The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1908-09-18

"From what you haven't gayly turn
To what you have; the worlds alive.
Still pulses beat, still passions burn;
There's still to work. there's still to
strive;
The cure is easy to discern.
$50 don't be gloomy, don't be glum,
Nor give thought to what you lack;
Take what you have, no longer dumb
Nor idle, hit misfortune back,
| And own that have reason; comet"
Again the invalid's eyes wandered
cut into the narrow glimpse of Gods
good world that his little window gave.
Good advice, Mr.. Stephen, and I've
tried to follow it; but guess it's just
trifle late now. l don't think I've
been 'glum' very often-and no one
has known it when have been. 1
don't believe I've often dwelt on all
l hadn't. And do think I've hit as
often and as hard at Milady Misfor.
tune as could. But she's won at last"
Then he added: perhaps she hasn't,
but it's hard, hard not to believe So
Absent-mindedly he closed the book
and lay looking at it. 1t was thin
little volume of verse by Cambridge
man. "Quo Musa Tendis," he read on
the little signboard title.
II hope the muse has Travelled pleas
anter roads for Stephen than for me.
I'd be thankful if even so small a
book as this might carry my name
on, though for only one short genera
tion."
There was water-color painted on
the cover, sea-view done in dark blue
on the light cloth ground. He remem-
bered so plainly the afternoon when
that had been done. 1t was the moth
er's work, and he had been sitting by,
writing. It was August, and the dusty
roads and fields made the shaded room
acceptable. He had found vacation
work up among the foothills, and she
had come to the little farmhouse to be
near him. There had been worries for
both. but now he only recalled the
deep pleasures of that loving compan-
ionship, and wondered if he had half
appreciated 1t.
He put down the book and lay back
upon his pillow, but with wide eyes
and the sick brain so busy. Nothing
about him but had some story to tell,
some scene to repaint for him. Nor
would one have guessed the young
masters empty pocket from seeing the
room. But the pretty furniture and
the rugs, with all their warmth of COL
or, had been in the old home before
the fathers failure; the pictures were
the accumulation Of college years,
when a generous allowance was a
monthly surety; the books-he had al
ways bought books, from the days Of
the worn and loved Boys of '76" to
that latest and handsomest "Anacre-
on" Of Bullen's. Perhaps it was his
extravaganza; II SO, it was his only
one, and in the long separation from
all those he most loved, he had these
true friends at least always by him.
The sun fell aslant the long shelves
opposite him. 1t almost seemed the
books were smiling, SO cheerfully did
the gildings glance back his light.
There was dear old Ella" two volumes
Of him, in gray boards as prim as his
own Quaker folk, and type as clear
as his own laugh. The invalid had
found him in Broadway basement
shop during one Of those flying trips
down from Yale. Cheap at seven dol
lars" and the hotel bill was sent after
him to New Haven. And there was
the Bachelor with his Reveries beside
q sea-coal fire. His life had had sad
a.. 4 - 81 Z.