Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1886-07-22
NUMBER Fl.
TOMORROW.

Twas one of the automatic utterances
of Josh Billings that he'd rather be
| looking forward TO good time coming
than to one past and gone" and in this
| wee touch of nature surely is the whole
world kin. Tomorrow, Sweet abiding
place of our hopes and our good fort
unes. ''found only in the fools calen-
dar,' says Cotton, but so much to us.
Far be it from our glad tomorrow for
| it to contain for us sadness and misfort-
une! The past with our grievances to
record. Tomorrow we turn over new
leaf. patience, long-suf-
| fering, and the other sacred fruits of the
spirit will ripen. Tomorrow for good
resolutions, tomorrow for sunshine; to-
morrow for the bag of gold at the rain
bows end. Let the past be an uncared-
for cemetery of our hopes; let the pres
ent be the winter of our discomfort; we
have still the future; the sunny, smiling
future, and we may still be happy in it.
Tomorrow our ship comes in; to-mor-
row will bring a long-expected letter;
tomorrow VIC have bank account; to-
morrow the woman cleans out her up
per bureau drawer; and tomorrow
again are the missing articles of "bigot-
ry and virtue" once more discoverable
in comfortable chaos.
To the inventor it brings fortune;
to the consumptive it brings health; to
the prodigal it means forgiveness and
veal pot pie; TO down-trodden woman
the polls and power.
Tomorrow, to the housewife, is a
time when the larder is full to overflow
ing; to-morrow's bread is light and
sweet and wholesome. "Ah, tomorrow,
wrought on such things as dreams are. !"
As if tomorrow would not be the cause
of an empty larder, as if bread would
be never again heavy and sour and I'M
wholesome
The last link in the chain of to-mor-
rows, and The boy is man.
What is it makes man, mother?
All, a mans a glorious thing;
I'd rather be Il man, mother
Than President or King.
Of what account can be any link COM
pared with the lost one? Tomorrow
he votes; tomorrow he has, without
stint, preserves and raisins and Gust ard
pie.
Blest futurity! 1t brings to the soldier
triumph; the lover clasps his visionary
bride; the felon on the gallows VOWS to
meet you in paradisel
IT'S the time when transpires the
sweet sequel to the fairy tale when the
prince and the princess lived happily
ever after.
To the schoolgirl tomorrow means
commencement" commencement of
whatP Why, commencement of life,
long dresses, and liberty.
And the child who trails her mothers
shawl DER the floor looks in proud an
ticipation to the time when trailing
gown shall be hers; to the time when
she can see what is on the top of the
bureau without standing on her toes.
All, stern DEGREES of fate and fashion
ere that halcyon time arrives, trailing
gowns are thing of the past and low
down bureaus have long years been ac-
cessible to baby reachers.
And the maiden who recognizes in
herself the fulfillment of no ordinary
commencement lives to read facetious
account of sweet girl graduates; of glory
and dignity slain by the pen of the
funny editor. who makes merry over the
occasion, while her name figures con-
spicuously in typographical error.
Such is fame! Such the fruition of
our hopes!
''Shall ever have rest?" signs the
weary mother. Yes; when my chill
dren are grownr'
And the old woman with children
scattered to the four corners of the earth
signs, alas! for time that once was
when physical exhaustion wooed nat
ure's sweet restorer.
Eyes, shall sleep soon, and | shall
have rest and peace of mind. for it
passeth all understanding.
So look we onward into the alluring,
hopeful future; constantly longing for
time that only leads us forward. surely
and swiftly, to our narrow resting
places.
Tomorrow. didst thou say? No!
My Horatio! IT'S Fancy's child, and
Folly is its fatherr'- Haryot Holt, in
Chicago Herald