Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1886-02-11

| without me. MY friend, | have told
you that l have little time to live, but
it rests with you to prolong my frail
and precious existence. l am like
those tender plants which must be
| sheltered from the sun and the wind.
| MY feet are tender; do not weary them
with pursuing you. The brightness of
my cheeks is more delicate than the
freshness ofthe vine that creeps among
the hedges; If you would not see it tar
nished in day, do not expose me to
| the heat, lead me only in the shade.
Watch, that no remorse may embit-
ter the regret, already too deep, that
my loss will leave you; let my memory
be bright one, and let me still cheer
your heart with sweet recollection,
long after | shall have ceased to warm
and light your life"
Then, like a guardian angel lowering
over a cradle, she bent her fair head
over me, and felt her lips on my fore
head. fresher and sweeter than the wild
rose that grows by the spring. Iopen-
ed my arms to clasp her, but the white
vision had already vanished like a
dream.
Was it not dream, in truth? /
went on across the country running
like mailman, and then throwing my
self on the grass and wetting it with my
burning tears, held my arms to the
stars, and spoke my love to them. l
talked to the flowers and trees; L felt
within me torrent of life which over
flowed on all sides and included all
nature. The dixie was broken the
steeam had pierced the rock. laughed
and wept. Twas swimming on bound
less sea OF nameless Joy.
When the east began to whiten i
seemed to witness for the first time the
renewal OF creation. My heart swelled,
inhaled the air with pride, thought
for a moment that my soul would
leave the body to fly free and light
through space. From the mountain
top to which had climbed measured
the horizon with n conquerer's eye;
the earth had been created for me, and
was her master.
was not yet thirty when sne came
to me for the second time. 1t was an
October evening. had left the city,
and was wandering aimlessly through
the fields, gloomy and downcast, with
out knowing why. For a long time
this had been my mood, and ! sought
solitude without finding pleasure in
it.
The sky was lowering and clouded.
An icy wind was shaking the last
leaves from the Il ees. The melancholy
bowling of a dog from distant farm
house, a thread of BLUSH smoke rising
through the branches were all that re-
vealed life in these desolate plains. A
few bewildered birds were fitting from
branch to branch, and some bands of
cranes were filing slowly through the
grey evening air.
walked on, sharing in my soul the
mourning of nature. For some time l
had been a prey to that chilly sadness
that comes with the end of the bright
days. Seating myself at the foot of
leafless tree, saw walk past me two
old women, each bending under q bun
die OF sticks, provision for winter,
which they were carrying home.
A strange memoryl fantastic con-
nection of thought From the very
spot | was then sitting, | had seen
pass long ago, one May evening.
band OF young girls, holding each 9th
er's hands and singing. was sixteen
then, and the hedges were in bloom.
| hid my face in my hands, and re-
viewing the days which had passed be-
tween that evening in May and this
October night, l fell into a deep and
bitter gloom.
When, at length, I arose, saw be-
fore me a pale countenance which
looked sadly at me. 1t was so changed
that | hardly dared to think it the
same. There was no longer about
her that luminous atmosphere which
enveloped hei when she first appeared.
Her tattered tunic could not cover
the bruises on her fair breast Her
feet We're blood-stained; her arms fell
lifelessly by her wasted sides. The
blue of her eyes were notified with
black, tears had followed their traces
on her wan che eks. The unfortunate
creature could hardly stand. and, like
faded lily on it's broken stem, she
seemed to bend toward the earth.
"What do you want with me?" 1
asked her.
"My friend, the hour has come when
we must part; before leaving you for
ever have come to bid you farewell"
she murmured with 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-
cOne of the crown Won were RI set on
my brow? My head has worn only q
crown OF thorns. Whittier has gone
that brilliant retinue you promised to
make up for meY My sole escort has
been composed OF dispair 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? All! If it is true that you
have followed me wherever Invent, and
that have been always under your
influence, BECOME with my curses, for
you must be the Spirit of Evilp'
81 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 q moment you will know me,
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