The south Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1879-1883, 1880-09-14
cRoFToN.

II is said, Charlie, that farewell is
the hardest word in the English Ian
gaagc to speak yet there cOme times
when il must be spokcn--whenthe he
best of friends mus. part. Alas! II
lias come TO us--come, too, when we
had just determined 10 make our col
uInn sparkle like dew drops in the
morning sunlight-comc jnst when
the old lfUndness for writing hal
stolen over ns--comej justa the weird
wItcling spell TO write something
that would live had filled this bosom
with high hopes but, alas! 1t Is all
over now the dream is dispelled--
ourinsliratiOn is gone-our star has
set III eternal gloom--thc shadows
are across our pathway our light Is
out forever. This bosom is desert
pluce-a wild arid wastc-a bowling
wilderness--a fit abode for owls aud
bais, so to speak. The sunshine Is all
gone from this bosom. "rhe worm,
the cankcr and The grief are mine.''
We can't write inore.l Charlie. All
all we could say from now on would
be saddcr than a funeral dirge.
last week when we wrote the
world was so glad and SO gay--hope
did sing SO sweet from tho sunny
summit OF liie's llill--all the world
did lock 50 much like splendid hol-
iday. We, too, did iccl SO happy that
we ventured the assertion that every
thing was lovely. But, alas lidw
changed now. how dark--how dreary
--how desolate--how the black clouds
hover--liow the ravens croak-how
the storms howl--how everything
that made life sweet has deserted us
aud left us to drag out miserable
life, starless, hopeless, lnoonless,
through the black night OF coming
years. This has ever been the way
with us--fato was always crucl and
unkind- All along the journey we
haye fought it-have boasted that we
could do this or thatlin spite OF late I;
but We give it up now passiil.our
checks-throw up the spongc-whis- s.
lilo 40 more even il we are oft of the
woods. Let the cork rest on the bot
tom II she will we will pull no more
II ia finished-we give up the ghost
But, you ask. why all this ruin !?
We answer. A few short weeks
since we had sweeiheart--a little
sunny-faced angel, pure as a flcecy
flake of pittilcss snow ere it touches
The earth; beautiful as Dorc's dream
OF Pilates wife-a real little fairy,
with all eye black as the ravens
plume; with q voice soft as moth
er's touch; with cheek as rosy as
the sun ut his setting; with rich
profusion of golden curls which fell
in rich clusters ovei her shoudiers--a
thing.of beauty and joy forever.
How we loved her; how we hated
the sunshine that scorclled her fair
brow how we rallied Wien the cven-
ing zcphyrs famed her cheek rudoly /;
how We iiAagined the birds sang
sweetcr aud flowers bloomed brighter
when she passed. How the rccollec-
Iions OF her fair face, with its prontl
dark eyes, nerved and inspired us
during our heated canvass 10 deeds
of superhuman strength. How we
believed that every bud aud every
flower on the earth Inhaled some Of
its sweetness from her.
But now the thing is changed
Last night as she aud her brother
came home from church, when she
thought all the world WAS pulselcss
save her and him, We heard her sing
out with that same sweet voice that
had made so much merry music in
our cars, "Demit Jim, give me an
other schaw of that twist. 4 haip't
had but six chaws to-night." (This
ls SO, Charlie; I; this is no. fancy sketch.
We are not talking just TO bear our
self talk, as the girls say,) When
we heard that we fainied-fcll fiat on
our back. How long VIC lay there
we cannot tell; we only know that
mature, sos4'yior ITS, wept few tears
IN our face in the shape OF rain drops,
and we at last csine 10. Since then
we have gone Nmoping around with
our head down, feeling for all the
world like the little boy tho calf run
over. ~ - ssF s4r- -
We have two barrels of hard cider.
Come down, Charlie, and drive of
the gloom from one of them and
from ss,f HIRAM.