The age-herald., 1900-04-22
THE MURMUR
 OF THE WORLD

One sennght of earth's recurring love time is past and the souls of the new born speak to the blossoming flowers in the exultant frenzy of joy realized, and the promised happiness that dallies along the daffodil ways through the greensward to the brimming brook, where lovers loter and whisper that nothing which is every thing to them that listen to the silvery tide singing it's way to the vast seal In the abandon of these blossoming hours new songs are sung, and the old songs are sweeter with deeper meaning. Young lcVe and old love romp side by side at rosy places of communion, and youthful folly and the folly of rper years weave the verses that fashion the hymn of foolish ness, approved of the gods of merrment and laughter and song. The green grass is the floor upon which all mingle in the dance piped in the reed-notes of riotous music. Thank God for this grass! No other glory vies with the refreshing glory of this grass. Not cen the blue of the oerbending skies nor fading splendors when daylight dies, can this sweet smile of living green surpass." And about it bend the blossoms of plenteous beauty, sweeter now than yesteryear, sweeter than any oth- CT year, any other day, any other hour that bounding life has given us snce we wept into the world whilst all around us smiled
 These radiant heralds of the new birth, pointing with white lances to the devolop- ing sweets of the afterwhile tinge with ever rosier glow the expanding light of the morn that makes for the glad hour when the soul full-satisfed wishes it were always tryStinc- time and the trVst sn bent
 When the foolishness of loving falls to the inanity of silly exactions and burden some misgivngs the white lances are turned to the shadows and to- things not wished for Fret and fume have no place in the philosophy of life in any relation or direction. When stiffness with It's dunce-cap appears, the flowers droop and the bells jingle out of tune. One fleet mo- ment may transform the lover into the boorish bore, the hero into a shambling lout the dimple upon beauty's face into that which mars. Every lover of every age is a madman, but everybody loves him until he ceases to rolic, and sinks to the dead commonplace of the churlish fellow of groans and means. In the land of the leal there Is no place reserved for the groaner or the moaner; he is left to burn out his own poor little rushlight in the shivering gloom of selfshness. A wo- mans heart, woman's life, woman's trust, are not for such as he. Though he may swing upon the gate whilst his days wear away, for him there shall be no light in the window, no greeting at the portal, no whispered goodnight from lips kissed into tremor by the angels touch. So also when the lover leaves the husband at the altar, man and woman journey to dwelling place that shall not be home, save only for the lie which they place In @ pray CT for the cheap adornment of walls that encompass 'wretchedness. There cannot be homes without lovers. And the masic touch of love, like the glorious chez. azn- bition, causes the cot to expand into a mighty paface with gilded chambers. music, jewels, joy. joy, joy! Love tor love, good for good, these are the devo- tions and the benedictions of humanity the green earth around.
 That sentiment is not the true emotion which leads away from generousness. from truth, good will good deeds: it is mere personal desire, coarse and degrad- ing, and no nearer akin to the divine pas- sion than is the rose to the gourdbloom. Love brings to us a realization of gentle ness, fidelity, goodness, kindness, the glory of living, and the universal brotherhood. It gives us charity and beneyolence; above all, 1t gives us grace Pure and clean