The age-herald., 1899-03-26
THE MURMUR "a
 OF THE WORLD

To the southward if one who has sailed
 over some thousand leagues of sea may use
 a mariners phrase, tine dogwood has thrown 1 its white banners to the breezes upon hi1l-
 sides and in valleys, veritable flags of truce l between the contending forces of coldness
 and warmth The dogwood is the beautiful
 courier of the great army of forest flowers. It gleams in every forest glade even be- l fore the violet lifts its modest head from
 messy bank. It brightens all the leafless
 wood, and tells of greening trees soon to 1 be- and the song and laughter of Maytime,
 and the roses of the June. The dogwood 1 is the star of promise above the brown 1 and-grey, and sight of 1t quickens the 1 pulse of man and maid, each of whom 1t
 fills with longing not nameable here or l elsewhere this side the Unseen. When the l arteries of the trees which slept through 1 the long months of chill begin to pulsale,
 the heart of humanity beats with higher
 hopes, and softens indehnable fears. Why this first beautiful flower of the
 forest to come as a messenger of spring 1 is called dogwood is question the answer l to which all shall seek who may. Perhaps l somebody named 1t in honest tribute to l the faithfuilest creature of God upon this | planet. If all men should emulate the real | virtues of the dog the world would be inl- l measureably better. And if you, my be- | loved, can find one man possessed of the 1 good qualities of an honest dog, bring | him to the temple and let him be crowned
 most virtuous amongst all men under the l sun. It is needless to quote the phrase | here that, the better one knows dogs the l less one likes men, except to point | moral Beware of trusting any man who | needlessly pains or wrongs a dog. The most | objectionable type of the brute ever yet | observed by this slave of the pencil was a | stalwart creature in the shape of man who | without cause kicked a beautiful and uni | yersally affectionate setter. Instantly | bullet pierced the foot that kicked the dog; | and whilst this act of lawless humanity was horrible, yet found it in me to re- | joice whilst the coward howled over l wound that lamed him for life. It would | make for good if every human foot that | without cause kicks dog could be lamed. | The whole world would be Christian if every man in 1t possessed all the good 1 qualities of good dog
 To the southward, not Tar away, there is | a lake whose length far winding lies amongst the primeaval trees; and these patriarchs of the forest are robed In the | long grey moss that lends to southern for- ests of oak an aspect romantically wereo' These grey plumes of the darkling wood are the hiding places of the brownies, the drvads. and the graces of all sorts which do find resting place in Gods first temples. The noble old oaks defy the storm as they fling their great arms upward and outward as sentient things, whose breath is tho wind and whose beverage is the raln' Down below the oaks upon the water brim are the dipping willows and the slow
 holding grasses bending in rythmic mo- ton to kiss the nipples, and rising to re- ceive the kisses of the sunbeams stealing down through the glistening green of tho willow.
 1 Down by a lake where dropped the willows, Long time ago,
 There lived a maiden and loved her, Pure as the SnoW
 Often through the days of softened sum- shine the laughter of maidens is heard up- on this lake not far away, and lovers speak words that may not be denied through all the years. Oars keep time to beating hearts, and soft lies battle with soft CT truths, whilst all around the flowers and the willows and the messy oaks stand silent watchers of life's little comedies, lit
 tie tragedies and little errors.
 By the lake there dwelt for many year a boatman by name Peter, who was like wise a fisherman. He was black of skin but as white of soul as any man. We call ed him Uncle Pete,' according to the custom of those who had been nurtured by old black mammies. His sweet-hearted, ebony-hued old wife we addressed respect out to "The Lake to fish and have good time. We approached Uncle Pete's cabin,
 and Aunt Mary stood on the lowly steps to
 receive us. "How'd'y, Aunt Mary!'' "How'd'y," she responded simply. "Where is Uncle Pete?''
 Tn the name O God. she answered rev erently. ''Yo' poor ol Uncle Pete's been dead these two weeks!'
 Instantly we uncovered in the presence of the stately sorrow of the. humble old black mammy mourning there by the lake side for Uncle Pete. That mute tribute to the virtues or ner QeaQ nuSDanQ IOucneu Aunt Mary tenderly We approached her and gathered about the door of the cabin Youths with high hopes and abounding life greved participants at high mass for the humblest of our friends gone to God. The old nanny bade us be seated upon the long log bench under the shade of the tree, but we remained standing. She swayed slightly, as if being moved by our respect;
 her black old arms folded tightly as if to still the beating of her white old heart. From behind the cabin, down by the lake, side, came the sound of children's laughter her grand children; and the cheerful cackle of barnyard fowls joined in the dis cordant chorus. The moment was deeply touching. Aunt Mary looked at us in
 silence. her dim old eyes dimmed with tears; and our eyes were dmmed, too. s'Dn laka'S n co;5 tho oI5 l1