The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1893-10-06

hung in the depths of the sea, The bod
les of our foundered and sunken friends
are girdled and canopied and housed
with such glories as attend no other
Metropolis,
They We're swamped in lifeboats, OF
they struck ON Goodwin sands or Deal
beach or the Skerries, and were never
heard of, or disappeared with the City OF
Boston, or tho Vile de Havre, or the
Cymbria or We're run down in a fishing
smack that put out from Newfoundland.
But dismiss your previous gloom about
the horrors of ocean entombment.
THE MISTAKES OF JONAH.
When Sevastopol was besieged in the
Anglo-French war, Prince Mentchikof,
commanding the Russian navy, saw that
the only way to keep the English out of
tho harbor was to sink all of the Russian
ships of war in the roadstead, and so 100
vessels sank. When, after the war was
over, our American engineer, Gowan, de-
scended to the depths in diving bell, it
was an impressive spectacle.
One hundred buried ships! But it is
that way nearly all across the Atlantic
ocean. Ships sunk not by command of
admirals, but by the command of cy-
clones. But they all had sublime
burial, ahd the surroundings amid
which they sleep the last sleep are more
imposing than the Tai Mahal, the mau-
soleum with walls incrusted with pre-
cious stones and built by the great mo-
gul of India over his empress. Your
departed ones were buried in the gar
dens of the sea, fenced off by hedges OF
coralline.
The greatest obsequies ever known on
the land were those of Moses, where nc
one but God was present. The sublime
report of that entombment is in tho
book of Deuteronomy, which says that
the Lord buried him. and of those whc
have gone down to slumber in the deer
the same may be said, THE Lord buried
them" AS Christ was buried in a gar
den, so your shipwrecked friends and
those who could not survive till they
reached port We're put down amid iri-
descence--"In the midst of the garden
there was sepulcher."
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the particular mode by which George G.,
Goodman, the pulpit orator of the Meth.
odist church and the chaplain of the
American congress, left this life after
embarking for England on the steamship
President, March II, 1871. The ship.
never arrived in port. No one ever
signaled her, and on both sides Of tho
ocean it has for so years been questioned
what became of her. But this l know
about Cool1man-that whether it was
iceberg or confagration midsea or col
lision he had more garlands on his ocean
tomb than if, expiring on land, each OF
his million friends had put a bouquet
on his casket. In the midst of the garden
was his sepulcher.
But that brings me to notice the mis-
homer in this Jonahitic expression OF
the text. The prophet not only made
mistake by trying to go 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 that is useless. 1t is some
thing 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 I'M
slightly to the eye. 1t is an invader of
the vegetable OF floral world.
But this growth that sprang up from
the depth of the Mediterranean OF
aoated 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 a sunken armament. 1t
is lamp which the Lord kindled. It is
a cord by which to bind whole sheaves
Of practical suggestion. 1t is poem all
whose cantos are rung by divine good
hess. Yet we all make the mistake that
Jonah made in regard to it and call it a
weed
1.-THE weeds were 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 fotsam
and jetsam of the social sea. They are
something to be left alone, or something
to be trod on, or something to give ur
to decay. Nothing but weeds. They
are up the rickety stairs of that garnet.
They are down in the cellar of that tene-
ment house. They swelter in summers
when they see not one blade of green
grass, and shiver 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 child
dren to school she replied; mo, sir,
never did send em to school, know it,
they ought to learn, but I couldn't. |
try to shame him sometimes Git is my
husband, sir), but he drinks and then
beats me--look at that brrise ON my
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to his children. There's fsggy goes
sellin fruit every night in those cellars
in Water street, and they're hells. sir
She's learnin all sorts Of bad word:
there and don't get back till 10 O'Clock
at night. If it wasn't for her earnin q
rhillin or two in them places, should
itarve. Oh, l wish they was out of the
rity. Yes, it is the truth. l would
rather have all my children dead thar
on the street, but can't help it."
Another one of those poor women
found by refornatefy association, re
cited her story Of want and-wee and
looked up and said, II felt so hard Il
lose the children when they died, brt
now I'm glad they're gone" Ask any
enc of thousand such children on the
streets, Where do you live?" and they
will answer, II don't live nowhere.
They will sleep tonight in ash barrels, Oh
under outdoor stairs, or on the wharf
kicked and bruised and hungry. Who
cares for them? Once in awhile city
missionary, or tract distributor, or j
teacher of ragged schools will rescue one