The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1886-01-29
"what do you want with me?"

ever / have come to bid youfarewell,"
she murmured with a plaintive voice,
sadder than the wintry wind.
"Begone!" l cried; "false spirit,
what have you done for me? Where
are those gifts you foretold to me? /
have sought them in vain on my way.
Where are the treasures you were to
shower on my path? / have found
nothing but poverty. What has be-
come of the crown you were to set on
my brow? My head has worn only a
crown of thorns. Whittier has gone
that brilliant retinue you promisedto
make up for me? My sole escort has
been composed ofdispair and solitude.
You speak of your parting; but, unless
you are the Genius of Sorrow, what
has there ever been in common be-
tween us? Ali If it is true that you
have followed me wherever went, and
that ! have been always under your
influence, BECOME with my curses, for
you must be the Spirit of Evil"
II am neither the Spirit of Evil nor
the Genius of Sorrow" she replied;
''but it is a mans destity to recognize
me only after losing me, to learn the
worth of,my gifts only when the time
for enjoying them is gone by. My
friend, you were ungratetul like your
brothers. You blame me, and / pity
you. In a moment you will know me,
and you will wish then, at the price of
the years that God still holds in store
for you, to see me again for one day
such as you saw me for the first time.
You ask bitterly where are the benefits
/ promised you. / have kept all my
promises; but you, youhaved isdained
the treasures | lavished ceaselessly on
you, from q hand that was always
full. For a crown, Ihad onyour brow
the freshness, brightness, and seraillty
of morning in Spring. For a retinue
l gave you love, faith, hope, and illu-
sion. Your poverty | made so light
and fair that many a rich and mighty
man would gladly have given for it
his palace and his wealth. Your soil
tude / have peopled with enchanted
dreams. When you walked,
Awoke around you sympathy and
kindness; you met none but
friendly g~lances and none but
friendly hands; heaven smiled up
on you, and earth herself blossomed
beneath your feet. In your turn
answer, what you have done with the
gifts of my munificence? What of my
bounty have you retained? What is
still yours of all the joys Ihave strewn
along your path? If you have known
how to enjoy nothing, should | be &C.
cused?"
At her words a slow light began to
dawn on my being. A veil fell from
my eyes, and l stood interior 1t what
was revealed to me in my heart.
"Remain, ah! remain; do not CO."
cried with tears. "Give me back the
treasures | did not prize; my eyes are
open to the true light. Give me back
love and illusion; give me back faith
and hope. Grant me to love for one
day only, to believe for one hour, and
whoever you may be, / will bless you
with my last breath"
"Alas!" said she, sit is l who must
die. Can you not see it? Look at me;
/ have suffered deeply; | am but the
shadow of myself. An unknown dis.
ease has long been consuming me; a
devouring breath has dried my bones
and drunk from my bosom the foun.
tain of life. The bloodno longer flows
through my heart; couch my hand
and you will feel the cold moisture oil
death. And yet, if it had been your
will / might still have had long days
of life before me. 1t is you who have
slain me before my timel Ihave vast
ed my strength and bruised my feet
in following you. You did not leave
me time to bind my girdle afresh and
to revivethe already dropping flowers
of my crown. In vein, when we came
to some fragrant bower of refuge,
some mysterious oasis. did cry
Here is happiness, my friend. Here
we must pitch our tent! You con
tinued ON mad course, and dragged
me pitlessly over the burning sands.
Have you spared me an outrage,
sheltered my head from one tempest?
But / loved you, and you turned to
call me by word or gesture, / rose and
few in pursuit. To-day, my friend, is
the end; / can do no more. My limbs
fail beneath me. Openyour arms, and
receive me to your bosom; in your
heart ! received life, and on your heart
I wish to die"
"You shall not die!" Icried, opening
my arms to receive her. "But speak,
dear being, who are your"
81 am no more" she said, 81 was
your youth"
She had already vanished, and had
left in her place but q few withered
flowers which had fallen from her hair;
/ picked them up, one by one, but in
them all | found not one which had
kept its fragrance.
-~--
The late Emory Storrs used to tell