Herald and tribune. [volume] (Jonesborough, Tenn.) 1869-current, 1894-12-26
A DREAM.

dreamed a mighty giant whom the
people loved lay sick. And men gath
cred about him in groups as he reclined
and listened to his pulse beats and
watched his breathing. Yet no two
groups seemed agreed as to his malady
nor as to the treatment he required.
As I looked more closely l saw with
horror a huge vampire nesting to him,
constantly drawing his hearts blood
yet, strange to say, but few of the mul.
titude seemed to recognize in this crea.
ture the cause Of his malady. Some
few, indeed, made occasional efforts to
draw it away, and one small group
seemed intent upon killing it, but all
their efforts were Intellectual, because
n of the two larger groups seemed to
regard the vampire as something to be
protected instead of killed. The other
large group seemed either utterly care
less of or oblivious to the creature.
"Why don't you kill the vampirep
/ shouted to both these great parties of
men.
vampire !" returned the one laugh
ing. "vampirel That's no vampire f;
that's the goose that lays the golden
egg." And he pointed to what I had
not noticed before, a great glowing
heap of golden eggs on the other side
of the giant.
Vampire !" said the other great
party. "Vampirel Sh.sh.sh Do
you see yonder thicket close by? A
tigers there which will spring if we
touch the creature. 1t would better be
a vampire that kills him than a tiger"
Just then I noticed that from multi
tudes of homes women were watching
the scene with evident agitation, some
opening their windows and calling to
the men to kill the vampire. They
seemed so eager and so earnest that I
wondered why they did not go near
enough to make the men hear, for little
heed seemed paid to them.
l asked them why they did not 20 out
and help, and they pointed to their
easements. Then I saw that they were
prisoners in their homes, for across
each easement were the hard iron bars
of law and the strong silken bars of
custom. Yet, though these women
were prisoners, they watched the scene
with undated interest, and when the
two great parties Of men f1ourished
their clubs to keep the tariff and silver
bugaboos (which were flying like mos
quitoes about the head of the giant)
away, these women called to them to
join forces and kill the vampire. From
these barred easements went petition
after petition, trying to turn the atten.
ton OF the men to the blood drinking
beast in the beloved giants bosom. In
them they set remnants of white, in
scribed "For God and Home and Ma
tive Land" to which they ever and
anon pointed with earnest gaze.
"Ah," thought I, in my dream,
"were these women free they would
strike straight at the vampire"
And I cried to the men again
why don't you unbar the easements
and let your women help
mo, no, no" came a chorus in reply.
"What would become of the home ?
Who'd rock the cradleP They would
grow 80 masculine. They would want
all the Offices. The bad women would
come too. They would grow so indie
pendent they wouldn't marry"
The vampire itself lifted its ugly
head and shot its red tongue out spite
fully, and in the babel of voices I
awoke.-Eva Horton.
mot IF IT WERE MY BoY.n
Some years.ago,,the late Horace Mann
the eminent educator, delivered an ad-
dress at the opening of some reforma-
tory institution for boys, during which
he remarked that if only one boy was
saved from ruin, it would pay for all
the cost, care.and labor of establishing
such an institution as that. After the
exercises had closed, in private CONVEX
sation, a gentleman rallied Mr.. Mann
upon his statement, and said to him {:
mot if it we're my boy" was the
solemn-and convincing reply.
Ali there is a wonderful value about
my boy" Other boys may be rude
and rough other boys may be reckless
and wild; other boys may seem to
require more pain and labor than they
ever will repay other boys may be
left to drift uncared for to the ruin
which is 80 near at hand but my
boy"-it were worth the toll of a life
time and the lavish wealth of a world
to save him from temporal and eternal
ruin. We would go. the world around
to save him from peril, and would bless
every hand that was stretched out to
give him help or welcome. And yet
every poor, wandering, outcast, home.
less man is n whom some fond moth
er called my boy" Every lost wo-
man sunken in the depths of sin was
somebody's daughter in her days of
childish innocence, Shall we shrink
from labor, shall we hesitate at cost,
when the work before us is the saliva
ton OF a soul? Not II it is my boy;"
not If we have the love of Him who
gave His life to a the lost.-The
Common People.