That wuz more 'n twenty years ago, but I kin remember the last words I heerd the colonel say: "No matter if it does cry," sez he. "It don't make no more noise than a cricket, nohow; 'nd I reckon that being a director uv the road I kin stop the train 'nd let off anybody that don't like the way the Han'bul 'nd St. Jo does business."
Twenty years ago! Colonel Elijah Gates is sleepin' in the Palmyry buryin'-ground; likely as not the baby has growed up—leastwise the Han'bul 'nd St. Jo has; everythink is different now—everythink has changed—everythink except humin natur', 'nd that is the same, it allus has been, and it allus will be, I reckon.
1888.
THE MOTHER IN PARADISE
A mother came to the gateway of Heaven. She was aged and weary. Her body was bowed and her face was wrinkled and withered, for her burden had been the burden of care and trouble and sorrow. So she was glad to be done with life and to seek at the gateway of Heaven the fulfilment of the Promise that had been her solace through all the hard, bitter years.
An angel met the Mother at the gateway, and put her arms about the drooping figure, and spoke gracious, tender words.
"Whom seekest thou?" asked the angel.
"I seek my dear ones who came hither before me," answered the Mother. "They are very many—my father, my mother, my husband, my children—they all are here together, and for many and weary years I have lived in my loneliness, with no other thing to cheer me but the thought that I should follow them in good time."
"Yes, they are here and they await thee," said the angel. "Lean upon me, dear Mother, and I will lead thee to them."