The daily morning Alaskan., 1902-11-07
A VlSI0M OF LIFE.
forlrnaLl

to eorly spring. Across the meadow above a clump of oaks was a splre. The sun was pceplng above tho horl- zon. Hntiug the fields, tho hills and the water a soft yellow glow, while the cross on the spire shone Ike burnished gold. Birds were on the wing hunting a breakfast, now and again sending forth a soft, musical piping. The sky was a pale azure. There was not even one aeocy cloud floating over its great domelike surface.
 Suddenly from Q clock in tho church splre came a stroke, harmonious blending of chords that had never heard ip earthly music. It seemed to me a fitting signal from heaven that a child had been born, a new soul launch. cd on earth. While It's entranclng mel. ody was still filling my senses with a freshness that recalled the pulse of childhood a little girl emerged from the oaks which hld the spire and came quickly along the road leading to the bridge. She held i'm her hand a few wild flowers and stopped now and again to gather more. Coming on to the bridge, she passed me, tossing her ringlets and turning upon me a palr of blue eyes full of interest aud wonder.
 "Is 1t not a beautiful world| she said. 'I am going to the hills. They arc SO mellow. shall love to play on their grassy slopes"
 She did not stop. and as she rccedcd the last word seemed to come from an infinite distance.
 The scene changed. Where there had been fields there were dwellings. Trees bad been cut away others that had been mere sprouts were casting broad shadows. The sun stood high in the heavens.
 The clock ln the spire struck 2.
 There was a deeper, more intense melody in the strokes than before, both joyous and solemn, giving me an impression of great happiness blended with a sense Of great responsibilities The sound had not died away before there came from the hills a merry shout. and l saw a wedding procession moving toward me. The bride walked alone, followed by her family and friends. Reaching tho bridge, she crossed it with a firm step. and when she turned her eyes Co me l saw in them traces of the look | had seen In the little girl and knew that she was the same. She passed or, with her retlnue, and was soon lost in the oaks that hid the church. Then there was hush, and the strains of a wedding march burst forth. In another moment variegated tints were to be seen nov Ing through openings in Che trees, The married pair, followed by their friends, hnd left the church and were going to their home
 Tho clock struck 9.
 This time there was a mellow sound in It's tones suggestive of autumn. On the hills hung purple grapes. Orchards were ruddy with fruits. Here and there flushed scarlet leaf. The sur stood midway between the meridian and the horizon.
 Up the road came two figures. a wo- man and a youth She was resting her hand ancctionatcly on his shoulder, and it was plain that he was her son. The earnestness accompanying the words she was speaking to him, tho sad look on her face, mingled with pride and hope. told me that she was sending him out into the world Co riay his part in life. At the bridge she cm. braced him, and he went on while she stood looking after him. Turning she fixed her eye momentarily on me, then slowly retraced her steps and was soon shut out of sight by the oaks. | had seen her for the third time.
 A single stroke broke upon midnight wall, a dlrge, an essence Of infinite misery. looked about me and through the darkness saw that it was winter. The stream beneath me was congcaled. The hills were white with snow. As the vibration of the bell came on they lost their melancholy, swelling slowly Into strains of heay- enly music. As the first stroke had slgnallzcd the birth of a child, this was a greeting to a soul that had trod' den its earthly path and was being welcomed ln heaven. l looked up Into the dark vault studded with stars, and fancy showed me one more picture, a face In which were blended the child. the bride, the mother. In it there was neither youth nor age. but a sexless spirit of rare beauty, nickering like an aurora.
 It faded, and l saw my bedroom lighted by the faint glow of a night lamp. The vibration of the stroke had last heard ended ln the tones Of the tiny bell of my repeater under my pillow. Reaching for the watch, touched a spring, and it struck the hour of 1.
 I had gone to bed and to sleep at a few minutes after midnight In less than an hour the musical strokes of my watch had given me in four pie lures a vision of an entire life. The first stroke at the quarter had brought me the child hastenlng to enjoy the beauties of the world Two strokes