St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-02-13
SAnMsSis Ui9 III HEsT la
Revival Discourses Feeling ly
OF tne Deceased States
man.
He Was Undoubtedly a Strong
Figure in His Chosen
Field.
Trouble He Bore Through
the Action OF His Young
est Son.
His Long Struggle With the
Grim Messenger Of the
Dead.

over series of years they attach some
strongly to themselves and their cause,
while others are as strongly repelled,
Naturally. then. those who are attached
will follow with partisan faithfulness
and with Spartan tenacity, while those
opposed will be SO vehemently opposed
that time is sure to develop prejudice
against their object of dislike. Among
the men who have passed away from
the active field Of life we find in Mr..
Blaine all the elements that call out
strong friendship and active opposition.
Aud for the purposes Of public discourse
we will allow that his mistakes be writ
ten in bronze, and his good deeds in
letters of sand, to be washed away by
the incoming wave, for we will confine
ourselves to a review Of those later
days when the strange turns OF fortune
| played in such wonderful way with
| his personal happiness.
But feel sure that you will allow me
to say that history is bound to write down
| Mr.. Blaine as strong figure in his own
| chosen field. However you may esti-
mate his ambition, he was still man
who preserved the same power OF I'M
pressing the man who came near hIm
! that he had over the man afar off. In
| deed, ne was one Of the few men VINO
are capable of doing this. 1t is the the
| ory of certain great actors, like the
| elder Booth, / think. that an audience
| should only know an actor over the foot
| lights, and should never hear him speak
| outside the lines of imperSonatlon.
| Other people who have occupied puollc
| positions have also felt sure that you
| make mistake when You as pubic
| man become too intimately known to
| the people. And we must confess that
| many man who before stood TO Us as
| ideal and umblemished is reduced to
| common clay when we come near
enough to know his personal tendencies
| and manners. Let it suffice to say here
| that
Mr.. Blaine Never Suffered
in that way. The men who think he was
not great and brilliant are the men who
never came in personal contact with
him OF saw the working Of his mind and
| hand. To say THAT he was great man,
| brilliant man, man without personal
vices OF even the ordinary bad habits OF
| the average man in his position; that
he was kind and even lndulgent man
in his family-to say these things will
be enough today. And having said these
by way of depression, will now turn to
| tie main theme of the discourse, the
burdens Of his later years.
When Mr.. Blame had reached the age
| OF fifty, when he touched the milestone
Oh iife'6 journey that tells man that
| the sunshine Of youth has gone, that the
| problems which yeXed the age Of twenty
| are forever settled in his case. that his
| place in the world is indicated if not
made, but that the man is now III full
| Ac t1i
| years to come may be all that his hopes
| promised if he has reached a desirable
! place when Mr.. Blaine reached that
| point he was in the possession of GER
| tain gains already that rendered his po-
| sition a most enviable one. Single
| handed in the editorial room, from
| whose window he could look out Oil a
| river as beautiful as picture-in the
| midst of a state that for the beauty of
its scenery and the intelligence of its
| people has never been surpassed-he
| had fought the battle with poverty and
| settled many of the problems that ask
| solution from many men otherwise sue
| cessful.
At the age of fifty, then, he stood
master Of much that would tend to Sc
cure the happiness of the most fortu-
nate man. He was lowered with the
! love of a large tand interesting family.
| He was master of resources sufficient
| and well invested to make his future
| easy, so far as financial troubles were
| concerned. In summer he sat under the
| spreading trees atAugusta, and, beside,
every day was to be seen his daughter,
in the prime of womanhood, but with
hair silvered with gray, and al
ways near by played her little children.
| altogether most picturesque group.
| n a Wac nlOcoiv aSSOoiat ted tOO with a SIM
| who was his pride-a boy upon whom
| he leaned as a man aged and feeble
| leans upon staff: but not in the same
way, for it was rather friend and close
| friend talking, the one bordering queS-
lions, the other swift and willing to do
| the active work. There was the menace,
it is true, of one of those living troubles
that afterwards crept into his happiness
| as poison creeps into the blood, to eat,
| and grow, and threaten death. 1t was
| the
Action of His Youngest Son.
Aside from that menace, which burts
/ in full storm after hanging long on the
| horizon, like the cloud hanging on the
| declivities of the mountains, which at
| last bursts with fury above the city, his
| life in passing the way msrk of fifty
and ffty-five had in it all the ordinary
| promise that a man could expect
| for the happiness that makes old
| age a poem, and the last years like
| the glory of Indian summer. that rare
| season when Nature says to all trees
| and plants, and to the ripening corn and
| growing grass, Now will [ deck you in
the mystery of loneliness" and then
| weaves around all forms of mountain.
| hill and forest the soft and mystic haze
| suggesting in their forms the battle
lf 4hoE To ttryr hi nh hn5
been the hope of man-it is a time of
| rest of notwithstanding dream, of
| memories cherished and of hopes full
| filed. And such should be the ripen-.
| ing years of man, when his hardest
| struggles are over, and his promise Of
! better things comes near: when he Is
J surrounded by friends and lives in their
| love. ,
But that time never came to Mr..
| Blaine. At the moment 1t should have
| approached he was beSet by numerous
| trials. Like the explorer. who early in
| the morning, watching the mists that
! rise from the swamp, sees in their filmy
forms the dread figure OF disease. the
| messenger OF death, slight but stealthy,
! silent but inSinuating; so this man saw
| and felt the sure touch of disease, and
| from that time physical life was prob
| lem. He passed for years through all
the alterations of hope and gloom.
| Now it seemed as if skill would over
throw the monster, then again all hope
was lost.
His Hair WiiteRed
| like the driven snow. his face became
as white as chiseled marble. Indeed,
| his face became the plain picture OF
| fortitude struggling with death In the
| midst of the earlier struggle with this
unseen enemy, his daughter, OF whom |
| have spoken. was stricken suddenly i'll,
| stricken as she returned from mission
| OF mercy, her two little boys at her side,
land laid unconscious in her fathers
| arms" until. as kinSwoman writes, at
| the eng of the Sabbath, as it began to
| dawn towards the first day Of the week,
| her soul drlfted out on the mystic river.
| and went home to GOt. Then went the
| rayorite son, ami his life was left
| to solitude once more, and strangers
came TO take the kinsman's place. -A;ti