Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1905-02-01

| OF the N0SgeS, there ID StoneDreaker
whom 1 have seen at his work for
| thirty years. The first time / came
upon him was young student set
ting out with swelling heart for the
great city. The sight of this man did
me good, for he was humming song
| as he broke his stones. We exchanged
| a few words, and he said at the end:
"Well, goodby, my boy! Good courage
| and good luckv' Since then | have
passed and repassed along that same
route, under circumstances the most
diverse painful and joyful. The stu
| dent has finished his course, the break
| err of stones remains what he was. He
has taken few more precautions
against the seasons storms, rush
mat protects his back, and his felt hat
Is drawn farther down to shield his
face. But the forest is always send
| ing back the echo Of his valiant ham,
mer How many sudden tempests have
broken over his bent back. how much
adverse fate has fallen on his head.
on his house, on his country! He con-
tinues to break his stones, and coming
and going / find him by the roadside.
smiling in spite of his age and his
wrinkles. benevolent speaking-above
all In dark days-those simple words
feet when they are scanned to the
breaking Of stones.
| 1t would be quite impossible to ex-
press the emotion the sight of this sim
i pie man gives me. and certainly he
has no suspicion Of 1t. know OF moth
ing more reassuring and at the same
time more searching for the vanity
| which ferments In our hearts than this
coming face to face with an obscure
grows and as the good God makes his
sun to rise. without asking who Is
looking on.
/ have known, too, a number of old
teachers. men and women who have
| passed their whole life at the same &C.
cupation, making the rudiments Of hui
man knowledge and few principles
! of conduct penetrate heads sometimes
| harder than the rocks. They have done
| II with their whole soul throughout the
length Of a hard life In which the at
tention of men had little place. When
they lie in their unknown graves no
one remembers them but a few humble
people like themselves, but their rec
| ompense Is In their love. No one is
| greater than these unknown.
| How many hidden virtues may one
not discover-if he know how to search
among people of class he often rid
icules without perceiving that in so do
ing he is guilty of cruelty, ingratitude
and stupidity! mean old maids. Peo-
| pie amuse themselves with remarking
the surprising dress and ways of some
Of them-things of no consequence, for
that matter. They persist also in re-
minding us that others, very selfish,
| take interest in nothing but their own
comfort and that of some cat or canary
upon which their powers of affection
center, and certainly these are not out
done in egoism by the most hardened
celibates of the stronger sex. But what
we oftenest forget is the amount Of
self sacrifice hidden modestly away in
so many of these truly admirable lives.
Is 1t nothing to be without home and
Its love, without future, without per-
sonal ambition? to take upon oneself
that cross of solitary life so hard to
bear, especially when there is added
the solitude Of the heart? to forget
oneself and have no other interests
than the care of the old, of orphans.
the poor the infirm-those whom the
brutal mechanism of life casts out
among its waste? Seen from without
these apparently tame and lusterless
lives rouse pity rather than envy.
Those who approach gently sometimes
divine sad secrets. great trials under
gone, heavy burdens beneath which
too fragile shoulders bend; but this is
only the side of shadow.
| We should learn to know and value
this richness Of heart, this pure good
ness, this power to love, to console, to
hope, this joyful giving up of self, this
persistence in sweetness and forgive
pess even toward the unworthy. Poor
old maidsi How many wrecked lives
lave you rescued, how many wounded
gave you healed, how many wanderers
have you gently led Alright, how many
naked have you clothed, how many
orphans have you taken In, and how
tnany strangers who would have been
Iione in the world but for you-you
who yourself are often remembered
Of no one. | mistake. Some one
knows you; 1t is that great mysterious
Pity which keeps watch over our lives
and suffers in our misfortunes. For
gotten like you, often blasphemed, 1t
has conlided to you some of its heav-
enliest messages, and that perhaps Is
why above your gentle comings and
goings we sometimes seem to hear the
rustling wings of ministering angels.
The good hides itself under so many
different forms that one has often as
much pains to discover it as to unearth
the best concealed crimes Rus
sian doctor who had passed ten years
of his life in Siberia, condemned for
political reasons to forced labor, used