The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1912-11-25
TIE LAST

II j, nJw. in t.e language of Ed
ar -al,eA Pee. bleak November. :
.-.en her in the semi-tropics, tn,
leaves are falling. and soon the LAS,
rose OF sumner shall have faded
For open doors, and windows AMI
rreez. moons On corridors and porti
COS. chairs by cracking fires will
BE- hunted. Life is fast undergoing a
change. The grass is whitening and
/ turning yellow and in our fields and
hamniocks nature is making prepare
toms for apparent death-fOr partial
death at least. until there shall come
Il resurrection with the reyivifyins
breath of spring.
AS The 'irOsts of winter" are in
dicati,e of cid age We trausfe. to our
! columns an article sent US by enc Of
cur subscribers appropriate to this
season. which We know will give in.
finite pleasure to those at least Of a
Literary turn of mind II is beauti-
fully written. and suggests many ex-
quisite and delightful thoughts.
We ask that our readers take time
to perrsc il:
From The trees the .eates are
falling upon the turf, and in the for
ests already are rustling, brown car
rets, whispering to our footballs an
swers and mournful messages Of the
spring-time when they were small
and young, of the summer when
they were many and clustered and
thick and beautiful and made hid
ing places and shelters for LIVING
and timid creatures, needing covert
from the foes and feared prying
eyes. Yet on nearly every tree, ev-
cl until the sap and the new YER
GIre and yestments begin to come
with next spring, will ding a few
sturdy leaves, refusing to fall, with.
cred and brown yet holding fast to
twiS and limb. These will be tor
tered and tossed and wildly twisted
II the bitterest winds, the cold and
diving rains, and pelting snow o.
he winter They will cling and re
tam some remnants and tokens OF
lie, even when the great trees on
Nl!icil they hold are forced to bend
and sway and sruah and their thick
cst limbs swing and strive, and TIE
moaning OF them is like that of
some living thing strained and keyed
to the limit OF endurance.
The last roses. The last leaves. The
last member OF family, the last OF
d generation, the last survivor of a
circle. Always there must be a last.
something or somebody must be left
lingering and clinging through
storm and cold and varying weather.
through tempest and strain and bit
tcrness and sunshine and nights
blackness and genial days and bleak,
alternating and passing and sue
ceeding each other. There is a pa
fhnf loo liz tvo ipt,, nf la
OF college class, the members of
which had agreed to meet and dine
together every year until all were
gone, and always to have chairs
placed, places set and wine glasses
filled for all The one old, gray,
bowed man sits alone, and the 9TH
err chairs are occupied by the ghosts
CT his dead comrades and compan-
ions; and he listens to the far off |
echoes of their laughter and genial
tones. There is solemn and beauti-
full poem of the last man-the las;
strong man to be left solitary on
this vast globe when its life is gore
and all the multitude he has known.
all with whom he has laughed
and wept and striven and cOnsorted
are dead and vanished. We have
thought often of the feelings of the !
last tottering survivor of our grea.
war in this country as he looks upon
the long array of the graves of his |
comrades and his foes; and realizes
hat OF all the marching, cheering.
fighting, tiercely rushing and des-
perately baflled strong men who
slrove against each other, he is the
enc feeble and creeping remnant.
We cannot know. Any one of us
rlay go early, blightcd or cankered
or stricken In the very bud, as the
June flowers sometimes are. Or we
may linger and go at full maturity:
or, we may be the last. 1t is certain
that as We live on through the years
and the seasons we leave behind us
thickening trails of grave stones
and griefs, and find heart chilling
rain of tears. What can We do We
cannot determine whether we shat,