The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1903-03-06
AN the earth is full Of tales to him

IA Wheeling bAlA ~ AoeAN@t $500
ped into the concealing depths OF plue
beyond
snow she's gone!
"Yes. It's like the slipping away OF
a life, isn't It? One instant here IN the |
aeen-the next, beyond in the unseen
Yet to John. who is sailing away IRON
Us. It is but a pushing forward OF ms
horizon line. lie Is not conscious Oh
The earth-curye that hides him from us
sitting here on the beach. Perhaps ne
added musingly, perhaps that Is what
death IS, simply the curve OF our ne
ocean that draws us below the line 10
those watching on the shore, while TO
ourselves we are still sailing on never
seas with the horizon yet far ahead'
"That is a beautiful thought"
eyes" He shifted his position slight
". leaning ease-fully against the sandy
hank that rose behind the driftwood
log on which they sat. He clasped his
hands behind his head, staring medlIa-
lively over the water.
eyes. it is. | found 1t In a little poem
that / read the other day. Shall ! re-
peat it for you?"
sDo; / should like to hear it.
The sand-bank rose to a narrow ter
race above them, where group Of will
lows threw welcome shade around
THE water ran in endless shining rip
ples I'D the white beach, tapping softly
On the wet sand. A little breeze rus
lied through the tall lunches OF beach
grass just feathering into great, grace
ful plumes.
"PIease, let me hear it."
'sWeu it is simple thing put
something in it pleased me, and WaIch-
ing John sail away as we sat here
called it back to my mind.
~ watched a sail until it dropped
from sight
Over the rounding sea. A CLEAN OF
white, -,
a last far-fashed farewell and IKE
a thought
slipt out of mind, it vanished and was
not.
@eYet to the helmsman standing at the
wheel
Broad seas still stretched beneath Ih'
gliding keel.
Disaster? Change? He felt no sllghtes
sign,
Nor dreamed he of that far horizon
line.
$50 may Il be, perchance, when dow
the tide
Our dear ones vInish. Peacefully the
glide
On level seas, nor mark the unKno"
bound.
We call it death-to them it's life be
You'd
His voice dropped to silence; n
gaze still searched the unanswering dl'
fance The girl beside him sat motion
7ess her head turned slightly ava,
holding in one hand a willow branc
with which she had been idly brushl1
the warm, dry sand at her feet.
He unclasped his hands, bending 10
ward to look at her.
srWeH?" he said,-"well?
Her fingers swept the willow sWlt'
glowly back and forth over the san
and she still turned away her hea
When she spoke, her voice was n
quite steady:
"I like it very much. 1t is beaut1fl
and If we knew that it was true, nc
comforting it would be. OH" Win
sudden passionate note Of longing
her voice, why can't we know that
ia so? / have known what it is to wat
some one slip out Of sight that WE
and how | have Ionged for some tok
Just word or the sight Of face
show that death is not the end, a
that all is well. But" she added, aft
pause. during which his eyes stud
her averted face sympathetically,
has never come"
She turned toward him: "Do you
meve it ever does come to any one?
81 think" he said slowly, Il thinl
no, know it does-sometimes. Ma
tell you an experience Of my own, M
BYans?"
eyes" she said, eagerly, tell it
me"
Again his eyes searched the mi
horizon line.
81 had very dear friend with VIII
was intimately associated for nj
Der of years. We were almost
brothers. and 1 knew well what til
4 oughly good fellow he was; hon
kindly, and as tender-hearted as he
strong and manly.