Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-10-31
SATURDAY MIDNIGHT AND SUN
DAY MORNING.

Alone. we are with the night and with our
own thoughts and with long, dreary trip
between us and our home. but with the as
surance Of a full DAYS rest when we have
reached there. The morning Is weary hours
yet ahead. although the hands Of the clock
have scored the Highest figure of the dial
and its tiny bell has sounded in twelve
measured strokes the knell Of the day and
the week that are gone forever. The funeral
train Of the dead summer Is passing. The
gloom of diving wear, intensified by the
darkness of an autumnal night, enshrouds
the CITY. Wailing winds, famed by
black winged spirits into titful sighs
and lamentations sweep up and down the
deserted streets. A neglected TIN sign,
bearing the legend y. NJ. Steele, Land and
Insurance Agent" which we had nailed up
m the window as substitute for broken
pane. trembles and struggles in a
dismal kind of way 10 free itself, in is dumb
language bringing back afresh talks and
feelings of other DAYS The faint half grown
moon has even deserted her place in the
heavens. and the sky, in sympathy with the
detected scene below, is weeping great tears
that splash against the window and run IN
torturous courses down each pane, 10 DIS
appear beneath the sill From leaf to leaf,
and from cave and root, we bear these drop
ping tears which fall in crystal symbols OF
regret. for The flowers that are dead and for
the summer that has flown forever. We step
10 the window and look out toward the
southern portion Of the city, but only one
single faint light meets our eye and the only
sound which reaches us through the gloom
that holds the slumbering town in It's OPP
pressive embrace is the plaintive sough Of
fitting boughs and the rustic of decaying
leaves as they are whirled in eddys along the
deserted walks A belated kingman or Clear
water train goes rumbling over the long
bridge which spans the river and rolls on
screeching into the impeustrabie beyond
lending weird cadence 20 the solemn SYM
phony Of the nights pageans. Every DROP
of rain. each falling Leaf, every whisper Of
the wind, each sound of this midnight hour
seems in accord with our own feelings
There is a bond, unity, response TO theil
plaintive measures, as we wonder II, aftel
all, every sound Of earth and alr, res
onant and whispered, may not be IN
tegral strains of an imneasureable dlapa
son Of some grand eternal oratorio, whicf
the soul. when once unfettered, shall inter
nret ms the music of the spheres-as tn
voice of God. The "pale descending year,
the fading woods. the browning earth, tn
dead flowers and their dark night of gloom
what have they to do with you, dear reader
and us, may you ask. Nothing, unless, per
chance you have yourself thus seen and Eel
and communed with nature in her strange
moods
But the week is gone, and it, work is al
most ended and mayhap the gloom will pas
away with the night, and, the morning
Sunday morning-God's own appointed ds.
of rest-will as you read these lines, hay
been ushered in with the soft light of aut
urnn's glory. Almost ended; and what
week of worry and perplexities ii has prove
to many, a week Of bitter political words an
strife TO some of US, devoid Of single Ell
enlargement or a rewarding smile, week {
toll of the head and aches of the heart. Al
most ended. Across in the composing room
where ten bright lights hang above ten bus
type settlers, we can hear the metallic lit
letters falling into their places, and othel
beside ourself are saying 'almost ended
Now the foreman is telling the messeng'
bow that the copy hooks are almost dry an
and he must hurry over for the last batch
= iispatches that have been coming too slo
ali night from all parts ofthe sleeping wori
AS he further complains Of the hardness
the associate agent at St Louis ana wonoe
if the wires are not down. The boy Is o
and the foreman sings out again to the pres
man who Is half asleep, ''the inside forms a
ready for press" and all is quiet again e
cent the click, click of the dropping TYP
the tick. tick Of the faithful clock and u
sob, sob of the sad night winds.