The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1892-02-18

And sing His glory wrong.
Oh yes, my books are with me still,
and they have something ready for
every occasion that may arise. [
really do not care to read for awhile.
1t is pleasure enough just to remem-
ber.n
~
They were on the street car coming
down town; two old people, wrinkled
and gray, and perhaps trifle shabby.
Younger people sat behind them and
before them, and the laughter and
merriment went on all arou out
they did not notice. They s.. cry
quietly, looking out at the houses on
either side, and so nobody paid any
attention to them until they alighted
at the curve in front of the capitol.
He was out first, and he reached up
and took both her hands. "Be care.
full, mother" he exclaimed when she
almost stumbled on the bottom step;
and with the greatest care and tender
ness he almost lifted her down, and
drew her arm through his. Every
body heard the words and saw the
protecting action, and everybody
looked back wistfully as the car went
down the street. Mother! They had
known what it was, those two, to see
the tledgelings Outgrow the home
nest, and take flight from it, one by
one. They had seen all,s the babies
take on years and dignities, and
grow mature and grave. Now there
was not baby left among
them, except the little one, who
wearied of his playthings long
ago and laid them ali down,
to step across into land where he
suddenly grew immortal, a dimpled,
now after all the years they were low
ers yet, growing closer together as
the journey heightened. Mother!
Not soul that saw them but would
have been glad of the certainty of
such lovely old age.
~
Have you ever noticed how the
childish sports "break out" like cpl
denies of measles and other juvenile
disorders, and how every child in
wide extent of country becomes vic
tim the prevailing disorder? A few
days ago the disease was stills, and
the small boys who promenaded
proudly along the streets, lifted some
inches higher than usual on those I'M
comfortable stills, were happy as a
small boy could well be. This an
swered well for a time, but just as
every boy in the country had man
aged to gain possession of Il pair of
his own, suddenly, one day, somebody
saw kite hanging far aloft, mere
speck against the sky's clOudless blue.
Then, behold, every boy at work with
sticks and pastepot and paper;
and for days in succession
every minute that could be
stolen from books or work was devoted
to the manufacture Of kites. Since
then, on every holiday, the sky has
been full of them,-a flock Of huge,
long tailed birds, all southwark
bound. But instead of flying away,
bird-lille, they hang softly poised, or
dip and waver in gentle fluctuations
as the wind blows; and away down at
the lower end of the string is an eager
youngster, his head thrown back, his
face aglow, happier to feel the huge
olLu lOhNlCl ltlS ttliu pun az UuO
string than he would be to come into
the possession of a gold mine. These
are not the last kites he will fly, by any
means, for most Of us keep a1ew up in
the air; but never again, after these
days of bOyhOod, will kitefyiug make
him so royalty happy.
~.
Did you notice that spring has
come? | do not mean that the winter
is all past, and that we will have no
more touches of frost or cold; but
merely that spring is here now. Sew
eral days ago the violeIs began bloom
ing, not here and there one, but all at
once, as though they we're children in
some great kindergarten, and all rose
in concert at the teachers command.
The rose bushes are sending out
young leaves, and you feel that those
budding stems are full of rare and
beautiful roses, which are only await
ing the signal to bloom All winter
certain mocking birds of my acquaint-
ance have si-naled the coming of
every fine day by little bursts of
kind of undertOne, as though thew
WIZ ." ing lIiSll IOuuCl DUJGS lOI luS
springtime. But a few days ago
heard one of them, bathed in glorious
sunshine and swayed by the delicious
south breeze, pouring out his soul in
his very loudest, gladdest, most
iubilant song, as though he felt that
it were good to be alive. And from
the very next tree sounded the JOYOUS
whistle of the red bird. Among all
the bird notes that is the one that is
the very harbinger of spring. No
other of all the woodland sounds is so
cheerful as this clear "What cheer,
what cheerW that echoes over the
hills and tells that springtime has
surely come.
But even if one lived in city
so dense that no woodland sight or
sound or vision of leaf or flower could
ever reach him, it would be easy
enough to tell that spring had come.
There's the feel of the spring in the
bones" says the poet, and it comes
without waiting for outward signs.
Something stirs in the blood that
makes the busy toiler in the CITY