Year: 1875

/ Thirty years ago yesterday No, it
/ isn't 80 very old, but then I felt lit
/ tie page of sadness as I put the figures
together. I'd rather be sixteen thzn
thirty-three, though time was when 1
would have gladly reversed the fig
ures. There's q few "quaiItracks''
around the corner Of the eyes, q few
gray hairs intermixed with the brown
and Pm getting flying pains and stiff
joints and sometimes feel as cross IS
an old watchdog at q farmhouse
gate.


threaded it all day, bat yet feel u
q sort Of duty to sit down at my desk
after the rest of the house was asleep
and examine the contents of pigeon
holes and drawers believe it is
foolish in me to treasure these old
relics spread Oh the table before me,
yet if were 3 woman I'd have q good
cry over some OF them. I've looked
them over every birthday since 1
was twenty-five, and 1 suppose / shall
keep them as long as / live.


Here's kid glove, faded and worn
and old. Let's see yes, it's full fif-
teen years since blue.eyed Jennie left
| it on my desk in school. l loved her,
of course, aud many's the pains I've
felt when 1 remembered that the
winter storms aRd April rains were
beating upon her grave. / keep the
glove hidden away, and the secret is
with me alone. When I am dead
they may toss it where they will, or
destroy it altogether, but il anyone
should harm It now, l would be his
far0nnh lite


Here's an old knife. You'd hardly
carry it around for the service 1t might
do, yet it is worth its weight in gold
to me. Poor Burt We sat on the
same seat at school. planned together,
knew each others hopes and sorrows,
and when meet a face on the streets
which reminds me of his 1 can't
keep the lump out OF my throat
It's womanish, know, but, If keep
my relics locked up and preserve
their history in my own heart,
haven't 1 right to sit down some
times and forget that am q man ?


And here's an old red penny, dated
way back in the long ago, and the
rust of time has almost hidden the
words circling around it. I guess
I've had it twenty years, apd al
ways handled 1t as II it were frailest
glass. When 1t was bright and new
blue ribbon was passed through the
hole near the rim, and q little boy
wore it for a watch. There were
toys and whips and dresses to divide
up among US when he died, and this
old red penny fell to me. When the
snow lies deep over his dust, or the
black winds wave the willow, over
his grave, it soOthes me to know that
1 have this relic of him, aud it helps
me to recall his brown eyes, CHEST
nut curls and dimpled chin. In the
rush and hustle of the world we'd
have almost forgotten him by this
time il it wasn't for these little treas
ures.


There's q lock of gray hair here
among my relies and I always look at
that first. Each of as children have
one in place of 8 mother. There are
other graves besides hers and others
yet to be made, and some day the
gray locks will all be collected to-
gether and he who holds them will
have his heart full of sorrow. 1t
would be pleasant to look back from
manhood to childhood il there were
not so many funeral shadows and Bit
ter tears.


And here's a simple white card with
a name traced in pencil. A stranger
would toss il away, but could not
part with it, for the hand which
traced the name has been dust for
these many long years. There are
other relics, but all are sad. They
take me down dark lanes aud along
paths. and my eyes are
blinded. l shall put them away and
write no more, though tomorrow,
and next day and every day OF my
life shall remember that 1 have
them; and in remem bering my own
shadows and sorrows I shall feel more
tender-hearted toward the whole
world and have more strength to
keep my road.-M Quad, in Our
Ffreside Friend