Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1903-02-14

Eighteen years are but a short span
for the life of any mortal, but for
that of sweet maiden, it is mourn
full recollection, the memory of a fra
grant breath.
Many live out their allotted three
score and ten without accomplishing
aught but trifles. Looking back along
the line of their long career, they
see nothing but weak haze, a few
faint spots, and then they pass away
with no other sign that they ever
filed a niche on earth, than a line on
a tombstone which soon crumbles into
dust.
Many have made a loud noise, hop
ing to thrust themselves upon the
pages of history; a variety of vanity
that ends as does the beatings on a
bass drum, in dismal silence when
the hand of the drummer is still.
There are many who have been
the lowly of earth, but they have ac-
complished more than great con-
Querors, whose names are sweeter in
the ears of the multitude than those
of ephemeral heroes. From them
have radiated good; vibrations of
force and energy that have gone on
influence of a loving, tender mother
does not end with her, the impress of
her character molds her children and
her children's children unto untold
generations. The mourned McKin-
ley's mother made her son. Garfield,
also, was subject to the gentle sway.
These men loved their chains, gloried
in following the admonitions of home
love, and when they came to die, and
die ruthlessly, there was nothing but
designations in their souls, Nearer,
my God, to Thee" on their lips.
But for Abraham Lincoln, the
mother hand that guided his steps,
relinquished it's clasp at a time when
he needed her most. A boy of ten,
and after that a heart strange to his
blood. No mother of his own to wit
ness his success; no homely, smiling
old face that radiated love. Perhaps
the memory of his mother kept him
strong until he met one to whom he
gave his whole heart, and she, taking
up the thread of his life strengthened
it for all time.
Abe Lincoln worshiped the ground
Ann Rutledge trod, but her heart was
not her own, it had gone into the
keeping of one unworthy. Still the
youthful Abe pleaded his cause, and
in his simple, uncouth way, offered
her his heart and hand.
1t was balmy June day in 1889. A
lovely maid and a homespun you'll
were sitting beneath the shade of 6
maple tree; he fiinging pebbles into
the waters of the Sangamon; She
pol1ing the point of her parasol into
the yielding sod.
become something Sometimes the
fire of ambition burns strong within
me, but l have no incentive, and i
turns to ashes 1 am studying, Ann
studying all that man can know, ant
my muscles are strong for work.
He arose and stood over her, swim g
ing his long, lanky arms. The ungain
Iy figure. like some huge bird fiappin,
its wings, brought a smile to her lips
but the smile was changed to a tear
which Abe, looking down, noticed, an,
down he sat in front of her, taking he
unresisting hand in his own. TIL
girl hung her head.
Ann, sweet Ann, could you not Low
me in time? / will wait years if
must, but the hope that the waitin;
will end in your love will nerve me t
scale the heights of mans ambition
But still the girl held her peace an,
sat with hanging head. A though
passed through Abe's mind; it was
spasm. it chilled him, bit he wa
brave
..Am 1 unlovable. Ann? Am 1 s.
uncouth, SO ungainly that a woman
cannot find it in her heart to Low
me?''
This brought the face of Ann Rui
ledge up, and she faced him with he
sweet eyes swimming. Placing he
hand gently ON his shoulder she said
You are man, Abe. that som
women would die for l see in wha
you are pleased to call your ungainl
form. a soul superior to its morta
shell. I look beyond your body an
see great heart, man. My littl
knowledge Of history has told me tina