Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1884-02-07
QUEER SHADOWS.

It was twilight. The red flashes thrown
on the windoW-panes by the setting sun had
slowly faded out and given place to the
first soft shadows of night, which bring the
cricket from it's hiding place and send the
bee and the butterfly to sleep. There was a
feeling of rest in the room-a feeling
of quiet contentment and perfect satisfac-
tion. The hum from other rooms lulled
instead of annoyed; the voices Of chill
dren on the street seemed far away and had
touch of pathos.
The old man lay at perfect ease His
eyes rested on the wall at the foot of the
bed-his thin, wrinkled hands were folded
one over the Other-there was no pain to
deepen the lines on his kindly face. He had
seen the sun go down, and he: listened for
the voice of the cricket and the call Of the
whip-poor-will.
What was that?
a shadow suddenly fitted across the wall
in front of his eyes. Now another and
another. Now the first shadows fit back
to head a procession. Passing from right
to left the procession moves-a process
sion of queer shadows. They take on faces;
as they niove along, and the old mans
heart beats faster as each face comes before
him. Here are the friends of his youth
faces which grew white in death SO long ago
that he had forgotten them. This one was
a cilild-that a youth-that Il fair young
girl when he stood by and saw she carth
cover them. They smile at him and his
heart grows younger.
One procession ends and another begins
These are the faces of men eand women
stricken down in the monday of life. Some
of them had shared his hopes and sympa-
friends, the sea, the lake and the forest gave
their dead to the procession of shadows, and
each face was recognized and remembered.
The procession moves Oh and on. He is
shocked to realize that so many Cf his
friends fell in the battle of life while he was
spared to grow old and rest in peace.
Now comes the third procession. There
is Il father, old and bent and feeble; a moth
er with wrinkled patient face brothers in
youth and middle age; sisters who wept
with him over some of the graves. Every
face looks as it did in life every eye meets
him with a glad look of recognition. The
shadows wave their hands and move on,
and the old mans heart grows childish and
big.
There is another procession. The first
shadow is that Of loved wife, who died
while the snow-white locks had scarcely
turned gray. Then came the children-sOnS
and daughters-tive in all. One by one they
had grown weary and rested by the way
side, leaving husband and father to pursue
the journey alone. The procession halts,
and every shadow holds outfits hands to the
poor old man as if in supplication. His
heart swells-tcars fill his eyes, and he cries
out to them:
81 see you ALL am coming J!
Back with your light! But it is too late
The glare Of the lamp filings the twilight out
Of the room with hasty hand, and the slladt-
ows which crept along the wall are gope'
forever No one saw them but the old man.
I and yet there is proof Of their presence.
His poor old hands are outstretched-on MS
white cheeks are tears-on his wrinkled,
face smile of JOY and gladness.
His spirit had joined the shadows!
NJ. QHAD.