Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1886-02-11
WHEN THE DAY is GONE.
The Thoughts That Come When the House
is Quiet at Midnight.

How quiet the house is at midnight.
The people who talk and laugh and sing
in it every day are asleep, and the peo-
pie who fell asleep in it long ago come
back into it. Every house has these two
classes of tenants. Do we love best
those with whom we can laugh and
talk and sing, or the dear silent ones
who come SO noiselessly to our side and
whisper to us in faint, sweet, far-away
whispers that have no sound, so that we
only hear their very stiffness.
am not tired, but my pen is weary.
1t falls from my fingers and raise my
head. | start to leave the table and my
eyes fall upon little book lying ON the
floor. 1t is little First Reader" He
left it there this afternoon. | remember
just how / was impatient because he
could not read the simple little lesson
such an easy lesson--and told him it
was waste of my time trying to teach
him and pushed him away from me. l
remember now. | see the flush come
into the little tired face, the brave,
cheerful look in his eyes-his mothers
brave, patient struggling
with his disappointment and pain. /
see him lie down on the floor and the
little face bend over the troublesome lit
tie lesson-such simple, easy lesson,
any baby might read it. Then, after
little struggle alone, it has to be given
up, and the baffled little soldier, with
one more appealing look toward me for
re-enforcements, signs and goes away
from the lesson he can not read to the
play that comforts him. And there lies
the little book, just as he left it. All,
me, | could kneel down and kiss it now,
as though it were alive and loving.
Why, what was my time worth to me
to-dayp What was there in the book l
wanted to read one-half so precious to
me as one cooling word from the pratt
Ting lips that quivered when / turned
away. hate the book read | will
never look at it again. Were it the last
book in the world, think | would burn
it. All its gracious words are lies. |
say to you, though all men praise the
book, and, though an hour ago / thought
it excellent, say to you that there is
poison in its hateful pages. Why,
what can | learn from books that baby
lips can not teach me? Do you know I
want to go to the door of his room and
listen; the house is so still; maybe he is
not breathing. Why, if between my
book and my boy | choose my book
why should not God leave me with my
books? My hateful books
But | was not harsh. | was only a
little impatient. Because, you see, his
lesson was so easy, so simple. All me,
| there were two of us trying to read this
afternoon. There were two easy, SIM
pie lessons. Mine was such a very SIM
pie, easy, pleasant, loving one to learn.
just line, just little throb of patience,
of gentleness, of love that would have
made my own heart glow and laugh and
sing The letters We're SO large and
plain, the words SO easy and the sem
fences so short And l? Oh, pity me,
missed every word | did not read
one line Alright. See, here is my copy
now, all blurred and blistered with
tears and heartache, all married and
misspelled and blotted. am ashamed
| to show it to the Master. And vet |
| know He will be patient with me; |
know how loving and gentle He will be.
Why, how patiently and loving all these
years He has been teaching me this sim
pie lesson | failed upon to-day. But
when my little pupil stumbled on sin
| gle words my time, then, so much
more precious than the Masters that
can not teach the little lesson more than
once?
All, friend, we do waste time when
we plat scourges for ourselves These
hurrying days, these busy, anxious,
shrewd, ambitious times of ours are
wasted when they take our hearts away
from patient gentleness, and give us
fame for love and gold for kisses. Some
day, then, when our hungry souls will
seek for bread our selfish god will give
us stone. Life is not a deep, profound,
perplexing problem. 1t is simple,
easy lesson. such as any child may read.
You can not find its solution in the pom
J 1erous tones of the old fathers, the
philosophers, the investigators, the theo-
;aopss. 1t is not on your book shelves.
nllt in the warmest corner of the most
unlettered heart it glows in letters that
the blindest may read; a sweet. plain,
simple, easy, loving lesson. And when
you have learned it, brother of mine,
the world will be better and happier
Il. j. Burrlette IN Exchange.