Rock Island Argus., 1902-08-08
DAILY SHORT STORY
A Vision of Life.
IOriginaLI

that shade of pale green which belongs
to early spring. Across the meadow
above a clump of oaks wasia spire.
The sun was peeping above the hori-
zon, tinting the fields, the hills and
the water q soft yellow glow, while the
cross on the spire shone like FURNISHED
gold. Birds were on the wing hunting
a breakfast. now and again sending
forth n soft, musical piping. The sky
was pale azure. There was not even
enc fleecy cloud floating over its great,
domelike surface.
Suddenly from clock in the church
spire came a stroke, q harmonious
blending of chords that 1 had never
heard in earthly music. 1t seemed to
me fitting signal from heaven that
child had been born, new soul launch
ed on earth. While it's enhancing mel
ody was still filling my senses with a
freshness that recalled the pulse of
childhood little girl emerged from the
oaks which hid the spire and came
quickly along the road leading to the
bridge. She held in 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 pair of
blue eyes full of interest and wonder
'Is it not a beautiful world?" she
said. 81 am going to the hills. They
are so mellow. / shall love to play OH
their grassy slopes"
She did not stop, and as she receded
the last word seemed to come from an
infinite distance.
The scene changed. Where there had
been fields there were dwellings. Trees
had been cut away. Others that had
been mere sprouts were casting broad
shadows. The sun stood high in the
heavens.
The clock in the spire struck ..
There was n deeper, more intense
melody in the strokes than before,
both joyous and solemn, giving me an
impression of great happiness blended
with sense of great responsibilities.
The sound had not died away before
there came from the hills Il merry
shout. and 1 saw n wedding procession
moving toward me. The bride walked
alone. followed by her family. and
friends. Reaching the bridge. she
crossed it with firm step, and when
she turned her eyes to me | saw in
them traces of the look had seen in
the little girl and knew that she. was
the same. She passed on, with her
retinue, and was soon lost in the oaks
that hid the church. Then there was a
hush, and the strains of n wedding
march burst forth. In another moment
variegated tints were to be seen mov-
ing through openings in the trees.
The married pair, followed by their
friends, had left the church and were
going to their home.
The clock struck 3.
This time there was Il mellow sound
in its tones suggestive of autumn. On
the hills hung purple grapes. Orchards
were ruddy with fruits. Here and
there flushed Il scarlet leaf. The sun
stood midway between the meridian
and the horizon.
Up the road came two figures, a wo-
man and youth. She was resting her
hand affectionately on his shoulder,
and 1t was plain that he was her son.
words she was speaking to him, the
sad look on her face, mingled with
pride and hope. told me that she was
sending him out into the world to Play
his part in life. At the bridge she en-
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. l had
seen her for the third time.
A single stroke broke upon midnight,
wall, a dirge, an essence Of infinite
misery. looked about me and
through the darkness saw that it was
winter. The stream beneath me was
CONCEALED. The hills were white with
snow. AS the vibration of the bell
came on they lost their melancholy,
swelling slowly into strains of heav-
enly music. AS the first stroke had
signaliZed the birth of n child, this
was greeting to q soul that had trod-
den its earthly path and was being
welcomed in heaven. 1 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 sexless
spirit ofirare beauty, Pickering like an
aurora.
1t faded. and 1 saw my bedroom
lighted by the faint glow of night
lamp. The vibration of the stroke /
had last heard ended in the tones of
the tiny bell of my repeater under my
pillow. Reaching for the watch, 1
touched a spring, and it struck the
hour Of 1.
had gone to bed and to sleep at n
few minutes after, midnight. In less
than an hour the musical strokes of
my watch had given me in four pic
lures a vision of an entire life. The
first stroke at the quarter had brought
me the child Fastening to enjoy the