Indian chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1882-1902, 1901-04-11

away In the east the glimmering
fireo OF day are burning, and ma.
ture wakes and turns with rosy
smiles to welcome the suns first
rays, while the dew drops upon
field and flower are kissed into
myraids of sparkling jewels. And
when the busy day is done, beauty
greets US again in the calm sweet
face of the evening. In twilights
holy hush, nature seems to Groom
a lullaby to the tired earth as a
mother soothes her restless child
to sleep, and all the cares and du.
ties OF the day have departed with
the setting sun in the opal tinted
west. How gradually and softly
the scene changes into another
phase of loveliness, as one by one
over head "blossom the stars" in
twinkling beauty, while as swiftly
and quietly as the passing of
human mood, all the landscape is
silvered o'er by the heecy rays of
the early moon. What shifting
scene OF beauty we may see, il We
turn from earth and look upward,
on clear June day, at the snow
like purity of the clouds; resem.
bling ships seeking anchorage in
an azure sea, or stately towers and
castles, rise and fall amid their
changing outlines. There is beau.
ty in the flakes Of winters snow,
the banished flowers of heaven, as
they are scattered and driven and
drifted until the cold bleak world
below is clad in robes Of whiteness,
iairer than the lilies petals and
pure as the soul of a child. Beau.
tiful snowl fit emblem of the hu-
man heart ERE sin has sullied the
SOULS fair temple. The forms into
which beauty enters are manifold.
To a lover Of the beautiful, beauty
presents itself in a thousand visi.
BILE and invisible forms and phases.
Beauty lives in the figures OF
human speech. The expression
OF great thought by another,
touches a responsive chord in our
own soul causing us to thrill to
their melody.
How often have we fingered en-.
raptured and fascinated over the
written thought of some author,
whose beauty and purity of dicla-
tion in describing a scene in ma.
ture or landscape of the soul,
have carried us away and lifted
our thoughts beyond the printed
page before us, and our feet be.
yond the common sod about US,
into the beautiful world of ideals.
Our love Of the beautiful, in all of
its varied forms, is the source of
one OF the purest and most ex-
quisite pleasures of life. All are
not equally endowed by nature
with this incompatible talent, but
there are few who do not possess
II in some degree and it is we'll
worthy the exercise and cultiva.
tion OF all. Especially is this true
of those who have missed life's
sweetest happiness. 1t is a won.
derful "softener" that can enable
us to see the beauty of dew drop
through the salty tears of disap.
pointment.
1t Is priceless gift that age can.
not wither nor misfortune claim
from those whose hearts and souls
are aiune to its continued melo.
dies. This world would be far
less desirable had beauty hid her
face or had we been so constituted
that the blue bell should have
seemed an ugly thing and the
sweet strains Of music sound harsh
and discordant, Yet such might
have been the law Of our natures.
Almost essential to real happiness
then is the love Of the beautiful,
for 1t 10, as taught by Plato Of old
akin to the True" Happy he,
who in old age keeps fresh in his
memory this beautiful fountain Of
his youth, who as days advance
and shadows lengthen, can still
look with all the admiration Of his
youthful years upon whatever Is