Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1891-01-17

heart like q brimming chalice and
empty 1t on the ground, to the hast drop
OF gall contained therein. The world
shall know my history.
Dead, and yet living! How can thai
be?-you ask. All, my friends! If you
seek to be rid Of your dead relations for 0
certainty, you should have their bodies
cremated. Otherwise there is no know.
ing what may happen! Cremation Is the
best way-the only way. 1t is clean, and
safe. Why should there be any preju-
dice against it? Surely 1t is better to
give the remains Of~what we loved Tor
pretended to love) to cleansing fire and
pure air than to lay them in cold vault
OF stone, or down. down in the wet and
clinging earth. For loathly things are
hidden deep In the mould-things foul
and all unnameable-longw orms-slimy
creatures with blind eyes and useless
wings-abortion and deformities Of
the insect tribe born of poisonous
vapour- creatures the very sight Of
which would drive you, o delicate
woman, into fit of hysteria, and would
provoke even you, o strong man, to q
shudder of repulsion. Bnt there is o
worse thing than these merely physical
horrors which come of so-called Christ
ian burial-that is, the terrible uncer.
tainty. What, If after we have lowered
the narrow strong box containing our
dear deceased relation into its vault or
hollow in the ground-what, II after we
have worn seemly garb of woe, and
tortured our faces into the fitting eX-
preston OF gentle and patient mel
ancholy-what, say, II after all
the reasonable precautions taken
to insure safety, they should actu-
ally prove insufficient? What-if the
prison to which we have consigned the
deeply-regretted one should not have
such close doors as we fondly imagined?
| What ii the stout coffin should be
wrenched apart by fierce and frenzied
| fingers? What, il our late dear friend
should not be dead, but should, like
Lazarus of old, come forth to challenge
our affection anew? Should we not
greve sorely that we had failed to avail
ourselves of the secure and classical
method OF cremation? Especially IL we
had benefited by worldly goods or money
left to us by the so deservedly lamented!
For we are self-deceiying hypocrites---
few OF us are really sorry tor the dead
few of us remember them with any.
real tenderness or affection. And yet
God knows! they may need more pity
than we dream OF.
But let me to my task /, Fabio Ro-
mani, lately deceased, am about to chron-
lcle the events of one short year, year
in which was compressed the agony OF
long and tortured lifetime. One little
year!-one sharp thrust from the dag
ger of time! 1t pierced my heart-the
wound still gapes and bleeds, and every
drop OF blood is tainted as it falls!
One suffering, common to many,
have never known, that is-poverty. l
was born rich. When my father, Count
Filippo Romani, died, leaving me, then
lad OF seventeen, sole heir to his enor-
nous possessions-sole head OF his pow
erful house-there were many candid
friends who, with their usual kindness,
prophesed,t the worst things Of my future.
Nay, there were even some who looked
forward to my physical and mental de-
struction with certain degree OF malig-
nant expectation and-they were estima-
BILE persons too. They were respectfully
connected, their words carried weight
and for time was an object Of their
maliciously pious fears. was destined,
according to their calculations, to be
gambler, spendthrift, o drunkard, an
lncurable roue Of the most abandoned
character. Yet, strange to say, i be-
came none Of these things. Though .
Neap0litan, with all the fiery passions
and hot blood Of my race, had an in
nate scorn for the contemplate vices
and low desires Of the unthinking vul-
gar. Gambling seemed to me o deliri0us
folly-drlnk, O destroyer Of health and
reason-and licentious extravaganza on
outrage on the poor. chose my own
way of life-4a middle course between SIM
plicity and luxury-a judicious mingling
Of home-like peace with the gaiety Of
sympathetic social intercourse-an even
tenor Of intelligent existence which
neither exhausted the mind nor injured
the body.
dwelt in my fathers Villa minia-
ture palace OF white marble, situated on
a wooded height overlooking the Bay Of
Nipples My pleasure grounds were
fringed with fragrant groves OF orange
and myrtle, where hundreds Of full
voiced nightingales warbled their love-
melodies to the goldenmoOn. Sparkl-
ing fountains rose and fell In huge |
stone basins carved with many q quaint |
design, and their cool murmurous |
splash refreshed the burning silence OF |
the hottest summer air. In this re-
treat / lived at peace for some happy |
years. surrounded by books and pictures,
and visited frequently by friends-young
men whose tastes were more or less like
my own, and who were capable OF
equally approaching the merits Of an
antique volume, or the favor OF rare
vintage.
or women / saw little or nothing.
Truth TO tell, instinctively avoided
them. Parents with marriageabie
daughters invited me FREQUENTLY to their