The Red Cloud chief., 1892-08-12

WNw Men and wOm-
en-, boys and girls, go and come day
after day. Dozens OF them carry din
ner pals and lunch boxes. In the
morning they go by with bright faces and
sprightly steps, many of them wearing
a fresh flower on their breast. In the
evening they return, not a few of them
weary and worn. and ] wonder who,
beside the Great Pitier Of us all, waits
for their coming with a welcome Of
love. All day long they have been busy
Mt office, store, ia tory and mill, and
the thousand and one places where
duty has called them. Work, work,
work, hour after hour, day in and
day out. And while hands are
delving, minds arc busy with the
thoughts of fading yesterdays, earnest
to-days and brighter to-morrows. How
many of them will eve realize the hope
that Is sustaining muscle and mind?
How many Of them are performing u
labor of love for those who are worthy
of the Offering and the sacrifice? Day
after day the lunch boxes go and come
while the hands that are carrying them
arc building a city, copying the books
and documents, and are mingling all
the checkered thoughts and deeds from
which the mighty weaver Time, is
making the worlds history. What in
significant, and yet what all-important,
parts these humble toilers play! Down
N dingy Easements, up in towering
Office buildings, everywhere amid the
busy marts of trade they perform the
work that fate or fortune has brought
to them. AS l watch them go and come
/ try to imagine what hopes inspire
their hearts, what love sustains their
hands. l wonder IL the aged laborer,
homeward bound, still loves the old
wife as he did long years ago when
they together dreamed sweet dreams.
lie was to be a prince of men and she
his loving princess. l am sure the gor-
geous palace in which they were to
dwell has faded away, and in its place
is an humble cottage or u rented Hat.
And the coach and four has never, new
er stood before their door. Neither has
any other conveyance designed for
pleasure. Only the wagons belonging
to the grocer, the baker and the milk
man have ever stopped there. Or it may
be yet one other vehicle-the symbol of
death-the hearse.
But II tonight they can greet each
other ut the door and call back the old
love light to fading eyes-if he can
hold her worn palm in his, or press
against his cheek the one whose touch
once brought such exquisite pleasure
II the fire in the heart still burns, fate
has been kind to them, and their paths
have no yet led them out of Paradise.
Sometimes there passes my window
u face that awalens in my mind more
than usual interest and | watch its
goings and comings with Il deeper
thought than that born of curiosity.
/ remember very distinctly the first
time ! saw Blossom" pass my win
dow. She wore a pink dress and a hat
trimmed with ribbons of the same
color; she looked like a fresh spring
flower. Her real name ! have never
known: to me she will always be "Blos'
SON." Her face was as bright and pref
ty as a dew-washed clover mead on a
June morning, and her neatly-fitting
dress and very becoming hat added Ia
the winsomeness OF her appearance.
The street In which I dwell is by nc
means the most aristocratic In the city,
1t is what some would call q plebeian
neighborhood. There are saloons on
the business orners and all about il an
mir Of arrested growth that for some
shadowy reason seems to be sadly sat
isficd with the present state of things,
All the people who go by my window
do not possess bright, happy and intel
ligcnt faces. I always watched for
Blossoms" coming. Her presence was
refreshing and reminded ne of u sweet
rose growing among the palmer grasses
Her step was elastic, her manner
sprightly. ! fancied she had recently
come from IA home in the country,
where the odor Of apple-blooms and the
songs of birds filed the air. One morn
ing | saw her going toward the sub
urban station, carrying IA %lunch-boX'
them knew she was a member of the
great company of toilcrs. Thereafter
she went and came regularly. BY and
by n sturdy young mechanic, whom
had often seen pass my window alone,
walked beside blossom" one evening
on her way home. lie had a frank,
manly face, but his working clothes
were soiled and worn and his hands
were rough. After that ] saw then
pass by together quite often. lie seemed
to be very happy in her society, but
BLOSSOM" with her pretty pink dresses
and pink ribbons, often looked ia,
away as though she were trying to dis
cover some one whose appearance wa:
more in harmony with her ideal.
Near the walk ut the side OF thu
saloon that stood at the corner was q
large maple tree. Men used TO bring
chairs from the saloon and sit In the
shade of the tree during the long JUNE
afternoons and smoke. and chat, ant
laugh b~oisterously. Some of the mer
who used to meet there became familiar
figures to my eye. Among the numbel
was a young man who dressed splen
didly. though somewhat tlashily. From
my window across the street, l coulo
see the sparkle of his diamonds Sc
In his rings and pins. He o a heav,
gold chain and an elaborate charm, an