The Yazoo Whig and political register. (Yazoo City, Miss.) 1840-1842, 1841-11-19
MISCELLANEOUS.
From the Sunday Mercury.
SHORT PATENT SERMONS.
NEW sERIEs-No. Xxx.


The following words by Mrs. Sigournev,
will compose my text for this occasion =
All! what avais, with giant power
To wrest the trophies an hour;
One moment write, with sparkling eye,
Our name on castles turret's high,
And yield, the next, broken trust,
To earth, to ashes, and to dust.
My hearers-lt makes PERSONS supper
sit cold and heavy on his stomach, and sinks
the thermometer Of his spirits below zero,
to reflect upon what we have all got to
come to at last: to think that when the
strings Of vitality are snapped, and life's
contents spilled upon the ground, what
pretty mess we shall make Of il! Earth
amalgamated with earth, dust mingled with
dust, and ashes Unidentified with ashes, CON-
pose the mound of Wondering mortality, in
which the purest of virtue and the flthiest
of vice are compounded together, without
regard to the value Of the one or the worth
lessncss of the other. II is melancholy, my
friends, to mediate upon this paltry pile
of dirt, from which We mOrtals were moul-
ded, and to which we must finally return;
and yet it is fit that we should now and
then squander few thoughts on this sub
iect in order that naughty Pride may some
times look downward towards the tomb,
and climbing Ambition measure the dis
lance it has TO fall from the towering stee-
pie Of fame to the sepulchre that vawns at
its base.
All! my dear friends! you have all got TO
come to the scratch at last. The grave is
the common receptacle for all that mass Of
corruption which the soul is destined to
drag about for time, over the hill and the
rocks, through the mud and the storms of a
precarious existence: and into this reposi-
tory for the refuse of humanity you must all
be dumped, sooner or latter, by that dirt-cart
of Death, which we so often have seen
standing al the doors of relatives, friends
and acquaintance; and we know not how
soon it may halt to receive a shovel full or
two Of dust that has once been alive in our
own mansions. At the further extremity
of lfe's winding vale, is dark secluded spot
surrounded by the gloomy umbrage Of the
weeping willow and the mourning cypress,
with small apertures to admit few cheer
ing rays from the sun of immortality. Here
is written upon slab Of marble, and in lie
gible characters, The dG0th-bed of Vanity
and the end of Ambition" and at this for
bidding spot, every poor mortal must event
ually be robbed of all he ever possessed, save
that bright jewel of Hope which he is per-
/ mitted tO-carry with him into the kingdom
! of everlasting glory. What else, ask, is
: The corporal portion good for, when the
soul, that preservative principle, has for
saken it forever? 1t is doomed to deca,
and return to its original dust; and dust
after all, is nothing more than dust-nC
matter how holy and sacred are the associ
atoms that connect it with that which il
: now living in combination with mind and
feeling. And advise you, my friends, no
!. to spend too much money, nor to sacrifice
r great amount Of morality, for the sake o
bodily appearance; for, depend upon il
: there is something in man, which, like al
:. oyster, is great deal better than it looks Il
G be; and all the outward attractions you cal
: bestow upon it will prove to Oe of no NOR
value in the end than an application of gol'
leaf to the shells Of said oysters.
What, then. my friends, can human ex
ertions avail! Nothing at all, answer 70
the want of an echo. The night-dews {
= the grave are sure to take out all the stare
from the stiff dickeys Of Pride-Ambito
,e must get down from its stills, crawl, like
reptile, beneath the turf that now afford
shelter for worms and the vilest of earth