The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1870-04-28
Light Beyond the Shadow.
BY JUNIus HENRI BROWNE.

often it Is sadder to those who live than
To those who die Death, like danger,
grows less terrible as we approach it. We
inherit the belief that it is the greatest
~ calamities; and yet, in the midst of
Warld-weariness and after long struggles
w4tirlife, we turn 70 it instinctively for
relief We all know and say that death
IS rs natural as sleep; that philosophical
lg, We should neither seek nor avoid it
.atd still, partially from, the instinct OF
self preservation and partially from the
I'e3agtc training, death is a bugbear to men
as we'll as children. ,ofg .g.y r.es.-f.
b. We are apt to imbibe the notion-how
Ills difficult to determine-tha when we
are made certain of physical dissolution
VIZ are SEIZED with horror no Imagination
can picture. The terror of death is d'n-
aed into opr, ears from early childhood,
until extraordinary faith is required to
believe thae this fiat of Nature is not a
cruelty frcm Heaven. So many fearful
death bed scenes are described to us as
warnings, and employed as stimulants to
ii better life. that it is not strange that
beyond the shadow of the grave we fail
10 see the light of hope and consolation.
Experience interferes seriously with
many of our teachings. When / was very
young, l used TO think that no one, not a
regular communicate OF the church, ever
quilted this world without shrinking with
ltrror from the Dext, without enduring an
agony of spirit which to witness was new
er to forget. | remember how comfort
ingly surprised | was when frst stood
by a bed of death. The man who lay
there was by no means pious-perhaps
NOT even moral; and yet, instead of howl
ing,as supposed he would, he passed
away as calmly and gently as if he had
fallen asleep. -
Since then l have seen a great many
persons die-iu battle, in military hospi-
tais, sudd enly and yiolently,of painful and
lingering wounGs,of protracted and grad
ual decay Ny experience in the field, in
the prison pens of the South, as we'll as of
what seems destiny drawing me to clos
ing hours of strangers and of friends, has
made me familiar with Death under al
most all circumstances, and thoroughly
my early opinions of its effect
upon those who meet It,.
Women, more sensitive and imaginative
than we, might be thopghd to cover be-
fore the yawning tomb, when men Through
pride and severer selfdiscipline, could
it without a tremor. But wo-
men are strong when strength is needed,
and quite as heroic IN times of trial as the
best and bravest of tuscan boast of being. |
They have more faith, they are more OPP
timistic than we but, whatever the cause
they show perfect resignation to the inev-
table
[ have no theological theory on the sub
ject, no bias Of creed bpt have almost
invariably observed that persons conscious
Df the nearness of death are far less trou- |
bled by fears Of the future than by anxi-
cites about the present. They seem to
have little dread of the unknown, but |
much sorrow at parting with the known.
Apart from physical comfort which is |
very dear tothe dying-their last thoughts |
appear fixed uponthose they leave behind. |
The burthen on most mems minds is that |
their worldly affairs are unarranged. Aft
ter making disposition of their material
effects, they seem to have small concern
their spiritual welfare. Their
affections influence them still more When
a husband and father sees his end APP |
preaching, he thinks only of his wife and
and loving messages to them
are even before prayers upon his paling
lips. The young man betrothed gives the |
last beatings of his heart to the being lis
love has sanctlfied and idealized. Or, ifl
free from the romantic passion that soon
er or later comes to us ALL his soul goes
out to his mother-first, last, and best of
friends; his slster,or some one akin to him
by sympathy and blood.
Dying, am [? Well, I'm not afraid to
diet" are the words have often heard
from the commonest of men, who appear
ed anxious to give evidence In their own
persons against the popular belief.
| remember in the Salisbury prison a
soldier who had the reputation of a.skul
ker and sdeserter His companionsl IN arms
lost all respect for him, because they
him a coward. Like SO many
thousands of poor fellows there, lack or
shelter and nourishmentsoon brought him
to the door of death / visited him fire.
quently in one of those dens of wretched- |
ness nominally called hospitals; and when
one day, he asked me if / thought he |
would live, tried to comfort him with a
hope could not feel a9atn
"Oh don't mince Matters he said Il
know from the way you look that I'm
gone up. You need mt think I'm afraid
to hand in my checks, if ] don't like
ightin' Fightin', you see, is one thing,
and dyin's another. i din't like to get hlt
and hurt In battle; for / always was
afraid of pain But here,you know, there's
no chance of gettin' out. A fellow IS
bound to stand 1t anyhow. Iii / could on
" get warm once, land have good square
meal, wouldn't care when piped out. |
wouldn't, by gingerp
The poor fellows ashen face flushed
little as the prospect of shelter and 1000
.eYni pAe6 hin, M COubf IF his Northern /