The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1886-12-03
WORD PICTURES.

WORD PICTURES.
Prose Poems b Murray On Immortalisy
and the Maa Charles Dickens.
Apropos of the readings of W. H. n.
Murray, the following selections may
prove OF interest. They are from a
volume published in 1873 BY Lee &
Shepard. and are fairly characteristic
of the man and fair samples of his pull
pit utterances. While new to many. to
some they will be as welcome as the
face of an old friend, while all will. no
doubt, recognize in them the hand of q
master in word painting.
There Is Q bird that mariners call .
''frigate Bird" of strange habits and of
strange power. Men see him in all
climes; but never yet has human eye
seen him near the earth. With wings
of mighty stretch. high borne, he sails
along. Men of the far North see him at
midnight moving amid auroral fires,
sailing along with set wings amid those
awful flames, taking the color of the
waves of light which swell and heave
around hun. Men in the tropics see him
at hottest noon, his plumagc
all incarnadined by the fierce
rays that smte innocuous upon
him. Amid their ardent fcrvor he bears
along, majestic, tireless. Never was he
known to stoop from his lofty line OF
fight, never to swerve. To many he il
a myth; to all a mystery. Where is his
perch? Where does he rest? Where
was he broodcd? None know. They
only know that above cloud, above the
reach of tempest. above the tumult OF
transverse currents, this bird of Heave n,
so let us call him. on self-supporting
vans that disdain to beat the, air on
which they rest, moves grandly on. Sc
shall my hope be. AT either pole OF
life, above the clouds of sorrow, super
ior to the tempests that beat upon me,
en- lofty and tireless wing. scorning the
earth. it shall move along. Never shall
it stoop, never swcrvc from its sublime
line of flight. Men shall see it in the
morning of my life; they shall see it in
its hot MONDAY; aud when the shadows
fall. my sun having set, the last they
shall of me shall be this hope of gain
in dying. as it sails out on steady wing.
and disappears amid the everlasting
light.
can no. close until 1 have alluded to
him who has 80 lately died across the
sea- While all the pulpits of the land
were speaking. this was SILENT because
felt that better words than l might
speak would tell how America mourned
above his bier. But since division Of
utterances has occurred and lest my
silence should be misunderstood, l speak.
l join no dispute above Charles Dick
ems grave touching his personal habits,
his errors or his theological views, the
circumstances and conditions of his life
were too unlike mine for me to be his
judge. That the man loved his fellow
men, know; that he loved his God, l
hope, and have faith to believe. In
thought stand uncovered beside the
tomb in which his body sleeps. in silent
sadness that SO sweet and gentle spirit
is taken from the earth. In reverent
gratitude thank the Lord that He did
bless mankind with the birth of such q
mind. thank Him as for blessing
vOuchsafed to me personally. l feel
that l am . better man than should
have been had no Charles Dickens lived.
More than once has he lightened my
burdens by his words; more than once
warmed my heart towards men; more
than once assisted me to hate hypocrisy
and detest wrong. Did all other hands
bring thorns, mine should bring tho
sweetest rose of oil the fields, and plant
it on his grave.
Where else in all the pages of our
mother tongue as in his works can you
find humOr SO refined, wit SO keen,
yet SO free from ccarseness, that o
mother might read it to her children
before they say their prayers? Where
will you find q warmer heart freer
hand. spirit more generous to confess
an error or a wrong? Never more will
the bells ring at Christmas eve but that
to me a note of sadness will mingle
with their chimes; for he who taught
the world the lesson of the festival, who,
using it rs a text. preached. ~ no pull
pit ever preached. sermon of charity
and lOve-the hand that touched the
bells of England and made the whole
world melodious with Christmas chimes,
is cold and motionless forever! Fare
we'll. gentle spirit! Thou vast not per
feet until now. Thou ddst have thy
passions and thy share of human errors.
but death has freed thee. Thou art no
longer trammeled. Thou art delivered
out of bondage, and thy freed spirit
walks in glory. Though dead. thou
speakest. Thy voice is universal in it's
reach. The ages will be thy audience.
Thy memory will be as a growing
wreath above thy grave. 1t will take
root in the soil that covers thee, and.
with the years. renew its blossoms and
its leaves perennia!ly.-Boston Globe.