Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1880-03-27
Leaves OF Gold.

One night when the earth was so 81,
lent that the footballs of the guardian
angels who passed to an fro could al
most be heard, and when the grand
canophy 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 SILVER.
The chill night air had crept through
his faded and worn garments and pinch
ed 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 futter of the old mans
rags in the gentle breeze.
When 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 CRATE
full 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 in
to better paths-if bis kind words had
filled despairing hearts with new hopes
he had no credit for tin the hearts
of men. They had sneered and scofed
at his slow step and his many tatters,
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 towards 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 hutter down
shall die, and like them I shall be for.
gotten 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 it. Let
me die to-night-let me be no more
when the golden leaves futter down tc
the chilly earth!"
Shivering in the keen air Of midnight
he held his face in his hands and pom
dered and prayed. Few hearts hat
siDned less, even when smarting under
the sense of the worlds ridicule ant
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 hear
grew larger, and as sleep came back t
his eyelids he whispered
"If | ever wronged one human be
ing in Gods great world may the an
gels forgive me~
The frost was creeping EDWARDS from
the north-creeping over hilltop ant
orchard and meadow so softly that tn
blades of grass hardly quivered. l
crept to the tree and fingered for
moment in its branches. The greel
leaves shivered, then the green fade,
away, little by little, and 10 each lea
, was robed in gold They quivered il
their joy and gladness as the breez
whispered:
"The old man below you is dead
: He was waiting for these golden robe
to come to you. l will watt you down
and you shall cover his gray head wit
such crown as no king ever wore"
!. And while the leaves were foatin
down to glorify what men had despisec
! an angel in Heaven turned the golde
!. pages of book and wrote: "Eart
has sent another soul to dwell with L
J and find eternal ioy and peace