Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-05-12

1Tuely
They were so busy with their jests that
| they did not see the pin that was rusted in
the page, and / smiled little sadly as
saw that the blue bells 1t once pinned there
were brown dust between the leaves, and
only the impression of the delicate blossoms
lay like a shadow over the wretchedly SPELL
ed sentiment. The girls would hardly be-
neve me when l told them that the writer
or those lines is at the present time a sue
cessful teacher Of modern languages. ON
the opposite page the yours truly and
dashing signature of a hero who won his
stars at Donelson spoke much to me, but
did not attract Nora's bright eyes. over
the leaf she paused to spell out printed
verse. The rudely formed letters were made
by little fair-haired girl, one of my child
ish friends, who worked for hours to print
the verse she had found on a Sunday school
card:
There's not a flock.
However watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there.
There's not a household,
Howsoe r defended,
But has one vacant chair"
What queer sentiment for an auto
graph, said Nora, questioningly. And then
told them about the CHEEKY little child, who
was SO dear to me and the light of her old
grandmother's heart in those far away
years. 1t is long since / was there, but in
the old farm house her chair still stood
close to her grandmother's, in the corner
by the great fireplace, and the grandmother
sat there in the sunshine knitting. Some
times she would pause and reach out her
trembling, withered hand to touch the little
old-fashioned rocker. as though to smooth
the golden head that used to rest there.
Then. with disappointed look on her face.
she would murmur: THE child is long
away" Aye, long indeed. Time is not meas
ured in eternity.
A Son of the South.
There were several pages of yours
tr,1l or u,{tb Sio
lures of some who have achieved much, AMI
of others who strove for nothing and got a
great deal of it. These did not interest the
girls in the least. however Finally they
came to one autograph that was written in
Spanish. in beautifully rounded letters. and
Bobbie said she felt very sure that there
was some character back of the firmly writ
ten words. En- este mundo NADIA es per-
fecto solo Dios despues de. ell Todo IS
Nanidad deshonestidad," she read slowly.
Tell us about this dark-skinned son of
the south who signs himself Pedro Guzman
Alamazan," she demanded. l was not slow
to accede to that request, for the integrity
OF the youth and the worth of the man he
grew to be has always been favorite
theme with me. The boy who wrote the
lines was an engine wiper! He had. SO they
said. royal blood in his veins. and plenty
of the old Castilian pride but 1t was of the
honorable kind, and when the family for
tunes fed during one of the great national
panics. Pedro made up his mind. much TO
the distress of his patrician mother and dis
gust of his snobbish father that he would
be an engineer. to which honorable calling
there is no royal road. He had to begin az
the bottom. Family prejudice. pride OF
birth and blooded ancestry were no help to
him there but he helped himself right
straight up to the top. He bought back the
ancestral home, and is today the kingliest
representative of his whole race. In my
opinion. That autograph has great big
moral, though Pedro neither expected TO
point a moral nor adorn a tale when he
scrubbed his hands free of engine grease
to pen 1t.
Il believe in my soul that Sara would find
a moral in comic opera" said Jennie
soto voice, as they all bent again above the
old album.
Here's a long one but I can't make out
anything but the My beloved sister My,
Sara, what did you do to them to grapple
them to you with hoops of steel. When
tell man I'll be a sister to him. he fees,
Come, elucidate;" and Elaine put the album
in my hands. 1t took me some time to de-
cipher the faded characters, for they were
written with a lead pencil but 1 had a
good laugh at the discounted girls when
they found out that the writer was far
from being lover. but was. in fact, a man
whom i always distrusted, though he was
divinity student. The sprawling hand
writing had a sermon: but the writer had to
leave college "for the good of the service"
and few years later ! found among the
headlines In western newspaper luri1
picture of his demise. with his boots on. all
on account of appropriating some mavericks
which brother COW puncher claimed.
A Chance to Point Moral.
What queer writing this ISL exclaimed
Nora, as she bent over the next page 1T
looks as straight up and down and as
square as though it had been measured with
a plummet and level. And-O-o, Girls. Just
look at this. will you! The name signed to
1t Is the same one that was mentioned as
leading the Coxey contingent out of San
Francisco. Isn't It awful? Who would
have suspected Sara Of being in league with
revolutionists. Yet he told her ever and
ever so many years ago just what to ex-
pect. Just listen to this!
" 1t Is not ours to judge. far less con-
denim: the hour must come when such
things shall be made known to all. and when
1t shall arrive as is our trust, twill be to
be forgiven, or to suffer what is just This
Is what Byron says, and have faith in his
idea Of the everlasting ethics.'"
The girls all looked at me very severely
and had to acknowledge that the men
were the same. 1t gave me a fine chance
to point another moral, too. There was a
man who quarter of century ago stood
high up In military life, and was an acknowl-
edged authority on scientific subjects: a man
of culture and character well known In
Washington's highest official circles. Yet he
| was visionary and got wheels in his head
he wanted things "equalized;" in fact he
| determined to elualiZe them himself Sc
| he neglected his own business and began tc
| write remarkable papers on how other PEG
| pie should conduct theirs. All his education
ana his culture could not save him from
disaster, wien he would not help himself
1t may be he is suffering what Is lust
considering his persistent efforts to max.
| himself a martyr, but I must confess II
gave me heart pang to see one of his
high name so lowered. The girls were calIei
away just then. and left me alone with the
| album, and my thoughts. I turned the
| leaves slowly, and many were the ghost.
that greeted me. Through tears l read tn,
| pretty sentiment Of a lovely friend who
| died while life's sun shone low in the east
ern windows. On the next page beside tive
aged grandmothers, admonished in svee
scriptural quotations. the grandchild whom
| they loved so well. Following on the nexr
page was the pretty, graceful writing of m,
mother, and below it the heavier hand O.
my father.
And so I found them. one after another
schoolboys and schoolgirls mostly. with
| here and there the impress of friends O
later years. Gay. lifting lines, they ha(
written In my album. and then gone out O
| my life as I went out of theirs Only {
world One has written a tale that is talket
about: another possessed the soul of a sing
err; and wonderful piece OF machiner,
bears the name Of third. Police courts
tell the story Of far too many To tell tn
| truth, 1t made me sorry and sad to read III,
sentiments In the book, and was glad whe,
l turned the last page Of 1t. The girls founc
II rarely good comedy; /, who could reaC
| between the lines, saw only tragedy