The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1878-08-02

unless | consent to save him by a mar
riage that has long been con templated b.
our parents. Forget one who is un
worthy of your true devotion
Your unhappy HARRY.
remember putting the 40 te with the
rest of those l had almost worshipped
Then there was a blank in I'D lie.
When next l realized my 'Whereabout,
| was at home, and stern orI winter was
holding carnival. L recov eped from my
illness very slowly. For many month:
fingered seemingly on the brink of the
grave. Though the very best physicians
were sought they could not effect cure.
had no ambition to orecover. No desire
70 so forth into the gay WI Hld; to min
gle with society. Not st Gale object in
life could L see that Eas .ssEsarth efar'
/ Nv parents were GILL; ..icu.dstances,
80 had no need to exercise my faculties
for self support; physicians needed the
support their visits demam led, and as
/ long as l was considered an invalid,
nothing would be required ot me in the
/ oughly selfish. l seldom saw any one
/ but the members of our own family
Books and papers thoroughly hated. I
even kept the sunlight from my room
could not endure its cheerful brightness
| What right had it to shine and make all
the world bright, when there was only
the blaekness of darkness 10 my heart?
A year from that to me eventful Sep
tember morning asked my sister to
bring me my writing desk, and then to
leave me alone. While she was taking
it from the bottom of the trInk-for l
had never used it since that too well re-
membered morning-Saidy asked who
that Harry was of whom l rhved so much
in my illness.
How should / know?n / inquired.
" Probably one of the studants, as l am
very we'll acquainted with several by
that name. Why, what did 1 say ?'
&" Nothing that we could understand,
only occasionally we would hear you
muttering, My Harry or Poor Har-
ry'"
was sure then that none knew the
real cause of my illness, and would
make myself sure that none ever did.
When my sister left the rpom, 1 burned
the heartsickening letters without an
other perusal. Dust on ashes was my
first and last love. The little gifts that
I once priced, put safely ssway in Sc
cret drawer l could not return them to
the giver, for did not know where on
| the continent he was located. l learned
by accident that he had gone south.
Months were woven into years, and
still l kept my room. l was not well.
/ Physicians called my disease spinal con-
plaint, and l allowed them to prescribe
! accordingly. You may think it passing
strange how one could be so perfectly
inactive and still retain a good use of
/ their five senses. Ana yet there are
thousands wasting their inheritance
allowing their energies to lie dormant
till every good impulse is covered over
with a rust that will eat up every God
given talent.
| l had no aim, no object in life; and l
would not seek one.
1t was enough that 1 no longer suffered
acutely, and my wants were all sup
piled. In this thriftess way ten years of
my life were passed.
Then my dear old father sickened and
died. 1t was during his illness that l
nerved myself to leave my own room,
for all this time l had kept my own
apartment like the veriest hermit-and
sit by him while the rest of the family
sought needed rest or attended to domes
/ tic matters.
Although he was very quiet man in
his family, yet we were very lonely
without him. And for mothers sake, /
mingled more with the family, in the
hope of comforting her in her affections.
/ soon found that cur neighbors were
really intelligent beings with warm,
sympathizing hearts, and that books
and papers could be a source of enjoy
ment.
One morning when the June roses
were in bloom and the bees were gather
ing their wealth of sweets alike from
roses and nettles, and birds were feeding
their young, my idle, listless hands
picked up the weekly paper that sister
/ Moretts had left upon the seia.
My eyes wandered dreamily over its
columns and finally rested on these evil
dentIy heart-spoken words: cob! let
not the night come and find so little
accomplished; let not these golden jewels
of Time, as they drop from Gods benifi-
cent fingers, be utterly lost"
Those words were a standing rebuke
to me. How many times had the cur
tains of Gods windows been drawn,
shutting out the day from my sight, and
found me indebted for time spent in
idle, useless dreaming. ALI day long
was 1 haunted with my wasted life. All
my energy lay covered with rust, my
talents were covered over with the cob
webs of dreamland. / had robbed the
gracious Giver of the c&sket of jewels
that He had lent to me to be returned
with usury. / had allowed it to be cor
roded with rust, which would ever mar
the brilliancy of the jewels within.
When He called for them what an ac-
count should be obliged to give for
wasted opportunities There was still a
valuable part left; should / leave that
to go to ruin with the rest?
"No," was the answer of my whole
soul. l would arise and put on my
beautiful garments. / would that hour
begin new life; though the sun had
long since passed the meridian, yet the
night should not come till 1 had accom-
plished some good. would watch for
opportunities.
Summer faded, and clasped hands with
her sister autumn as she resigned scepter
and crown, with bowed form, but q
placid smile upon her pale lips. She had
fulfilled her mission. Not single thread
was missing in all the fabric.
September with her quiet, dreamy
days and starry nights, found me really
enjoying an active life. 1 felt ike
another being. ''Old things had passed
| L