The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1891-11-26

~" Moihdleh. ms Will be the most
magnificent estate on the continent,
"a pes ne the oldest and ARREST
4-Ae AIsA es.4tas III natural beanf,,
and with its game preserves eoualed
oy lew in any country CT the world -
Nv
That is very beautiful and imnosinc
The other quite dwindles by contrast
1t is clipped from an excellent BeIton
paper, and the Home Corner invites
lis readers to look on this dwelling
also:
"A beautiful deed came to light re-
Gently and was related TO me nv q
1rlend, that deserves to be held up for
an example to those who should 600
ana 90 likewise.n Only last week in
one OF our noted suburbs there arose
as II by magic, as mall but comfortable
ouiiSulhg; the furniture necessary for a
small mehage was moved in, then sew
eral ladies entered and produced pic
lures, Tides and some tasteful trifles
easily spared from their abundant
sIofe,' with which duly proceeded to
ornament the rooms until thew looked
cosy indeed. The house, including the
lCl, was then made over as a gift to one
Oh our needy sisters, a widow woman
WIN Two small children to care for
ana support. Sickness and misfor-
tune had followed fast and reduced
her TO great straights, and she was
sinking into despair, when q noble
woman took her cause in hand. Head
ing a subscription list herself. she
collected over two hundred dollars in
short time, and with characteristic
energy the plan was carried out. If
is almost needless to mention the iov
and gratitude of the recipient or 70
repeat her praises of Bolton ladies.
they certainly did not do this to be
lauded, but truly has Shakespeare
said:
How far that little candle throws his beams
30 shlhes good deed in naughty world"
~
There they are, both of them-the
palace Of the millionaire, whose ONLY
distinction is that he is his fathers
son; and the widows tiny
cottage, built by the labor of low
ing hands for the shelter of the Door
and helpless. The world may take
It's choice, but as for the Home Corner.
1t is sure that those noble
ladies "builded better than thew
Knew" and one such little home out
shines all the palaces that ever shell
tered kings or millionares.
Nv
The silent messenger is continually
coming into some peaceful home, and
leaving it torn as by some earthquake.
Yesterday a strong, grave man told
the Home Corner, with the moisture
of bitter tears dimming his eyes, in
spite of all his self-command, of the
baby that came to him for stay all
too brief, and then fitted away where
loving hands could not reach him
"He was such a bright little fellow
said the father. "He was gettins
old enough to tangle his littl
hands in my beard, and we wer
so proud of him when he could d.
that! But he got them tangled in on
heartstriDgs too, and we can't ge
them loose. We never could, if W,
lived hundred years"
~
Have you ever noticed how tenderly
the poets have sung of bereavement:
Not the great poets, but the humber
ones, "whose songs gushed from
their hearts. They must have passed
through the deep waters themselves
before they could utter notes that
would 60 so straight to the aching
heart. Jean IngelOw sings tunefully
Sorrow was a ship, ] found,
Wrecked. with them that in her are
On an island richer far
Than the port where they were bound"
Another poet, well beloved, sends
back this message from the very con.
fines of the narrow prison house:
"IIe who died at Azein sends
This to comfort all his friends
Sweet friends What the women lave
For the last sleep of the grave,
Is a hut which am quitting
Is garment no more fitting;
Is n cage from which, at last,
Like bird my soul has passed
Love the inmate, not the room;
The wea7er not the garb; the plume
Of the eagle, not the bars
That kept him from those splendid stars
Steadman, too, tells of "a little
kinsman, whose earthly summers are
but three" and says in the midst OF
bereavement
HE is brave discoverer
OF climes his elders do not know:
He has more learning than appears
On the scroll of twice three thousand years
He knows, pcrchance, how spirits fare;
What shapes the angels wear
What is their guise ard speech
In that land beyond our reach
And his eyes behold
Things that shall never, never be to NOR
| tai hearers tod"
And at last comes Riley, who has
touched many chords, but never a
sweeter or more tender one than
this:
| LET me come in where you sit wceping-aye,
| Let me- who have not any child to die,
Weep with you for the little one whose love
/ have known nothing OF.
The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed
Their pressure round your ncck-the hands
YOU used
To kiss. Such arms such hands never know,
May not weep with you?
/ IVtNat