The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1891-07-10
rs DEATH.
WIT Is A AlAN.

6aAI 1 . 4 man
II his chief good and market Of his time
Be but TO sleep and feed? A beast, no more.
Hamlet.
start not, leader, it is true. Eoaferism
is death-death of the most dismal and dan
gerous kind. There are more kinds of
death than one. There is the death of the
body, when sad farewells are spoken, when
eyelids droop over sightless eyes, and pale
lips close over yoieeless mouths, when mid
sorrow and in silence the stern agony is en-
dured, and the light and warmth of life is
exchanged for "the shroud. the pail, the
oreathiess darkness, and the narrow
house, This alone is inevitable. But as
sunlight often gilds the mountains top,
around whose lower sides dark clouds are
drifting, so there is land Of light and
blessedness lying someW here in the Great
Unknown. But there is death or torpor
OF the mind, a death Of generous trust and
ennobling faith, a death of fixed purposes
and noble endeavor which lead to a bright
alive to the musical chimes of silver aud
gold, keen to detect the means Of pecuni-
airy gain. In his eager, untiring labor for
wealth, he has forgotten the wealth OF
affection, the world of intellectual enjoy
ment which lies around him. The heart is
dead, but Q portion of ms intellect is sharp
ened into unnatural life. Here is the ignor-
ant day-iaborer. BE knows potLing of the
-aoItf. IF cofaran. .b. 0rsac IsI+-.. -.
charms of poetry. His mind is all un-
cultured and inert. But he is not wholly
dead. His heart is alive. He loves his
wife and joys in the sweet presence of
his children, and labors cheerfully for
their support. Here is another whose
course in life is fitful and changing as
april skies. He has no fixed purpose. He
goes on like q sailing vessel driven here and
there by every wind, and often becalmed-
instead Of moving steadily onward like a
steamer breasting every opposing wave,
and dashing aside obstacles as the steamer
at every pulse-beat of its fiery eaitdashes
aside the spray. Some part OF his man
hood is dead. He has no faith in tie om-
impotence of work no just conception OF his
dignity as q man, DO worthy goal in view,
and SO his course is vacillating aud un-
certain.
The loafer has suffered the triple death
of heart, mind and purpose. lie cannot
love anyone worthily, fer love makes as
self distrustful. it awaksns desire for
nobler life, it inspires work. He cannot
even be a good friend, for bis nature is too
sluggish to perceive aud meet the delicate
requirements Of friendship. His mind is
dead, except that baser part which gives ex-
preston to passion and appetite. Thedigni-
t. Of man the divinity Of knowledge,t the de-
siiatl=Eess OF self culture, the unmeasuTed
worth Of tie soul-aIl these inspiring
thoughts are lost to him. 0, loafeiI thou
art a miserable being. Thy life is as aim
less as the beasts. Thou wilt gaze en- life
with eye as dull as that of the OK who
looks on a beautiful landscape.
Young man would you be a loafei? 1t is
a small task. 'Facilis descensus Arerni
est-" THE way TO hell Cor loaferism,
about the same thing) is easy" You
have oily to hate to work, to neglect to
cultivate your mind. to acquire a passion
for playing all kinds of games and telling
all kinds Of stories, to allow yourself to
hang around public places. and the thing
is done. You are defunct, dead and
worthless, and you bear about your own
epitaph. written unmist alably plain
LoafeI!-Lute Taylor.