The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1891-06-25
THE PRISONERS ONLY. HOPE.
How the Chains OF Captivity May De
Lightened and Freedom Gained.

From somewhere comes an Old story
of prisoner. This man was chained
in cell. bound hand and foot Scant
motion his chains allowed; he could
scarcely move limb, and his days and
nights he spent in lamenting his miser-
able fate.
His captor sent him a broom, with the
message, "Sweep your cell and you
shall be free" Free! The man laughed
scornfully. What power had he to
sweep his cell? He could but move his
hands little to and fro.
Came the message again: Sweep
your cell, and you shall be free" De-
spairingly, and with bitter smile, the
man took his broom, and as we'll as he
could cleared the place at his feet. His
strokes were feeble and uncertain, but
as he swept, 10, the chains hung lighter
on his arms! He moved them more
freely. The long unused muscles be-
gan to work. Longer and longer grew
his strokes larger and larger the space
he cleared, family and more family he
felt the weight Of his fetters Filled
with wonder and joy he rose slowly to
his feet, and with an almost forgotten
ing now with glad haste which soon
brought him freedom.
Throughout the world are many such
prisoners-prisoners none the less that
the walls of their cells are invisible, and
to the eyes of others the captives walk
as free men up and down beneath tho
open sky. We are bound fast and sure,
and by chains which encircle our bodies
and souls more firmly than bands of
iron. Sometimes the chains have been
forged by love, and we would not break
them if we could, for when we try, they
cut into our hearts as knife, and lib
erty purchased with a bleeding heart is
dearly bought; sometimes they arc
forged by circumstances whose chains
are light and slender, but strong;
sometimes by necessity, whose bondage
is hard and sore. sometimes by fear Of
ridicule: often, how very often, by oue
own reluctance and procrastination.
These are the, hardest of all to break.
They may stretch, but afterward they
tighten the more, and though prone to
the earth, we mourn our incapacity, We
lose daily the strength to break the
chains which daily drag more and moro
heavily. Our virtue is gone, we cry.
Why mock us with hopes we can never
realize? Let us lie here until we die.
Grant that the power to sweep tho
whole cell is gone. What then? Can
not we move little to and fro? Enough
to clear the space at our feet; enough to
brush away trifle of the dust which
clouds our eyes, that more light may
fall through. 1t is true we may never
do the great deeds of which we once
dreamed. Few are the blessed hands to
whom it is given to sweep broad path.
where the feet of others may walk Sc
cramped, to which we are chained
might be made purer and brighter be-
cause it is we who are chained there.
And as we strive-who can tell-it
may be strange strength will stir in
our rlong-fettered limbs; mystical grace
may rest on the determined effort to
break the bonds of a lifelong repres-
sion. 1t may be that the strokes will
grow stronger and braver. That wider
and wider may become the circle We
can reach. It might even be that some-
where, perhaps near, perhaps afar of,
a prisoner as hopeless and desolate as
ever we have felt will see the struggle,
and into his heart it will put fresh
courage. For every prisoner who sits
to-day grieving silently his wasted cap
tivity, his forlorn helplessness, there is
message: 'Sweep! that way lies free
domr'-Harper's Bazar.
A MASTER HAND.
ELI Always "Got There" When It Came
to Pumping.
A high opinion of himself and his inn
portance to the rest of the world is un-
doubtedly most comfortable thing for
man to possess, but it is sometimes
amusing to those who do not rate him
so high as he rates himself.
Eli Saunders was tall, thin, gawky
man who had always lived in little
village, and had never accomplished
anything worth mentioning; but he had
little money, more than most of his
neighbors, and considered himself q
very valuable member of society.
He was decidedly eccentric, and there
were people who contended that his
''head wasn't right" However this
might be, he went his way, regardless
of criticism. He was fond of music,
and insisted on pumping" the little
organ in the church, Sunday after Sum
day, year in and year out, '.just for
love-" as he said. :~
"What's the use of hirin' fighty boy
that most likely won't pump even
strokes, he inquired, when here I be,
ready an willin'?"
As he grew older he became more and
more convinced that his part in the
music on Sundays was one of great inn
portance, and often spoke of the skill
it required to pump an organ as it
should be done, neither too fast nor too
slow.
One day fine organist from distant
city came to the little place, and played
on the organ on Sunday. He held .
short conversation after church with
Eli, who went home much elated.
''He said pumped stiddy an sure
as anybody he'd ever had;" announced
Eli in triumph to his meek, admiring
wife. .r-..,.,-. -.
"S'posin' I, had given up pumpin', ~
some of 'em have sujested, I'd like to
know how you think that hop-skippin'
Mason boys manner of pumpin' would
have struck this city man? Throwed
him all off his base, morn likely.
But I let him see knew pumped
better'n common. SO when he'd passed
me few compliments jest said: },
"'I'm used to 1t, an there can't no
body beat me at it, presume to say.
Jest let me git my bearin's, an little
insight into the tune, an can pump
any piece you've mind to play
"An' he said," added Eli, that was
morn'n he could say, fer no doubt there
was any number Of pieces could pump
that he couldn't play. So what d. You
think of that, Sarah?"-Youth's Com
panion. .s..,. .<.t.-f .~i
A Genuine Curiosity. +.
The society of California pioneers il
the owner of a wonderful curiosity. II
is section of timber taken from tho