They are whispering now in my heart.
Come closer, and put your ear, Jim,
Just over the place—don’t start!
Ah, you hear the song,
That is all the day long
Singing the mournful part.”
SWEETENED WITH SORROW
People who suffer in the slow fire of sorrow are purified from many of the weaknesses and faults of humanity. Perfection comes only after we have paid the price. Men are always better and kinder to their second wife than they were to their first, for in the loss of the first wife sorrow opened the door to a wider vision and a broader view. Sorrow is part of our education. The giddy young have not yet been purified in sorrow’s flames, and they are blind to many things that must be learned before they win the hearts of the people.
The kindest man I ever knew was the saddest looking when his face was in repose. He had a good word for everybody. He seemed to know why men and women go wrong and could find an excuse for all their short-comings and evil doings. He came into our village life as though by accident, setting up housekeeping with his white-haired mother and two hired servants on the little farm just west of the town. They farmed only a little bit, keeping but one horse and two cows. The postmistress said he sent some large packages of first-class mail matter to a certain publishing house in the city, and we guessed that the man was an author or journalist.