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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

It seemed as if the
wings of my thought must grow, and wanted to help me fly, and I was like
a bird longing to get into the freedom that waited, and like the bird
too, did not realize that my attempts would be in vain, and I could
never get out of the cage until a hand opened its door. Therefore, full
often I battled unwisely, but I certainly came to know those times, and
never made a mistake that I did not realize just a moment too late. How
foolish it was!
I prayed for strength, and after the baptism of Mr. Ballou's preaching,
I thought, "This will help to make me stronger; now I shall make fewer
mistakes."
This was a comfort and a light before me, but my heart sank a little,
thinking I might have penance to do for those already committed,--coming
events cast their shadows before.
So full of this thought my heart grew, that I asked Aunt Hildy one day
if she ever felt trouble before it came, and if that feeling had ever
helped her to avoid any part of what was to come.
"Well," said she,--she was coring and paring apples for pies,--taking up
the towel and wiping one apple three or four times over in an absent
way, "Well, Emily, I've had a host of troubles in my day. They began
early, perhaps they'll end late, but there is one thing, the things we
expect are agoin' to kill us, most allus turn out like the shadder of a
gate post. You know the shadder sometimes will be clean across the road,
but when you find the post itself 'taint more'n five feet high.


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