The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1894-11-22
ON HIS FWBN4T-FIRSF BIRTHDAY.
written for the REconD-Ux1oS.I

injury Guy IalldcK SAT GOWN al the
little desk in the corner of his small
room. AS he did so the clock i'll St.
Mary's steeple began to strike ten. While
it was striking MIR. Tallack rested his
head on his hand and as the last slow
stroke died away he raised it and looked
out the window.
1.-Two hours more of my YOUTH" he
said. lie drew some stray sheets of yell
low paper toward him, looked into his
ink bottle, found it as dry as a desert and
then picked up short pencil.
Il was born at high noon" he re-
marked as he sharpened the pencil with
dull penknite, land | will be twenty
one when dear old St. Mary's mas struck
twelve"
lie looked out the window again. Half
mile away. over troubled sea OF brown
and black roofs and smoking chimneys
and crossing wires and the other ritt-raff
OF the top Of large city, rose the tall,
cutting spire OF st. Mary's. The gildeu
cross at its apex gilnted brightly i'll the
sunlight, for tie air WAS clear and the
sun shone cheerily. Tailack, when he
first came to the city, over a year before,
had been struck with the calmness and
sweetness and ialthiuIneSS OF that cross.
Through all kinds of weather it had up
stood and cleaned and given him a
strange comfort. 1t seemed 50 removed
from the troubles OF life, 50 blessedly
peaceful and dispassioHate. And how he
had loved st. Mary's steepled sweetness
Often he had sat up late in summer Just
to hear each hour tOlled away by the
deep, sweet voice OF the bell. He had
not always sat up for that purpose alone,
however, Tor many and many night lie
haG toiled with his pen until ana ; in
the morning. But that was when he first
came 10 the city and was ambitious and
hopeful.
Two hours more of my youth" re-
peated Mr.. Tallack, and then he paused.
Il wonder if that is true? 1t seems to
me that my youth passed Il long time ago.
| feel old. L feel as if / had been a man
tor several years; and an Old much
trou bled man at that. Perhaps ii / had
been successful" but MIR. Iallack had
not been successful He had been re-
butied at almost every place he had APP
piled for literary WORK. dis poems had
come back; so mad his stories. His money
had run out. The clerkship he haQ
managed to till bad been tax en- away from
him for some reason probably because
he was thinking OF rhymes and meters
and plots, when he should have been de-
voting all his time and thought and
energy to his Work. But 1t had seemed
utterly impossible. He was not fitted
for grocery clerk. How could he pin
his nina down TO a consideration of bar
rels of sugar aud sacks Of flour, whenaiis
whole soul was filled with the divine
sweetness of song, and the garden OF his
heart held such fair blossoms? And so they
had discharged him. And now ali his
money was gone, he owed his laudlady,
his birthday was at hand, and he had no
prosp ects-and that was the situation OF
affairs as he sat down at his desk. II
will write little whle," he said to him.
self, land then 1 will-go-away." He
put his pencil on paper and began to
write:
l feel the GOODNESS of the open door,
The strange, vague shifting of tao air before
That mysterious warner VINO hath opened
wide
The gateway of the Unknown, forth to glide
With footsteps heard, though silent in their
tread.
With footsteps felt, though to all Others dead.
l feel his presence and do not fear;
Like someone that love he draweth near
And in the still air round me wnisperings low
/ hear; and q the hearing calm me so!
For as the wounds by skiIllul hands are
dressed.
As the soothing lotion 20 the hurt is pressed,
80 to the weary soul where strivings tore
The soothing GOODNESS OF the open door!
Mysterious warner! Draw thou near and near!
! Tell me bold thy message; | would hear
| 1t fully and distinctly, Tor . death
! " cary am Oh my vain Drawn DredUn!
! Weary am Of my toll and tears
I Weary am ] OF my hopes and fearsl
! Weary Death, . weary OF my Lie!
! Toiled long to reach the cleaning hight
/ That strangely beautiful and divinely bright
Shone through shimnerlns fields Of tinted
mist,
And beckoned me, whore shepards once did
list
! TO AriOn's strains, that are not Yet forgot
l tOilcd TO reach II, ana / reached it not!
song was with me the beginning and the end,
! Ny greatest enemy ana my dearest friend,
! The wings that bore Inc To the purple cloud,
And when / fallen, 10 my Worny shroud!
! But now at last the stilling OF the strain.
The flushing OF the luie and voiced refrain:
! No mole TO near it, y We thoughtlesS rills!
! No more TO feel it, . ye sky and hills
II arose from his chair hurriedly. A
| small vial sat on his desk, aud he stood
and looked at it. "Those whom the gods
/ love-" he said, and then smiled bitterly.
| That does not mean me; and YET he
| half reached for the bottle OF poison AS
| he did so step sounded on the creakinc
! stairway outside his door-a heavy, soggv
| step he well knew. Mrs. McGinis COM.
/ ing TO tell me that | will either have 10
! pay or get out" He put his hand forth
| once more, this time firmly, and grasped
/ the bottle. AS he raised it TO his lips the
! bell IN st. Mary's began to strike twelve.
And standing thus. half-turned toward
! the window, he emptied the vial
ELWYN IRVING HOFFMAN.