The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1891-10-29

AS in Egypt that December afternoon
1889, exhausted in body, mind and soul
we mounted to return to Cairo, we took
our last look Of the pyramid at Gizeh
And you know there is something in the
air toward evening that seems produc.
| tive of solemn and tender emotion, and
Ithat preatt pyramid seemed to be hu,
manized and with the iir!s, "ms y. ". stone 1t
seemed to speak and cry out:
"IIear me, man, mortal and immortal.
My voice IS the voice of God. He design
ed me. Isaiah said l would we be q
sign and witness. l saw Moses when
he was lad. l witnessed the long pro-
cesSion of the Israelites as they started
to cross the Red sea and Pharaoh's host
IN pursuit OF them. The falcons and
the eagles of many centuries have
brushed my brow. l stood hero when
Cleo patra' S barge landed with her sor-
cerles, and Hypatia for her virtues was
slain III yonder streets. Alexander the
Great, Seostris and Ptolemy admired
my proportions. IlcrodotuS and PIlny
sounded my praise. | am old, | am very
old. For thousands of years | have
watched the coming and going of gen
eratiOnS. They tarry OH a little while,
put they make everlasting impression.
bear on my side the mark Of the trow-
el and chisel of those who more than
four thousand years ago expired. Be-
ware what you do, oh, man. for what
you 40 Will last long years after you are
dead! Ii you would be alfectionately
remembered after you are gone, trust
not to any commemoration. [ have
not one word to say about any astrono.
mers who studied the heavens from my
heights, or any king who was Sepulcher
ed III my bosom. l am slowly passing
away. L am a dying pyramid L shall
yet lie down in the dust of the plain, and
the sands OF the desert shall cover me,
or when the earth goes | will go. But
you are immortal. The feet with which
you climbed my sides today will turn
to dust, but you have a soul that
will outlast me and all my brotherhood
Of pyramids. Live for eternity. Live
for God. With the shadows Of evening
now falling from my side, ] pronounce
upon you benediction. Take it with
it with you across the Atlantic God
only is great. Let all the earth keep
silence before him. Amen"
And then the lips of granite huShed,
and the great giant Of masonry wrap
ped himself again in the silence of ages,
and as L rode away in the gathering
twilight, this course of sermons was
projected.
Wondrous Egypt! Land of ancient pomp
and pride,
Where Beauty walks by hoary Ruins side z
where plenty reigns and still the seasons
And rolls-rich Gift of God-cXhaustlcs>
| Death OF u Baby.
The following from The pen Of Bill
Arp is as good as anything he ever
| wrote:
"The baby is dead"
That was the sad telegram that came
to us from far away where one Of ou1
boys is living.
1t saddened the household, for we
had never seen the child nor the mother,
and they W ere to come and visit us
next month, and expected to be so hap
py. There is trouble that is trouble
grief that is grief. The first child, and
old enough to have twined around her
mothers heart and absorbed her very
life. The father can love, too, and ca
ress and feel fathers pride, and he
can weep and feel desolate. Time will
temper his grief, but a mother never
ceases to lament the death of her first
born child.
1t has been more than thirty years
since we lost one, but the little gar
ments that he wore were hidden away
somewhere, and sometimes ] see the
mother fondling them as they lie in the
old trunk-the trunk that holds her
hearts best treasures. 1t was Sterne
who said: "Hod tempers the wind to
the shOrn lamb" and so in time the
young mothers grief will be sweeter
than it is sad, and she will rise from it
with d hope and trust that she never
knew before. A child in heaven is q
bond that cannot be taken--it is not
lost-it is saved. But still the pang of
separation is very crushing to the pa
rents heart. How the world shrinks
up; how mean and insignificant are all
its pleasures. | have felt that way, and
been comforted with the feeling, and so
lknoW has every parent who has lost
Il child.