The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-12-20
THE COMMONPLACE HEROES.
How the Heroic in Life Is Rewarded by
Laurel Wreaths in Eternity.
The World Knows Not Its Heroes, but Will
Know on the Last Day-HerOeS of
Earth Paupers in Heaven.

LIE. Ialmage said:
Historians are not slow to acknowled ge the
merits of great military chieftans. We have
the full-length portraits of the Crom wells the
Washingtons, the Napoleous, and the Yelling
tons of the world. History is not written in
black ink, but with red ink of human blood
The gods of human ambition do not drink from
bowls made out of silver, or gold, or precious
stones, but out OF the bleached skulls of the fall
en- But am now to enroll before you a scroll
of heroes that the world has never ack nowledged,
those VINO faced no guns, blew no bugle-blast,
conquered no cities, chained no captives to their
charlot-wheels, and yet in the great day of eter-
nifty will stand higher than those whose names
startled the nations; and seraph, and rapt spirit
and archangel will tell their deeds to listening
universe mean the heroes of common, every
day life.
In this roll, in the first place, find all the
to overcome Job he said to God: Put forth
Thine hand now and touch his bone and his
flesh, and he will curse Thee to Thy face y
Satan had found out what we have all found out
that sickness is the great test of ones character
A man who can stand that can stand anything
10 be shut IN room as fast as though it were
oastile to De so nervous you cannot endure the
tap of childs FOOT to have luxuriant fruit
which tempts the appetite of the robust and
healthy excite our loathing and disgust when it
pain strike through the side or across the
temples like razor, or to put the foot into
wise or throw the whole body into a blaze of
fever. Yet there have been men and women
more women than men, who have cheerfully en-
dured this hardness. Through years of ex-
hausting rheumatism and eXcruciating peu-
raiglas they have gone, and through bodily dis
tresses that rasped the nerves, and tore the mus
c!es and paled the cheeks, and stopped the
shoulders. By the dim light of the rick room
taper they saw On their wall the picture of that
land where the inhabitants are never sick.
Through the dead silence of the night they
heard the chorus of the angels.
The cancer ate away her life from week to
week, aud from day to day. and she became
weaker and weaker, and every good night
fore, yet never sad. The child looked up
into her face and saw suffering transformed into
heavenly smile Those who suffered on the
battle field amid shot and shell were not so much
heroes and heroines as those who. in the field
hospital and in the asylum, had fevers which no
ice could cool and no surgery cure. No shout of
comrade to cheer them. but numbness, and ach
ing. and home sickness; yet willing to suffer,
confident in God and hope of heaven Heroes of
rheumatism. heroes of neuralgia, heroes of spinal
complaint heroes of sick headache heroes of life
long invalidism, heroes and heroines, they shall
reign forever and ever. Hark! l catch ole rote
of the eternal anthem There shall be no more
pain" Bless God for that!
IL this roll / also find the heroes of toll who
do their work uncomplaningly 1t is compar-
atively easy to lead a regiment into a battle
when you know that the whole nation will ap-
plaud the victory: it is comparatively easy to
doctor the sick, when you know that your skill
will be appreciated by the large company of
friends and relatives; it is comparatively easy to
address an audience, when in the cleaning eyes
and flushed cheeks you know that your senti-
ments are adopted; but to do sewing where
You expect that the employer will come and
thrust his thumb through the work to show you
how imperfect it is. or to have the whole
70 he
done over again; to build wall and
know there will be no one to say
you did it we'll. but only a swearing -ernpl0yer
bowling across the scaffold; to work until your
eyes are dim, and your back aches, and your
heart faints, and to know that if you stop be-
fore night your children will starve. All. the
sword has not Slain SO many as the needle The
great battle fields of our last war were not Get
tysburg, and Shiloh, and South Mountain The
great battlefeldS of the last war vera in the
arsenals, and in the shops. and in the attics
where women made army jackets for sixpence
They toied on until they died They had no
funeral eulogium, but in the name of my God,
this morning, l enroll their names among those
of whom the world was not worthy Heroes of
the needle, heroes of the sewing machine. heroes
OF the attic heroes Of the cellar, heroes and hero
ines, bless God for them
In this roll l also find the heroes who have
upcomplalnincly endured domestic Injustice
There men who for their toll and anxiety
application TO business gets them livelihood.
but an unfrugal wife scatters it. He is fretted
at from the moment he enters the door until he
goes out of It. the exasperations of business life
augmented by the exasperations of domesticlife
Such men are laughed at, but they have a heart
breaking trouble and they would have long ago
gone into appalling designations but for the
grace of God Society today is strewn with the
wrecks of men who, under the northeast storm of
domestic infelicity, have been driven on the
There Of
ards in this country to-day made such by their
wives. That is not poetry; that is prose
But the wrong is generally in the opposite di-
rection You would not have to 90 far to find a
wife who is a perpetual martyr Something
heavier than the stroke of the fist, unkind words.
staggering home at midnight and constant mall
treatment which have left her only wreck of
what she was on that day when in me midst of
the brilliant assemblage the vows were taken.
and full organ played the wedding march. and
the carriage rolled away with the benediction of
the people. What was the burning of La.imer
and Ridley at the stake compared with thisl
Those men soon became unconscious il the fire
but there is fifty years martyrdonl, a fifty
years putting to DEATH yet accompanying. No
bitter words when the rollicking companions as2
o'clock in the morning. pitch the husband, dead
drunk. into the front entry. No bitter words
when wiping from the swollen brow the
blood struck out IN a midnight carousal; bending
over the battered and bruised form of him who.
ised love and Kindness, and protection yet moth
ing but sympathy aud prayers and forgiveness,
before they are asked for. No bitter words when
the family Bible goes for rum aud the pawn
brokers shop gets the last decent dress. Some
day, desiring TO evoke the story OF her sorrows,
you say: Well how are you getting along
nowl' And rallying her trembling voice and
Guietng her quiyeriug lip. she says: Pretty
well, / thank you pretty we'll She never will
tell you. In the delirium Of her last sickness
she may tell you all the secrets OF her lifetime,
bu. she will not tell you that Not until the
books OF eternity are opened on the throne OF
Judgment will ever be known what she has suf-
fered.
Owe who are twisting 3 garland for the victor,
put it on that pale brow. When she is dead the
neighbors will beg linen TO make her shroud,
and she will be carried out in plain box with no
silver plate TO tell her years. for she has lived
thousand years Of trials and anguish. The gam
blers the swindlers who destroyed her husband,
will not come 70 the funeral One carriage will
be enough for that funeral; one carriage TO car
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