The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1905-10-29

answer INVARIABLY.
/ live in log cabin myself, that is.
Mary and l. We might have frame
house if we desired as indeed might
anyone else who chances TO i've IN d
cabin. But | think the memory OF
those Sabbath days in which l was
constrained to live up to the standard
of my spotless linen has turned me III
old age TO a log cabin where ! I'VE
as / please and be slave to not one
convention Mary and / live Emperor
land Empress of creation. Not that
our cabin is wanting in cleanliness, for
they do say at the store that Mary
dusts the rafters each day With cam
brio handkerchief. But then people VIII
talk even in Rhamkatte.
l reckon / know Mary. Not that she
tells me much and it is not often !
tell her anything. We do not have TO
talk to understand Our hearts are
tuned to the same key so that every
passing hour sweeps them in accord,
giving out melodies deep and restful.
These are not heard to the passer-by,
but she hears and |, and that IS
enough.
Only yesterday I sat in my doorway
Watching the west crimson and fiame
in the splendor of coming twilight
The sun had set. Not a breath stirred
the leaves. not cloud hecked the
sky. Bnt one lone path Of shadow hung
from some far hidden peak broke up
ward through the flaming portals OF
glory broadening and rising till II
brushed the dusky azure OF the zenith
And then Mary came and sat beside
me- resting her hand upon my knee
We did not speak but in the silence
the falling shadows the splendid west
together were lifted from our mortal
bodies ard upon this swell of melody
borne far through the flaming portals
into the depths of the purpling tWl-
light, Till earth and flesh We're forgot
ten and We seemed a part of the celes-
tial harmony
And still we sat in silence till
touched with my lips her grey-streak-
ed hair and we passed together with
IN. Mary knows when TO be silent.
She has a soul, q gift God bestows on
few.
Do YOU think the eternal God scat
ters souls by the wayside as a good
natured marketman applies TO scram-
bling children. Bah. Not to every
one is even the possibility of soul.
no more than is knowledge of calcn-
lus or the perception of artistic beauty
Read to a thousand whom you may
chance to know Arthur's parting from
Guinevere. ask If ii is not beautiful
and hear yourself called silly fool
DE Japanese is cullud folks, IKE
we isl SAID a negro lately.
Look at that vase. said one VINO
| was near and heard pointing INTO
hallway where stood a vase from the
| Isle of Nippon tall and slender or
exquisite form and workmanship.
Tell me, did ever niger from the
beginning of time make anything like
that,
BOSS whaddat for?" was the
reply.
To such "a one is not the remotest
possibility of soul lfe. 1t would he
as difficult for him to coinprehend the
motif of the Sermon on the Mount
| or the lordly Arthurs words TO fallen
Gu;neyere, as the impulse which
prompted the creation of that Japan
| csc work Of art. Religion is not re-
| ligion. but both grow out OF the same
| soil. asprat .on towards the ideal. The
NEGRO has not developed soLf.-life. He
| is fiotsam. eddying round and round
! BY the mighty current Of evolution
IA limb shot out by the trunk of The
/ tree, growing outward, but not up
ward Here and there arises a fam,
glimmer of light. possibility of what
might have been. but is now forever
| impossible
| Has tndl lON-DlONcu Gliillllleti
crouching behind prison bars a soul?
Behind him years of hostility towards
EVERY divine impulse. His priceless
heritage of soul-possibility flung to
| the winds. Has he a soul? Fiddle
sticks.
Do you fancy that dear young thing.
that little pink and white creature
with dimples futterng here and there
a butterfly among flowers, has a soul?
u faip rnf a
| in mouth posing a caricatured Glib
son man. a soul? Pish? Go to. Do
items have souls? Do puppies?
70 the one is the possibility of soul,
TO the other not. And yet l Fancy
sometimes when my pointer comes 70
| lay her head upon my knee and from
her soft brown eyes looks up into min"
that out of those depths of tender
ness falls The shadow of soul. But
| this is only fancy.
Only from pain and sorrow. from
| soul battles fought and won. through
countless days of love and fear, do
souls come. Days of toll and nights
| of pain they are, fighting increasingly,
back and forth the battle raging amid
dnheard thunder and unseen light
ming with ever and anon the victory
all but lost, the soul forces scattered
| and terrorized. the field given over 10
| the hosts of bitterness and despair
And then, that power not of ourselves,
| (which. from the beginning of life In
| the primeval sea has urged upward
/, has called Halt! About face. Charge!
And at the command, we know not
how or why, we charge again and yet
again till suddenly the forms of dark
| ness turn in panic, flee headlong and
1.-The battle is won.
| But it is evening now. Your sun
has nearly set. The west is clear
| low in the east the faraway clouds
hang like irridescent shells, not a
rumble of thunder, not a fash of
lightning from that far distance. You
are weary. You are SCARED with the
marks of battle. But around your
| grey head perchance there rests a
halo. IT is the decoration of the
Great Commander. You have won a
soul.
| SouNare not picked vi. by the way
side. They are not to be had for a
few ecstatic screams at a revival hur-
Irah Poor fool! A soul is the rich
Reward which good God bestows for
a we'll fought life. 1t is spiritual
Iknighthood. it is patent of nobility.
Rarely is it won with less than half