The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1888-11-15
WAS. TIE COMPACT kEe17

/ WAS the COMPACT KEPT7
You were never guilty of old-maid-
ism, were you reader? Perhaps yon
have even smiled at the time-worn
witticism:
| Old age is honorable:
Old maids abominable.-
So many do needlessly cause pain and
desecrate the grave of buried hopes
with cruel jests.
just two of US all these.weary years
Lucy and l. Now only one. How
long is it? do not care to tell, for
and was young in years, though old
in grief.
We had been leftalone, mamma and
l, to bar our doors against the gaunt
wolf as best we might. Then our
young clergyman came to board with
US, and home seemed like home once
more.
A year of peace and happiness that
come from trusting souls united, and
then sorrow brooded with sable wings
over the portals of our home. Con-
sumption claimed him as its own, and,
when springtime gave golden promise,
hope earthly died; but from the tomb,
Then Lucy came to US, teacher in
the schools. Bright and winning, she
and formed an attachment for each
other, friendship pure and true, of
which only women are capable. Her
sweet contralto voice gave added charm
to worship; and when, heartsore, Iques-
toned the infinite, calmed me and
charmed away the gloom like an angel
promise.
Twas organist; she a member of the
choir. To the choir came a Young man
of rare powers in anything he under
took. He seemed born genius of
music; not yet 20, yet so inspiring was
his presence, SO great his skill, so easy
MS performance that all bowed down
to him as to II leader. He seemed to
grasp at every science and art, every
branch of literature, with equal ease,
and in his youthful zeal sought to
master all knowledge and carve out
grand career. So, indeed, he might
had he pursued one idea.
Between him and Lucy sprang up
love of the most passionate kind.
They were to be one in the golden days
of success, for both were poor and
proud. So the seasons came and went
again, and l saw with pain that he
would accomplish nothing Aiming
at all, he did not succeed i'm any, His
intense application to each new idea
burnt out his vital force in fruitless
quests
So many travel that barren road. It
seems to be in the air we breathe, in
our hopes, manners, customs; in this,
the elimination of our race, lies the
fruitful seeds of its decay and death
nerve stimulus, nerve excitation by
causes physical and psychical, burn
ing the candle at both ends until the
material is powerless to rebuild the
rapid waste. Then nature sinks into
nerve exhaustion, decay, and death.
Many youth of brilliant promise
sinks into obscurity from this cause.
So will it be with our race; so was it
with my friend.
Removing to large city for oppor-
tunities, for room, he found both them
and it. Swallowed in that mighty
snarl of human hopes and fears, he
sank obscurely; merged in the common
mass; faded away from public atten-
ton; died at "a.
= My mother died about that time.
Lucy and i, two blocks from the quar-
ry of humanity, were thus carved out
by the sculptor Destiny. two old maids.
We lived-but nothing of those sad
struggles.
Our consultations were our past, our
mutual memories, our friendships, our
music, our hope immortal
All! there it is, the hope immortal.
But was often broken in nv faith,
and nothing but Lucy's bright, sunny
nature kept me from dark despair.
Il IN fIn
the grand old organ and let its voice.
so sympathetic, speak my hopes and
fears. Sometimes Lucy was with me,
and then, when We were eonsoled by
music we sat and talked of past griefs
and hopes for future joy.
At last it came about in talking of
my doubts that we formed compact.
Whichever died first was to return
within a year. if life lives beyond
deaths portals. To make assurance
doubly sure we agreed that music
should be the test of recognition, il
possible. Anyway, the first line of one
of our favorite hymns should be the
communication, and no one else should
know the compact This agreement
we faithfully kept in life.
Last spring Lucy died. Ill but
Wcch VI pIcuiuOuld one ulcQ III ul
arms-died with my voice calling to
her wildly through binding tears, my
check to hers.
Ali that chill to deathi Its silencel
Alone, alone, with only memories
and music.
The old organ, my faithful friend Of
years, how yearningly turn to thee!
Last night went over to the church
and played Soothed and calmed,
turned away and sat in singers seat;
sat and dreamed day dreams of the
past, dreamed in reverie of happiness
with those / loved till the soul rose to
spiritual heights of peace.
Through the gathering gloom the
old organ answered my mood harmoni-
ously. So far, so faint, so clear. it
seemed an angel whispered melody.
l turned my eyes 10 the keys in dreamy
delight. Two family luminous hands
CLEANED through the prelude, and then
the organ trembled with the glad
knowledge of eternal life pealed forth
in that line of our well-ioved hymn,
There is a land mine eye hath seen.
Detroit NeaOs.