Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1886-09-18
When the Day is Gone.


The people who talk and laugh and
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 noise
lessly 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 isweary.
, 1t falls from my fingers, and I raise
my head. I start to leave the table
and my eyes fall upon little book
lying upon the floor. 1t is little
"First Reader" He leftit there this
afternoon. remember just how 1
was impatient because he could not
read the simple little lesson, such an
easy lesson, and I told him it was a
waste of my time to teach him, and
pushed him away from me. / re-
member now. l see 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 les
son, any baby might read it. Then,
after little struggle alone, it has to
be given up, and the baffied little SOL
dier, 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! l could
kneel down and kissitnow, as though
it were alive and loving.
Why, what was my time worth to
me today? What was there in the
book l wanted to read one half SO
precious to me as one cooling word
from the prattling lips that quivered
when 1 turned away. / hate the
book l read. Il will never look at il
again. Were it the last book in the
world, think / would burn it. All
its gracious words are lies. | say tC
you, though all men praise the book
and though an hour ago / thought il
excellent, l sayto you that there is
poison in its hateful pages. Why
what can l learn from books tina
baby lips cannot teach me? Do YOU
know l want to go to the door of hi
room and listen; the house isso still
maybe he is not breathing. Why, i
between my book and my boy
choose my book, why should not Goo
leave me with my books? Ny hate
full books!
But 1 was not harsh. / was only
little impatient. Because, you see
his lesson was so easy, so simple. AL
me, there were two of us trying t,
read this afternoon. There were tw,
easy, simple lessons. Mine was sucl
very simple, easy, pleasant, loving
one to learn. Just a line; just a Lit
tie throb of patience, of gentleness
of love that would have made m,
own heart glow and laugh and sing
The letters were so large and plain
the words so easy and the sentence
so short. And I! Oh, pity me,
missed every word. I did not rea
one line Alright. See, here is m,
copy now; all blurred and blistere
with tears and heartache, all MARE
and mispelled and blotted. 1 ar
ashamed to show it to the Master
And yet know he will be patien
with me; know how loving an
gentle he will be. Why, how pr
tiently and loving all these years h
has been teaching me this simple les
son L failed upon today. But whe
my little pupil stumbled on a singl
words my time, then, SO muc
more precious than the Masters thu
1 cannot teach the little lesson MOI
than once?
All, friend, we do waste time whe
we plat scourges for ourselves. Thes
hurrying days, these busy, anxiou
shrewd, ambitious times of ours al
wasted when they take our hear
away from patient gentleness, an
give us fame for love and gold fl
kisses. Some day, then, when OF
hungry souls will seek for bread, OF
selfish god will give us stone. Ii
is not deep, profound, perplexir
problem. 1t is a simple. easy lessor
such as any child may read. Yc
ponnot And itc colutiOn in tho no,