Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1878-04-03
VOL. 73.-3729. NO. 25.

gress on the journey. have done nothing
that | can wish should last have gained
nothing that | would not lose. | have
missed getting all that now need 20
With gentle urgency the mother sought
TO turn his thoughts upward and beyond,
but with no avail. With his mournful eyes,
now so unnaturally large and bright fixed
on vacancy, and his wasted hands clenched
together in the intensity of his thought he
would continue his review On vacancy as
it seemed to others-but what did not those
wistful, troubled eyes see The first false
steps of his life, and every subsequent one;
all its folly, weakness, waste and sin. What
need, thought he, TO invent hell, fit only to
frighten children, if it can once be made
real to men this retracing of every devious
way, this re-living of every wanton hour,
this rejection of offered good this rehearsal
OF wasted life over and over-again and
again-perhaps forever How empty seemed
all the sermons he had ever heard, how tame
all the homilies, how weak all the warnings,
a. he thus sat face to face with death and
his past
at is not remorse that troubles me, he
said. Il have never willfully wronged any
human being. | have gone far wrong, but
have led none astray. No woman has cause
has received an injury with which to upbraid
the at the judgment. But have been un-
true to myself. | was placed here to learn
how to live, and have studied only the
things that die"
After few weeks of suffering, during
which his mental agony at times made his
physical pain forgotten, he grew suddenly
more cheerful.
Mother" he said, Z" am not going to
crown life Of folly with even an hour of
cant. But | would like to hear the New
Testament story, from your lips. Read it
slowly, few chapters each day, and let me
think it over--for myself"
1t was a touching sight the mother, still so
fair that she might have passed for an older
sister, sitting by the couch in the cool quiet
of the early summer mornings, reading to
the invaid-not in any priestly or solemn
manner, but sweetly grave and natural-the
simple story Of another young mans life. In
Mortimer's serious eyes and on his eager face
was the look of a new and craving hunger
for lJe The dead past absorbed him no
more. The present was to him only door
that might open at any time and let him
pass through. The beyond had such an in
terest for him as only those feel who know
that it is very near.
ana 50 IHe Olus Olu SUOGy ran on 10 lJS
glorious close. Doubt as men may, wonder
as they must, criticise and pick flaws and
slit hairs as they will, the story had clear
meaning to the listener 1t revealed the
secret of true living, and gave new signif-
cance to the dying. 1t banished the gloom
from his heart, aud filled him with a great
hope. That was enough. What was not
made plain, he could wait for
He said but little. His mind was too
clear, and his perception of the fitness of
things too fine, to permit him to watt the
ashes of wasted life up to his long-neglected
Lord with the breath of dying hallelujahs.
TO his mother he said simply that he had
found peace, and she was satisfied.
AS the summer waned, his strength failed
rapidly He sent brave and cheerful mes
sages to all his friends, and spoke freely to
his mother of his life and his hope.
In the morning | shall not be here he
said one night very quietly 81 have done
no good in the world. have thought per-
haps could do some when | am out of it.
When it is all over, cut this on my head
stone = and he handed her "a slip of paper
on which was written these words
Mortimer Serial DIED at hhty-three years
Of age lie tired but tCo months He ,cds his own
,corst eneDly."
The boys will know what it means" he
said with sad smile perhaps it will cause
some of them to begin living earlier than |
did. Goodnight. Golden Rule