The Austin weekly statesman. (Austin, Tex.) 1883-1898, 1892-03-17
THE HOME CORNER.

how much worse it might be-"
NV
He was an old man-so old, and
bent and feeble that the most careless
must have pitied him as he went tot
tering about the streets. He had been
a soldier once, in the days when Hous.
toms voice of command sent men rush
ing headlong into the face of death.
The hands that had once held musket
to shoulder, steady and true, were
now trembling and nerveless. The
eyes that had looked undaunted
into the faces of murderous
MeXicans were so dim that he could
barely see to 60 about the streets.
Thin, struggling gray locks fell upon
his coat collar. When he spoke, it
was with painting and spasmodic ut
terance, for disease and age had sap
ped his strength, and he was nearing
the time when man goeth to his long
home and the mourners go about the
streets. Some one, looking at the
worn, pathetic figure, spoke bitterly
of the base ingratitude of country
which so neglected the heroes who
had fought for it. Then, indeed, the
dim eyes flashed, the bent form of the
old soldier Strengthened, and he cried:
"Take help from the country! No,
no; 1 never will! l am no pauper!
People insult me when they offer me
help, and 1 will never take one dollar
from the country, for 1 am able to take
care of myself"
And in the presence Of this old SOL
der, how ineffably small seemed our
complaints at petty troubles, our de-
pendence on others, our greed and
seltishness. Old and bent and feeble,
yet a hero; and as for the rest of us,
we are not heroic.
~
The other day an old lady Of our &C.
quaintance had birthday. We had
all known how old she was, but some
how it came with shock to all of us
when we found that she was 70 years
old. Seventy-nine! 1t is great age!
1t seems almost impossible to realize
it! Fifty-nine years ago she was
married. A dainty little bride she
must have been, with brown hair in
which the sunlight nestled. We have
heard her say that the young husband
who stood up ty her side that day
was tall and straight, with hair like
the ravens wing; but alas, when he
''fell on sleep" q few years ago his
hair was silvery white and his form
was bent out of its old time symmetry
Fifty-nine years since the wedding
day, and nearly all that time given up
to service for others. How many
tasks those hands of hers have
wrought during all these years
Upon how many errands of love and
kindness the feet have sped How
beside the pathway that has
traversed seventy nine years
Oh yes, it has been long road, and
sometimes a very hard one. How will
it be with you and me, 1 wonder, if
we ever reach a point where we can
look back over so many years. May
it find us at least in the midst of Sc
rene old age, such as comes like a
benediction at the close of well spent
| life.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Ofsplendor in the grass, of glory i'll the flower
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; I
In the primal sympathy.
Which. having been, must ever be:
In the soothing thoughts, that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death;
In years that bring the philosophic mind"
x*x
Ihave recently called attention to the
fact that all schoolboy games are cpl
denic. Just now there is an epidemic
of marbles. No longer do kites hang
suspended in mid air, with a happy
and red faced boy at the lower end of
the string. All the balls are left at
home, or are rolled away into neg
lected corners. Every boy has his
pockets full of marbles, and during
the time when he cannot play he
keeps his hands in his pockets
strictly gloating over his treas.
ures, and occasionally grinds them
together in a way that drives his
mother or his teacher half crazy. 1t
does not affect him in the least.
Nerves? What schoolboy ever had
any nerves? And the moment he has
little leisure the fun begins. You
find groops of boys on the sidewalk
with a marble ring in the midst of
them, and unless you are a veritable
Dr. Jekyll-and-M Hyde kind of crea-
ture you walk carefully around it and
leave every marble undisturbled.
Shouts of "Knucks!n and "Vench
fudgin'!' remind you of old days when
you used to make the very same re-
marks to people who are now promi-
nent in politics or society, and who
have, doubtless, "fudged" a good deal
in the course of their career. Here is
a little boy with double handful of
agates; but when somebody admires
his wealth, other youngsters remark
ruefully: "He's been playin' for
keeps" When these same Youngsters
grow older they will find that a good
many men play for keeps, and that
the agates of life gradually work their
way into the hands of few.
Nv
Once upon time there was woman
struggling to accomplish something
in literary way; an earnest worker,
with ambitions for herself, and per-
haps little natural desire to make a
name that people would like to recall.
But while she worked, doing faith
fully what lay at hand to do, people
/ 10 10 l. Il