The age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1897-1902, 1898-10-09
copyright, 1898. ]


Just now the world is full and reek-
g over with tragedy. Here great
npress is killed; in another place an
hknown boy falls by the colors that he
as so proud to protect then way off
some lonely corner a bitter, cynical
an bids goodby to the world, for he
rs found nothing sweet in it, while
nong a party of gay companions a
andsome woman surprises them all
the shot of a pistol because there
I've been too much life, too much love
i'd too much SO called happiness in
II career.
Did you ever sit down and think out
lie terrible life of the Hapsburgs? What
doomed family they seem! From tie
ays of Marie Antoinette, who walked
proudly to the guillotine, there seems
have been nothing but unhappiness
nd sorrow. The fair haired Marie
ntoinette saw her son and heir beaten,
larved and i'll treated by a rough jailer
III the tears no longer flowed down her
nee. She could no longer weep, and
then tears are taken from woman
urely her last refuge is gone.
the house of the Hapsburgs, saw
ery young son kill himself simply be-
ause the morbid line of heredity was
tronger than he could bear. And yet
lie was only 10 years old! Justly he
cared the future. Then girl of Il
vas murdered, a pretty, dainty rose
bud to whom even life was envied
Afterward there was that most awful
heath the death of the son and heir
The death of the gay and joyous Ru-
Holph, who, seeming, like his brother,
TO look into the future, murdered the
woman he loved and then killed him
Belf This was at the supper table, the
gay, festive board where each was
drinking the health of the other and
from which some one had to carry the
news to that lonely mother. She had
grown lonely by this time. Gradually
her children had been taken from her
by the dagger or the pistol, and she
wandered owe. the face of the earth,
finding no place to rest. Always the
word murder" seemed to hang, like
the sword of Damocles, over her head.
Last year the greedy flames found
her beautiful sister, the Duchesse
d'Alencon, one who was eager to help
the poor, and beautiful in her desire to
offer bread to those who lacked it. She
was caught by the whirling, pitiless
wind of fire that in taking away her
sweet breath was even brutal enough
in death to render her body unbeautiful.
So they all went, and Nine. la Du-
cheese, as the empress preferred to be
called, since she could hide herself IN
der that name, sought refuge in Eng
land and Ireland. She was followed
Nv hn
friends who loved her best and who
spoke words of consolation, as we'll as
by those dumb friends that, when she
was told that she must no longer ride,
since some bitter bastard might take
her life from her, would come to her
and eat Jumps of sugar from the dainty
hand that never hurt, but always did
good. One who saw it said that there
was never a more beautiful picture
than that of the empress of Austria,
surrounded by her favorite pets, each
gently pushing the other in its eager
ness to get nearest to her or to gain
from her the bits of sugar that were
held out and she, like a child expecting
the loving looks as thanks in return.
And now she has gone away. The
great cathedral bells toll the masses for
the dead, and those to whom she has
been a friend raise their hats and honor
her by that great silence only given to
the dead. Here she lies, magnificent in
death and yet in death she and you and
1 are all equal. To her, to you and to
me there can only be said eau revoir"
because OF that certainty that we will
meet again.
Think of the going home! Think of
the empress, and then think of the SOL
ic
Do you remember going home after a
pleasant party? The day over, you
reach the time to say a laughing Good
by"
Do you remember the time when a
pleasant group, after studying the mag
nifieent colors used by the great Master
to achieve the wonders of the world,
uttered the somewhat awed "Goodby?"
And yet there come into everyday life
situations that are quite as wonderful
ard they all lead to the going, home.
Just today there is a young and pretty
girl in one of the rough, everyday cars
that fly over the great mountains carry
Ing home hundreds of soldier boys, some
dead, some wounded and some so happy
because they are going home. There is
an accident. The whole train is delay
ed for four hours. A young boy goes
through the car begging, not for money,
not for whisky, but for quinine, the
health giving bark that will bring
strength, as he explains, ito that other
fellow that I am taking home to his
mother" When there is an opportunity,
my pretty girl takes her quinine to the
dusty, wounded soldier boy and finds
him gasping, signing, wornout and al
most dead. The quinine is quickly CIV
en-. and then, with the daintiness of a
gentlewoman, a fine handkerchief is
dipped in cup of water, and the SOL
dier's face is freshened up, while his
hair is made to look little more like
that of a human being. There they
stand, the pretty maiden and the boy,
for he is only that, who few months
ago started out to fight for his country.
Like you and like me, he had an opin-
ion, and he announced it:
"You see, miss, until l really and
truly got to know all about it l didn't
dream as how this here war was what
war really and rightly is. But, my