The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1879-05-07

She of us all, 10 die of Il broken heart !
Can il be and there comes before me yet
another face, that stands out alone, and
"will not down"-thc sweetest face Of all
a laughing, hmpled-iacc and merry
brown eycs-thc face Of a child
on womans form, Loving,
laughing Carrie Me-. has she laughed at
Old Father Time as she laughed at every
one else; and given him as little of her at
tcntion as she used to give to her lessons (;
What have thirty years made of her,
wonder. Married, third daughter of Mr.
and Mrs. b." and this was Carries
daughter, Oh, relentless time, oh, cruel
thirty years, give us back our laughing
Carrie
down, down, ! say, why will yc
haunt me, school mates of my early girl
hood! Yc arc but phantoms now. Go
from me, fair shadow of the purest heart
ever knew-you can bring me back naught
but the empty scmblancc Of what yc once
were; there is no Susan, now. Thirty years
have made Of her, what, alas, they have
made of mean old woman. Shall they
no more return, those days Of hfe's early
spring-hme! Are 1--WE girls old women,
now! Shall you ever be anything but "the
girls" to me, though we live another thirty
years, Harriet and Chloe and Carrie and
Susan. DO you remember, in silent hours,
the other girl, thai formed our group of five,
who were all school girls together:
Do you ever go back, in fancy, to the
old log hut and the cruel master!
Do you hear, again, in early, dewy, sum
mer mornings, that grand, magnificent
chorus sung by thousand featherH song
storS, that greeted us IN the deep dark
wood? Have you heard in music hall or
concert garden, since then, anything half
so grand and sweet! Do the cid horse
chestnut trees at the forks of the road, ever
loom up on memory's horizon, before you,
at some unexpected time and place. They
do to me, and | never feel the sensation of
hot dust on my shppercd feet but what
that long, hot, dusty stretch of country
road lies out before me, reaching from our
village to the wooded hills, where stood
our old school house Does anything ever
remind you, girls, of the old steamer
Sligo that used to bring our river mail !
How eagerly we rushed out on the bllff to
see her land in; and what sensation to
actually see, with our own eyes, the one
solitary mailbag handed off to the post
master. Do you feel the secret trcmuous
thrill Of joy that set our hearts to tiutter-
ING when you were the cnvicd recipient of
one Of those few white messengers. those
that bore for US, such words and word, of
love, on their fair pages: Oh, yes. You
cannot have forgotten that-nothing in all
our after lives has brought to Us such
wild delight or silent rapture.
Would you know Of her life, what
she who guides this pen would tain know
of yours-would you know what thirty
years have brought herr Then listen for
one moment with patient silence and she
will tell you. There stands by her SIDE, To-
day, the faithful lover Of her early youth
grizzled Of hair and beard, playing with
our grand-child. Tie smiles and tears"
of thirty years have Iancd over our path.
way many more smiles than tcar,-and
still, at times, the old, restless spirit that
ruled her in her schoolgirl days, steals
over her anew, and cries out and Icnds,
with impotcnt hands, the ruthless letters
that old age has bound around her, she
pines for the green old woods and ;he-
tour-bladed, horn-hQndlcd knife and the
long coveted freedom Of trousers. Do YOU
recognize her!
Goodbye, Harriet Farewell, Carrie,
ave are all coming soon, Chocm A kiss
from my finger tips for you, Susan 70
one and all, dear girls goodbye, good.byc,
May 1917. NAOMI.
The DEATH RATE OF our country is get
ting IconuIly alarming the average of life
! l..