Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1877-11-07
Leaves of Gold.

One night when the earth was 5,
silent that the footballs of the guardian
angels who passed to and fro could
| almost be heard, and when the grand
canopy of Heaven blazed with bright
stars, an old man who had made hi,
bed on the grass under a lone tree on
the commons awoke with shiver. The
chill night air had crept through hi:
faded and worn garments, and pinched
his flesh. He sat up, and looked about
him with that longing expression in
his eyes which comes only when men
feel that the earth is fast passing away
from them forever. He had no friends,
Even the wandering dog which passed
near him growled angrily as it caught
the flutter of the old mans rags in the
gentle breeze.
When a tree becomes old and with
cred and ready to die, men despise it.
They forget the beauty it held for
years, and they give it no praise for the
grateful shade it offered to thousands.
They would have its shade and strength
and beauty endure forever, forgetting
that every living thing must grow
older day by day and at last die.
Men had forgotten all the good words
ever spoken by this old man. If he had
smoOthed the rough paths of the poor
if he had turned the wicked into better
paths-if his kind words had filled de-
spairing hearts with new hopes he had
no credit for it-in the hearts of men.
They had sneered and scoffed at his
slow step and his many tatters, and
they had laughed i'm derision as he fell
upon the hard earth. No sailor, cast
upon lone isle in the great ocean, see
ing ships sailing to and fro, but none
ever turning toward him, could have
felt such isolation as this old man felt.
With his long. gray locks-with his
rags and tatters-with his wounded and
aching heart-with his knowledge that
his hours were numbered-he turned
his pale face to the bright stars and
mused:
''When the leaves flutter down /
shall die, and like them l shall be for
gotten by all men. They will bury me,
but they will not mark my grave They
may write my name in a book but no
one will ever turn to it. Let me die to-
night; let me be no more when the
golden leaves flutter down to the chilly
earth,''
Shivering in the keen air of the mid
night he held his face i'm his hands and
pondered and prayed. Few hearts had
sinned less, even when smarting under
the sense of the worlds ridicule and
neglect-few hearts had deeper long
ing for the blessed rest of heaven. BY
and by the air no longer chilled him.
He grew warmer and his old heart
grew larger, and as sleep came back to
his eye-lids he whispered.
''If | ever wronged one human being
in Gods great world may the angels
forgive mer'
The frost was creeping Onwards from
the north-creeping over hill top and
orchard and meadow so softly that the
blades of grass hardly quivered. 1t
crept to the tree and fingered for mo-
ment in its branches. The green leaves
shivered, then the green faded away,
little by little, and 10! each leaf was
robed in gold! They quivered in their
joy and gladness as the breeze whis-
pered:
The old man below you is dead, He
was waiting for these golden robes TO
come to you. / will watt you down,
and you shall cover his gray head with
such a crown as no king ever WORE"
And while the leaves were floating
down to glorify what men had despised,
an angel in Heaven turned the golden
pages of book and wrote: earth has
sent another soul to dwell with us and
find eternal joy and peace"'