The morning call., 1893-04-22

One cold gray Sunday afternoon as from
my window overlooking historic Bratte
street l watched the snow falling drearily
in unrelenting even flakes l felt unutter-
ably sad and longed for the sunshine and
flowers of my Southern home; the cheer
lessness of the scene seemed to mock my
yearning for dear old Dixie land. My
sense of desolaton in the little Students
Sanctum became unbearable; the low cell
ing never looked so low before; it seemed
to crush me bodily and mentally, as would
an oppressive weight; the windows, always
painfully small, appeared almost as prison
bars closing in upon me, and l began to
feel like that poor wretch who was tortured
by The InquisitiOn in a dungeon with
movable walls, which gradually shut upon
him until he was crushed to death. Then
resentment against my fOrlorn situation
succeeded to my sadness, and ! cried: "0hl
what climate! what country! what
people! How do they exist? No wonder
they are unsympathetic in such surround
iDgs. Why, here in this house there are
only five students, yet l have not spoken to
one OF them, not even to the one who lives
next door Bah! will go and commune
with nature, for even ID her sternest muods
she gives me sympathy"
wrapping myself in my fur overeAat l
rushed downstairs and into the street l
wandered along almlessiy until | found my
self near the narrow solemn portals of
Mount Auburn, thinking that according to
the law OF Slmiiia SlmiIhus curantur Imight
be able perhaps to Danish in this city of the
ad the gloomy thoughts which had taken
possession OF Inc. As | followed a small,
| nelly path, bOrdered by evergreens, the in
tensity OF my feelings gradually subsidized
under the soothing influence of the quiet
scene around me, and the uukiud thoughts
which had some moments before foStered
against people so opposite TO my own en-
thusiaStlc Southern race vanished one by
one as began to realize that l was in the
wrong.
While thus absorbed / came to fresh
grave. upon which some loving hand had
placed bunch of viOletS and lilies. The
sensuous fragrance of their perfume came
as breath from my sunny South, bring
ing vivldly to NE the memCry of my home
in Louisiana. While | gazed upon the
flowers l fancied that saw the old plan
tatlon, with its long rows Of little white
cottages where the happy negroes lived;
the sugar-house, with its high, Drowned
chimney creeping into he blue of the
sky; the green fields of waving cane sway
Ing IN the gentle breeZes OF the Mississippi;
the big House" with its long galleries and
high white pillars. round which ciambered
the houeysuckle and the Henrietta rose;
the weird swamps with their huge magnQlias
and tall Expresses, wreaihed in garlands OF
yellow jasmine, lntermingled with 1estOOnS
Vi sdlY gray InUss-1 STARCH, LOT q moment
these taT-off memories had become so real
in my imagination that felt sure / heard
the clear ringing notes OF the knocking bird
as l remembered them in the soft, warm
moonlight of tropical spring night. In
voluntarily | turned TO seek the warbler of
my native woods. and became aware of a
slight, fair form clad in deep mourning
kneellng near me on the fresh sod Of the
new grave.
Here again was rebuke to my selfish re-
plniDgs and unjust antagOnism 10 those who
hau uone me only an imaginary wrong.
As l caught the sounds OF the low sObS of
this young mourner. l felt that l was in
trudiBg upon the sorrow of another, so !
underworld to leave the spot which seemed
to belong to her alone but before | could
go she turned to me, and between her heart
broken sobs said, DO not leave me alone"
Her lace was very lovely; large gray
eyes. shaded by long black lashes. gazed at
me so frankly and trustingly that, with my
heart deeply touched both by her sad ap-
peal aud her beauty, l answered, What
can | do for you?" please do not leave
me-" she replied, gently; sit IS so lonely
here-I am afraid-il is getting late-and-
anG-perhaps | shall never see the grave of
papa again. Yes" she continued. pointing
to the grave, this is his. and mamma is
going away from Cambridge, because she is
too sad here, and oh. / am so lonely"
lntnitiyely felt that each word she ut
tered was true, so throwing aside every
helping her in her sorrow, babe her think
that her father was happier, free from the
trials ana disapp0intments of lie; that
death comes to all. and that the end is
peace.
81 know that" she murmured, "for
mamma tells me 50; but oh. miss him very
much"
l tried to comprehend her grief, and by
my sympathy tighten the poor girls sor-
row. l was rewarded in some measure. for
c ha CT 1 l.Ac tn Ian frtNfl lat
smile, which was perhaps more to please
me than to express forgetfuiness of her loss.
She told where she lived, and asked me if
| w0nid not take her home. As we were
nearing her home she turned to me ald
said, please give your name; it must be a
pretty one, because you seem to be so good
and kind"
Emile is my name" answered.
Mine is Edith, and before leaving me
will you grant ma a favor. Just one-giye
me one kisS-because-I--love YOU"
Could | refuse? l took the sweet gentle
face between my hands; looked into her
large gray eyes; tenderly touched the aub burn
eurls which hung in prOfpsion over her
shoulder; bent my head in reverence to in
nocence and purity; and kissed her beauti-
full lins.
II thank you, sir-good- by-I love you
you have been so good to me-"
Taking my hand in hers she pressed it
INSTRUMENTATION she left me to return 10
my cold and cherries rooms.
low much had happened since [ left
them only few hours before to prove to
me how entirely selfish had been my
thoughts. how false the idea of my own
sorrow-for This girl had far greater trial
to BEAR and she bore IL with courage and
fartitude. l resolved, therefore. with
cheerful determination to learn n lesson of
Love. Hope and Charity" from my heanti-
full and innocent companions mere child
scarcely turned 10.-DaVe Hennen Morris
III ox6 Astao