The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-05-16
HOW AN OLD MAN DIES.
IF. E. Huddle, in Through Mail.l

IF. E. Huddie, in Through Mail.l
 Reader, did you ever see lamp extin- guished after it had burned almost cen- tury? Did ycu ever see the arctic s-r set after 1t had shone for half year :? Have you watched sturdy oak that has stood for centuries, cast of its withered foliage and uplift its shriveled arms to the sky in death ? Have you, reader, ever seen an old man yield up a life that has become burden to him because of his many well-spent years?
 It is sad sight to behold young man just entering upon career ofhonor and usefulness-perhaps fame, stricken on the very threshold of success; it strikes the tenderest chords of sympathy in our breasts to see a girl, just budding into the broader and more mo- ble sphere of womanhood as the rosebud spreads its petals in summer, wither and fade and lose the warm and beautifying hue of health, and fold her hands upon her bosom and close her eyes to open them no more upon those that love her, until the mists of time shall have been swept from the realm of glorious e.er- nity. Every sense of justice and equity seems shocked by the death of babe, on whose cheek the sun mayhap has never shone whose eyes have never seen and whose tiDy feet have never trod the thorny paths that lie between the garden in which its cradle lies, and that in which Its grave IS made, and when the bereft mothers sobs fall upon our listening ears, the fountains of sympathy are un- sealed and we freely drop our tears with hers upon the. little mound that covers 50 much of good promise-so much of sweet innocence-so much of that meth CTS own heart and soul that it seems
 when she turns away, that she is leaving the better part of herself buried from earth and herself forevermore. So it seems that heaven is unjust-hard and cruel, when man or woman is taken from our midst in the fullness of his or her power-strickeni the meridian of his or her usefulneSs-mown down as it were in the very zenith of mental bril- liancy and physical excellence. Death in all these cases seems undeserved and ter rible.
 When the old man, scarcely able to bear his weight of years-no longer strong enough to wield the blow or pen. deaf to the music of the world and blind to all it's tenderer, more delicate tints- sensible alone of pain sense!ess alike to pleasure and disappointment, reaches the end of Times highway and passes through the wicket-gate, we feel that heaven has but garnered well ripened harvest and gathered in golden sheaf 'twere waste ful to longer expose to the storms of sea- sons given to grow another gathering We grieve, but the tears that flow are but balm to the wounded hearts. We bow down our heads and heap tributes of our love upon the coffin, but when we turn away, we hear consoliHg whisper in every breeze that stirs the soughing pines. as if it said: "Peace, peace, peace Heaven has but taken that that has no further claim, or hope, or expectation on the earth"
 saw an old man die within the pres- ent year. White was his hair-white as the feecy snow that drifted in his grave, and many months had found him lean. ing oD his staff, tottering from one foot to that and then to the other, shaking with palsy at every step, gaping at space | and gazing cimly, but in blank surprise. on things with which he'd been familiar all his life. Child-like in thought, stub. born in action as an old man is, mum. bling between his toothless ia ws strange comminglement of words and incoherent sounds in which one could but faintly catch memory of other days to lose the | thread of his discourse in idle vaporings before a phrase was done, he wandered to and fro searching for rest-eternal rest and saying he was won't to die, for all his generation had been dead for To | these many years.
 One day, he walked about the lawn, encrusted with snowy floor, mumbling and shaking his white head and singing snatches from dozen songs, all made into medley soon forgot, because he sang it many times, but never twice alike. | He came into the house at last and cried | and laughed by turns. His lips protrud- ing and receding quick by turns, seemed l won't to speak, bur nothing said, and so he laughed and cried again, then lying z down, was calm awhile and slept. Wftain | an hour, he coughed with difficulty and | awoke. He looked around him on us all | and smiled in recognition, then he moved his lips and tears came sparkling down his furrowed cheeks-good tears of joy.
 rest-so sweetly rest at last," he l slowly said. Farewell, my friends arewell to one and all. My days are numbered, blessed be the Lord, and am going home-farewell 1" His wrinkled hands twitched nervously-his lips moved IS in benediction to the world, then ;pread into a smile-his heavy lids dropped OCT the sunken eyes-his bosom ,eaved no more, and so he died. Twas 'carcely death, but rather, thus did end iis life. It was the peaceful stoppage of life alone, and not the agony of active 1 ieath. In peace he lived above his four core years and eight, in peace he ceased o live, in peace was gathered home in iature's course, so it can scarce be said le died at all.
 "Shoot Polly as She Flies,"