The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1882-06-09
fishing for WIngs.

Wishing, as 1 sometimes do, for lie
Representatives,, my husband turned 10
me and said, Don't you wish Won hid
wingsg' and Immediately the Question
repeated itself: Don't you wish YOU had
wings? And with it came the thought,
What would you do with themP Where
would you gop Quickly came the an
swer: III had wings, the very best uso l
could make of them would be this
when this husband of mine comes to me
with his logic and fallacy, and l have
exhausted my powers of and
of patience, then would / spread my
wings, taking my flight over land and
sea, | would search the wide world over.
until, finding a Protagroas worthy of the
contest, | would bring him in triumph.
place him at the feet of my Socrates, and
then folding my wings. breathe a little
and be at rest.
l am thinking now of the mother to
whom there is rest in the very thought
that, growing weary of the nest in the
~hedgerows, and seeking for the rest she
noThere finds, could unfold her wings,
and soaring to the cliffs SO nigh she
could hear naught. Glad to be within
sight OF the home nest, but more glad to
be out Of hearing. Few are the hours
for the mother-bird's rest. She listens
TO the warbling, until the notes become
discordant and the brain becomes a
whirl, and she longs for rest; and only a
little rest will make her think them the
sweetest notes ever heard and her own
songs the sweeter. To keep these sweet
should be our first thought, for we know
the songs we sing shall be their songs.
They may make them sweeter, but ours
TO them must be hymns ofjoy.
Watch the nightingales as thov arr
BROUGHT intn the ainuinn-ccbnn - ln
taught by a master voice. They chatter
and converse among themselves, until
the first notes of the master nightin-
gale strike their ears. They stop and
listen, and timidly repeat the strain.
Back again the great teacher goes over
the same notes, and again the birds sing,
growing holder in their attempts. "Do
not be discouraged" says an old writer,
"if the young bird be not willing to re-
peat your lesson and continue to MARBLE;
soon he will show you that he has not
forgotten the lessons received In autumn
and winter; he will repeat them IN
springtime." Does the mother-bird ever
doubt hat one day her brood shall have
wings to lift it from the e%arth-bound
nest, to airs and visions beyond our ken?
She will timidly lead them, step by step.
in their weakness, but she knows a pow
er that will lift them up to the sunlight
beyond the clouds. These little ones,
so helpless and tender, so dependent
upon our love, we teach from day TO day
first to beguile them with the songs,
then teach them to love the song, then
to sing the songs, and by and by we
catch the rustling of wings and the
music becomes divine.
When Raphael would make q cherub,
he searched the streets for a little Arab"
and placing him before his easel ho
taught him to lift his eyes to heaye en-,
and giving him wings, behold an angel
fit to touch the heavenly strings among
a myriad ofangels!
To the mothers teaching these lessons
well, growing weary and faint in the
MONDAY of life, then when the nest has
become torn and rent, and the brood has
become scattered, the morning will come
when to her shall be given wings, to
soar above life and death forevermore.