The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1882-09-07
And Fsyas Not,Y

4 ~ e
They were astrange family; no one
ever died with them and was buried.
They laid their dear ones away, and
when they spoke of them said they had
"passed over'' or tgone home,n There
was jamie, with the blue eyes. and
golden hair; when they alluded to the
time OF his death they said; "When
our boy was Called" and in running
over the names of their little fiock the
mother would say; "Jamies and Nellie
are sleeping" 1t seemed so strange
to the people about them, for they were
| not Quakers nor soul-sleepors, nor did
they belong to any sect. 1t was Just
their own quaint way. For they were
the worlds people after all, dressed as
others did, all but the dear old grand
mother, who had so nearly finished her
earthly pilgrimage, and went to the
pleasure resorts with asymuch zest for
enjoyment rs the most trifing world
ing; nay, more, for under it all they had
concealed freshness and goodness that
kept the arid desert of fashion green
with its own up-springing. They never
became world-wise CIR world weary, but
looked on with shining eyes and saw
the pictures of life grouped about them
and were content with their own.
1t was to these people, making pic
ture of peace and beauty, that all
loved to look at in that reflex light, by
the seaside, that o sudden call ,came-a
message over the wires; and as others
gathered with blanched faces and
whispered one solemn word-.death-
they looked up with tear-wet Iashes and
echoed softly and with trembling lips
"Life" and passed away from among
| Tnntln hoe
For this is what bad come to them =:
The old grand-dame, with her feeble
step and silver hair, had "passed away"
in the morning watch; gone so swiftly
and peacefully that
They thought hor dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died,
And when they laid her away in the
clover-tuftcd lot, by the side Of the COM
panion of her youth, they found the last
words she had written, with tremulous
hand-lust verse which showed them
where she had been in spirit:
They are all gone into the world or light.
And alone sit lingering nero.
Their very memory is fair and bright.
| Ana my sad thought doth clear.
Then they laid aside the few possess
sions she had left, and underneath her
last writing they added this:
Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone,
| But present still
And waiting for the coming hour
| OF Gods sweet vii!
And when they speak of her 1T is to
say she has gone to Tie next country,
and they smile to themselves rs they try
to picture what she is doing, to follow her
in that white world, whose crystal prom
isc glittc.s in every sky. "Eyc hath not
seen, neither hath car heard, nor has it
entered INTO the heart Of man to con-
ccive" Of its beauty.
Far out Ct @"ht whilc yct the flesh enfoldhs us
Lies the fair country where our hearts abide,
And of its bliss is nau9ht more wondrous
Than these few words: "I shall be salts
fed"
There is q tender and true story of
Walt Whitman; at the funeral of o lit
tie child, a nephew, tho poet sat near
tho white coffin and held on his knee O.
beautiful little girl; she looked in child
ish wonder upon the paraphernalia Of
death, and then inquiringly gazed into
the old mans face. "You don't know
what it is, my dear, do youP" said the
poet, gently; then he added, refective-
ly: "Neither do wei"
Nothing is kncwn; but believe
That God Is overhead.
And as life is to the living
| So death IS to the dead.
-DetrOU Free Press.