Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1897-06-03
CHAPTER /.

|. who write this, am dead man
Dead legally-dead by absolute proofs
dead and buried! Ask for me in my
rative city, and they will tell you l
was one of the victims Of the cholera
that ravaged Naples in 1884, and that
my mortal remains lie moulderlng IN
the funeral vault Of my ancestors.
Yeti live! feel the warm blood
coursing through my velns-the blood
of thirty summers-the prime OF early
manhood inyigorates me, and makes
these eyes Of mine keen and bright
these muscles strong as iron-thls
hand powerful of grip-ths well-knit
form erect and proud of bearing. Yes!
i am alive, though declared to be
dead; alive in the fullness OF manly
force-and even sorrow has left few
DISTINGUISHING marks upon me, save
one. My hair, once ebony-black, IS
white as a wreath of Alpine snow,
though it's clustering curls are thick
as ever.
"A constitutional inheritance" asks
one physician, observing my frosted
locks.
"a sudden shock?" suggests another.
Exposure to intense heat?" hints
a third
/ answer none Of them. | did once,
told my story to a man | met by
chance -one renowned for medical
skin and kindness. He heard me to
the end In evident Incredibly and
alarm. and limited ut the possibility Of
madness. Since then I have never
spoken.
But now ! write. | am far from all
persecution can set down the truth
fearlessly. | can dip the pen in my
own blood II / choose, and none shall
gaiusay met For the green silence of a
vast South American forest encom-
passes me the grand and stately
silence of a virginia. nature, almost
unhruken By the ruthless step of a
mans civilization "A haven of perfect
calm, delicately disturbed by the iut-
tering wings and soft voices Of birds,
and the gentle or stormy murmur Of
the freeboru winds of heaven, Within
this charmed circle Of rest | dwell
here | LEFT up my Cverburdened heart
like Drumming chuitco, and empty it
on the ground, to the last drop Of gall
COT tanned therein. The world shgp
know my history.
Dead, and yet living How can that
be2-yOu ask. All, my friends II you
seek to be rid of your relations for a
ft.,tt . .,ts.
bodies cremated Otherwise there is
no knowing what may hapeu' Crema-
ton is the best wgy--the only way It
is clean. and safe Why should there
be any prejudice against it? Surely il
1 better to give the remains Of what
we loved Tor pretended to love- TO
cleansing fire and pure air than to
lay them In a cold vault of stone, or
down, down in the wet aud clnging
earth. For loathly things are hidden
deep in the mold things foul and all
unnameable- long worms Shiny crea-
lures with blind eyes am useless
wings -abOrtioua and deformitics of
The insect tribe born OF poisonous vapov
creatures the very sight OF which
would drive you, oh, delicate women.
into fit of hysteCia and would pro-
woke even you, OH strong man, to
shudder of repulsiou, but there is
worse thing than these merely phys
zeal horrors which come OF so-cail.d
Christian burial-that is, the terrible
uncertainty What, II after we have
lowered the narrow strong box CON
tanning our dear deceased relation into
It's vault or hollow in the ground -
what II after We have worn q seemly
gaIb of woe, and tortured our faces
into the fitting expression of gentle
0nd patient melancholy what. L
say, II after all the reasonable prerau-
ttuns taken TO insure safety. they
should actually prove Insufficient
What ii the prison to which we have
consigned the deeply regretted one
should not have such close doors as
we fcudly imagined? What, II the stout
coffin should be wrenchod apart by
fierce and frenzied fingers what. IL
our late dear friend should not be
dead, but should like Lazarus of old.
NN.Ait' th.f 100 N' o. liAI'.IE' t'AI NltIllON
arewa Should we not crioye sorely
That we had failed To avail ourselves
OF the secure and classical method of
cremation Especially Sc we had
benefited hy worldly goods or money
LEFT 20 us by the So deseryndly lament
I'd! For We are selfapcelyIng hypo-
critics few of MS are really sorry for
the dead few of us remember tbpm
with any tenderness or affection. And
yet, God knows' they may need more
pity than we dream Of
But let me 20 my task l. Fahio
Romgnio. lately deceased. am about ta
chronicle the events off ou, short va1r
--a year in which was compressed the
agony of n long and tortured lifetime
One little year one sharp thrust
from he dagger Of TIme' It pierced
my heart the wound sNl eapos and
bleeds ana every drop SO blood II
tainted as e falls,
One GH NprEnr ram, rYg.,r f#, ,.,..,...