by O. Henry
Rubies, who gather to themselves the fading glory of the sun, secretly desire the millions of rays which the diamond has secured, — while Sapphires, holding the blue winged lights of the moon, — seek in vain to acquire the rustling of trees and grasses, the running of water, — within their form.
Insensate?
Round and round the spiral they travel, — ever spurred, by the force lying within each and every one, to be more than they are and to express All!
I recall my youth, in fancy, as so many jewels tied to dark recesses while aspiring; — The desire to voice the Rubies of Multitudes, in Dislike and Hatred — reveling in the Emeralds of wealth, and desire for honors — while ever knocking at my door was the Sapphire, laden with gifts of Aspiration.
In vain the Diamond beckoned, — in vain sought to convince me that within that recess was all I desired — that there was to be found, mingled together All as One.
* * * * *
The Multitudes hurry past, unconscious that in their path lies the Diamond. Hurrying, scurrying, they push and jostle in a vain endeavor to amass Rubies, Emeralds and Sapphires. little realizing that in their own door yard lies the most priceless jewel of all:
The Diamond of Love. I was of the Multitude: —
Reason said:
“Seek Emeralds. What matter if you borrow Rubies of Hatred to gain! Seek Emeralds!”
Mind said:
“What are Emeralds? It is Sapphires you desire. Sapphires — which lead you by a radiant path to the sky — to starry realms — to lands where Inspiration dwells. “Seek!
“Seek Sapphires!”
Spirit said:
“You are wrong. It is none of these you desire. Seek the Diamond. Search for it high and low. Do not be beguiled by colors which lure. Seek the purest of all.
“Seek!
“Search for Diamonds!” Alas! the colors of the rainbow caught me and I bathed in its rays.
Now I go seeking! Seeking everywhere — Diamonds — only Diamonds.
REMEMBRANCES
I.
The Sentinels:
Uniforms of green — hardy and erect, they wait until mustered — keeping watch throughout the seasons.
******
The Army:
In glittering array the army stands for inspection.
Russet, gold and green are their uniforms, with trimmings of scarlet.
Unmoved they will stand and receive all onslaughts — and if some fall in the battle, those remaining will still be firm of purpose — turning ever a smile of welcome and holding out arms to those who seek them.
Red and russet and gold
Green and bronze and scarlet
How brave in all their glory — how steadfast to their purpose — how gratefully do they bend their heads when a wave of love goes to them!
Majestic — serene — content to fill their allotted place — asking not the perfume of lilies, nor scent of roses — seeking not the sparkling splendor of jewels — content with the Emerald, Ruby and Topaz, which they hold within their own domain.
So muses the recruit, as with head high and shoulders back he wanders through the woods — saying farewell to all the friends of his boyhood.
The Sentinels!
How they have guarded the old home from the blasts!
“ How joyfully have the regiment given of their life, in order that others might revel in their force, and uniting to protect all who sought their shelter. This was what he must keep ever in mind — to follow his army friends and do with gladness whatever came his way — without thought of honors — only with love for all — and cheerfully obey.
Taking a bit of the uniform of his sentinel friends, and a bit of russet and gold and scarlet, too, he softly places them in his pocket and with a salute goes out to join his company.
MUNITIONS
Hardzvare Store — Time: Midday Gazing out of a window which overlooked a training field for soldiers was a grizzled old man. Time had left his impress with no gentle mark, yet around the eyes was a lingering spark of youth, and about the mouth the lines told of a gentle and loving spirit.
As his eyes roamed over the field a small squad came into view, marching in “twos” and wheeling into “fours” and “right about,” as the command was given.
The gaze of the man grew more intense, and the lines about the mouth deepened, while, slowly, a flush of pride, which could not be controlled, swept over the face, and unconsciously his shoulders squared and his back straightened as his son came into view.
The straight boyish figure marched and wheeled in perfect unison with his comrades, but there was an indefinable power in the set of his head and poise of the body, which bespoke determination and control beyond the ordinary.
Suddenly the silence is broken by a voice, and the man, with a start, turns from the window and faces a customer who has entered so quietly that even the bell on the door has failed to make any sound.
“Good-day to you, sir,” said the customer. “I have been searching the town for some munitions. Have you any?”
“A complete stock — of everything,” the old man answered.
“Well, I want both large and small. Something suitable for a double-barrel and a self-repeater. Can you supply me?”
“Yes. How much of each will you have?”
The man hesitated, and then putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out a bundle of notes and handful of gold.
“That is all I have. Wrap up all you can give me for that amount.”
The old man gazed at the money and then his eyes traveled toward the field where young boys eagerly answered to the commands sent forth: Forward! March!
Turning to his shelves, he took down, first, a box marked “For double-barrel,” and wrapped it up. Then, next, came a box labelled “self- repeater — all sizes,” and then, with great care, came the last— “deadly mixture — guaranteed.”
Each one he made into a separate package and then pushed them toward his visitor, who thanked him and departed.
