The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1862-07-08

Anu WudJ u ueatn 10 RDo ~ eppoeW ~
indistlnct object OF terror. They fear and
dread its xpproscb, yet never have courage to
contemplate it. They believe that the foot.
steps Of death are as regular as the lapse oi
time, constan tly drawing nearer and nearer,
ye, use no means to render his terrors lsss Ter
ribie, or his injuries less lameniable. Some
regard his approach Hs an event decreed by
fate, which can neither be avoided or allevia
ted. They have scbooled themselves to be.
lieve that they can meet the grim monster
with doubt, but without fear. They seem to
think him an enemy, whom to oppose is vain,
and to shrink from would be cowardly. But
when they do encounter him, their courage
will be more severely tried than they in their
glo,y have ima yinej. BY some, death is
awaited with pleasurable anticipations; they
look forward to it az release from sorrow
and suff.ring-as happy transit from an
abode of darkness and woe, to one of light
AMI Joy. Dsn'h is impair ial, unrelenting.-
He regards not the the terrors OF the one, nor
the anilcipations Of the other; but pIrsuas his
noiseless, unvarying course, passing by neither
"hut nor palace" pairing neither "prince nor
peasant" regardless Of sex, age, and condi,
ton. How often is it the cass that he FIR. l
claims those who are happiest in each others
love, and who are bound together by all that
is sacred in friendahip. How often il the
highest link in the "goalen chain" of "house-
hold affection" transferred from earth to heav
en-. Then we sorrow; we think il hard In
part wi h those whom We almost deemed the
very centre Of our own existence. But was it
not easier to see them fall in tho bosom of
home, surrounded by friend. who were so
highly favored as to be- permitted to soothe
their sorrows and their pains, than to have the
mournfnl tidings Of their death broken upon
US uns wares, perhaps amid scenes Of revelry
and by strangersi But IN after life, when we
look back 10 The time of our bereavement, and
examine our hearts, do we not often find that
the dear tie uniting our souls, but now snap
ped asunder ny the cruel hand Of death. was
making us idolaters that we slowed the
creature" more than the Creatorf and tha. in
mercy the dear object Of our love was remov-
ell from earth to the more genial climes Of
Heaveui We know that We must die, and
is il not natural to wish to die with those we
lovei Death is awful to contemplate, come
when it may, and under what circumstances,
hut how much greater the terror it ra sps with
in US, when the thought rushes upon our
minds. with overwhelming power, that We
must die away from home, in distant land,
far from the scenes Of our childhood! 1t is
glorious to die in the cauae of ones Dntry
1t is honorable TO die in the defence Of the
oppressed and the outraged. 1t is Hiss to die
in the cause Of truth and loyalty: but there is
another bliss in dying tha' exceeds all these:-
To die at homo to die among friends aud
Lowell oues! The tear Of sympathy and regret
gathering in the eye ,tat loves us-the dying
pillow smoohed BY The hand that has been
clasped in ours through all ife's snnny days
tho noiseless tread all hespeak the hopes
and fears Of loved ones. Yes, these are the
pleasures in the chamber Of death. They
tell us we are not uncared for-that loving
and familiar forms are near, watching every
movement, and anticipating every desire Oh +!
there is happiness in dying Thus. ''Tis be :
ter Tar to die regretted, thaa to live conlemn
ed and despised. Say not to that invalid SOL
dier pining in the airs Of a Southern Isle, that
the atmosphorc is soft around him, that the
gales are laden with balm, and flowers are cv
erywhere springing from The green earth.'-
That ministering angels are lowering rs near
hi there as they woull be a. his Northern
home. All, he knows that the softcst air To
his favered brow would be the nj that hangs
over his native home; more healing to his
emacia,ed form than all the gales from the
South would be The low murnurs Of aft ciion
thst had slwavs been his treasure. H. may
be surrounded bv kind friends vino would do
their utmost TO alleviate his sffrinS or a.
srage his grief; but they have not learned to
translate every signing look, anil TO supply The
place Of the long known and long loved. Nor
can he disburdeu to the stranger tricnd e
heavy thoughts Of his heart, the deep yearn-
ing. for his FAR off home, "with its cluster OF
loving hearts," lest be be thought fprgetful OF
the "present love that fits about his weary
couch" He feels that he is n stranger in a
strange lanl. and oh! could more desola' e
feeling visit his hearth Yes, see the dying
soliier! Who dies rorr glorious death than
bpi bu, the dart that must pierce his bosom
at leaving tho peaceful quiet Of his home and
the warm embrace Of kind friends to fight the
ba,,le Of his country, defend the constitution,
and redress the wrongs Of a free people, must
be even sharper thau the point Of the spear
that separates soul and body. Even row
can almost hear the drum beat loud calling
for rave volunteers; see the battle field
the gray haired sire and the manly youth
dress in the lines, side by side, with bravery
and courage imprinted on their brow. Again
see the sad father, the disconsolate mother,
the weeping sister, and melancholy, yea. the
trembling, heartbroken wife, shedding the si
lent tear Of bitterness, while their hearts are
almost bursting! Aod ah! is the voice ol
fame, trumpe,ing aiar their brave and gallant
deeds, loud enough to hush the weeping Of
those hearts, or sweet enough to calm thei'
wild throbblngsi But alas how many high
hopes Of honor and glory have been destined
to wi,her and die. Perhaps the brave youth
has faced the enemy with courage, has borne
himself nobly in the thick strife, and escaped
the dangers and deaths enco npassing him
and after all fall victim to pestilence, and
his spirit pass from earth pining for the sweet
voice OF affection that is singing happily 10
bis distant home, unknow ing that note o.
woe must soon fill the sweet cadence of IL.
song!
Obi how many within the last few months
have passed away to those unknown realms
from whence no traveller returns, without the
soft voice Of mother, wife. orsi.ter dear tc
| whisper bright hone of heaven and sweet