night brings reflection and—heartache! These are the true tragedies of life, enacted by them who weep with no grave for their tears to fall upon. These are the real mourners who do not go about the streets, but who sit inside the gayly curtained box and see the play of life go on before them till the lights are put out, the curtain down, and the real play of life is at an end.
"But they watch the gayly plumed puppets play and act their part, and applaud and smile and the play goes on. Poor playgoers, poor actors on the stage, all, all waiting for the finale of the seen.
"Everywhere, everywhere, on each side, before us, under us, over us, the roads branch off, and we with our poor, weak eyesight can't choose right time and agin, we can't and don't. Even with the experience of maturity, with all the wisdom gathered from the words of them who have gone the way before, with all the experience of the travelers through the past to guide us, with the lamp of Caution in our hand, the shoes of Watchfulness to creep along on, and the great book of God's will open before us, His strength to lean on—if with all these helps we stumble and blunder, how can we condemn the children so harshly, with no guide but the waverin' will, the undeveloped conscience and understandin', if they make mistakes?
"And you whipped Jack," sez I impressively, "for making just a little mistake; you whipped him till his poor back is black and blue, Tamer."
"I didn't mean to whip so hard, Cousin Samantha, but my temper got up so after I got to whippin' him because he wouldn't own that he had been wicked and say he wuz sorry for it, that I whipped him harder than I meant to."
