WEST SHORE.
840
fast $mJ& f0r man-
BY ELLA HIGGINSON.
THE DARKEST HOUR.
The darkeit hour ii just before the dawn
Cheer up. dear heart, and fling wide thy care;
Why, there are roue blooming everywhere,
In the l.umbleet spot aa on the rich man' lawn.
The clouds are blackest Just before the ehower,
But aftor-how the birds go mad for Joy I
The ewoetoet things, lasting too long, will cloy-
And Jast before the dawn the darkest honr.
Boe, shuddering In the woods, the dark-eyed fawn,
Crouching until the storm has spent its foroe ;
Thon, with now courage, leaping on its course
Bo, after the darkect hour, dear heart, the dawn.
Oh, sever let hope die till life is gone !
I tell you, sweet, whatever fnte befall,
Be true and pure, and you will conquer all
The darkest hour ii just before the dawn,
One can readily understand why Tolstoi lives the simple life
of the peasant, following his horses and his plough through
the fields. One wearies of all modes of living, but, most of all,
does one weary of the world. I never ride out through green,
wet woods and come upon a little cabin neBtling in a lonely
" clearing " but I envy the simple lot of the people who dwell
therein. In the cities even in villages there are always sin
and temptation, many-headed and black of soul ; there is always
unrest. But out in the woods is only peace sweet peace. I
know a long avenue through massive and silver alder trees that
meet above and let only scattering loops of gold slip through
, and tremble upon your pathway. To pass through is like unto
walking with bowed head and reverent tread through the sacred
aisles of some dim, old cathedral; your breath comes silently,
almost painfully, with the ecstasy of living, and you wish that
your hone's feet were shod with velvet; you feel sorry for the
threads of grass and the dappled clovers that go down beneath
them ; you turn aside that the ugliest worm and the slimiest
toad may go on their way rejoicing ; you do not even shrink
from the golden serpents that go sliding away through the quiv
ering rushes and the great satin leaves, where yellow lilies curl
their soft petals lazily outward to the scented duBk for it is
always dim and sweet beneath these trees, and there are always
blossoms falling, falling, like the noiseless tears of women. The
alder trees stand like tall, pale ghotts, with thin, restless arms
stretched up to heaven, and the sea winds, wearying a little
with their long journey inland, play tear-drenched tunes like
unto songs of lost love and dead hopes upon their shivering,
silver leaves ; dewdrops and ralndiops lie in linked chains on
every fern, save where an innocent-eyed fawn or a gray rabbit
has dashed through and shaken them out on the air. There is
a long border of pink and blue flowers on either side, with now
and then a dandelion flaming among them. And, lo 1 here is a
thicket of dead vines, leafless, gray in tint, but with so many
millions of delicate fibres twisting and blending together that
it is like one soft, purple haze with rings of quivering gold
lying upon it All is still. But suddenly there is a flutter, and
a bird calls, " Tu-wheet 1 " Instantly, as if in surprised delight,
the answer comes, " Tu-wheet 1 Tu-wheet-wheet I " And, then,
the whole forest is alive ; and a very shower of long, glad, trem'
ulous, lyrical "tu-wheet, tu-wheet, tu-wheet, tu-wheeta" swell,
tremble, Bhake and throb over the leaping, sensitive chords of
your soul.
Oh, you who would worship come away from the costly
churches and the velvet pews and the hollow mockeries ! Here
is a light that sifts through these turning leaves such as never
a stained-glass window gave ; here is a carpet richer and softer
than ever was on the floor of a church ; here is a dome whose
tender freBcoes would make an artist mad of passionate envy,
and billowy curtains that are never twice the same in form or
color. Here are founts of living water in the lily urns, and
such a choir as never before lifted its voice to a listening
heaven; and here it is God Himself who speaks to you in a
thousand voices of hope and entreaty and love, and with an
infinite mercy and tenderness in his heart such as never was
in the heart of man. Come with solemn step and reverent
mind, and soul uplifted above the world of care and passion
and sin-and kneel, kneel, for here is sweet peace.
Young women are not so eager to exchange an independent
maidenhood for marriage as they used to be. They are in
clined to look, not so much at what a man has, but at what
he is. Instead of being asked for an estimate of his worldly
goods, his yearly income, his ideas as to what a wife's regular
allowance should be, and all those et ceteras that used to weigh
so heavily with practical parents and marriageable daughters,
the young man who goes a-wooing to-day is liable to be taken
up short with such questions: "What are your habits?"
" What are your morals ? " " Where do you pass your leisure
hours?" "Do you gamble?" "Do you drink?" "Do you
frequent saloons?" and unless the answers are satisfactory,
thank God! our young women are gathering sufficient sense
and independence to earn their own living and pass young men
of loose morals by, no matter how heavy their pocket books
may be, or how many ancestors they may have trailing like
ghosts down the dead years behind them, or how many honor
ables their relatives may have bought and tacked to tbeir
names. To be honest and independent! My dear girl, there ,
is nothing in the whole world like it. Gold, honor, fame,
beauty all fade to insignificance beside the woman who stands
up proudly before the world, secure in her own convictions as
to what is right and what is wrong, and says firmly, but with
infinite gentleness, to the man who loves her, and whom, per
haps, she already loves: " No; I will not sink to your level.
I will do all in my power to lift you to mine, and, if you rise,
you will never regret it, for those who dwell in this high, pure
atmosphere have exquisite pleasures that those who grovel
upon the earth never know. Think upon it, and take jour
choice ; leave your past life and you may have my love, strong,
pure, deathless, as only the love of a woman who does not
yield lightly can be; cling to your past life, or to anything
which will shrink before my clear eyes, and you may never so
much as lay your lips upon the hem of my gown." The edel
weissthat rarest and purest of snow flowers never looks
downward, but alwajs upward ; and it is only gathered once in
a while by one who climbs to it.
Do not judge too hanhly a man's past life. So much de
pends upon circumstances, influences, companions. But judge
him sternly after he once professes to love you. Make no
allowance for him then, or the day will come when you will
regret it in heartaches and passionate tears. If he does not
love you well enough to give up bad habits for your sake, I ask