Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1890-03-29

who lost their bright boy by drown
ing, a1d deeply mourn the death Of
their child, call for our siHcerest
heartfelt pity. We think Of them at
every hour as we enjoy the presence
of our loved ones, and feel what an
awful vacancy death has made in
their household. When bedtime
comes for the children, we are
wrung with silent sorrow at the pain
they must feel in that sweet and hall
lowed hour Of the family affections.
We realize how keenly they must
feel for the moment the terrible re-
gret that a child was ever born to
them to be thus rudely torn away.
But this thought soon passes. We
turn from our friends In sackcloth
and ashes to a newspaper item
that the bustling world probably
passed by without notice, yet that
contains q small world of sorrow, IN
a few lines. A lightning express
train dashed dos three well-dressed
men. All three men were imme
diately killed. Investigation show
ell that they were brothers. One of
the three had been estranged and
had disappeared. The two had left
their work aud their families TO
bring the wanderer home. They had
Just found the brother aud were
taking him home to all the circle of
loved ones, who were anxiOusly
awaiting the result Of their mission
"A result now to be borne as a triple
message of sorrow, which but IA
moment before would have flashed
on the wings Of lightning as tidings
of great joy. The lost was found
and all were ushered into eternity.
This sad ending Of al expedition of
love will undoubtedly he the be-
ginning Of life beyond this Of
greater love and closer hrotherly |
These sOrrows of
death, so chilling and benumblng to
all they come In contact with, are
still not the greatest sorrows. The
living sorrows are far more poignant.
When your loved one Is no longer
Of earth, earth's powers for evil have
lost their dominion. The ascend
ancy of sin il broken, and its path
ways of shame are closed for your
child. Time kindly heals your
broken and bruised spirit and obliv-
ion falls over all, but those sweet
embalmed In the affections
that endure forever. The pain and
pass away and we realize !
the kindness Of passing time.
Those who have their sorrOws
from losses by death, and who has
them not, should, before entering
an unkind decree against fate, at
tempt TO grasp the harder lot of
those who suffer under living sor-
rows. These latter are more numer-
Gus than we often imagine. Go to
our prisons and asylunIs aud each
unfortunate there represents a circle
of bleeding hearts in a home some
where, who lament the clouded f,lc-
ultes or the weakness and lack of
character that led to breaking of
laws human aud divine. Go into
the reform schools or Institutes for
the feeble-minded and each defective
child there points you to hearth
stone that has cause to be sadder
than your own. In your neighbours
house there may be an aflllctlon that
might Oppress you with a burden
that will only grow heavier In time
while your load is being gently lift
ed by the passing days. Thore
might peer at you the wistful eyes
of helpless deformity, so sad and
pathetic in all their intense longing
for the blessings Of life aud strength
you enjoy. Or step with I.e into IA
home where II kind father sorrows
for son who has passed over his
threshold dehantly, never to return.
What love like fathers? Or per-
haps the son has gone to seek his
fortune, has grown cold and II diff
ferent to the love that guarded over
his tender years, placed the food in
his mouth, clothed and educated
him for the place In the world
he has now taken. He has
forgotten father and mother.
No letters come from him To cheer
them. No kind word Is spoken for
their old days. He might come,
should one of them die, Alasl
Death would be n slight cause of
anguish To already broken hearts.
They have felt the torment of |
soul expressed by the great king In
Shakespeare, "How sharper than u
sorpenps fang II h to have "a thank
less child" In another home ~
mother sorrows for a wayward |
daughter Lured hy the lights and
the attractions of city life, she has
NO more love for the old country
n. a. A