Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1885-05-08
A SUNDAY SERMON,
On the Fate of the Under Dog
He Who Fights and Runs Away May
Live to Fight Another Day!

He Who Fights and Runs Away May
Live to Fight Another Day!
Trxr-"A And lie f!ceth unto the mountains OF
Hepsidam where the Lion roareth and the
wksngioodle mourneth his First-born."
Our text and discourse, fellow strugglers
through this world of wrongs, may seem to
fail to hitch, but don't let that trouble you.
Texts and sermons seldom do. The text
strikes US and the discourse may you. :.
Dear sisters and brothers our prayer this
soft, sunny spring Sabbath morning is that
you are all on top, that you are all right end
UP, with care, and that the silver lining Of
all of life's clouds are so bright that you
could even find it in your heart to bless
stray dog. And, my dear hearers, the
piteous look and suppliant manner ola stray
dog always did touch the heart of your
preacher-so humble, so utterly forlorn,
even though hanging upon the outskirts of
a mighty throng. Should he be SO unfor-
tunate as to be espied by pack of well sed
ours and hounds, despite your compassion
be must 60 under. And, dearly beloved,
were you ever the under-dog! 1t is un-
necessary for us to pause for an answer.
You have all been there.
And now as for the strifes and contests Of
this life, fellow sufferers, il is with the people
of Wichita and the world as it was with the
occupants of the ampithestre in ancient
Rome, the gladiator who was on top re-
ceived the sympathies and plaudits of those
whose thumbs inexorably went Gown in
answer to the under mans appeal for an
other chance for his life, made ne that APP
peal never so piteously. Therefore We hope
again that you are all on top. 1t makes not
wht's difference, either, how big the crowd
on top may be or how small and weak the
under-dog, the howl of the mob will be
with the victor, Is it not so? And how
like the hideous note Of midnight owl on
the blackened blast comes their horrid boot
of she's played out, told you sou
Dear Pensioners, this world has no soul.
That which seems to so kindly swell up
towards you in the hour of triumph, is but
bloodless gizzard, which in its selfshness
will grind thy soul to fragments in the hour
of defeat. And, the greater the debt the
world owes you, unless you are Independent
of their greed, the more intense will prove
their hate. Bald-hended, dear sisters, bent
in the service of humanity, you may grow;
shrivelled all up, my brothers, may your
brain be in intense efforts to better the
fortunes and lives of those about you, but
before their words of praise shall have had
time to cool they will turn and rob you if
they can get you down. Corporations,
they tell us, have no souls. The world is
but an aggregation of these soulless com
binations mutually linked together by
Mammon's chains to gall the sensitive and
crush whom they can with profit.
Thus, beloved, ever the malicious stars of
fate seem TO drop their poison into the
hearts of those who would live TO, in some
kind, prove blessing to their fellows, and
thus is the top-dog of to-day made the
under dog of tomorrow, when he longs for
some far-away coast, uncursed by the greed
of selfshness. Sick Of his fellows ingrati-
tude, covering before storms of criticism,
misunderstood by those whom he fondly
dreamed knew him best, dependency at last
weighs down the spirits futtering pinions,
and he remains the under-dog until the cur
tain falls.
"Oh, but" says some steaming hot broth
er, "writhing under such injustice l would
unsheath the sword of vengeance, regain my
heritage, put presumptuous enemies to
fight, and show the world that Richard was
himself again." You would, would you?
Did you ever butt your head against stone
wall and mark how the sensitive blocks
crumbled, and how the mortar melted in
compassion for the bumpi raised on your
noggin. No, no, my hearers; revenge is but
a woman's valor, or the boosters cowardice.
No revenge can be sweet in the end, and he
who moves away, and the soonest forgets, is
the most blessed, whether the heart of his
adversary ever relents or not. There
are but two ways open for the under-dog
submission or retreat.
As for getting down on your hunkers and
acknowledging that you have been beaten,
whipped out, why my beloved brothers and
sisters, your former dearest and best friends
whose love you estimated at four hundred
pounds pressure TO the square inch with
tn cir safety-vslves standing wide open, in
fact the whole community, will stand pa
tiently in long line, as they do at the gen.
eral delivery at the postofice, and wait for
an opportunity to sit down on you. And
these former friends won't bring along any
cushions either, but as they squat the heavi-
est and coolest extreme of their anatomies
into the region of your bread basket and
where your heart throbs most tenderly,
they will, in utter inconsistencies of your
agony. and the fact that they each weigh a
ton, roll up their eyes and thank God that
they never owed you anything. If to
those for whom you have done a thousand
kind acts, you should appeal for help, your
only answer will be the phariseeical query,
"Who is the galoot anyway; let him help
himself"
When you have lost your grip and are
down, fallen behind in the race where you
have always had the pole, been beaten by
combinations and unfortuitous circum-
stances for which you were not responsible,
what should you dos All, my sweet-eyed
sister, my trusting-hearted brother, here is
the opportunity to wiring in our text: We
say unto thee: "Flee unto the mountains Of
Hepsidam," git up and git, shake the dust
Of the place off your feet and throw in your
shoes if they want them. Whatever money
and labor have bought can be bought again,
therefore give up whatever those who would
crushyou because of your possessions want,
and fee as from pestilence, for that people
have no more use for you and would rob
you of that which God endowed you at
your natal hour. There are no skies so
bright, no atmospheres SO holy as those
which bend above and envelope your birth
place, maybe; no boughs SO rich in foliage
as those wherein you may have built your
home-nest, but the world is broad and
bright, then, fyl A hole beyond the stormy
Atlantic are one digged beside the mild Pa
cifc, will make you just as soft and peace
full grave and one which will be Just as
readily found by Gabriel on that morning
when he shall como swinging through the
heavens footing his mighty horn to raise
the dead, as il you had been buried under
marble shsft on the hill beyond Chisholm
creek, followed by all the sniggle-trap bug
giles in Wichita. Better that your bleached
bones swung creaking in their joints from
q blasted tree in the desert, its naked limbs
covered by eager-eyed crows, or better sunk
midst the waters of an unknown sea, food
for furnishing fish, than to attempt the
impossible task of holding your own in
any community whose people through
II.