Connecticut western news., 1896-10-29

the fortress of the hills. The beaters of gold leaf will have more gold leaf to beat. The crown that drops today from the head of the oak will be picked up and handed down for other kings to wear. Let the blasts come. They only make room for other life.
 Give Way Cheerfully.
 So, when we go, others take our spheres. We do not grudge the future generations their places. We will have had our good time. Let them come on and have their good time. There is no signing among these leaves today, be- cause other leaves are to follow them. After lifetime of preaching, dootoring, selling, sewing or digging, let us cheer fully give way for those who come on to do the preaching, doctoring, selling, sewing and digging. God grant that their life may be brighter than ours has been. AS we get older do not let us be affronted if young men and women crowd us little. We will have had our day, and we must let them have theirs. When our voices get cracked, let us not snarl at those who can warble. When our knees are stiffened, let us have pa tience with those who go fleet as the deer. Because our leaf is fading do not let us despise the unfrosted. Au- tumn must not envy the spring Old men must be patient with boys. Dr. Guthrie stood up in Scotland and said "You need not think I am old because my hair is white never was so young as am now. look back to my child hood days and remember when in win ter nights in the sitting room the chil- dren played the blithest and the gayest of all the company were father and mother. Although reaching fourscore years of age, they never got old.
 Do not be disturbed as you see good and great men die. People worry when some important parsonage passes off the stage and say, His place will never be taken" But neither the church nor the state will suffer for it. There will be others to take the places. When God takes one man away, he has another right back of him. God is so rich in resources that he could spare 5000 Summerfields and Saurins, if there were so many There will be other leaves as green, as exquisitely veined, as grace fully etched, as we'll pointed. However prominent the place we fill, our death will not jar the world. One falling leaf does not shake the Adirondaoks. A ship is not we'll manned unless there be an extra supply of handsome working on deck, some sound asleep in their hammocks. God has manned this world very we'll. There will be other seamen on deck when you and I are down in the cabin, sound asleep in the ham, mocks.
 Not Alone We Perish.
 Again, as with the leaves, we fade and fall amid myriads of others. One cannot count the number of plumes which these frosts are plucking from the hills. They will strew all the streams; they will drift into the oaverns; they will soften the wild beasts lair and fill the eagle's eyrie.
 All the aisles of the forest will be cov- cred with their carpet, and the steps of the hills glow with wealth of color and shape that will defy the looms of Administer. What urn could hold the ashes of all these dead leaves? Who could count the hosts that burn on this funeral pyre of the mountains?
 So we die in concert. The clock that strikes the hour of our going will sound the going of many thousands Keeping step with the feet of those who carry us out will be the tramp of hundreds doing the same errand. Between 50 and 70 people every day lie down in Green wood. That place has over 900, 900 of the dead. said to the man at the gate, "Then, if there are so many here, you must have the largest cemetery" He said there were two Roman Catholic cemeteries in the city, each of which had more than this. We are all dying. London and Peking are not the great cit ies of the world. The grave is the great city. It hath mightier population, lon ger streets, brighter lights, thicker dark nesses. Caesar is there, and all his sub jects. Nero is there, and all his victims, City of kings and paupersi It has swal- lowed all our cities Yet, City of Si- lenoe No voice, no hoof, no wheel, no clash, no smiting of hammer, no olack of flying loom, no jar, no whis- per. Great City of Silencel Of all its million million hands, not one of them is lifted. Of all it's million million eyes, not one of them sparkles. Of all its mil lion million hearts, not one pulsates- The living are in small minority.
 If in the movement of time some great question between the living and the dead should be put and God called up all the dead and the living to decide it, as we lifted our hands and from all the resting places of the dead they lifted their hands, the dead would outvote us. Why, the multitude of the dying and the dead are as these autumnal leaves drift ing under our feet today. We march on toward eternity, not by companies of hundred, or regiments of thousand, or brigades of ten thousands, but sixteen hundred millions abreast Marching onl Marching onl
 Beauty Withers.
 Again, as with variety of appearance the leaves depart, so do we. You have noticed that some trees, at the first touch of the frost, lose all their beauty they stand withered and uncomely and ragged, waiting for the northeast storm to drive them into the mire. The sun shining at monday gilds them with no beauty. Ragged leavesi Dead leavesi No one stands to study them. They are gathered In no vase. They are hung on no wall So death smites many. There is no beauty in their departure. One sharp frost of sickness, or one blast off the cold waters, and they are gone. No tinge of hope. No phopheoy of heaven. Their spring was all abloom with bright prospects, their summer thick foliaged with opportunities; but October came, and their glory went. Frostedi In early autumn the frosts come, but do not seem to damage vegetation. They are light frosts But some morning you look out of the window and say, "There was 8 black frost last night" and you know