The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1903-11-26

~
giving sincere thanks. That blessed
privilege is reserved for those only in
whose bosoms reside generous feelings,
whose souls are capable of expansion
under the influence of elevated senti-
ments.
But there come times in almost every
mans life when he truly believes that
his state is so desperate that the past
reveals nothing to be thankful for, and
the future contains nothing to hope
for. In such state of mind was the
subject of this sketch, on that particu-
lar Thanksgiving Day afternoon when
judging from the surface of things, all
things conspired to make for the hap
piness, or at least the cOntentedness,
of each and all who .breathed the crisp,
invjgorating autumn air, or came with
in the zone of influence of the cumula-
tive happiness of the joyous multitude.
A middle aged man sat by the one
window of small and poorly furnished
room. He had sat there for hours
watching the gladstone crowds of men
and women, youths and maidens, and
children passing below on the street
some for social pleasure bound, some
to attend the afternoon services in the
churches, and some to take part in, OF
to witness some game or frolic. He saw
their smiling, cheerful faces; he heard
their merry shouts and laughter; but
the subdued or unfettered gladness of
the passing throng struck no respon.
sive chords in his bosom. Whichever
way he looked clouds of darkness en-.
compassed him. Looking back into
the hazy regions of the past he saw on
ly the fleeting shadows of hopes that
had but 'allured to fly" surveying the
area revealed by the present moment
he beheld in it nothing of nature tt
revive his dropping spirit; casting hi
glance into the cavernous darkness Of
the future he discovered only weird, ant
undefnable shapes, that beckoned t
him, but disappeared, and were replaced
by other equally unde6nable shapes be
fore he had time to photograph their like
ness upon his memory. And his hear
sank within him, and the light in hi
eyes grew dim, and he bowed his heat
upon his knees, and the spirit Of des
pair overmastered him, and his sou
cried out to be released from bondage
And the minutes, the hours passed
and the sun skunk behind the western
hills, and the darkness spread blacI
mantle over the land.
But he noticed not the flight of time
regarded not the disappearance of tn
god of day; the darkness in his sou
was greater, deeper than the materia
darkness that shrouded the land. HI
heard not the footsteps that crosses
his threshold, nor yet when they ar
preached to where he sat, dimly reveale
in the faint, ftful light of stree
lamp whose rays penetrated his wir
dow, and gave the room and its object
ghostly appearance. Only when h
felt the touch of gentle hand. an
heard a kindly voice pronouncing hi
name, did he rouse himself to max
sure his visitor was earthly. He hal
, recognized the voice, but when his tea
dimmed eyes beheld the form of an oil
man with long white beard, and
: countenance that was almost divin
for its thoughtful benevolence, he fe
, treasured.
"Oh, is it you, Father Muller2"
> Everybody called him "Father" Mu
: ler. Everybody reverenced him. Oh
in years, and experience, and though
: yet his heart was young. Poor in tn
5 worlds goods; rich in the treasures th'
. the moths and the rust do not corrup
+ that tempt not thieves to steal ther
: Unbidden the old man drew cha
Q close to where sat the grief-stricke
Q younger man, and gently taking hi
: by the hand, asked, "My son, why
disconsolatep"
!, "Fsther," he replied, II am bowt
Q down with sorrow because can thir
j. of nothing to be thankful for. In q
( boyhood days those who By reason