The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1879-05-08

| ligious moralists). we are uDprepared for
it likewise in these other selves of our
own. We do not, indeed, fail to recog
nize the great general fact of death in
the world about US, but we keep this
! great general fact out of doors, so to
I speak, and at our neghb boris door instead
of our own. We recognize it as some
thing far away from us. even when the
hearse passes heavily from the door OF
some neighbor younger than we We do
not let its realization come home to u
and cast its shadow among our loved
ones at table and freside We hear, it
may be, that passing voice crying out al
our thresholds, Remember thou art
MORTAL but it was only voice. and
that we must not let it trouble us was
our last thought of it. We devote our
selves to the wishes and purposes of our
| lives if there were set no bound and
we make our household and social
schemes, not for the actual moment in
which we really exist, and which we call
to day, but tor the seeming eternity on
earth, our future which we call to-mor-
! row.
Yet there are Interruptions to this
feeling OF our permanence-this feeling
without which. perhaps. we could not
| keep heart for the task work which il
here mysteriously placed before us; and
at times we see plainly the smallness OF
the thread on which our own lives are
dependent. and the frail bond by which
the warm hearts that beat nearest to Us
are held in our company. The great law
compels our instant reading the fanced
security of ourselves and of those who
become part of ourselves is shaken. and
we iepl how transient is all we deemed
so lasting.
This experience does not come to us
most wildly, perhaps, when we are pres
ent during the illness and at the death
of our friends. Then sickness which ac- |
customs the sufferer gradually to the |
putting away of earthly lite-weaning the |
soul gently or paintully-has a similar
effect upon us, who are the nervous and |
anxious watchers; when the loss il an
ticipated Time seems to have begun his
healing beforehand; but when open a
sudden and unexpected dispatch that
brings us fatal word of which we had
no forewarning how poignant is the
blow 1t is like the stroke in the dark |
ness against which we have put out no
defense 1t is the quick lightning out OF
the clear sky. Or, when. after delays of
mail, the welcome letter opened without
foreboding, and, it may be. with a pulse
of gladness (created by the recognition |
of familiar handwriting on the envel |
ope) because we seem about to hear the |
latest familiar records of those in whose |
daily history and fortunes we are tend |
erly interested. brings US in its first lines
the sudden knowledge which has been |
darkeDing toward US unseen for a week |
in the atmosphere-how bitter! Mean
while, ignorant. we have been planning
something of tender earthly significance
and pleasure, perhaps, for that one whose
la al nf hn
loosened and chill during all the days we
planned. Meanwhile, too perhaps, we
have written playful words, recalling lit
tie homely memories made dear by mu.
tual sharing and association making
thoughtful allusions, touched with light
tests and laughter, mingled with pleasant
household gossip and fireside talk. and,
put into the mail after the death day of
which we were unconscious; this letter
OF our own, meanwhile, has been jour
neying to the wonted address. and mid
way, doubtless, passed the dark spirited
messenger unknown. All, the pathos of
such dead letters as this one! And how
many are thus going to and fro. Among
the hurried business messages, the multi
tudinous missivPs burdened heavily or
lig ghtly with all the vast and minute con
Germs OF life, how many of these that fly
in vain
The bitterness of the unexpected news
of death referred to above is made deep
er, perhaps. when the message comes tn
US from a distant land, and the slow ship
that bears US the unhappy tidings has
been many weeks in passage Meanwhile,
we have been receiving cheerful and
hopeful letters from the dead hand. and
thus the speechlrss lips have been speak,
ing to US still with the familiar tones of
Ii had | /
hension before, these have dissipated 1T,
and our iuexplicable dreams and shape
l. SIS pre- sentiments of loss have been de. .
med their weight by these words flying
with hope and encouragement, which ,
have reached US and been cherished ,
warmly in our bosoms long since the dear
hand that peuned and the close heart
that is spired them with living affection ,
have been lying in strangers grave in
IL foreign cemetery. Think of that wife ,
W hose hus band has been visiting some
far off land 10 seek for the health which
home would not give back to hun -
Think of the careful anxieties, the eager
waiting for happier tidlngs. the nightly
thoughts of tenderness and the prayers
OF love- the tittul renewals of hope the
temporary return OF gladness and gentle.
gayety, the light indulgence in social
plrasantrIes without reproach from her
sensitive heart. And all these many |
days the black sail OF the funeral ship i
has been glooming invisibly over the {
horizon And all tn S. many days should {
she have worn the weeds of mourning
and widow hood
To the temporary sojourner in for.
eign land the unexpected news of death I
the death of parent, wife, brother, sis
ter or child-comes with like circumstan- I
ces Of added anguish A friend has writ
ten of one such xperience-the death
of little boy, brother whom tour years
earlier, he had lett at home a child-n
-ome pathetic lines which we shall quote
Wandering in the Venetian dawn, he
bronds over the distant bereavement,
and can not make it seem other than a
haunting dream:
\ dormant anguish wakes with day.
A nd my heart is Smitten with strange dismay:
Distance wider than thine, o sea,
DarkenS bet tween my brother and mel
"A scrap of print, a few brief lines,
The fatal word that Swims and shines
On my tears, with meaning new and dread,
Make faltering reason know him dead,
And would that my heart might feel it too,
And unto its own regret be true;
For this is the hardest of all 10 bear.
That his life generous and fair,
So tull of love, SO tull of hope,
Broadening out with ample scope,
And so far from death, that his dying seems
The idle agony OF dreams
To my heart, that feels MIN living yet
a fArJ am