The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1878-01-16
Leaves of Gold.
detroit Free Press

DtbTOlL ETtSo.l
One night when the earth was so 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 his bed on the grass under lone tree
on the commons, awoke with a shiver. The
chill night air had crept through his faded
and worn garments and pinched his flesh.
He sat up and looked about him with that
longing expression in his eyes that 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 IL caught
the iutter of the old mans rags in the gen.
tie breeze.
When tree becomes old and withered and
ready to die, men dispise ii. They forget
the beauty it held for years, and they give
no praise for the grateful shade it offered to
thousands. They would have its shade and
strength and beauty endure forever, forget
ting that every living thing must grow older
day by day ana at last die.
Men had forgotten all the good words ever
spoken by this old man. Ii he had smooth
ed the rough paths of the poor; if he had
turned the wicked into better paths; If his
kind works had filled deSparing hearts with
new hopes, he had no credit for it in the
hearts of men. They had sneered and scott
ed at his low step and anyitatters, and they
had laughed in derision as he fell upon the
hard earth. No sailor, cast upon lone isle
in the great ocean, seeing 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 unused:
when the leaves fiutter down / shall die,
and like them | shall be forgotten by all
men. They will bury me, but they will not
mark my grave. They may write my name
In book, but no one will ever turn to IL.
Let me die to-night-let me be no more
when the golden leaves futter down to the
chilly earthp'
Shivering in the keen air of midnight, he
held his face in 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 longing 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 eyelids he
whispered:
f'If ever wronged one human being in
Gods great world may the angels forgive
merp
The frost was creeping onward from the
north-creeping over hill top and orchard
and meadow SO softly that the blades of gras:
hardly quivered. 1t crept to the tree and
fingered for moment in its branches. The
green leaves shivered; then the green faded
away, little by little, and lo each leaf was
robed in gold. They quivered in their JOY
and gladness as the breeze whispered:
1.-THE old man below you is dead. He wa:
waiting for these golden robes to come tc
you. l will watt you down and you snail
cover his gray head with such a crown as nc
king ever wore"
And while the leaves were floating down
TO glorify what men had despised, an ange
in heaven turned the golden pages of book
and wrote: Earth has sent another sou
to dwell with us and find eternal JOY and
peace"