The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1905-04-07


will be my own master.
How mocking that pale gleam Of
sunshine falls across the wintry scene,
as if in derision of human hopes and
fears? How soberly is the background
of the skies behind yonder snowclad
peaks see from my window? Remote
and as unattainable as the vanished
dreams of year ago, you tower heaven
ward in mocking beauty, and the great
white mantle, natures pail, stretches
over all.
MY little neighbor's cheeks are rosy.
and her soft, brown eyes are bright, and
she is as pretty as the carnations she
brings me.
"We have grown to be great friends.
She runs In to show me her picture
books, and sits at my side, and we phil
oSophiZe together. as to many things.
The brown sparrows hopping over the
snow, and perching on the bare stems of
a rose bush, complaining to each other
of the long wait before spring and
warmth, and joy, will come back to
them.
"'You will get we'll when the snow
melts, and the trees are green and the
white lilacs bloom in our garden. Then
you will go away will never see you
again, / know she says, nodding her
head sadly, her pretty lips pursed, and a
look of soft and wistful reproach in her
big eyes.
why, little grille, of course, will
come back to see you. Have you not
been my comforter and companion all
these months? What would have done
shut. lid here. a -,nnrose prisoner, with
only sad thoughts, keen desires unful-
filed, and mocking ambitions burning
within. if my CHEEKY little neighbor had
not come to discuss with me life and it's
problems, it's finite possibilities, its i'm
placable limitations. and those inScrut-
able rulings to which human passions
and most strenuous endeayors must
need bow the head in abject subjIga-
ton?
'Have we not watched the sparrows
together, you and I? Their struggles
for existence, and happiness, and seen
their sad defeat. when the white man
tie was thrown abroad by an inexorable
hand, and they sat patient and despair
ing on the bare rose bush?'
I'VE studied hard lesson together,
little maiden, and God knows whatever
scant resignation has sometimes siaked
the burning thirst for action, for par
ticipation in the grand, stern battles of
life, has come through the medium of
your sweet childish voice. of your sim
pie faith, that all things work out just
solution of the great problem, and that
after the long harsh winter, spring
comes, glad and free, bringing happi
ness and sunshine, fulfillment of all
promises to sparrows and to men.
$50 be very sure, my little one. II
leave before the bloom of your sweet
white lilacs, will, some day, come back
to my brown-eyed guardian angel"
'She laughs but tears are in her eyes
and she does not believe me-
You will go to her, and you will be
too happy and busy to come back.
don't think l will ever see you again,
when you leave" she says, pointing to
the lovely face of a picture, Estella's
picture, which always stands on the
table by my side.
"She kisses me, and her pink lips are
as tender as the petals of rose leaf"
''The fire burns, but how cold it is. A
gray, pale cloud stretches over the skies,
blotting cut the views of the Eternal
Hills always pointing upward. The
snow lies thick. pure and white, and as
inexorable as DEATH"
My little friend comes sadly in, hold
ing a dead sparrow in her hand. Her
voice is choked with sobs.
''They seemed to love each other SO
much. What will the other one do now
all alone? / found it lying under the
rose bush,' she tells me.
..You should not grieve for the wild.
free bird" tell her, wiping her tears
gently. cts heart is stilled, and all the
feverish longings and warnings which
filled it are at rest. Its brains no longer
teams with soaring ambitions, nor will
it know the dread of separation from
the one it loves, the pain or unsatisfied
longings, nor the crumbling of phantom
hopes and joys.
"The tale is done, little maiden. Bury
it in the snow under the rose bush, and
forget It."