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The Story of Ab by Stanley Waterloo

S >> Stanley Waterloo >> The Story of Ab




And as the face of Nature changed with the ages, as the later glacial
cold wavered and fluctuated and forced back and forth migrations of man
and beast, still the first-formed group retained coherence, retained it
beyond great natural cataclysms, retained it to historic ages, to wield
long the smoothed stone weapons, and, afterward, the bronze axes, and to
diverge in many branches of contentious defenders and invaders, to become
Iberian and Gaul and Celt and Saxon, to fight family against family, and
to commingle again in these later times.

Upon the beach the other day, watching the waves lap toward her, sat a
woman, cultured, very beautiful and wise in woman's way and among the
fairest and the best of all earth can produce. There are many such as
she. Barely longer ago than the other day, as time is counted, a rugged
man, gentle as resolute and noble, became the enshrined hero of a vast
republic, when he struck from slave limbs the shackles of four million
people. In an insular home across the sea, interested still in the
world's affairs, is an old man vigorous in his octogenarianism, a power,
though out of power, a figure to be a monument in personal history, a
great man. But a few years ago the whole world stood with bowed head
while into the soil he loved was lowered the coffin of one who has bound
the nations together in sympathy for _Les Miserables_ of the earth. In a
home on the continent broods watchfully a bald-headed giant in cavalry
boots, one who has dictated arbitrarily, as premier, the policy of the
empire he has largely made. The woman upon the sands, the great
liberator, the man wonderful even in old age, the heart-stirring writer,
the man of giant personality physical and mental, have had reason to
boast alike a strain of the blood of Ab and Lightfoot. In the veins of
each has danced the transmitted product of the identical corpuscles which
coursed in the veins of those two who first found a home in the Fire
Valley. Strong was primitive man; adroit, patient and faithful was
primitive woman; he, the strongest, she, the fairest and cleverest of the
time, could protect their offspring, breed and care for great children of
similar powers and so insure a lasting race. Thus has the good blue blood
come down. This is not romance, this is not fancy; this is but faithful
history.

THE END

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