Gathering up the gold and bank notes, the old man went to a safe in the far corner, and, opening the door, took out a drawer marked “Munition Fund” and put the money into it, smiling as he did so.
Taking his place again at the window, he gazed over the field, lost in thought, and reviewing in memory the years of his youth, when he, too, obeyed the command “Forward! March!”
A sound made him turn, and he was confronted by his customer, who, in a state of extreme anger, waved his packages at him, exclaiming:
“I asked for munitions! See what you have given me!”
The old man came forward, and taking the boxes, proceeded to read:
“For double-barrel — warranted, ‘Kindness!’
“For self-repeater — guaranteed, ‘Joy!’
“Deadly mixture — Love! “Well, my friend, what is wrong? This is all as it should be!”
“Should be? I wanted gunpowder and cartridges — not that stuff!”
“You have lost your way, my man. On this planet those are our only munitions.”
GOING HOME
THE sky was heavy with menacing clouds, and wind — howling dismally as it blew through the trees — when I met a wayfarer who was walking, with downcast eyes, along the highway which skirted the town.
Gazing at him sharply, I met a furtive glance, which held within it pleading, and yet had an assurance which was compelling. He hesitated when we came abreast, and as I felt in the mood for converse, I bade him “Good-evening.”
“It is a good evening, is it not,” he replied. “Good, in its freedom of elements. They make merry tonight.”
This was a strange answer, and my curiosity was piqued, and I felt constrained to lead him on further.
“You feel the elements are enjoying themselves?” I asked.
“Thoroughly,” he answered, “but one never knows what their decision will be.”
“Decision! What do you mean?”
“Whether they will be content with a simple little fro
lic or if they have mischief in their minds,” he answered.
“Mischief! in their minds!” Surely that is a strange expression to use regarding the wind and clouds.”
“Strange? You, too, find it strange?”
As he spoke he looked at, and yet again, not at me, but through me, and then continued:
“To me there is nothing in all the Universe without mind. All is alive and all make merry or are sad — bring joy or sorrow, as their bent may be. Just as man can be kind, or cruel, make beautiful the world or destroy, so do the Beings dwelling in the elements.
Tonight they will tell me whether I make merry or pass out in sorrow.”
“That is a strange thing you say! ‘Make merry or pass out in sorrow/ What does that portend?” I questioned.
“Sir,” he answered, “you do not understand, and yet you look to me as one of us.
Tonight I am going home and I have not yet made the necessary decision as to my going — whether it shall be a right merry leave-taking or one of sadness. Today a winged messenger came and told me my exile was ended and I could start for my home tonight.”
“And where is your home?” I asked.
“That is for me to decide.”
“For you to decide! Is it not where you lived last?” I asked.
“Alas! no. I have lost that beautiful place, but there are others for me to choose from. Or, perhaps, I shall elect to remain here a little longer — I have left so much undone. I find so many words unspoken which would have given joy, perhaps, — so many things postponed. I did not give heed to the passing of hours for I felt years were before me. But the summons has come and I am to go home — to go to the house I have been building.”
His eyes were fixed on the horizon and my gaze followed him, for so intent was he that I felt there was some thing there I could see. Then, suddenly, the wind swept past us with a mighty gust. The trees bent beneath its force, and. with a sudden upfling- ing of his head he turned toward me, and said, pointing to the horizon:
“See! There is my road and just at the end of the lane my home. Yes!
after all, it will be good to go back. The weeds are in the garden and it seems neglected, for no love has entered into the care of it; but there are blossoms among the grass which has overgrown the doorstep, and I can make it beautiful, after all. Just a little care, a bit of love, and time spent in taking out the nettles, and — yes, it can be made a home. See! there are children down the street. I can build swings and make toys for their playthings, and it can be a merry place.”
Watching him with amazement, I moved along at his side, speaking no word, until we came to a little shanty all by itself, on the dreariest part of the bluff. It was forbidding, and I remembered it was the place of the old miser and renegade of the town. As we reached the door a sudden noise within made me pause, and I pushed open the rickety door. From a corner of the hut came a voice:
“So you have come at last! I have just been waiting until you reached me, for I am going home. Going home to just a little place like this, but it has flowers in its yard and there are children who need me.”
There came a sudden terrific whirl of wind and dust — the door slammed to and my knees shook, — for I was alone — no soul in sight, no habitation — only scurrying clouds and trees bending under the blast, while above me floated down a voice:
“I am going home! Are you ready? Make ready! for soon you, too, will be GOING HOME
MY HEARTH
GRANDFATHER sits in an old armchair. The back of it boasts an anti-macassar in many colors, while the seat has a patchwork cushion.
Grandmother occupies a low rocker, which moves slowly to and fro, as she softly hums the hymn of the Sunday service.
Keeping silence is grandfather’s “long suit” — while making, in reality, my life.
He is a sturdy old chap, with a will and determination which has carried him beyond anti-macassars and patchwork cushions, and centered itself upon me No fly was ever more helpless!
