The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1891-06-27
PRISONERS.
An Old Story of n Captive Teaches That
We May Improve Our Condition.

We May Improve Our Condition..
From somewhere comes an old story of
. prisoner This man was chained in a
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 miserable fate.
His captor sent him broom with the
message, Sweep your cell and You shall
be free" FreeI The man laughed scorn-
fully. What power had he to sweep his
cell? He could but move his hands a little
to and fro.
Came the message again, sweep your
cell and you shall be free" Despairingly,
and with a bitter smile, the man took his
broom, and as well as he could cleared the
place al MS feet. His strokes were feeble
and uncertain, but as he swept, 10, the
chains hung lighter on his armsi he
moved them more freely. The long I'M
used muscles began 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 letters.
Filled with wonder and JOY he rose slowly
to his feet, and with an almost forgotten
energy walked back and forth, sweeping
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 the 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
lrT IA frrr
we try they cut into our hearts as knife,
and liberty purchased with a bleeding heart
isdearly bought; sometimes they are forged
by circumstances whose chains are light
and slender, but strong; sometimes by ne
cessity, whose bondage is hard and sore;
sometimes by fear of ridicule; often, how
very often, by our own reluctance and pro-
crastination.
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 more 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 the whole
cell is gone. What then? Cannot we move
little to and fro? Enough to clear the
space at our feet. Enough TO brush away a
trife 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 tho
blessed hands to whom it is given to sweep
broad path where the feet of others may
walk securely, but the spot, though small
and cramped, to which we are chained
might be made purer and brighter because
it is we who are chained there.
And as we strive-who can tell?-it may
be strange strength will stir in orr long
fettered limbs; mystical grace may rest
on the determined effort to break the bonds
of a lifelong repression. 1t may be that
the strokes will grow stronger and Drawer.
That wider and wider may become the cir
Gle we can reach. 1t might even be that
somewhere, perhaps near, perhaps afar of,
a prisoner as hopeless and desolate as ever
we have felt viii see the struggle, and into
his heart it will put fresh courage. For
every prisoner who sits today grieving ST.
lently his wasted captivity, his forlorn
helplessness, there is a message, "Sweepi
that way lies Observation-Disclosures Bazaar.