The Glenwood post., 1924-06-05
Shadows
of what's
toBe
BY EDWARD LEVINE
%. 1874. western Newspaper unio.


DREvISION is the gift Of hardl
= anyone. If one could see In ad
vance, how many tears might one no
be spared; how many blunders nigh
perhaps be avoided!
| But who can foresee? How, then
can one face God with the challeng,
of the human heart: "Why hast tho,
done this to me?"
Shadows of what is to be, or ma,
be-! Here the condemned criminal
spending his last night In the cell H,
sits upon the bed, leaning forward, hi,
face in his hands. The shadow of the
dreadful chair is very close to him.
Before another sun has risen he
will have passed on his way along the
few steps that separate him from
that door behind which stands the in.
strument of death.
And, as he crouches there, he sees
his past life in retrospect-the little
home of his childhood, the mother who
worshiped him.
Then the misunderstanding with his
father, continually increasing, the final
ugly quarrel that drove him from the
house.
And he groans, "My God. why hast
Thou done this to meT
But what of the girl who loved him
for even the most hardened criminal
has girl somewhere, and the boy
who slew the other man in a moment
of hot blood is by no means hard
sned-only unfortunate.
She sits in her room as she remem-
bers the past, and knows that before
the morrow's sun rises her boy will
be no more. None try to comfort her.
What comfort can there be for her?
They were to have been married
looking forward to the time so hap
PLY. Now all that is put aside. She
will be disgraced forever; she will
have to leave the town. The finger of
scorn will be pointed at her as long
as she remains.
And in the depths Of her despair
she means, 'My God, why hast Thou
done this to me?"
The parents, the old father and
mother-what of them? They have
done all that they can do. They have
exhausted every avenue of hope. At
last they have seen him to say good
by. The worst of their ordeal Is
almost over.
"If only hadn't driven him from
our home!" says the old father.
The mothers hand reaches out and
clasps his in silent sympathy.
II did my best with him. But, oh.
II only he had never been born-of
died"
'Died," says the other fercely. 'Do
you remember when he was a child.
how the doctor had given him upl
Yes, If only our son had died then!"
And all these shadows, projected for
ward from that point. For the fathes
and mother are young people, rejoic.
Ing in their firstborn, and the girl whe
was to mourn has not yet come into
the world. The father and mother
bend on either side Of the cradle
where the child lies, tossing in the
delirium of fever.
The doctors carriage stops at the
uOOr. 1ne uOCtOr enters. he Is an
old man, with gold-headed cane and
long, white whiskers. He wears {
black frock coat. He is grave and
dignifled. He advances to the cradle
He takes the little hand in his and
feels the pulse. He slips the bulb Of
his pocket thermometer under the
] tongue, takes 1t out presently. looks al
1t and shakes his head. The mother
who has been watching each expires
sion that fits across his face. cling
to his sleeve.
doctor. you must save him. He II
our only one. He Is everything to M
1t will kill us II he dies"
The doctor, who is old-fashioned, an
swers, Madam, you must posses
yourself in patience"
els there no hope, doctorT 1t is tn,
father speaking.
The doctor does not answer. tn,
look upon his face is sufficient. OF
either side of the boy the father ant
mother bow themselves. At last tn,
man raises his head.
81 have believed in Cod"
"Oh, hush, dear. If it is His win
His ways are inscrutable. How cal
we Judge them?"
He holds his arms aloft MY God
have served and obeyed Thee. WI,
hast Thou done this to meY'