The Newberry herald and news. (Newberry, S.C.) 1884-1903, 1889-06-06
GREATER IN DEATH THAN IN LIFE
Francis Warrington Dawson.

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with Captain Dawson, and it is pleas
ant now to recall the congenial inter-
course of the years that are past. He
well remembers his comely presence,
and his pleasant smile and voice
and words, and courteous bearing, and
he would add another link to the beau
tiful chain woven by many friends to
encircle his grave and perpetuate his
memory. He would weave it Of the
immortelle, with "pansies for thought
and rosemary for remembrance"
AS the hurtling shaft that suddenly
falls in the path Of the unsuspecting
traveller, came the swift and terrible
tidings Of Captain Dawson's death.
"Can this be possible?" was all that We
could say, as trying to realize that he,
who but yesterday moved with quick
ened impulse among the ringing voices
of life, should so suddenly and so sadly
have gone to join the pale professional
upon "the river that runs through the
realm of tears"
And now that the Easter-tide has
departed, and the closing hours of the
May devotions are passing from US
periods in the calendar of his Church
the deceased loved so well-we have
left the little world about us to its fes-
tive enjoyment and its busy scenes, and
have taken ourself in imagination to
the place where the silent sleeper is at
rest, there to linger awhile in the happy
memories of the past, as the musical
voices of the yesper winds come
forth to mingle their tender requiem
with "a hundred happy whisperings
of fiowers,n for they so sweetly tell US,
in the beautiful lines of Burton, that
here, in this restful spot,
"rhey do neither plight nor wed
In the city ofthe dead,
In the city Where they sleep away the
hours;
But they lie while DER them range
Winter blight and summer change,
And hundred happy whisperings of
flowers.
No, they neither wed nor plight,
And the day is like the night,
For their vision is of other kind than
ours.
"They do neither sing nor sigh
In the burgh of by and by,
Where the streets have grasses growing
cool and long;
But they rest within their bed,
Leaving all their thoughts unsaid,
Deeming silence better far than sob or
song.
No, they neither sigh nor sing,
Though the robin bea-wing,
Though the leaves of autumn march a
million strong.
"There is only rest and peace
In the city of surcease
From the failings and the wailings
meath the sun;
And the wings of the swift years
Beat but gently DER the biers,
Making music to the sleepers, every
one.
There is only peace and rest;
But to them it seemeth best,
For they lie at ease, and know that life
is done"
We are very sure that the words
which should be entwined with his
memory are those upon the escutcheon
of a band of brothers he loved so well:
"Valor and virtue" Did he not cross
the sea in the bloom of boyhood to
draw bis sword in defense of the weak
in numbers against the strong?. And
sheathing the sword did he not take
the mightier pen and WELD it trench
antly while yet the sword of Damocles
glittered in the Southern sunlight?
Truly did he cleave the way through
envy, detractlon and opposition in that
long dark day of oppression, rising
rapidly from martial prowess to civic
and journalistic success! Fame and
fortune followed as a legitimate Sc
quence-as thejust compensation. And
garnering the golden fruitage of his
labors, while yet in the meridian of his
days, and fighting with a Titan's
strength for principles undying, be has
fallen. He gave his life's blood while
pleading for the defenceless! He
knew the meaning of that royal word
sympathy. He knew, also, how to ''put
himselfin another's place." as the great
and good of earth have done. Because
he wore "the white flower of a pure
life" "his strength was as the strength
of ten."
The tide Of public calamity and pri-
vate grief which had swept the city Of
his adoption through the eventful
years, seemed now to have reached its
climax in a food of sorrow! .
We cannot understand the mysteries
surrounding US, nor the permissive
providences of the Omnipotent. But
shall we not say that the martyr
sleeper is greater in his death than in
his life? Shall not bis sublime influence
and fragrant memory give new life to
virtuous action?
A multitude may defame and deride
the sanctity of woman, and legion
mock at her dethronement. It is only
l.
peril or hearing "the cry Of innocence
for protection" will rush to the rescue
and, if need be, pour his blood at the
foot of some cross as ransom for her
deliveranee. These men ale like the
stars of magnitude that flash upon the
midnight sky!
We can enlarge the poets lines and
applv them here: