Herald and tribune. [volume] (Jonesborough, Tenn.) 1869-current, 1895-12-18
81 A YEAR In ADVANCE
"Peace, Sweet Peace That Knows M
Ending."
so Paradise, o Paradise,
Inc world is growing old;
who would not be at rest and free
Where Iowa il nn,-or o,,Ilov

VINO would not be at rest and free
where love is never cold?'
NNeerly four years ago, feeble. blind
o'u man tottered from his chair bv the
hearthstone to the darkened. auiet
room, where reposed in breathless
slumber all that was mortal of his fair
pride OF sixty four years ago. His dim
eyes sought the face of her he had
loved so long; and one standing near
TOOK the Old man g trembling hand and
lald II gently on the cold brow of the
dead How softly the old hand caressed
the pale checks and smoothed the
iaded fair. How his heart ached TO
near her speak to him once more-to
near her call again the names of their
Ch'ldren as in the old days. Then n
deep longing welled up from his bosom
10 see her in the spirit land, clothed in
the pnrity of Immortality.
hearing the footsteps of the pail.
bearers drawing near, he started, and
pressed his hand to his forehead. The
moment had come-he must give her
up. lie uttered stifed groan. fol.
lowed by broken sob. The pain was
sharp that pierced his heart.
No one saw the agonized look on the
dear old face, or the piteous trembling
OF his lips as they tried to utter a
prayer; Tor no one could look on n
scene like that.
Bending lower until his lips touched
the dear face, he murmured,
MY Savior has my treasure;
And He will walk with me.n
His limbs trembled. but loving arms
were around him. Slowly, sadly he
turned from the casket with its preci-
GUS burden, and was led from the
room, back to his old arm chair
henceforward to sit alone, for the
otner arm chair was empty now.
For time the days were dreary. His
thoughts were on the Homeland-the
glad Homeland that was never dimm
by sorrow; where sweetest harps were
swelling in holy music, and softest
voices were singing heavenly HYMNS.
but he learned to wait. He felt that
God grace was over him and about
him; and daily he grew more patient
Ills daughters spoke lovingly to him
and minlstered to his wants: and his
sons comlorted him. Little grand
chlldren hung upon his neck, and he
blessed them. Smiles lit up his face
once more, and be talked on and on
OF the things that had concerned his
life. The incidents of his life were IA
q printed page before him And there
was not one dark stain to cause re.
morse. He told to the listening chill
dren, the adventures of his early life.
lie loYed TO talk of his first cottage
nome, that he and his young wife had
built when life was all before them.
HIS memory was wonderfully accurate;
and his mind so clear and strong that
he could relate the experiences of al
most every year of his life. How beau.
tiully does old age come upon those
whose lives have been well spent.
But as the autumn days of 95 came
on, anxiety filled the hearts of the
children; for this good old man was
surely growing weaker. Each day his
head bent lower and the white locks
looked thinner. He spoke less fire.
quently and his voice sounded further
away. 1t seemed to the watchers like
his ears had caught note of heavenly
music.
angels of gladness, angels of light.
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the
night.'
Yes it was true, lifes long shadows
were about to break in cloudess day.
and no earthly thing could interest
him again.
The children strain their ears to
eaten the last faint whisper; for father
is dying now. A feeble uplifting of
the thin hands, a sigh, and he is gone
gone from earth to glory.
How peaceful he looked in death.
The tired hands that had toiled SO long
were at rest Nearly ninety one years
had his feet tIodden the soil of the
earth.
He was laid very tenderly in his cas-.
ket, and borne slowly out through the
door and over the way he had so often
walked; and on up the long hill to the
cemetery where an open grave was
made for him by the side of his gentle
wife. Into this grave was lowered the
mortal remains of Jacob +. Broyles.
but his soul had gone up higher and
found Peace, sweet peace that knows
no ending.
The home here is very sad without
him; but the home over yonder is so
bright that we would not call him
back.
"'Tis only little way; there l shall see
The friends that in heaven are waiting
for me;
Their voices from home now float on the
air
They're calling me tenderly, calling
me there"
MoLLIE l.. BALLARD.
Bowling Green, Mo-, Nov. %, 1896.
For Dyspepsia