The western sentinel. [volume] (Winston-Salem, N.C.) 1887-1926, 1888-02-02

ss.I IL u IaaIt ana an OuCcry OF
disinay, and an overthrow worse than
the he'd sen tumbling upon the Egyptians.
SHADOW OF eravestones upon finest silk.
" ornwood squeezed into impaired COB
lets! Death with one cold breath witl,e.
ing the leaves and freezing the fountains.
In the wild tunult of the Lest Day
the mountains falling, the heavens t;r-
ing. the thrones uprising, the universe
assembling; amid the boom of the last
great thunder peal, and under the
cracking of a burning world-what will
become of the disciple of unholy fashion?
But watch the career of one thoroughly
artificial. Through inheritance, or per
haps his own skill having obtained enough
for purposes of display, he feels himself
thoroughly established. He sits aloof
from the common herd, and looks out of
his window upon the poor man and SAYS:
''Put that dirty wretch off nv steps i'm
mediately!' On Sabbath DAYS he finds
the church, but nourns the fact that he
must worship with So many of the inele-
CANT, and says: They are perfectly
awful THAT man that you put in
my pew had coat on his back that did
not cost So. He struts through life
unsympathetic with trouble and saws: II
cannot be bothered Is delighted with
some doubtful story of Partisan life, but
thinks that there are some very indecent
things in the Bible. Walks arm in arm
with the successful man of the world, but
does not know his own brother. Loves
to be praised for his splendid house. and
when told that he looks younger than ten
years ago, says: We'll, really; do you
think so2''
But the brief strut of his life is about
over. Up stairs, he dies. No angel
wings lowering about him. No Gospel
promises kindling up the darkness; but
exquisite embroidery, elegant pictures
and bust of Shakespeare on the mantel.
The pulses stop. The minister comes in
to read of the resurrection, that day
when the dead shall come up-both he
that died on the floor and he that ex-
PRED under princely upholstery. He is
carried out to burial. Only a few
mourners, but great array of carriages.
Not one common man at the funeral. No
befriended orphan to weep tear on his
grave. No child of want pressing through
the ranks of the weeping, saying: He
is the last friend I have, and must see
him.
What now2 He was a great man.
Shall not chariots of salvation come down
to the other side of the Jordan and escort
him up to the palace? Shall not the
angels exclaim: '.Turn outl A prince is
coming" Will the bells chime? Will
there be harpers with their harps and
trumpeters with their trumpets?
No! No. No! There will be shud-
der, as though a calamity had happened
Standing on heavens battlement, a
Waterman will see something shoot past
with fiery downfall and shrek: s.Wan-
dering star-for whom is reserved the
blackness of darkness forever!''
But sadder yet is the closing of a wo-
mans life that has been worshipful of
worldliness, all the wealth of ifetimes
opportunity wasted What a tragedy
A woman on her dying pillow, thinking
of what she might have done for God
and humanity, and yet having done
nothing! Compare her demise with that
of a Harriet Newell going down to peace
fully die in the Isle of France, reviewing
her lifetime sacrifices for the redemption
of India; or the last hours of
Elizabeth Hervey, having ex-
changed her bright New England
home for a life at Bombay amid
stolid heathenism, that she might
illumine it, saying in heI last moments:
eff this is the dark valley, it has not
dark spot in it; all is light, lightr' or
the exit of Mrs. Lennox, falling under
sudden disease at Smyrna, breathing out
her soul with the last words: ''Oh, how
happyr' or the departure of Mrs. Sarah
ID. Comstock, spending her life for the
salvation of Burmah, giving up her
children that they might come home to
America to be educated, and saying as
she kissed them good-by, never to see
them again: ''Oh, Jesus, do this for
Theep or the going of ten thou
sand good women, who in less
resounding spheres have lived not for
themselves, but for God and the allevia-
ton of human suffering. That was a
brilliant scene when, in 1885, in the cam
palgn for the capture of Ronda, Queen
Elizabeth of CASTLE, on horseback, side
by side with King Ferdinand, rode out
to review the troops. AS she in bright
armor rode along the lines of the Spanish
host, and waved her jeweled hand to the
warriors, and ever and anon uttered
words of cheer to the worn veterans
who, far away from their homes. were
risking their lives for the kingdom. it
was a spectacle that illurnalnes his
tory. But more glorious XII be the
scene when that consecrateI Christian
woman crowned in heaven shall
review the souls that on earth she clothed.
and fed, and medicined, and evange-
liked, and then introduced into the ranks
celestial AS on the white horse of vic
tory, side by side with the king, this
queen unto God forever shall ride past
the lines of those in whose salvation she
bore part, the scene will surpass any
thing ever witnessed on earth in the life
of Joan of Arc, or Penelope, or Semira-
mis-, or Aspasia, or Marianne, or Mar
garet of Anjou. Ride on, Victor!