Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Paperswhich she commits her dearest, her eldest born, to thecare of the Father of all. O night, what tears you hide—what prayers you hear! And so the nights pass and thedays succeed, until that one comes when tears and partingshall be no more.In your diary, as in mine, there are days marked withsadness, not for this year only, but for all. On a certainday—and the sun perhaps, shining ever so brightly—thehousemother comes down to her family with a sad face,which scares the children round about in the midst oftheir laughter and prattle. They may have forgotten—butshe has not—a day which came, twenty years ago it maybe, and which she remembers only too well: the long nightwatch;the dreadful dawning and the rain beating at thepane; the infant speechless, but moaning in its little crib;and then the awful calm, the awful smile on the sweetcherub face, when the cries have ceased, and the littlesuffering breast heaves no more. Then the children, asthey see their mother’s face, remember this was the dayon which their little brother died. It was before they wereborn; but she remembers it. And as they pray together, itseems almost as if the spirit of the little lost one washovering round the group. So they pass away: friends,kindred, the dearest-loved, grown people, aged, infants.As we go on the down-hill journey, the mile-stones aregrave-stones, and on each more and more names are written;unless haply you live beyond man’s common age, whenfriends have dropped off, and, tottering, and feeble, andunpitied, you reach the terminus alone.In this past year’s diary is there any precious day notedon which you have made a new friend? This is a piece ofgood fortune bestowed but grudgingly on the old. Aftera certain age a new friend is a wonder, like Sarah’s child.Aged persons are seldom capable of bearing friendships.Do you remember how warmly you loved Jack and Tomwhen you were at school; what a passionate regard youhad for Ned when you were at college, and the immenseletters you wrote to each other? How often do you write,now that postage costs nothing? There is the age ofblossoms and sweet budding green: the age of generoussummer; the autumn when the leaves drop; and thenwinter, shivering and bare. Quick, children, and sit at166