The Tucumcari news and Tucumcari times. [volume] (Tucumcari, N.M.) 1907-1921, 1909-09-11

IN ~ Y ANANI NWANN w hNNNE ~
advertising were distinctly common
place. I have discounted him n mile
so far NJ material things are concerned
and thousand leagues In some other
things. Fourteen years make n big
difference In the life Of u man, n town
or n state. II has of truth plowed the
surface deep around old Danville town
and yet after all how little difference
IL has made in the worth while thingsl
The place is now a city Of 10000 PEG.
pie, There are miles aud miles Of paw.
ed streets. Electric car lines ARE every.
where. Many of the old landmarks re-.
main, hut infinitely more have been
dissolved by the acid Of change. Once
knowing everybody, ] III AT the great
new station and walked along Main
street. Not n soul knew me. Several
were met ~ the familinrs of the old
days, hut the years had wiped me on
the mnp-and ] was glad. I dropped
in NJ the old barber shop whore ! shaw.
cd for twenty y~cnrs-and the SOM Of
the old maj waited on me-he has
been dead for ten years.
Then I went home.
The great plowshare ~ railroad steel
has craven deep the right shoulder Of
the old fnrm-now a part Of the city.
The trees my father planted rise straight
1 aud 0uI around Nha ulA anN TIa VtN.
ed old body ~ him sleeps over there
among the naples and the south wind
holds daily "a leafysolemn high mass TO
his memory. ] stood for n time ri
the gate. There were the pansy beds.
the roses, the sweet alyssum, the yer.
benas, the %petunias, the %nstors. aud over
beyond "a great SNOWFALL in full bloom,
SO lives the hands Of the Best of All,
which in their nine and seventy years
have lone n greater work than has been
wrought by any couguerot the world
knows. A little further and she hears
my step on the walk. She always could
tell any of her nine boys on the dark
es, night by the sound of his football.
In spite Of the years Of absence, Of the
weight NJ life upon her. she knows il
now, aud stands whiting beneath the
catalpns-the lovelight in her fine old
eyes dimmed by the mist Of happy
tears. Has not her baby boy come home
TO heri God II good that IL might he
once more before the long sleep
This morning | was awakened by
the thrush in the apple tree, whose
branches now reach far above the win.
dow Of my little old room. For a while
| tried 10 make believe il was the same
as it was so long. There is the picture
Of Tom Moore on the sloping wall.
Close by are FIVE feet of blessed books
not just exactly m assortment that
Dean Eliot would endorse, for the Bible
il shamelessly a part of IL, and there a
few OF Dickens, which he thinks dull,
and Ivanhoe, and several Of Mayne
Reeds and Coopers. The books are
worn and old, but they stay right there.
II would be sacrilePe 10 mother To lose
a single trace of the boys that wander
cd through the enchanted lands Of those
books. Even the Rose o. sharon quilt
ON the bed Is there a little faded
mother built it piece by piece and block
by block. Some folks would call the
room bare aud stern, but in reality II
Is the best furnished in the world for
everything in It., as for that matter
everything on the old home place tells
Of a love that is grounded in the granite
Of time-and that lives aud blooms,
triumphant over change-even to death.
As the news Of my coming spreads,
the kinfolks come, that is those who
are left Of the old guard. The gray
is plentiful, the bloom has faded from
many cheeks, wrinkles com to fair
brows. Labor and the wars have aged
them all. Their children, many Of
whom have never heard, play in the
applied nislcs aud we hear their glad
voices in the calm evening air. We
older oncs talk aud think Of the past
they, happy souls, see hut the glory
Of the dawn aud the promise of to.
morrow. IL is n happy though sol
emn hOur-fOr we know that II will
never be again-that the mex meeting
will be on the shores of the jasper
~Sea-where pnrtings will be no more.
As night down over the naples
and the frenics light their lanterns
In the corn, We 20 back aud back to
childhood hours, and walk together
those years Of enchanted hours when
the ire burned bright upon the hearth,
and before death came. Around us
all il the benediction Of My Father =
Spirit, aud we know that the little
change we call death brings him all
the more surely TO the communion
Of this evening hour. Almost can we
hear his voice singing in the sweet,
unframed tenor that eve lead us by
land and sea, soothing Ms to sleep and
rest, singing;
Flow gently, sweet Alton
All but a few of those who are left
are here and among them all IL the
sweet peace Of the evening hour, the
calm joy Of the love hat triumph,