The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1886-07-23
When the Day is Gone.

Il. j. Burdette, in Brooklyn Eagle.
How quiet the house is at midnight.
The people who talk and laugh ana
sing in it every day are asleep, and the
people 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 hear only their
very stiffness?
lam 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 a little book lying
OH the floor. 1t is alittle "First Read.
er." He left it there this after.
noon. remember just how l was
impatient because he could not read
the simple little lesson, such an
easy lesson, and told him it was a
waste of my time to teach him, and
pushed him away from me. remem-
ber now. Isee the flush come into the
little tired face, the brave, cheerful
look in his eyes, his mothers brave,
patient cheeriness, struggling with his
disappointment and pain. / see him
lie down on the floor and the little
face bend over the troublesome little
lesson, such a simple easy lessDIt6Rny y
baby might read it. Then, after aIftkt
struggle alone, it has to be given up
and the baffled little soldier, with
one more appealing look toward me
for reinforcements, sighs and goes
away from the lesson he cannot read
to the play that comforts him. And
there lies the little book just as he
left it, All, me, I could kneel down
and kiss it now, as though it We're
alive and loving.
Why, what was my time worth to
me to-day? What was there in the
book | wanted to read one -halfso pre-.
cious to me as one cooing word from
the prattling lips that quivered when
l turned away. / hate the book
read l will never look at it again.
Wereit the last book in the wosld
think / would burn it. All it's gracious
words are lies. say to you, though
all men praise the book, and though
an hour ago thought it excellent,
say to you there is poison in it's hate
full pages. Why, what can learn
frombooks that baby lips cannot teach
me? DO you know want to 60 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. They We're two easy,
simple lessons. Mine was such q very
simple, easy, pleasant, loving one to
learn. Just a line. Just a little throb Of
patience, ofgentlenes, OF love that would
have made my own heart glow and
laugh and sing. The letters We're olarge
and plain, the words so easy and the
sentences so short And l! Oh, pity
me, / missed every word. ! did not
read one word Alright. See, here is my
copy now; all blurred and blistered
with tears and heartache. all lnarred
and mispelled and blotted. | an
ashamed to show it to the Master
And yet l know he will bepatlent with
me; know how loving and gentle hs
will be. Why, how patiently and low
ing all these years he has been teach
ing me this simple lesson failed upon
to-day. But when my little pupi
stumbled on single words my time
then, SO much more precious than
the Masters that | cannot teach
the little lesson more than once?
All, friend, we do waste time wher
we plait scourges for ourselves. These
hurrying days, these busy. anxious
shrewd, ambitious times OF ours ar.
wasted when they take our hearts
away from patient gentIeness, and
give us fame for love and gold fol
kisses. Some day, then, when oul
hungry souls will seek for bread oul
selfish god will give us a stone. Lif,
is not deep, profound, perplexln.
problem-it is a simple, easy lesson
such as any child may read. Yo,
cannot find its solutionin the ponder
Gus tones OF the old fathers, the phil
osophers. the investigators, the theo
rists. 1t is NOT on your bookshelves
But in the warmest corner OF themos
| unlettered heart it glows i'll Letters
that the blind may read; sweet
plain, simple, easy, loving lesson. An,
when you have learned it, brother O
mine, the world will be better and hap
| pier.