I make the announcement:
“Life is going to give me something more than this country town.”
Silence reigns on the left of the hearth, and creak! creak! and a gentle hum answers me from the right.
Minutes, which seem hours, pass — but emboldened by the pictures seen in the coals, once more a voice is heard:
“When I am grown up I am going to the city! and I am going to travel! and I am going around the world! and I am going to make a heap of money and be famous!”
Silence!
Creak — creak!!
Half of eternity passes — when once more, emboldened spirit takes hold of courage and dares to speak.
“I have made up my mind and I am going to do what I said, and nothing shall keep me from it!”
Silence!
Creak — creak!!
Years pass in review. The coals burn to ash, and from a far-off sphere issues a voice:
“I’ll have none of that nonsense. You’ll do what you are told to do!”
Silence!
Creak — creak!!
The pictures fade. A clock strikes. The chair groans and grandfather goes in search of his lantern.
Creak — creak! and then the touch of a gentle hand and a voice made sweet from singing many hymns:
“Make your pictures, my boy, for they will come true. Make them, hold them, and most of all believe in them. Good night.”
Silence!
Creak — creak!!
THE THREE H’S
FOREWORD
Without Health, Life seems Hell.
With Harmony it becomes Heaven.
And when combined, Happiness,
here, is the result.
PART I.
IN a tavern, which was on the waterfront and visited mostly by sailors on shore leave, lay a semblance of a man. He was tattered and in rags. Crouching at his feet was a dog as forlorn as he was and in a starved condition.
Standing around the pair was a circle of men — the regular habitues of the place.
“Where”d you find him, Pete?” inquired a sour-visaged standee.
“On the wharf. I heard the dog, and as my boy wants a cur, I followed the sound. But love ye! I couldn’t touch the dog, for he was that crazy at seeing me. Seemed like he would never stop running around me — but always out of reach — first to me and then to the bundle.
Finally I got Steve there, and together we set to work to pick him up, and do you know, that cur jest settled down as quiet and followed at our heels. Seemed as if that was what he wanted.”
Here the men looked sheepishly at each other, as if each was ashamed at the emotion which stirred within him and was afraid lest it be observed.
Finally the first speaker took courage and said:
“Well, come on, let’s see what’s wrong. Get some brandy — and, oh! hell! give the dog something to drink and eat, too.”
In a moment there was action, where before there was inertia. One bringing a basin of warm water and a towel, another brandy, while the rest undertook to look after the dog, who refused to move away from the man’s side, however, and refused even the food and drink offered until he saw that aid was being given to his companion. Then, with a growl of satisfaction, which contained as well a despairing moan — as if the relief of nourishment was almost too great to bear — he commenced to devour ravenously what was placed before him, and gave thanks, in all directions, with a waving and vigorous tail message.
Just as he made his final thump of gratitude, the figure of his companion stirred and moaned, and instantly the dog was over the heads of the men, bending over his master and wildly lapping his face and hands, from which the dirt and blood had been removed.
It was a face of refinement, delicate in its outline, and with an expression which held the crowd silent Whether the brandy, which had been forced down his throat, or the caressing of the dog aroused him, it is difficult to say — for it was to the dog he turned his eyes, not to the men standing about him, and
as his hand touched the animal it gave a wild yelp of gladness.
At this, a glimmer of a smile passed over the face — a smile tender as a mother’s and filled with the love and adoration of a child.
“Dakta, dear old Dakta,” he murmured feebly.
At the sound of his voice the dog laid down and moaned from very joy.
The man caressed the animal with the gentleness of a woman until it subsided and rested in peace against his body.
Then his eyes wandered over the group, which had stood silent and awe-struck at the emotion of the dog. With a smile which radiated over them all. he said:
“So you are Dakta’s good friends. 1 welcome you. comrades.”
A shuffling of feet answered him, and glances shot from right to left, but before any one had summoned the courage to reply, he continued:
“It seems strange to you, I perceive, for me to welcome you as Dakta’s friends. Men live all their lives with the most precious of jewels at their door and are unaware of it. Often it is wrapped in poor covering and often, too, in gorgeous raiment. I was one of those men.”
Here he stopped and stroked the dog, who now lay quiet and content, glancing up. now and then, into his friend’s face.
After a moment of silence, the man raised himself and looked intently into each face.
A furtive smile answered his query, on some faces, while others looked away, and yet, without their volition, their eyes came back and rested on his face.
“Come nearer, comrades. Sit at ease while I tell you of this jewel, which you all have within your reach and which Dakta, too, possesses.”
The men seated themselves quietly — one might almost say, reverently — so different was their attitude from their usual manner.
When the men were settled, his glance traveled over them all.
“Do you know that you have here untold riches?”
“To hell, we have!” ejaculated Steve.
“Exactly,” responded the stranger. “That is just it — Hell! — and that is paved with untold wealth — good intentions.”