The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1918-05-10
Confessions
3SWifo1s
REAL HAPPINESS INVOLVES
HOPE -,

IL am quite sure, Margie DEAR"
began Dick, that you remember
that ride we took in the small
hours of the morning the night be-
fore We were married.
Il had been out with the boys
at a farewell supper and | had
drunk altogether too much, but
was suddenly sobered as yo1r
voice came over the wire. You
remember DIR. Atwater had been
talking to you on the duties of
marriage.
Neither of us, Margie, at that
time, had any more idea that
marriage meant anything moro
than a glorious courtship and
remember I was madden tnan a
hornet at the old doctor for filling
you up with that old fashioned
bunk as / called 1t myself.
Wasn't that ride glorious.
dear heart? AS write with death
looking over my should / can turn
a smiling face to his grim visage
when think of that ride. For
have lived. No one can take that
away from me.
you were so dear that night.
You were so dependent and yield
ing. You wanted to believe all
that | said when | told you that
our marriage was going to be like
no other since the world began.
Will you always love ne,
Dick, as you do now?' you said, as
your clingling lips left mine. 1t
is the universal question, l expect,
but | was almost indignant that
you would ask it of me. or course,
| would, only more so, and | swore
under my breath at the old doctor
for putting any thoughts of duty
or responsibility into your pretty
head.
81 did not want a wife to have
any responsibility l said to my
self. / only wanted wife to love
and be loved.
"Margie, / did not think at the
time that such thoughts as these,
which probably fill the heads 0;
all young lovers, are the beginning
of the whole trouble and mistakes
of marriage-aobut week after
Ia man begins to wake up to ths
fact that love is only a part Of the
life that must be lived together.
But that night my wife, you
will forgive me, now that am
where l cannot ask forgiveness,
when tell you that probably that
night on that drive I was happiest
of my whole life. 1t was the apex.
l know that the next day you
would belong to me and l was pas
sionately, delifiously in love With
you. You were looking at me to
calm your fears and comfort yCd.
mo poet has pictured heaven
as | knew 1t that night and since
| have thought about it 1 have
come to the conclusion that even
in your greatest happiness you
must still have hopes Of greater
happiness to make your heaven
complete.
"You know, Margie. that man
in my position cannot help specu-
lating on the world beyond and 7
| dm lucl0 6lOdt JOY
and happiness after death. Tie
heaven we have been told about
will not be the heaven OF our
dreams unless there comes the
consciousness of greater Joy to
come.
Everlasting peace may mean
everlasting sleep, everlasting in
ertia, but everlasting happiness
and everlasting Joy must-to the
finite mind at least-mean ever
lasting hope. I don't know, Mar.
gle dear, what. Is coming to me
on the other side Of the great sea.
ct may be everlasting Joy or
1t may be everlasting oblivion.
But whatever it is I'll take my
chance. With all my faults, all
my sins, of commission and omis-
sion, l am but human, and for
mortals to reach Immortality has
always seemed to me a task too
great for human mind to conceive
or human power to achieve.
~ wish / had more faith, Mar
gle. But you see I only have
hope"
ITO Be Continued.)