Jacob K. Huff

“ One night he spoke of the words that should some time decorate his tomb, and I still regret that I never mentioned his request to his relatives and family, and that now his marker does not display these solemn words:
“I am what was, what is, and what is to be; and no living man shall ever roll away the stone that closes the door to the mystery into which I go. What is, is right or else the whole universe is wrong. I am not lost or wasted, for the economy of Nature hoards all the wealth of the world in a grasp that crushes life to get back her own.” ”

“ They crushed two ideals in the soul of two loving people, but the ideals will never die in their souls. That first dream of love will ever remain the sweetest, dearest dream that ever took possession of their young souls—a dream that died and was buried there and left a grave that is always bleeding.
And yet the blind friends do not realize that the ghost of a great wrong stalks through their hearts during the silent hours of the night, when the world imagines they are sleeping without a shadow to obscure the sunlight of human happiness and hope. ”

“ The prophets and philosophers were only men, with yearnings and longings like my own, and as weak and helpless to pull aside the curtains and peep into the future as I find myself. And yet I am not satisfied to die forever; for I do know that there is an eternity for all these things existing in space. Space is eternity itself. The human mind can not picture a condition when worlds and planets and space will be no more. Nothing can come from nothing, neither can matter pass into nothing and leave no trace behind. The length of the universe is eternity, and so is the width and the breadth. ”

“ What difference whether the homesick boy is white or black? The heart-aches are just the same; the longings just as sad, the memories just as sweet, the absent parents just as sacred, the absent brothers and sisters just as dear. That song makes the greatest appeal to human hearts for sympathy of any song ever sung—sympathy for the black or white boy obliged to go away from home and leave those he loves best on earth.
In my mind’s eye I see Foster’s little black boy who is sold into slavery and driven far away from the banks of the Suanee river to the cotton fields of the Southwest. ”

“ Even child life is full of tragedy. In their helplessness they stand in the way of advancing events, a mother or a father taken away while yet they need their helping hand, and often the mother is stricken down while the child has no other means of existence but the milk that flowed from the maternal breast of the dead woman. If this is by design, who can justify the designer while looking through the orphan’s tears? No, the designer of all these heartaches and sorrows does not ask to be justified by those who suffer most. ”

“ The child outgrows its many distresses, and the orphan soon lives down its sorrows, and happiness blooms in the ashes of child memories. A loving God would not send all these afflictions for sport. They all mean something in the universal design. Perhaps to soften older hearts and to water the tender plant of love with a child’s tears.
These sobs and tears may be necessary as the sunshine and showers of rain, else why do they exist? It may be as impossible to run this old sphere without human sorrow and heartaches as it is to run a living world without an atmosphere and clouds. ”

“ Let us flash the binnacle light of love and God speed and good cheer as we pass in the dark. Too often we turn down the light at the approach of an unknown ship, and use our utmost endeavors to pass unseen and unknown. Is it because our mutual thoughts are out of tune?
And would it be thus if we were all mutually working for the uplifting of humanity? Would it be thus if we were all willing to throw out a line to the human boats drifting, without a rudder, down the rapids of poverty and want? ”

“ These bereaved parents had pictured their baby boy as a man, going out into the world to accomplish great things and fill their declining years with pleasure and delight.
Often they had pictured their boy in his manly beauty, able to defend himself from the enemies that always cross the path of the successful, and attempt to retard their progress. They had pictured him on the stage of life swaying men with the power of his logic and his persuasive voice. Men were cheering at the bare mention of his name, for he had taught the people to love him and believe in him. ”

“ In the great economy of nature we are only shadows cast upon the curtain of eternity and passing rapidly away. Our short life makes a film of limited length, the different scenes passing before us so rapidly that even in our sensitive memory only one per cent of all that transpires leaves a trace that can be recalled in after years.
What need we care what people think of us, when we cannot judge or estimate ourselves. If we can practice charity toward each other and forget our neighbor’s faults, as we forget our own face, we do well. ”

“ You tired of me because you met another girl who suited you better, and you neglected me to anger me and induce me to break the engagement. This I will never do. You must say the words yourself. I loved you truly and sincerely—I still love you. It is not a child’s love that will be forgotten in a few months or years. I am a woman and love as a woman. I will love you after all the sunlights have gone out of my life and my heart is dead within me. ”

“ And ever since this ambitious marriage there is the ghost of a wrong follows her and looks with reproachful eyes from the dark corners of every opera house. Her husband is kind to her, and follows her wherever she goes, and is proud of her success; but always this truth is before her—she sold her body to secure a stage career, but her heart was never a partner in the deal. How much happier she could be in the humble home of the poor carpenter, had not ambition so blinded her unsophisticated soul. ”

“ I do not know; but it is a pleasant dream to half-believe that this is true; for without these memory pictures being restored to us, how shall we know our loved ones in the beyond when we meet them again? If the grave swallows all our happy visions and dreams, the new life will find us as babes, beginning to learn the very things we forgot at death. Then all our present individuality would be lost, and the immortal part of us would be a stranger to the mortal creature that died. God might as well call new beings into existence, as an unknown and unknowable part of the original creature. ”

