Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1878-12-08

the limpid, holy tears of remembrance. Fare
well, brave Martyrs! May your noble spirits
ever hover near US, and render our lives
pure and good and worthy. Mayst thou re-
ceive in heaven the great reward your in
valuable services and heroic devotion, your
magnanimous unse.fshness, so richly de-
serves.
" We live In deeds, not years; in thoughts, not
In feelings, not In figures on dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. he most
Who thinks most fees the noblest, acts the best
The dreadful bird OF prey. fear, has folded
his dusky wings, and fitted back to his
ominous roost, heaven knows l hope, to re-
main forever more; and tie iair-faoed, noble
browed goddess Of safety has uniurled her
soft, silvery pinious, anu scared Cnce again,
thank God, TO her olden haunt5 IN the sOrrOw-
stricken city, and absentees, SO long exiled by
the yellow tieud, are Fastening once more TO
their lo1g-desertad iresides. Home agdin!'
Yet oh, God! what a dreadful home coming
it willsbe for many of them. All how many
darkened hearth-stores, how many vacant
chairs" there will bel All the grief and
misery, the great depth and intensity of
which only God and the holy angels know,
heretofore endured, will fall into utter insig-
nifcance in comparison with the return home
can it be called? Ths intense Cimmerian
gloom of midnight floods their soul and the
| untold woe Of that poor towers in Andean
height 8s far above all former grefs as
heaven is above earth. Oh! It is the hardest
Of dlI-thdt homecoming. Every little nook
Is sacred from It's tender association with the
loved one in the bright, beautiful past; they
seem IN momentary expectation of seeing the
sunny brow, the deep, tender eyes of the
dear absent one, and Of hearing echo on the
air the silvery lGUghter-''s 6eeter than the
music of the spheres the dear voice like
| the whispering of zephyrs on q calm summer
oh Of sgsta ant
| fairy bells, which, alas, has been hushed on
earth to JOIN the angelic chorus. Back to q
desert home, whence the crown of Joy has
| been borne" What hiGeous rack stands
| at the hearth-stone whereon merciless mem
| DRY stretches to bereaved ones. Ia hours
| such as this we cry out kercely: the sun of
our life has gone down N starless, everlasting
night; earth has 10 more glory, no more
! bloom or fragrance for us; the voices of glee-
| full children, the carol Of summer birds, take
| the mourDful measure of a dirge. We hug
| this great grief to our hearts, we hold our
/ darling dead continually before US and refuse
! to be glad again. We forget that Prone
iheus has passed from the world. Time
! bears precious healing on It's broad piDions;
| folGs its arrus compassionately about Us as &
! plying father; softly binds up the Jagged
wounds; drugs memory, and though the
poisonous sting is often thrust forth, she par
| TALLY relapses into stupor. So IN the Infinite
I II
follow the winged hours, laden, like Sisters OF
Charity, with "balm for the people," Time
brings, as its sole species of comfort, calm,
| quiet endurance, better than the first passion
ate vehemence of grief, though nought can
ever cicatriza the gaping wounds. All things
wear desJlate appearance, and as they
watch the many biack-robed figures glide t.
and fro, wall of sympathetic anguish rises
from the depth of despair. As Of old, there
are eroans of agony and fast flowing tears in
nearly eUeYy house. o, We who have beer
| fortunate enough not to lose any nearest and
dearest, on Bonded knees return hearty
thanks, and bear patiently with those
who have lost their al, whose exist
ence henceforth will be ''disma
Bochim," a bowling desolation, a dreal
| wilderness of woe. A shadow of rayles,
gloom is cast over the ebon horizon of the fu-
ture which can never be entirely removed
How many of US, alas, have lost dear, noble
friends, far-distaDt from us, who died, per
haps, utterly alone, win no kind hand IL
soothe their dying pillow; no one to catch To,
last beloved accents as the pure, brave spiri
scared into eternity.
| "By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,
BY foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,
BY foreign hands thy humble grave adorned,
BY strangers honored and by strangers mOurned.'
If, indeed, these sad rites were paid thee
Peace to thy ashesi
| " On the fountain OF my heart seal is set,
| To keep Its waters pure and brighs
For thes.'