Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 76, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 December 1911 — The Two Roads [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Two Roads

It was New Year’s night. An aged man was standing by the window. He mournfully raised his eyes toward the deep blue sky, where the stars were floating like white lilies on the surface of a clear, calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, where few more helpless beings than himself were moving toward their inevitable goal—the tomb. Already he had passed sixty of the stages which lead to It, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind unfurnished, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort. The days of rose up in a vision before him, and he recalled the solemn moment when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roads, one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft, sweet songs; while the other conducted the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue, where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled. He looked toward the sky, and out in his anguish: “Oh, youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the crossway of life, that I may choose the belter road!” Rut the days *of his y<Arth had passed away, and his parents were with the departed- He saw wandering lights float over dark piarshes, and then disappear. “Such," he said, “were the days of my wasted life!” He saw a star shoot from. heaven, and vanish

in darkness athwart the churchyard. “Behold an emblem of myself!” he exclaimed; and the sharp arrows of unavailing remorse struck him to the heart.

Then he remembered his early com-, panions, who had entered life with him, but who having trod the paths of virtue and industry, were now happy and honored on this New Year’s night. The clock in the high church tower struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled the many tokens of the love of his parents for him; the prayers they had offered up in his behalf. Overwhelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look toward that heaven where they dwelt. His darkened eyes dropped tears, and with one despairing effort he cried aloud, “Ccme back, my early days! Come back!”

And his youth did return; for all this had been but a dream, visiting his slumbers on New Year’s night,. He was still young, his errors only were no dream. He thanked God fervently that time was still his own; that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land where sunny harvests wave. Ye who still linger on the threshold of life, doubting which path te choose, remember that when years, shall be passed, and your feet shall stumble on the dark mountain, you will cry bitterly, but cry in vain, “O youth, return! Oh, give me back my early days!”—Jean Paul Richter.