St. Landry democrat., 1882-03-18

| carefully divided nall, beside tne Wei
come that always awaited him when
ever necessity or inclination induced
return A titfully restless man, drlfted
hither and thither by the currents OF
excitement or circumstance, years and
habits were leaving their impress on
him, his wit had hardened into a mock
ing cinicism, his high spirits coarsened
into boastful egotism. Treasure was
not wholly blind to the change; she
saw, too, the averted looks OF old
friends and half-suppressed whispers of
disapproval But they only quickened
her old loyalty, and led her to throw
the mantle of affectionate charity over
his faults. Did she not know how hard
life had been to him, the rebutfs he had
suffered, the sharp thrusts his sensitive
nature had received? Where others
only saw thetseedy, would-be orator and
man of letters, the hanger-on Of poll
ties, the apostle of erratic and futile
movements, she beheld her early hero,
her lifelong idol. There came 4 day,
however, when Israel Garlic, a wasted,
broken man, crept back to the Old gray
house for the last time. Then whatever
of disappointment or doubts had lurked
latent in Treasures heart disappeared
wholly and forever With more than
her old-time tenderness she watched
and tended him, as slowly through pain
and WEAKNESS life ebbed away. And
under that shadow of death Treasure
Reid spent some of the happiest weeks
; of her life; time seemed to have folded
back its pages to the sunny one, where
she and her cousin were boy and girl to-
gether Old forgotten memories seemed
) to start up in Israers heart, an'atfecton
| for the old familiar ways and scenes.
To Treasure he chung with childish te-
nacity. arm in arm with her he revisited
many of their once familiar haunts. and
when he had grown too weak for that,
t he would lie for hours in the warm sum-
5 mer DAYS, under the great pines, look
| inc off, as with sense of strange rest
fitness, at the quiet fields: sometimes
? he made querulous complaints of
? his broken hopes, and the plans he had
4 purposed, but for the most part he was
a very patient and gentle and quiet. Only
: once did he refer to the past, and that
, was Just at the close. He had been ~
2 ing propped up with pillows, watching
e with the wistful look Of one who knows
t it is for the last time the sunset color>
g fade from the sky and the twilight
n deepen along the wooded horizon. A
a his faithful watcher bent over him, she
d saw that his eyes were wet with tears
e Treasure" he whispered family, &c
). Treasure. if I could only live my life
e over again how different [ would make
), it for Won as well as myself They
It were almost his last words, and before
st morning, supported in the arms tha
e had always been his stay and shield, he
: went down into the valley and shadow
e of Death. 1T was an August day, still
r and golden as that SO many years before
t when the signing pines had murmuree
t; of a blissful nature to Israel Carrie, Wher
}. they bore his coffin out under thei
d somber shadows; the day lilies were
y again in blossom, filing all the air will
y their heavy. fragrance, and cluste
e of them Law on the dead man s breas
s over the still heart that had purposel
g so much and wrought so little. Ate
It Israers death, Treasure Reid aged fast
7 little by little she gave up the cares ant
II labors to the man and his wife who has
n long lived with her, less and less sh
IL went from home, save to church or t.
le homes of suffering or mourning. Their
s she was ever present; tireless, efficient
d attending to the dreary details, light
lie ening heavy burdens; a very tower o
(e strength. More and more she grey
E. in the habit of sitting by herself in tn
s, room where Israel had died, the room
ID that looked out on the little pine-shade
he ward and westward hills. Often sh
IL was found turning over his oil
t, papers, strange medley of frae
e mentary poems, speeches, pleas; 1t
Ell doubtful if she understood them. Pei
ID haps, that she did not, made her regar
re them the more as tokens of his ability
e and say as she was wont to: 'sHi
~ talents were great; it seemed sad tina
ut he could not have lived till they wer
as recognized Her grief invested he
as with a simple pathos, but she was not
OF poetic figure; a stranger would hav
lie passed unnoticed the plain, gray -haire
n. woman of antiquated dress and stiff
ce formed manner. Her life had bee
e. narrow, restricted, with few opportun
lg ties, little diversity of the culture an
it Accomplishments Of the world; beyon
hit her contracted horizon she knew almo:
s. nothing. Two of life's greatest prof.
ne lens, however, she had mastered;
e. her hearts case they lay enshrined,
d. sweet acceptance of the life that is, an
be an unfaltering assurance of the life
m come. For the rest. if her hands wei
It toil-hardened, they had soothed many
We sufferers pillow, and if her words wei
IS, homely they had sustained many SIM
be ING soul And when once more II
nd neral train wound down across the field
e, this time brown and. hardened wit
e, storm and frost. though formal mourn
no ers were absent, all were mourners, 4
as the pure and sanity woman whose Il