The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1890-04-21

mind vnnAus haek = - enne da1s h {
ysar long guns -. yoa say to yourself:
All! hOU d56eTe0t things vose WITH NJ
fh<ni Ayeasaso lvasbsDpyr you thtnk,
White e5ieviug over present. tsoutis-
a month aftervard, exactly - H. day.
married my good vita did not chooss
her for bw beauty or wealth. bus because
ahs had kind hoaTk I rsmsuber 90 veal
when ve ~ers about - start for IN excuf-
sion 70 LoGvscisunas.
I'VE both sbfr1ted 70 b alone togstheE
In The f1es, blooming country. fresh with
I'll tie verdurs ana fYsgrsucs Of spring
The horses shs1 drss oar carriage had
each . green branch, like plume, attached
TO his kead-
.sAhr exclaimed Antetnetts. Il - box
wood. We have not been 70 snsss. Fran
COTS
Il turned pale. oh. Mon Disur ! az
claimed Il havs Sorgottenp
..sbs asked Why ! was - much dis
tressesi. and answered.
".It II . vow have made. Antotnstte-
Then spoke Of my mother But my
Thoughts had gone back 70 Louise.
..We Win carry . boush for her, too,
said my wife, and Ne wiz pray for her 1t
pousec.ennes.'
II prayed for fA<m.
~.
-Ah. Monsieur How silly Il seems 10
grow old One looks - though one bad
never bsen young. World ron think. 70
see NV wrinkiad face. that / could ever
love. or have been loved
.sY<s, I ara an old man old In body and
mind. Poor me. Where Is my real self
Where are my dear lost days Of careless
pleasure7
III have walked often with uncertain
steys over the difhcult paths of life Oneby
one have left my friendships on the way.
Ny wife died young. leaving me alone.
shonId have been 50 happy 70 have . child!
But never cared 10 marry again My
affection was severe one, and ] needed
time 10 forget it
10 waited and waited, and forgot moth
ing. One morning. awoke, and found
myseif suddenly m old man. l WAS %!
All. Mon Dieu. But / am living still. for
all that.
II shall die. I sincerely hope, - have
lived. alone. DO not attribute this savage
love Of solitude 70 me - crime. In my
opinion. he cannot b bad man who Is
able to live at oil times face to face with
himself.
II live upon recoliections-on Of the best
diets know Of. when one cannot i've upon
hope have frisnds-dead ONES.
To-day IL Palm Sunday. their fete.
They viii be happy. have not forgotten
them.
IL do not know whether il Is their voices.
bnt on this day l always seem to hear
faint echo coming 70 me from above.
Aboyei foolish man! You have always
accustomed yourself to look to the earth
instead. Yes! I'm philosopher. ] think
myself wise. Poor TOOL! II ever | have .
moment Of rssl happiness it Il when 50
TO church 70 the Palm Sunday mass.
MY childhood and my youth bloom
afresh with the young branches OF box.
Their perfume comes back 10 me. close
my eyes. and seem TO see once more the
dear and cherished past-Who knows7
Perhaps oil consolation lies in faith!
who knows? This superstitious affec-
ton for little branch Of box may perhaps
stand with me In the place Of religion.
who knows 7--lster-
"But time IL passing. 1t rains still, but
what Of thatf-They arc awaiting me, and
must b present at my mass, my dear
Palm Sunday mass"
Monsieur Francois bowed. opened his
umbrella. and hurried on TO church through
the rain which was still falling heavily.