Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1879-10-01

grasp that will never be
Embossed while the English
language is found upon printed page.
What could contain more of what we
all feel, of kindliness and OF sympathy,
than his books? 1t was the very gospel
OF humanity. Never more truly did he
strike the chord that makes the whole
world pine, than in referring TO that
mysterious change that comes 10 us all.
| read from "Dombey and Som"
"It's very near the sea; ! hear the
waves! The light about the head is
shining on me as | 90" The old, old
fashion, that came in with our first gar
ments, and will last unchanged until our
race has run its course, and the wide tir--
mament is rolled up like scrCll. Oh :
thank God for the older fashion yet, OF
immortality And look upon us, an
gels of young children, when the swift
river bears us To the ocean,"
From the Tale of Two Cities" | take
this:
Even when the golden hairlay in a
halo on apillow, round the worn face OF
little boy, he said, with radiant smile:
Dear papa and mamma, | am very sOr-
nv TO leave you both, and to leave my
pretty sister, but am called, and must
90 Thus the rustling OF an angels
wings got blended with the other echoes
and had in them the breath OF Heaven.
And here are yet other gems OF elo-
quence:
Dead! my lords and gentlemen.
Dead: men and women, born with
Heavenly compassion in your hearts:
And, dying, thus around us, every day!
Bleak House, chap. AZ.
"He slowly laid his face down upon
her bosom, drew his arm closer round
her neck, and with parting sob began
the world. Not this world. Oh, not
this. The world that sets this right
Ibid, chap. 65.
"'If this is sleep, sit by me while l
sleep. Turn me to you, for your face is
going far off, and l want it to be near
And she died like child that had gone
to sleep."-Darid Copperfed, chap. 9.
thine and the world were slipping
from beneath him. He's going out with
the tide. And it being
low water he went out with the tide. -
Ibid, chap. 80.
:. Don't cry! Is my chair there? r, In
face, so full of pity and of grief, that
would appeal to me, that solemn hand,
appraised towards heaven! 1t is over"
Ibid, chap. %.
Thus is fiction only picture OF the
truth. 1t is only true art when it holds
up to view, the real. When we reach
such art as that of Dickens, we believe
that we comprehend its mission. The
finest pictures and the noblest statuary
are but fictions. They are not the real,
but representative of it. Literary fiction
can be classed under the same head.
| remember that at the Centennial
Exposition, in the exhibit from Den
mark, was a cradle containing a wax
figure representing a sweet, dead child.
About that cradle many a secret tear
was dropped. And yet this was only
fiction, not a reality. Why should peO-
pie weep over this? Because it repre-
scented the real. The old, old fashion is
in and extends from frozen Denmark,
and no seas in this life are so far to the
sunny South, that their shores are free
from death. So every mother who ever
had held her babe upon her bosom,
while she felt its cheek laid TO
hers, grow icy cold, and had seen
the waXen lids closed over the orbs that
never more would shine into hers,
would stop and softly weep there. And
every father who had stood by the era
die of his dying child, would feel the
swelling of his throat as he looked upon
that so like what was so real to him.
ask what harm to paint, while there
are magnificent mountains and peace
full valleys? What is there wrong in the
Use of the sculptor's chisel, while noble
forms and beautiful countenanCes exist?
And while time shall last, the great
drama OF human life will still he enacted.
The pen that pictures it commits no
crime. JOY and virtue yet survive. Is
it sin to delineate them? Here anoth-
err old, old fashion is yet a reality. And
so are other emotions OF the soul. Why
should not the bonds that hold our race
be spoken of in the elOquence OF mas
ter in fiction. o, | say thank
Heaven for the common human
itv that makes these things
possible, and holds our sympathies upon
the description that is in accordance
with true art. This is not all Of the mis-
sion OF fiction. 1t cultivates taste for
more solid literature. The individual
who has taste forthe pure andgOOd, will
not stop with attainments IN that dl-
rection. Many useful lessons may be
learned from fiction. He who could
purify himself by the dew of roses,
would be unwise for going into bitter
waters to accomplish this purpose.
What we can obtain that is practical,
what we CLEAN that is useful, whether it
is general information or correct Ian
guage, we are justitiable in securing in
the most pleasant way possible. | never
pc tuse good books without rising from
the reading with higher aims and nobler
purposes.
Books sometimes rouse me beyond my nature,
| nave been 50 warned,
:, heated by well turned rhapcody,
That have seemed the hero of the tale,
so gloriOusly described.
Draw me a man,
Struggling for fame, attaining Keeping II,
Dead ages since; and the historian
Decking his memory in polished phrase,
And can follow him through every turn,
Grow Wild in his exploits myself himself,
Until the thick pulsation of my heart,
Wake me TO ponder on the thing am"
THE PRESS.
Brethren, have at length, in due
course of my subject, come to the news.
paper itself. have heretofore referred
to the current literature of the day, as
respects books. lie who would keep
pace with the times must read the news
papers, as well. Newspapers record
the happenings OF the day, the progress
OF the sciences, the course OF civiliza-
ton, are history of the town, the
county, the State and the nation. Many
noted men OF the day, orators,
and others, may never be
beheld by the common citizen. Yet
the tones of the orator may ring out 10
the comprehension OF millions OF peO-
pie, the morning after his words OF
burning eloquence are uttered. The &C
count OF the passage OF an important
measure by Congress, or a great debate,
is read in California, twenty-four hours
after the accomplishing OF the fact.
America has nine thousand publica-
tons. What messages they carry to the
people, weekly and daily.
Back in the dim ages of the past,