The Pageland Journal

MUSINGS
By Joshua Billikins.

Mr. Editor, you know there are a whole lot of sad things in this old world of ours. Uncle Joshua tries not to be pessimistic, but when he opens his peepers and along with them his heart, he can but feel down-mouthed at times. One of the sad things to him is the breakings up of the old home. For many, many moons, this God's pot has held together and sent out influences for good. Father and mother have been living together so long that they are looking alike in personal appearance, but now the snows of many winters have frosted their heads and time has slowed down and weakened their steps. While not all of life has been joy, on the whole, the bright spots have outnumbered the rough places. They have struggled, sacrificing here and there to educate son and daughter. At times it looked like the back would break under the load but up hill and down hill they go. Their eyes are fixed on the goal, looks a long way off, but they can see the end. It has taken a lot of faith to keep up courage. But the time has come when the home breaks up. The children, one by one, grow up and depart and then father goes home and an empty chair and a missed step and voice tells of the transitory nature of life.

Then mother, feeling lonely and bowed with years quietly slips away and there is another vacant place. The old place is rented or sold and becomes a memory. Who has not experienced the effects of home-breaking? Possibly I might say one never forgets the old home. If they have been vagabonds upon the earth, there remains a tender spot in the heart for the old home, for the scenes of childhood are indelibly fixed.

But gentle reader, Uncle Joshua came across something a few days ago that, for sadness, would make any but a case-hardened wretch sigh. It was a prison scene. On one side of the bars was a young man condemned to die. He had been convicted of the crime of killing a fellow man. He was co-murderer with his father. On the other side of the bars was a young woman. The two with clasped hands presented a sad picture. Back yonder in the mountains this young man and woman had homes. They had been lovers and had many visions of joy in a home of their own, but the tempter came and the young man fell by the way. Arrested, tried, convicted and the picture shows the couple after they were married in the jail, the bride standing on one side of bars and the groom on the other.

Love had triumphed over obstacles. Both young and no future, all sacrificed in sin. The young wife comes and goes. She says her husband will not die, but the law says he will. But whether or no, back in the mountains two homes are broken up for they can never be the same. The old peaks will continue to be kissed by the rising and setting sun and the clear cool brooks will continue to leap and laugh, but hearts are sad. The winds will blow and the flowers will blossom but there are empty lives. Birds will sing and bees will gather nectar from the flowers, but tears will fall and feet will grow weary.

It might have been different. Young folks beware of temptation.