The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1893-10-06

| last sleep are more imposing than the
Tai Mahal. the Mausoleum with walls
encrusted with precious stones. and
built by the great mogul of India
over his empress Your departed
ones were buried in the gardens of the
sea. fenced off by hedges of coraline.
The greatest obsequies ever known on
the land were those Of Moses. where no
one but God was present. The sublime
report of that entombment is in the
Book of Deuteronomy. which says that
the Lord buried him. and of those who
have gone down to slum Ter in the deep,
the same may be said: The Lord
buried them" As Christ was buried in
garden. so your shipwrecked friends,
and those who could not survive till
they reached port, We're put down amid
iridescence-..In the midst of the gar
den there was a sepulcher." 1t has al
ways been a mystery what was the
particular mode by which George q.
Goodman. the pulpit orator of the
Methodist church and the chaplain of
the American congress. left this life
after embarking for England on the
steamship President, March IL, 1871.
That ship never arrived in port But
this l do know about Goodman, that
whether it was iceberg, or conf1agra-
ton mid-sea, or collision. he had more
garlands on his ocean tomb than if, ex-
piring on land, each of his million
friends had put bouquet on his casket.
In the midst of the garden was his
sepulcher.
But that brings me to notice the
misnomer in this Jonahitic expression
of the text. The prophet not only
made mistake by trying to 60 to
Tarshish when God told him to GO to
Nineveh, but he made mistake when
he styled as weeds these growths that
enwrapped him on the day he sank. A
weed is something you throw out from
the garden. 1t is something that
chokes the wheat. 1t is something to
be grubbed out from among the cotton.
1t is something unsightly to the eye.
1t is an invader of the vegetable or
floral world. But this growth that
sprang up from the depth of the Medi-
terranean, or hoated on its surface, was
among the most beautiful things that
God ever makes. 1t was water
plant known as the red-colored
Alga, and no weed at all. 1t
comes from the loom of infinite
beauty. 1t is planted by heavenly
love 1t is the star of sunken firma
ment 1t is a lamp which the Lord
kindled. 1t is cord by which to bind
whole sheaves of practical suggestion.
1t is poem all of whose cantos are
rung by Divine goodness. Yet we all
make the mistake that Jonah made in
regard to it, and call ii a weed THE
weeds are wrapped about my head"
All. that is the trouble on the land as
on the sea. We call those weeds that
are flowers. Pitched up on the beach
of society are children without home,
without opportunity for anything but
sin. seemingly without God. They are
washed up helpless. They are called
ragamutfins. They are spoken of as
the rakings of the world. They are
waits. They are street Arabs. They
are tiotsam and jetsam of the social
sea. They are something to be left
alone, or something to be trod on. or
something to give up to decay. Moth
ing but weeds. They are up the rick
ETY. stairs of that garnet They are
down in the cellar of that tene-
ment house. They swelter in sum-
mers where they see not one
blade of green grass, and SILVER in
winters that allow them not one warm
coat or shawl or shoe. Such the city
missionary found in one of our city
rookeries. and when the poor woman
was asked if she sent her children to
school. she replied: No. sir, l never
did send EN- to school l know it. they
ought to learn. but l couldn't. try
to shame him sometimes lit is my hus-
band. sir, but he drinks and then beats
me. and tell him to see what is comm
to his children. There's Peggy. goes
sellin' fruit every night in those cellars
in Water street, and they're bells. sir
She's learning all sorts of bad words
there and don't get back till II o'clock
at night. If it wasn't for her earnin' 4
shillin' or two in them places. | should
starve. Oh. l wish they was out of the
city, Yes. it is the truth: l would
rather have all my children dead than
on the street, but l can't help it An
other one of those poor women. found
by a reformatory association, recited
her story of want and woe. and looked
up and said: Il felt so hard to lose the
children when they died. but now I'm
glad they're gone" Ask any one of
thousand such children on the streets:
''Where do you live?" and they
will answer: Il don't live nowhere"
They will sleep tonight in ash-barrels
or under outdoor stairs. or on the
wharf. kicked and bruised and hungry
Who cares for them? Once in while
city missionary or tract distributor
or a teacher of ragged schools will res
cue one of them. but for most people
they are only weeds Yet, Jonah did
no more completely misrepresent the
Red Alga about his head in the Med
iterranean than most people misjudge
these poor and forlorn and dying chill
dren of the street They are not weeds
They are immortal flowers. Down in
the deep sea of woe. but flowers. When
society and the church of God come to
appreciate their eternal value there
will be more c. L. Braces and more