El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1898-06-04
The Pity of Love.
New Orleans Picayune.

II. amidst all its weakness and ite
faf ures, humanity keeps one angel
trait still unsullied, it is the sublime
| forgiveness it sccOrds the dead 1t is
| IA II the srears that are shed above
every grave turned into q kind of rain
bow glory through which we looked
b .ck upon al ended life, and saw 1t
traus6gur d. No ne d to say speak
only good of the de I'd. Dea b Itself
becomes the cruclhle In which our
f.ul Ia are transmitted into virtues. 1t
ia never the urkind word we recall,
but he gentle de. d; never the faltt r
ing 81, hut the high aud noble pr
pose. and the best OF us may be thank
ful to feel that when our time comes,
too, to ioin the vast m ,jority, that com
passion will turn its plying eyes away
from our faults, aud see only the good
we fam would have done. To be
iud ged tenoerly when we are gone 1s
the great boon that all rich and poor,
high and humble, must ask OF their
kind.
Some lines there is q great deal OF
hear breaking pathOs In this loyalty
to he dead. There may have been
Years of cruelty, of estrangement, OF
nevIe t, but deash wipes i. all out, az
we 90 b .ck to some simple ard qui I
hour that we may remember without
shame or remorse. The mott err who
lbs above the cad booy OF her way
ward con, recalls nothing of the agony,
of the disgrace he may have br> ught
her. Sue sees nothing of the bloaied,
nldeous, Summarized face. She has
gone back t. the days when, q little
child, he laid upon her breast and
looked up into her face with eyes that
were .sLlll full OF the mysteries OF
heaven. Sometimes we ct wife who
as b sen be trayeI, degraded, neglect
ed, n,ulted, knee ing at her nusb. nd =
oier. To her death mas dotted OuV the
memory vt her wrous 9, and she mourns
hs lover of her youth, The hour that
made The world an Eden, rose sweet
with loves young dream, and most OF
al her tears are for tae dream and
the dream, the love that ia ter ed. the
.ignt that ia led, the incense of the
OIL that wasted itself upon desert
air.
The other day. in Q squslid part OF
the G ty, drdnken hoodlom lay dead
"a the Door place be called home. 1t
was tn, eud OF life that had begun
md ended iu sin, and W nose days had
known nothiog save evil. Not Que
gentle de-d shed its perfume above It's
waste; not one high aspiration SHINE
tx, q star across it's murky way, but
zone toe-less q weeping woman cluCg
to the O. useless clav, an0 broke above
IL the alsba,ter casket Of her love.
''B III was always SD ggodto me-, sLe
sobbed. ''ln all the bsatiuRs he give
me, ne never hit me where the MARKS
would 20 y SO the ne gh oors could see
EN-. Think of the p.thOs OF such u
story as tina How often he had come
home crazy drunk, with cursesand
,buses for the poor creature who had
st her heart upoa him! How she must
oave covered away from his anger;
now often .he must have crouched 10
The dark closet on the stairs and hid
den until he slept of his drunken
fury, afraid for her very life. Often
and of leu he bad beaten her, so that u
very dog, so treated, might have turn
ed upon N and slain him; but her pa
len q and love never faltered. She
covered the poor, bruised shoulders
vi h her ragged frock. she told futile.
little lies about fal log aud hurting
nerself. aud her eyes dared one Ia
doubt the story Trey knew to be false.
10y Atty and devotion and love could
20 no further. And now Bill Was
dead. Nothing more to fear from the
heavy har d; nothing to dreao; nothing,
one would cay, to remember but cruel
ty and brutality. But MT 80. Her
heart went b ok over the long, long
years. and plucxeo the one poor flower
{ at b, oomed along that arid pathway.
H, had never b ate1 her so that the
marxs would show. Death wiped out
the score.