Mexico weekly ledger., 1896-11-05

will sound the going of many thous
ands. Keeping step with the feet o.
those who carry us out will be the
tramp of hundreds doing the same
errand. Between fifty and seventy
people every day lie down in Green.
wood. That place has over 200, 00(
of the dead. l said to the man al
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 Pekin are not the great cities
of the world. The grave is the
great city. 1t hath mightier popu-
~lation, longer streets, brighter
lights, thicker darknesses. Caesar
is there, and all his subjects. Nero
is there, and all his victims. City
of kings and paupers, 1t has swal-
lowed up in it's immigrations Thebes,
and Tyre and Babylon, and will
swallow all our cities. Yet, city OF
silence. Nc voice. No hoof. Nc
wheel. No clash. No shifting OF
hammer. No clack of flying loom.
No jar. No whisper. Great city
of silence! OF all its million million
hands, not n of them is lifted. OF
its million million eyes, not one of
them sparkles. OF all its million
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 drifting under our feet today.
We march on toward eternity, not
by companies of 100, or regiments
of 1000, or brigades of 10, 900, but
/, 600, 600, 600 abreast! Marching
on! Marching on!
Again: AS with variety of ap-
pearance 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 with
cred, and uncomely, and ragged,
waiting for the northeast storm to
drive them into the mire. The sun
shining at MONDAY glides them
with no beauty. Ragged leaves,
Dead leaves, 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
of the cold waters, and they are
gone. No tinge of hope. No proph-
ecy of heaven. Their spring was
all abloom with bright prospects;
their summer thick -foliage with OPP
~portunities; but October came, and
their glory went. Frostedl In
early autumn the frosts come, but
do not seem to damage vegetation.
They are light frosts. But some
morning you look out ofthe window
and say. ''There was a black frost
last night" and you know that from
that day everything will wither.
So men seem to get along without
religion, amid the annoyances and
of life that nip them
slightly here and nip them there.
But after while death comes. 1t is
black frost, and all is ended.
Oh, what whitening and scatter
ing death makes among those not
prepared to meet it! They leave
everything pleasant behind them,
their house, their families, their
friends, their books, their pictures,
and step out of the sunshine into
the shadow. They quit the pres
snce of bird, and bloom, and wave,
TO go unbeckoned and unwelcomed.
The bower in which they stood, and
sang, and wove chaplets, and made
merry, has gone down
under an awful equinoctian. Mol
bell can toll one half the dolefulness
their condition. Frosted! |.
But thank God that is not the way
always die. Tell me, on
what day of all the year the leaves
the woodbine T as bright as
they are today! So christian char
acter is never so attractive as in the
lying hour. Such go into the grave,
lot as a dog, with frown and harsh
voice, driven into a kennel, but they {
away calmly. brightly, sweetly, {
yrandly! AS the leaf! As the leaf!
Why go to the deathbed of distin- I
men, when there is hardly {
house on this street but from it a ]
has departed2 When your
died there vas enough angels I
the room to have chanted a coro- ,
When your father died you 1
'at watching, and after awhile felt
If his wrist, and then put your hand ,
lnder his arm to SEE if there was |
my warmth left, and placed the !
mirror to the mouth to see if thereI
any sign of breathing; and
when all vas over, you thought !
low grandly he slept-a giant rest
ng after a battle. OH there arel
many christian deathbeds. The
'hariots of God, come to take his {
'hildren home, r speeding every :
whittier. This one halts at the gate :
# the almshouse; that one at the :
,ate of princes. The shout of cap-,
ives breaking their chains comes on ..
he morning air. The heavens ring
gain and again with the corona r
ion. The twelve gates of heaven :,
b
{oa~oana.:u~ o