The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1910-07-03

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C1NaChGlI
By MRs. a. G. wHIrrLER.


BY MRS. A. G. WHIPPLER.
Take up thy per and write what l shall say.
Thus said a voice to che perfect day;
And every word / Wrs1e was inst the same
And every word / wrote just thy name.
A thousand times a day: yes. and at
night, memory rushes back 10 me with
a shoek-Jaek. Jack, Jack!
Some one sends me a bouquet of vio-
lets every morning. and am so lost TO
the delicate consideration that prompts
their being sent without word that !
let my wild hope play with the possi-
biTty that Jack may have ordered them;
and then I know that he did not. and
that I am only deceiving my foolish
heart.
Oh. but to-day they do their gracious
work: they take me away. away. and in
my mirror I see the blue dresses end
pink sunbonnets OF little children tramp
ing over the hills and within the shadow
of the trees.
We looked on the hills for the wild
flower; we looked on the sunny slopes
for the velvet violet, where later We
knew we should find the wild strawberry.
But 1t was too early 60 find what we
sought Bslere were many delicate. al
most imperceptible shades In the woods.
although not a leaf and few buds. but
the rising sap had impaired life to every
tree and twig. and some ciumps OF
bushes looked purple, some red, and the
whole forest as we glanced back at II
showed violet green. yellow. and brown
The tints We're indescTibable. They We're
almost invisible and like a breath. so
faint so palpitating. When the sun came
out they all seemed to turn TO pure gold.
We used TO race home from school my
sisters and T. 10 those banks where the
wild vlOlets grew. and when we found
such a slope covered with the velvet
mantle. exhaling the odors of heaven, we
threw ourselves down and began pick
ing them with a frenzy of delight
shall never forget the pleasure of the
early spring days when we were little
country children. We waited through all
the iee-bound dark days for the sign Of
awakening life. and we waited so long
that we grew impatient and sad The
SHOWS would continue To come instead
of the green grasses. But when the
maple tree began TO show red tints and
the pussy willows in the swamp sbelow
the house put on their little fuzzy yellow
coats We could not be restrained indoors
any longer by an anxious mother, who
knew the treachery of those variable
days. We waded In mud and water for
the faintest thread of green and counted
ourselves blessed. indeed, if we found
an early flower.
Things of which we are unconscious
do not, in a way. exist for us at all
know how small my world was then.
The only space bounded by my knowl-
edge was an old garden fun of flowers
and fruit ana s-assy walks and birds
nests filled with speckled eggs. an old.
old house. bursting with children, whose
forms fitted through open doOrways and
whose faces peered from the many-paned
windows. whose voices rose in laughter
and song and childish tears.
The rest of the w0rld-Oh. il was the
great beyond. History and poetry told
me Of it. and then our mother and
father told US as much Of it as they
thought good for our innocent hearts 10
know
Dream on. little girl! Illusions make
up a large part of the bliss of living.
When I look into the flowing waters
below my window, / recall the many
wonderful suggestions a stream once
presented to my imagination It seemed
an eager spirit. flashing along and bear
ing the messages of waiting God.
Whither2 To the ends of the earth2
But the childish mind could conceive of
no end to the succession Of mountains,
plains, and sunlit valleys through which
the waters ever hurried; and so it was
borne along 10 the "bOundless, endless,
and sublime" and lifted up into the
ether of pure enjoyment.
A little time for quiet thought has beer
mine-that and nought else Of late, bu
my heart begins to sing again, and neveI
vet did sky and tree and bird and flower
so gladden. my eyes.
was with woman once when she re
covered from long illness sufficiently e
walk out on her porch and look around a
the old loved scenes she had never ex
pected to see again. and which she knew
she would not be permitted to see muci
longer. 1 never knew before how elO
ouent silence could be. Such eagerness
such gratitude. such rapture could no
ind words. 1 understand little now O
what she felt-now that I feel again tn,
thrill of life.
cannot sit in darkness. The win,
whispers of the sunlight; the odors sug
gest the rose; the human voice knock
at my heart so pleadingly. and the Al
enfolds and warns and thrills me INT
delicious life. / cannot die. Tears an
laughter. and agony and joy. have falle
10 my portion, and my heart is restles
and passionate and eager for the battle
still It has its quiet corner too-full O
musing and old melodies and old memo
ries, and sometimes sit apart in il. an
then the great calm stars seem TO loo
into me, and still voice speaks TO IN
OF things which in all my endless If
shall not know. and I feel the love @
Him who went out into the desert alone
the reverence of John and the dear Low
Of Jesus. and life. stripped of all orna
ment is awful and grand-a great, bar
truth, which dwarfs the things wit
which We play and / know if it falls
my lot to take my loaf of bread and m
Jug Of water into the wilderness, it j
enough for me-
But, tomorrow! Up again, old Heart
And music and laughter and love an
ambition and fear and temptation ar
mine, mine. mine, The same giants g
forth to battle on the same old ground
Somebody is winning-step by step. Who
Gcd alone can measure the forces. Int
His hands I lay my trembling heart
ALICE GARDINER WHIPPLER
The Cairo
The Way to Steam Velvet.
From the Boston Herald.
Unless second person can help
this process. a support for the iron