The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1893-01-06

| 10 ueaJn. so InaL the OdlVarlan mdSSd-
ere was in the same old line of NAL
treatment. But the novelty of all the
ages was the conjunction of divin-
ity and humanity. Invisible deity,
muscled and nerved and fleshed
in masculine physique. A child
and yet a God. Why, if the meteor had
not pointed down that night, some an
gel would have rushed down and point
ed with his glittering scepter. Isaiah
and David and Ezekiel who foretold the
coming, would have descended from
their throne and stood on the roof of
the barn or in some way designated the
honored locality. As the finger of light
| that December % pointed to the straw
cradle, now all the fingers of Christen-
dom this moment, fingers of childhood
and old age, fingers of sermon and song
and decoration and festivity point to
the great straw-cradle. Am 1 not right
in saying that the first of the three
chapters of the holidays should be de-
voted to the illustrious birthday? By
song and prayer and solemn reflection
and charities to-day, and by gifts and
| trees that bear furit in an hour after
they are planted, and family gathering
and hilarities sounding from cellar to
garnet tomorrow, keep Christmas As
far as possible, gather the children and
the grandchildren, but put no estop-
pei on racket. whether of laughter or
swift feet or toys in shape of rail-trains
or trumpets or infant effigy. Let the
old folks for one day at least say moth
ing about rheumatism, or prospect of
early demise, or the degeneracy of
modern times or the poison in confec-
tionery. If you cannot stand the noise,
retire from it for little while into
some other room and stop your ears.
Christmas for children without plenty
of noise is no Christmas at all.
The second chapter of the holidays
must speak of annual decadence. This
is the last Sabbath of the year The
steps of the year are getting short, for
it is getting old now. When it waved
the springtime blossoms the year was
young, and when it swung the scythe
and graded through the summer har-
vest fields the year was strong, but it is
getting out of breath now, and after
six more throbs of the pulse will be
dead. We cannot stop this annual de-
cadence. Set all the clocks back, set
all the watches back, set all the chro-
nometers back, but you cannot set time
back.
But there is great city clock, high
up in the tower. There are so many
wrongs in all our cities to be righted,
so many evils to be eXtirpated, so many
prisons to be sanitaried; stop the city
clock until all these things are done.
Let common council and all the people
of the great town decree that the City
hall clock shall stop. We do not want
the sins of 1892 to be handed over to
1893. We do not want the young year
to inherit the misfortunes of the old
year. By ladders lifted to the tower
and by strong hands, take hold and
halt the city clock. ''No, nc" says the
city clock, 81 cannot wait until you
correct all evils or soothe all sorrow
or drive out all sin. l have been
counting the steps of your progress
as a city. have seen your opportuni-
ties. 1 have deplored your neglects;
but time wasted is wasted forever |
must go on, must go on. Textbook!
Tick-tocki' But in the towers of the
capitols at Washington and London
and Berlin and Vienna and all the
great national capitals, there are clocks.
Suppose that by presidential proclama-
ton and resolution of the senate and
house of representatives our national
clock in the capitol turret be ordered to
stop? stop, oh, clock! until sectional
animosities are cooled off; until our Sab
baths are better kept, and drunkenness
turns to sobrietv, and bribery, fraud
and dissipation quit the land. Stop, oh,
clockl in the tower of the great United
States capitol" No, no" says the
clock. Il have been going on so long l
cannot afford to stop. L sounded the
birthday of American independence. l
rang cut the return of peace in 1865. l
have seen many presidents inaugurated
| struck tie hour of Lincoln's assassina-
ton. have beat time for emancipa-
ton proclamation. and Chicago fire,
and Charleston earthquake, and cpl
denies of fever al2d cholera. Nations
never stop. They march on toward
salvation or demolition. And why
should l stop? 1 chime for the holidays.
L toll for the mighty dead. l must go
on. must go on.
Sorry am to have 1892 depart this
life. 1t has been good year, What
bright days! What starry nights! What
harvests! What religious convocations.
What triumphs of art and science and
invention and enterprise and religion!
But, alas, how sacred it has been with
sorrows. What pillows hot with fever
that could not be cooled! What graves
opening wide enough to take down
beauty and strength and usefulness!
What octogenarians putting down the
staff of earthly pilgrimage and taking
the crown of heavenly reward. What
children, as in Bible time, crying:
''My head, my hcad And they car
ried him to his mother and he
sat on her knees until noon. and
then died" This year went the chief
poet of England and the chief poet of
America. Our John g. Whitticr-great
in literature and simple as child-for
did not spend an afternoon with him
in a barn in the Adirondacks, and in
the evening we played blindman's buff,
he tying over my eyes the handker-
chief, while the hotel parlors rang with
the merry-making And Tennyson,
this year gone; he, who for this partic-
ular season of the year wrote:
Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out wild bells, and let him die
What mingling of emotions in this clos
ing year. What orange blossoms for
the marriage altar and what myrtle for
! the tombs of the dead.