Audubon County Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Audubon Co., Iowa) 1885-1894, 1893-06-08

ing press and mangled and bruised,
and the very same persons who APP
plauded him before cry, "Down with
the traitor! Down with him.
Belshazzar sits at the feast the
mighty men of Babylon sitting all
around him. Wit sparkles like the
wine, and the wine like the wit.
Music rolls up among the chandeliers,
the chandeliers flash down on the de-
canters. The breath of hanging gar
dens floats in on the N ght air; the
voice of revelry floats out. Amidst
wreaths and tapestry and folded ban
ners finger writes. The march OF u
host is heard on the stairs. Laughter
catches in the throat. A thousand
hearts stop beating. The blow is
struck The blood on the foor is
richer hued than the wine on the
table. The kingdom has departed.
BelshaZZar was no worse, per-
haps, than hundreds of people in
Babylon, but his position slew him.
Oh, be content with just such posi-
ton as God has placed you in. 1t may
not be said of us, "He was great
general" or "lIe was an honored
chieftain," or ''Ile was mighty in
worldly attachments" but this thing
may be said of you and me, "lle was
good citizen, a faithful Christian,
friend of Jesus" And that in the last
day will be the highest of all eulo'
gums.
learn further from this subject that
death comes TO the summer-house.
Eglon did not expect to die in that
fine place. Amidst all the flower leaves
that drifted like summer snow into the
window; in the tinkle and the dash OF
the fountains: in the sound Of thou
sand leaves huttering on one tree
branch; in the cool breeze that came
up to shake feversh trouble out OF the
kings locks-there was nothing That
spake of death, but there he died! In
the winter when the snow is shroud,
and when the wind is a dirge, 1t Is
easy to think of our mortality; but
when the WE ather is pleasant, and all
our surroundings are agreeable, now
difficult it is for us to appreciate the
truth that we are mortal. And yet
my text teaches that death does some
times come to the summer-house. lie
is blind and cannot see the leaves. lie
is deaf and cannot hear the fountains.
Oh, if death would ask for victims, we
could point him to hundreds of people
who would rejoice to have him come.
Push back the door of that novel
| ook at that little child-cold, and
sick, aud hungry. 1t has never heard
the name of God but in Dlasphemy.
Parents intoxicated, staggering around
its straw bed. oh, Death, there is
mark for thee. Up with it into the
light. Before these little feet stumble
on lifes pathway, give them rest
Here is an aged man. He has done
his work. He has done it gloriously.
The companions of his youth are all
gone, his children dead, he longs to be
at rest and YEARLY the days and
nights pass. lie says: Come, Lord
Jesus, come quickly" Oh, death, there
is mark for thee Take from him
the staff, and give him the sceptre.
Up with him into the light, where
eyes never grow dim, aud the air
whitens not through the long years of
eternity. All, Death will not do that
Death turns back from the straw bed,
and from the aged man ready for the
skies, and comes TO the summer-house.
What doest thou here, thou bony,
CHASTITY monster, amidst this waving
grass, and under this SUM ght sitting
through the tree branches? Children
are at play. How quickly their feet
go, and their locks toss in the wind.
Father and mother stand at the side
of the room looking on. enjoying their
glee. 1t does not seem possible that
the wolf should ever break into that
70 d and carry off n lamb. Mean
while an old archer stands looking
through the thickct. lie points his ar
row at the brightest of the group-he
is a sure marksman-the bow bends,
the arrow speeds, Hush now. The
quick feet have stopped, and the locks
toss no more in the wind. Laughter
has gone out of the hall. Death in the
summer house!
Here is a father in mid-life: his COM
ing home ut night is the signal for
mirth. The children rush to the door,
and there are books on the evening
stand, and the hOurs pass away on
glad feet There is nothing wanting
in that home Religion is there, a, d
sacrifices on the altar morning and
night You look in that household
and say: II cannot think of anything
happier. do not really believe the
world is so sad place as some people
dos .ribe it to be" The scene changes.
Father is sick. The doors must be
kept shut. The death-watch chirps
dolefully on the hearth, The children
whisper and walk softly where once
they romped. Passing the house late
at night YOU see the quick glancing
Of lights from room to room. 1t is all
over. Death in the summer-houSe.
Here is an aged mother-aged, but
not infirm. You think you will have
-. -. - har wants
good while vet As she goes from
fduse to house. to children and grand
children, her coming is a dropping of
sunlight in the dwelling. Your chill
dren see her coming through the lane,
ard they cry, "Grandmother's come"
CaYe for you has marked up her face
W th many a deep wrinkle and her
back stoops with carrying your bur-
dens. Some day she is very quiet.
She says she is not sick, but some
thing tells you, you will not much
longer have mother. She will sit with
you no more at the table, nor at the
hearth. Her soul goes out so gently,
you do not exac ly know the moment
of it's going Fold the hands that have
done so many kindnesses for you right
over the heart that has beat with love
lOWdlu you SllTt "Glt wi IL
Let the pilgrim rest. She is weary.
Death in the summer-house.
Gather about us what we will of COM
fort and luxury. when the pale mes
seuger comes, he does not stop to look
at the architecture of the house before
he comes in; nor, entering, does he
wsit to examine the pictures we have
gathered on the wall; or, bending over
yoar pillow, he does not stop to see
whether there is color in the cheek,
or gentleness in the eye, or intelli-
gencc in the brow. But what of that?
Must we stand forever mourning
among the graves of our dead? No.
No! The people in Bengal bring cages
of birds to the graves of their dead,
and then they open the cages, and the
birds go singing heavenward. SO |
would bring TO the graves of your dead
all bright thoughts and congratula-
tions, and bid them think of Wet Dry
AMI redemption. | stamp on the bot
tom of the grave, and it breaks through
into the light and the glory of heaven.
The ancients used to think that the
straits entering the Red Sea We're very
dangerous places, and they supposed
that avarv shin that went throuUh