Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1892-03-10
When the Day is Gone.
Robert j. Burdette. ]

laugh and sing in it every day are
asleep, and the people who fell asleep
in it long ago come back into it.
Every house has these two classes OF
tenants. Do we love best those with
whom we can talk and laugh and
sing, or the dear silent ones who
come so noiselessly to our side, and
whisper to us in faint, sweet, far
away whispers that have no sound,
so that we only hear their very still
ness?
l am not tired, but my pen is
weary. It falls from my fingers, and
l raise my head. I start to leave
the table, and my eyes fall upon a
little book lying on the floor. 1t is
a little "First Reader" He left it
there this afternoon. 1 remember
just how was impatient because he
could not read the simple little les
son, such an easy lesson, and l told
him it was waste of my time to
teach him, and pushed him away
from me. I remember now. | see
the flush come into the little tired
face, the brave, cheerful look in his
eyes-his mothers brave, patient,
cheerfulness-struggling with his
disappointment and pain. / see him
lie down on the floor, and the little
face bent over the troublesome les
son, such simple, easy lesson, any
baby might read it. Then, after 2
little struggle alone, it has to be
given up, and the bafied little sol
dier, with one more appealing look
to me for re-enforcements, sighs and
goes away from the lesson he cannot
read to the play that comforts him.
And there lies the little book just as
he left it. All, me, l could kneel
down and kiss it now, as though it
were living and loving.
! Why, what was my time worth to
me to-day? What was there in the
book I wanted to read one-half so
precious to me as one cooling word
from the prattling lips that quivered
when I turned away? I hate the
book read. l will never look at it
again. Were it the last book in the
world, I think / would burn it. All
it's gracious words are lies. l say to
you, though all men praise the book,
and though an hour ago thought it
excelleet, I say to you there is poi
son in its hateful pages. Why, what
can 1 learn from books that baby lips
cannot teach me? Do you know ]
want to go to the door of his room
ane listen? The house is SO still,
meybe he is not breathing. Why, if
between my book and my boy !
choose my book, why should not God
leave me with my books? My hate
4 full books.
But I was not harsh; l was only
little impatient, because his lesson
was so easy, so simple. All, me,
there were two Of us trying to read
this afternoon. There were two
easy, simple lessons. Mine was such
a very simple, easy, pleasant one to
learn. Just line, just throb OF
patience, of gentleness, Of love, that
would have made my own heart glow
and laugh and sing. The letters
were SO large and plain, the words
SO easy and the sentences SO short.
And I? o pity me, I missed every
word. I did not read one line Alright
See, here is my copy now, all blurred
and blistered with tears nd heart
ache,1 all marred, and missaelled, and
blotted. I am ashamed to show it
to the Master, and yet I know that
he will be patient with me; | know
how loving and gentle he will be-
Why, how patiently and loving al
); these years he has been teaching me
this simple lesson I failed to learn
to-day. But when my little pupil
stumbled on a single words my
time, then, so much more precious
1 than the Masters that cannot teach
the little lesson more than once?
All, friends, we do not waste time
when We plait scourges for ourselves
These hurrying days, these busy
anxious, shrewd, ambitious times o.
ours are wasted when they take ou1
hearts away from patient gentlenes'
and give us fame and god for kisses
Some day, then, when cur hungry
souls will seek for bread, our selflf
god viii give US stcne. Life is moi
$, a deep, profound, perplexing prob
Hem; it is a simple, easy lesson, sucf
as any child may read. You cannot
find its solution IN the ponderoul
!, tones of the old fathers, the philoso
/ piers, the inyestig the theorists
It is not on your book-shelyes; bu'
q in the warmest corner Of the mos
unlettered heart it glows in letters
that the blindest may read-a sweet
plain, simple, easy, loving lesson
and when you have learned it, bro
ther Of mine, the world will. be bet
ter and happier.
A resolution has been favorabl,
in the United States Sen
3 ate to restore TO Mexico tWentysont
! @battIe iags, now Ia the Museum o