The silver messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1890-1912, 1903-09-08

curD bearing WlndlaSS and pair
of oaken buckets. messed and drip
ping. In the crannies of the curb green |
fungi grew, and the water from the |
open well was sweet
To the spot came the villagers; men
in the prime and men in the scar, the |
adolescent youth, the shy girl with |
hair in braids adown her back. And |
there came even mothers holding COO
ing babes at their breasts, tempting
them from the milk of parental love
to the leaking, long-handled dipper
that overlooked with the nectar of the
gods as the gods loved it, pure, unde-
fled.
By and by. in the evolution OF
things, the shy maidens and the bux-
ON youths who met about the well
were wed, and they in turn brought
their babes to sip the cooling draughts
from out that chalice. The hamlet
grew to the dignity of town, while
the moss on the bucket spread and the
stones about the crib wore smoother
from the press of many feet. Then
the city fathers, in solemn conclave,
met and voted piously to close de-
bate and place where stood the rotting
curb a closed well with wooden pump.
And it came about that the village
wiseacres no longer settled grave mat
tiers of state while leaning 'gainst the
curb. No longer the buckets dripped
and dripped; the moss was gone, and
new generations met about the place.
Boys became men, girls mothers,
mothers northumberland then the
long cortege wound its sinuous way to
the riverside, where the Black Camel
of Death had knelt many time and
often, where the birds caroled hushed
yet melodious love songs, where on
bright days came sad-faced mourn
ers laden with blossoms, and where,
now and then, there crept in softly
some strong man to weep alone be-
side the broken sod.
Yet from the well came water! Not
so sweet. perhaps, but good, clear, re-
freshing liquid of which the town
folks drunk their fill
And the Cycle of Time turned in it's
course; the hand of progress touched
the town and great, majestic build
ings sprang up as in a night
And the town council, larger grown,
deadlocked and swayed, swayed and
deadlocked again. The stolid men, in
whose hair were the frosts of time,
maintained their allegiance to the
town pump, but the warning party won
and soon the streets were all awry,
while waterworks were planted.
A simple twist of the wrist turned
the faucet, and those who were once
prone to walk to the town pump for
water, knew it no more. Day by day
it stood, grim sentinel OF olden days,
it's handle broken and its mechanism
rusted with disuse.
And there came upon the thriving
young city a scourge, while the pa
pers admonished to Boil the waterl"
Many times that season was the
Black Camel seen to kneel at the Gem
etery gates, and sorrowing hearts
gazed with quickened memory at the
old town pump, mute and battered.
The walls of the well grew weaker
day by day and collapsed at last, fall
a
cavernous chug. A rich man bought
the site and built a home thereon,
about which rose a strong stone fence.
Within he dwelt, sordid and unloved
Man is like a well. God made him
pure with an open heart from which
kindness and succor rise like the drip
ping, moss-covered bucket in the we'll
There is the freshness of health and
the buoyancy that comes from sue
coring others. About this well of
brotherly love gather all those who
are weak and heavy laden seeking
the nectar of sympathy and the quaff
of sustenance.
Then comes the sordid world that
removes the messed bucket of phiIan-
thropy and covers from sight the
greatness of a heart unsullied Shut
out from the sunshine of fraternal
love, the well spring thiekens and
grows sluggish with selhshness. The
city council of greed and avarice does
it's work and what was once a heart
bursting with life and love is dead
forever to the better life The rich
man builds about and above it, seals
its impulses, forgets its existence.
Keep the wen of your heart open
that its freshness and good cheer may
Quench the thirst of those who parch
for sympathy and hope.
GA
An Ohio editor went to church and
wore a new pair of rubbers. They
were muddy and he left them in the
hail. When he sought them after SER
vice, in their stead stood the worst
old pair of gum boots he had seen
lin forty year" Whittier are we
drifting?
The president of the Illinois Asso-
citation of Spiritualists wants to get
along without rappings. We second
the motion. II seems as If there
should be one association in this
country that can live without knock.
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