Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-06-05


nothing wanting IN that home. Religion
IN there and sacrifices on the altar morn.
ing and night. You look IN that house.
hold and say n cnnnot think Of any.
thing happier. I do not really believe
the world Ia 30 sad q places ~ some peo-
pie describe II 20 be-" The scene changes
Father Ia sick The doors must be kept
sftut. The deatbwatch chifps dolefully
ON the htnrtn. The children whisper
snd walk softly where once they romped.
Passing the house late at night, you sec
the quick giancing Of lights from room
10 room II Is all over Death In the
summer housei
THE bARK sfDE AND THH LfoHT.
Here Is an aged nother--aged, but not
infirm. You think you will have the Joy
Of caring for her wants a good while yet.
As she goes from house to house, 10 chill
dren and grandchildren, her coming Ia q
dropping Of sunlight In the dwelling.
Your children see her coming through
the lane. and they cry, "Grandmother's
comer' Care for you has marked up her
face with many q deep wrinkle, and her
back stoops with carrying your burdens.
Some day she is very quiet She says she
Is not sick, but something 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 80
gently yoti do not exactly know the mo-
ment Of it's going. Fold the hands that
have done 90 many kindnesses for you
right over the heart that has beat with
love toward you since before you were
born. Let the pilgrim rest. She Is weary.
Death In the summer housel
Gather about us what we will of com.
fort and luxury, when the pale messen.
ger comes he does not stopto look at the
architecture of the house before he comes
in, nor entering does he wait to examine
the pictures we have gathered on the
wall, or bending over your pillow he
does not stop to see whether there is o
color in the cheek, or gentleness In the
eye, or intelligence In the brow. But
what of thatp Must we stand forever
mourning among the graves Of our dead,
MOI MOI 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 al
bright thoughts and congratulations and
bid them think Of victory and redernp
ton. stamp on the bottom 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 were very
dangerous places, and they supposed
that every ship that went through those
straits would be destroyed, and they
were in the habit Of putting on weeds Of
mourning for those who had gone on
that voyage, as though they were actu.
ally dead. Do you know what they called
those straits? They call them the "Gate
Of Tears" Oh, stand today at the gate
of tears through which many Of your
loved ones have gone, and want to tell
you that all are not shipwrecked that
have gone through those straits into the
great ocean stretching out beyond.
The sound that comes from that other
shore on still nights when we are wrap
ped in prayer makes me think that the
departed are not dead. We are the dead
we who toll, we who weep, we who
sin--we are the dead. How my heart
aches for human sorrowi This sound Of
breaking hearts that Ihear all about mel
This last look of faces that will never
brighten againI This last kiss of lips
that never will speak againl This widow
hood and orphanagel Oh, when will the
day of sorrow be gone?
AN INCIDENT
After the sharpest winter the spring
dismounts from the shoulder Of a south
ern gale and puts its warm hand upon
the earth. AMI in its palm there comes
the grass, and there come the flowers,
and God reads over the poetry Of bird
and brook and bloom and pronounces 1t
very good. What, my friends, If every
winter had not its spring, and every
night its day, and every gloom its glow,
and every bitter now its sweet hereafteri
II you have been on the sea, you know,
rs the ship passes in the night, there is .
phosphorescent track left behind it, and
as the waters roll up they toss with un-
imaginable splendor. Well, across this
great ocean of human trouble Jesus
walks Oh, that In the phosphore6cent
track of his feet we might all follow and
be illumined!
There was gentleman in the rail car
who saw In that same car three passen-
gers Of very different circumstances.
The first was maniac. He was care
fully guarded by his attendants; his
mind, like a ship dismasted. was beat
ing against dark, desolate coast. from
which no help could come. The train
stopped, and the man was taken out into
the asylum to waste away perhaps
through years Of gloom. The second
passenger was a culprit. The outraged
law had seized ON him. As the cars
jolted the chains ratified. On his face
were crime. depravity and despair. The
train halted, and he was taken out to the
penitentiary, to which he had been con-
demned. There was the third passen-
ger under far different circumstances.
She was a bride. Every hour was gay
as q marriage bell. Life glittered and
beckoned. Her companion was taking
her to his fathers house. The train
halted. The old man was there to well
come her to her new home, and his