Ashtabula telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1874-1880, 1878-08-02
MAN LOST.
BY MOL HARRISON.


What a common occurrence it is? you
read of it every day, and often it hap
pens IN your immediate locality. Some
body lost
Is it child whose whereabouts are
unknown? How you mourn over it.
How tender your heart grows over Its
pains and suferings? You cannot sleep,
Tor its wailing cry of despair comes with
Its pitlful moaning to your ears, and for
bids the closing of your eyes in slumber.
What earnest prayers you breathe to the
Great Spirit to guide the feet of the
searchers to its presence on the noun
tain side, or the plain where it has un-
Willingly strayed its unskilled and un-
taught feet.
Is it woman who is lost-gcHe, no
one knows where? The bellt f the
village, the pet of the commun- gone.
gone, but where? The bells, high up in
the steeples, that clang and clash to sum
mon the neighbors, find an echo in your
hearts. Ysu wonder if, in the darkness,
beautiful form, by the mere chance of
misstep, fell swiftly into the waters Of
the rolling torrent ana was rapidly car
ried away-sucked through eddies, to
find lodging place far, far away. You
imagine the moment of despair when
the consciousness of falling seized her
mind. You shudder at the cold plunge.
You hear the gurgling and choking and
strangled cry for help that never came
to her. You see the golden hair un-
bound and floating gently on the surface
of the water, now leaving a strand en-
tangled in the branches of projecting
bush, and again hidden from sight by
some action of the waters. Far distant
in the future you see the remains of a
once beautiful form that has been dis
covered by the merest chance, which is
now loathing to the sight and sense
what was once angelic in its purity and
beauty, now frightful in its very exis-
tence. Or, in your mind-wanderings you
see her muff1ed and unconscious In the
power of some fiend who stole her. The
rest of the picture is too dark to contem-
plate, and to horrible to paint. She's
lost, lost forever lost!
But what if it is a man-and not q
child, or woman-who is lost?
A strong man, a man who can feel, suf-
fer and experiences as only a strong man
can-lost to the world, lost to his friends,
lost to himself. What PAIN is so great as
his? for is he not greater than woman?
and is he not older than child?
What fearful thing to contemplated 2
What dreadful thing to happen? A
man, in all his power, and glory, and
knowledge, and strength, and impor-
lance, and greatness, lost. 10
He was not lost at sea. The noun
tains do not contain his perishing body
for few days, and then the wolves pick
l. or,1 aoOlaa hf6 NolI.
His course, on the plains, was not mys-
terry to him until his death.
He was man. He is only lost, that's
all He knows he's lost, too, and has
given himself up to his fate. He has
been searched after, but in vain. His
trail has been struck at times, and often
Hsign" OF HIM is discovered; but the
most skillful are baffied when they at
tempt to find him and reclaim him.
Do you know whom ImeanP Must l
read the riddle to you? Must I point
you to the bones of the man who passed
through tine gate of a weak will and trav-
eled out upon the dessert waste and
burning sands of Indiscretien? Must l
tel you of his scofings at the warnings
of friends; of his increasing weakness
of his stumblings and bruises until his
heart; and his life, and his soul were
gone? e
Do you know of any lost ones about
you? Do you see the entrance to the de-
vious way of darkness even yourself?
Then take lesson from those around
you-take a lesson from ifel Conquer
your will-subdue your passions, or you,
even you, may be
A man lost.