The Dolores star., 1909-08-13

Il am child Of Cod He glanced
where the road wound toward the sun.
set. Il must fare FORTH
So he gathered his neighbors. and
with the company of those who had
listened to his song. they left their
own gardens and went rejoicing upon
the great pilgrimage.
Now many years passed ere the
man returned again to his own. He
had succeeded. according unto the
measure Of his hope--he had helped
to lift the burden of the world. There
fore did his voice ring out joyously
as at the head Of the pilgrim army he
was borne with shouts Of triumph
along the familiar road--hailed as .
savior of men!
Eagerly among the welcoming null
titude his eye sought her who once
had dwelt by his side. Brightly and
with confidence his thoughts returned
| at last to the one who had made no
demands upon them-the woman who
had no needs--yet she came not forth
to greet him!
Now the pilgrims passed a garden
plot choked with weeds and Wild
grasses. Once there had been a hedge.
but now the thick underbrush grew
out into the highway and the tangled
trees hid the homestead. Yet some
thing strangely familiar about the neg
lected garden half awakened fragrant
memories stifled in the stress of later
years. The leader spoke to those who
bore him and all that mighty throng
surged and pressed against the hedge
yet the woman came not forth.
Where Is she?" the man cried, in
sudden, dreadful doubt--and through
the host murmur swept and swelled.
Where is she?"
But ere the echo OF that cry had
hnshed an aged wayfarer tottered
from the deserted garden and the mul.
titude listened as their leader sprang
to embrace him:
"Father-Father! Lean on mel"
AT last, my SOM" the old man fal.
tered. AT last-and alas, my son!'
But. father! Why do you weep?
Behold the vast company OF the
saved!"
The old man turned his face sorrow.
fully toward the garden choked with
weeds. Il see only this plot" he mur.
INJURED brokenly. Here have / dwelt
these many years"
"Dwelt-here?" the other repeated
in bewilderment. "No-but in thy
homeland with her who always kept
the garden well. Why is not she toe
here to welcome? Why do you moi
both rejoice with me. father. In this
my hour? Waste NO more Thought OF
this plot Of weeds. Tomorrow w
Will find the owner of the garden and
help him restore his home"
Too late. my son! Have you In
deed forgotten? The man whose home
1t was is here"
What! The plot is yours. dear IA
ther?"
Poor boy." The old man fell upon
his sons neck and clasped him close
After all, only my poor boy-blind to
his own! How we both have loved
you-she and /. The plot is yours
my son!"
The singer shook with sudden fear
and strained forward. peering into the
dense foliage.
"Father!" he gasped In trembling
anguish. 'Where-is-ahe?
The old man drew himself upright
leaning both hands upon his stan
While her strength lasted. she kept
the garden well. as you have said, my
son; and when her strength was gone
he led the man by twisted path
deep into the heart of the underbrush
she waited for you-here."
Blindly the singer stumbled into
the little clearing and cast his eyes
shudderingly to the ground. In ag
onized memory. he who went forth &c
save the world fell upon the grave
that marked the spot where once his
home-and hers-had stood.
How many years-how many years
since he had left his own!
Beloved" she had faltered on thi,
very spot. I'VE are part of the rest
you and l. You are destroying yourself
1t Is too great price to pay!"
And he had answered, obsessed onl,
by his mission: "Afterwards-I viii
rest!"
Afterwards. Was this their after
wards? The murmur of the multitude
re-echoed in his stricken heart
where is she?"
The man stretched wide his arm,
over the mound. at is too great 4
price to pay, beloved An
verify l know-I know! My empt,
heart bears witness for the heart I sci
at naught-too great a price, beloved
even for the pain Of the whole
world!"