to be one grand masluer
AIDE. Why cannot we do 'aild act, speak ane
live as our hearts dictateg I Whytare we 81
far apart? Whose heart beats i'll accordance
with mine; ; whose souli 4 near to mine il
all the Multitude? tiIna poem called 'Th'
Buried Life my thoughts areeso embodied
and are expressed SO beautifully that I fail
would co5pIyit::oh ,A<diaiI
: Tight flows our war Of ockin giwotls, and yet
! Behold, with tears my eyes are vet; Y83y
+ I feel Il namcless sadness Ger me roll. -,
) Yes, yes, we knoW that We can jest; s'jt.a' :
, We know, we know that secan SMILE ,feoo
, But there's a something in this breast s,.,.u
= To which thy light words bring no rest, "2A g
lI "A I'll Thy "a NasmiIe no anodNne .LIa.i..ns ll1A