“ And I bathe those curls once more in tears,
And go to bed with a sigh.
And on the day we found those curls, and read these lines aloud, we could look through the window and see our boy coming home from school. “In a little while,” I said, “the boy will disappear with the baby, and the man will grow out of the ashes. Oh, this is a strange world, and were it not for our memories, life would be short indeed! How sad, how sweet, how full of sentiment, how inspiring to live over the past.” ”

“ The slave boy in whom you see only centuries of wrongs and oppressions is the picture in Foster’s immortal song.
Oh, the world would be better if every one had experienced a season of homesick longings, and cried themselves to sleep with the image of absent loved ones painted on their mind with the brush of tenderness. Better if all had wrongs to remember, and oppressions to leave scars on their souls that would make them feel kinship towards all the unfortunate who must suffer and bear their burdens alone. ”

“ As a boy I was taught to look upon the Jews as the rejecters, betrayers and crucifiers of Christ, the man sent of God to establish peace and good will. I was taught to look upon Judas Iscariot as the meanest of all men—the man who pretended to love Jesus, but who betrayed him for thirty pieces of silver. If I were a Jew, I would point to the Christian churches, pretending to love the people as Christ loved them, but openly turning the blessings of Christ from their natural channels of peace, to blessing the armies and navies that go out to do violence. ”

“ Oh, I can feel all you felt when your sweetheart died, for there can be no greater sorrow than to be homesick—to wish so earnestly for the ones you love best on earth—to long for your mother’s breast—that you may lay your aching head down and close your eyes and think only of how dear she is to you. Oh, I’m so glad you told me of your dead sweetheart, for you know how it feels to be sad and sorrowful, and can sympathize with a homesick girl! ”

“ And the old gloom-blistered memory of that one day of unsatisfied hunger haunts me still, like the recollections of the most poignant pain.
I firmly believe that that recollection of absolute poverty in my childhood days is what makes my love for humanity so hopeless and moist with despondent tears. I can not even dream of a day when love and justice will rule the world. Greed, greater than all else, human greed predominates over all the world. “For what will a man not give in exchange for his own life?” ”

“ Because I know you appreciate life and love humanity. I knew you would believe my story, or at least believe enough of it to awaken your sympathy and think of the long time fifteen years must be—fifteen years taken out of my life! The time is too long, even if I were guilty. Won’t you try to think of how long fifteen years must seem to one so young as I, and then hide me for a day, and then help me get away tonight? Won’t you, for the love you bear humanity? ”

“ I know a man who loves a beautiful woman. He was once engaged to marry her, but friends who are blind to the rights of humanity, no odds how poor or rich the individuals may be, interfered and separated the loving couple. They trampled on their young hearts and crushed them until they bled from the bruises, and made love appear as a criminal and outlaw.
They love each other still, though both are married to another. There is a pain in each heart that will never cease aching, but the wealthy friends who separated them are blind to the wrong they perpetrated against these disappointed souls. ”

“ Don’t wait until the storms of life have wrecked their boat and you find their dead body on the shore, beyond the reach of your flowers and love and appreciation.
After all is said, the religion of humanity comes nearest to our hearts. We need no towering church spires, nor cold stone walls to make our place of worship a secluded spot. The world is our book, and humanity our altar, on which we may lay our white rose of love and our pale lily of charity, and reach out to the Great Jehovah, through the responsive heart-throbs of our friends and neighbors. ”

“ The man who gives up at one defeat is to be pitied. His acknowledgment of defeat shows that he is a man of tender nature, preferring to go out of the crowd and live alone, to renewing the contest and do battle with the false and cruel. Every time I see the old toy maker bending over his work, which he does so carefully and perfect, I realize that a loving, trusting heart throbs under his soiled coat. Somehow I can’t help but love the toy makers, because they unconsciously love children. ”

“ Tears and sobs are also a protest against the pangs of sorrow and pain.
Yes, tragedy is forced into each life at the hour of birth. Show me a child a year old, and I can write of its history in a way to bring tears to your eyes, and to my own. Its little tiny wail at the hour of birth is a protest against the pains of the world, and only when it sleeps does instinct cease to cry out for mercy and assistance. For this is a cruel world to be born into. Nature has provided a thousand sources of torture to direct the child mind into choosing the proper way through life. ”

“ Some men love with a hopeful optimistical fervor, dreaming of a day when there shall be no oppression or plundering of the weak by the powerful. They see the millennium of earthly tranquillity and peace in the near future, when all men shall be brothers, and co-operation shall take the place of bitter competition, and motherhood and childhood shall be the great care and protection of the nation, and no one shall go to bed and cry themselves to sleep to forget the pangs of hunger and drown the memory of personal wrongs. ”