The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1888-03-01


tudinarianism and the grave. Along the
walks of prosperous life death goes
a-mowing--and such harvests as are reap
ed Materia Medica has been exhausted
to find curatives for those physiological
| devastatons Dropsies, cancers, con-
sumptions, govt and almost every in
trinity in all the realm of pathology have
been the penalties paid. To coun teract
the damage, Pharmacy has gone forth
with medicament, panacea, elixir, embro-
cation. salve and cataplasm.
Tonight with swollen feet upon cush-
| toned ottoman, and grooming with aches
innumerable. will be the votary of luxuri
| Gus living, not half SO happy as his gr DOM
or coal-heaver. Wrong fashion is the
worlds undertaken, and drives thousands
| of hearses to Greenwood, and Laurel HILL
| and Mount Auburn.
But, worse than that, this folly is an in
| telle ctual depletion. This endless study
of proprieties and etiquette, patterns and
| styles, is bedwarfng to the intellect. |
| never knew a woman or a man of extreme
| fashion that knew much. How belittling
| the study of the cut of coat, or the tie of
| q cravat, or the wrinkle in sleeve, or the
color of a ribbon! How they are worried
| if something gets united or hangs awry
| or is not nicely adjusted! With a mind
capable of measuring the height and depth
| of great subjects; able to unravel mys-
| teries, to walk through the universe, to
soar up in the infinity of Gods
notwithstanding perpetually over
a new style of cloak! l have
known men reckless as to their
character and regardless of interests mo-
menrous and eternal, exasperated by the
shape of a vest button. What is the mat
ter with that woman wrought up in to the
agony of despair? Oh, her muff is out of
| fashion!
! Worse than all, this folly is not salts
fled until it has extirpated every moral
sentiment and blasted the soul. A ward
robe is the rock upon which many a soul
has been riven. The excitement of a
luxurious life has been the vortex that has
swallowed up more souls than the mael-
storm of Norway ever destroyed ships.
| What room for elevating themes in a
heart filled with the trivial aud unreal?
In the wild tumult of the last day-the
mountains falling, the Heavens flying, the
thrones uprising, the universe assem-
bling; amid the boom of the last great
thunder-pea', 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 of my steps i'm
mediately" On Sabbath days he finds the
| ri t1,n h,1$y fbof TO- I,
worship with SO many of the inelegant,
and says: "They are perfectly awful?''
"That man that you put in my pew had a
coat on his back that did not cost five dol
lars"
He struts through life unsympathetic
with trouble and says: az can not be
bothered" Is delighted with some doubt
full story of Partisan life, but thinks that
there are some very indecent things in
the Bible. Walks arm and 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: swell, really, do you think SOP"
But the brief strut of his life is about
over. Upstairs, he dies. No angel wings
lowering about him. No Gospel promises
kindling up the darkness: but exquisite
embroidery, elegant pictures and a bust
OF Shakespeare on the mantle. The pulses
stop. The minister comes in to read the
Resurrection, that day when the dead
shall come up-both he that died on the
floor and he that expired under princeIy
upholstery. He is carried out to burial
Only few mourners, but great array
OF carriages. Not one common man al
the funeral No befriended orphan tc
weep tear on his grave. No child OF
want pressing through the ranks of the
weeping, saying: HE is the last friend
l have and must see him."
What now? He was 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 out A prince is
coming?" Will the bells chime? Viii
there be harpers with their harps and
trumpeters with their trumpets?
No! no! no! There will be shudder
as though a calamity had happened.
Standing on Heavens battlements, q
Waterman will see something shoot past
with frey downfall and shrek: "Wan.
dering star-for whom is reserved the
blackness of darkness foreverr'
But sadder yet is the closing of WON.
ans life that has been worshlpfuI OF
worldliness, all the wealth of life-time's
opportunity wasted. What 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 Har
riet Newell, going down to peacefully die
in the Isle of France, reviewing her life.
time sacrifices for the redemption of India
or the last hours of Elizabeth Hervey
having exchanged her bright New En-.
gland home for a life at Bombay amid
stolid heathenism, that she might illumine
1t. saying, in her last moments: eff this
is the dark valley, it has not a dark 500,
in it; oil is light, lightW or the exit Of
Mrs. Lennox, falling under sudden dis
ease at Smyrna, breathing out her SOU
with the last words: ooh, how happy p
or the departure of Mrs. Sarah d. Com.
stock, spending her life for the salvation
OF Burmah, giving mp her children tina,
they might come home to America to be-
educated, and saying as she kissed
them goodbye, never to see then
again: 80, Jesus, / do this fol-
Thee" or the going of ten thousand
good women, who in less resoundine
spheres have lived not for themselves. but
for God aud the alienation of human suf
/ hot hill