The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1886-08-12
John.

He is born, and as a baby, is the OBJ
iect of more attention. and causes more
excitement. than at any other period OF
his life. The little brothers and sisters
are full of speculations in regard to the
little stranger.
And he is a wonderful boy! Grand
father and grandmother say that ne is
the finest boy they ever saw. How could
they say otherwise?: They have said the
same thing of all the other grandchild-
rem, and dear old souls, they are far
too loving to slight this one.
The father is as proud as a peacock,
but he tries. oh, how awkwardly, to
conceal it. Of course, the boy is the
image of his father! 1t is preposterous
for anyone to suppose that he bears
the faintest resemblance to his mother!
And the uncles and the aunts! Dear
me, if there is anything ludicrous about
a half dozen aunts and uncles hover
ing around a little nephew, an outside
person is sure to see it-especially if he
has never stood in such relation HIM
self.
Of course, the baby must be named.
''We'n call him john" says the
mother; 81 have always liked the name
so strong and honest! Should he
grow to be worthy of it, l shall have no
cause for regret"
He grows, as only a healthy child can
grow; the years glide past, and he is 4
boy at school-such a gay, careless,
rollicking boy! Life, to him, is within
a small circuit, and it is all real.
With the same ardor of old Father
Adams-but certainly in a wider field
he finds Il center for his boyish af-
fections. He is her devoted slave; per-
lection, she, though she sometimes
smiles on the other boys. OF course
she will some day be his little wife
that he never for a moment doubts.
He doesn't think much about it now
there will be time enough when he
reaches that acme of masculine attain
ments-manhood.
Alas, in his innocence, he is ignorant
of the typical character, Joe Speck!
He passes the age of cynicism, and
hood, falls a victim to the charms of
another. The old schoolboy passions
lie far behind him, but, in memory,
they come back rs odors from an oasis.
blown over the desert of life.
Five children call him father, and at
the first, and at each succeeding birth,
he has acted quite as idiotically as his
father had done.
We all grow old, and ali! we all
grow worse. Life is not all that he had
pictured, but he is fairly happy, and he
bears his burdens bravely.
Death visits his little flock and he
his wife and two children. He is an
old man now, but John, Jr.. dear. low
ing John, is with him-John and his
wife. Grandchildren play about his
knees, and children, far ard wide, hail
his presence with delight. He has
climbed to the top of life's rugged hill,
and now, over smooth pathways, is de-
scending into the vale of eternal peace.
One day there is Grape on the door
of John, Jr.'s house. Such a bright
day out, but the little ones On the street
have no heart for play, and II by n
they steal in past the weeping watchers
to gaze for the last time on the face of
their dead friend. How calm and
peaceful is the smile, softening the
lines about the patient mouth. Sure
ly, if this be death it has lost half it's
terrors!
The funeral cortege moves slowly
out to the cemetery, and tenderly, rev.
erently, he is laid beside his wife. All
is over, and to-day the great world
as it did yesterday and as it will
tomorrow. One, only, has been called
from the path of duty to find that the
end is rest.-DetrOlt Free Press.