The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1909-03-25
THE STORY OF LIFE.
AS 1t Is Written In Each of Our
Lives.

There is no more suggestive or
beautiful sight to our eyes, than
that of an elderly married couple,
who, trustingly and lovingly togeth-
er, have walked the rugged ways of
life from youth to old age, and now
hand in hand, and heart to heart, are
patiently and hopefully waiting upon
the hither shore of time, for the
sound of the boatman's oar, to be
borne across the mystic, pale river.
We look back along the dim vista
of years to the halycon time Of life's
sunny morning, we witness their
plighted vows at the altar, and see
them go forth, in the, pride of life
and the glory Of their young welded
lives to the struggles Of existence.
Many a godspeed and kind word Of
cheer fall upon their ears as they go
out from beneath the parental roof
tree that is to shelter them no more
forever.
Before them stretches out new
world of experiences, Of joys and
sorrows, of grand successes, and per-
haps of sad failures. But strong OF
purpose and resolute of will, and
with life's sky rose-tinted with the
flush OF dawn, they move on, and en-
ter upon, this to them all unexplored
world of experience. We see them
settled in their new home and be-
gin the never ending battle Of life.
Perhaps their home is log cabin
in the wilderness, with neighbors
few and far, or may be cozy little
cottage in some distant town. The
husband is bravely bending every
energy to the task of mastering the
hard conditions of life, and a home
and a name in the world, and secur-
ing if possible that independence
that shall relieve them from the pos
sibility of want. To the wife's rosy
cheek has come the pallor of the
dreadful agonies of maternity, but
now her eyes are bright with a new
hope, as she caresses the tiny form
that nestles in her bosom.
And then comes added care and
heart-aches as the years glide away.
We see them, with streaming eyes
and pleading lips bending over the
couch of their darling, as its little
life flutters away in the short gasp
of dissolution, and it's eyes grow
dim under the touch of deaths icy
fingers. But anon, time pours its
gentle balm into their wounded
hearts, and the bitter trial and loss
which they thought they never could
endure, fades away into tender
memory.
Again we behold them, and as in
the long ago they went forth into
the world, now their own noble sons
and daughters burdened with the IN
solved problems and untried respon-
sibilities of life, follow in their foot
steps; and soon their home is left
unto them desolate, save in the
companionship of their own souls.
Well for them if they have within
themselves treasures of culture and
character that shall supply their
dearest need; well for them if school
ed in that beautiful philosophy that
enabled St. Paul to say: II have
fought the good fight, have finish
ed my course, I have kept the faith"
they, too, can feel in their souls that
they have done the best they knew,
and that now they will trust the good
Father for all that is to come.
The shadows stretch away in
lengthening lines toward the east,
and now they are calmly watching
the glories of the coming sunset Of
well-spent life. How grand they
seem in the fruition of their years,
with their silvered hair glowing In
the sunsets golden CLEAN. Their
faces are radiant with divine hope
that beyond the bars of the shining
west the beckoning arms of their
loved ones are outstretching towards
them to welcome them to their home
of eternal rest and love; and that in
a few more days, or years, at the
most, they will pass on as one weary
with the burden of the day, gathers
"the drapery of his couch about him,
and lies down to pleasant dreams"
ParSOn Attacks the Theatre.
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