Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1898-04-14
surrender It. we See how preclous llfe Is

surrender 1c. We see now precious life Is
| from the fact we do every thing to proionR
it. Hence all sanitary regulations, ali
study Of hygiene all fear of draughts, all
waterproofs, all doctors, all medicines all
struggle In crisis or accident. An Admiral
| of the British Navy was court
| for turning his ship around in time of dan
ger, and SO damaging the ship. 1t was
proved against him. But when his time
came to be heard he said: Gentlemen,
did turn the ship around, and admit that it
was damaged but do you want to know
why turned 1t? There was a man over
board, and wanted to save him, and did
save him, and I consider the life of one
sailor worth all the vessels of the British
Navy No wonder he was vfpdicated.
Life is indeed very precious. Yeas there
are those who deem life so precious, they
would like to try it over again. They would
like to go back from seventy to sixty, from
sixty to fifty, from fifty to forty, from forth
to thirty, and from thirty to twenty.
"The factis, that no intelligent and right
feeling man is satisfied with his past life.
'However successful your life may have
been, you are not satisfied with it. What
is success? Ask that question of u hundred
different men, and they will give hun
dred different answers. One man will say,
Success is million dollars;' another will
say, Success is worldwide publicity;' an
other will say, Success is gaining that
which you started for. But as it is u free
country, give my own definition, and
say, Success IS fulfilling the particular
mission upon which you were sent, whether
to write u constitution, or invent a new
style of wheelbarrow, or take care Of Il sick
| child Do what God calls you to do, and
| you are a success, whether you leave
million dollars at death or are buried at
public expense, whether 1t takes fifteen
| pages of an encyclopedia to tell the won
derful things you have done, or your name
is never printed but once, and that in the
| death column. But whatever your success
has been, you are not satisfied with your
| life.
"But some Of you would have to 60 back
farther than to twenty-one years of age to
make a fair start, for there are many who
manage to get all wrong before that period
Yea, In order to get a fair start, some would
have to go back to the father and mother
and get them corrected; yea, to the grand
| father and grandmother, and have their
| life corrected, for some ofyou are suffering
| from bad hereditary influences which
started hundred years ago. Well, IT, your
grandfather lived his life over again, and
| your father lived his life over again, and
| you lived your life over again, what a clut-
| tered-up place this world would be-a place
| filed with miserable attempts at repairs.
1 begin to think that it is better for each
| generation to have only one chance, and
then for them to pass Off and give another
| generation chance. Besides that, ii we
were permitted to live life over again, it
would be stale, and stupid experience.
| The zest and spur and enthusiasm of life
come from the fact that we have never
been along this road before, and every
| thing is new, and we are alert for what may
| appear at the next turn of the road. Sup
pose you, man of middle-life or old age.
were, with your present feelings and large
| attachments, put back into the thirties, or
| the twenties, or into the tens, what nui-
| sance you would be to others, and what an
| unhappiness to yourself! Your contempor-
| ri n nj INF InII n pd unn MI
| not want them. Things that in your pre-
| vious journey of life stirred your healt hful
ambition, or gave you pleasurable surprise,
or led you into happy interrogation, would
only call forth from you disgusted 'Oh,
| pshaw!' You would be blase at thirty, and
a misanthrope at forty, and uncomfortable at
| fifty. The most insane and stupid thing
imaginable would be u second journey Of
| life.
"Out yonder is a man very old at forty
years Of age, at a time when he ought to be
bnoyant as the morning. He got bad habits
on him very early, and those habits have
become worse. He is man on fire, on fire
with alcoholism, on fire with all evil habits,
out with the world and the world out with
him. Down, and falling deeper. His
swollen hands in his threadbare pockets,
and his eyes fixed on the ground he passes
through the streets, and the quick step of
an innocent child or the strong step of Il
young man or the roll of a prosperous car
riage maddens him, and he curses society
and he curses God, Fallen sick, with no
resources. he is carried TO the amshouse.
A loathsome spectacle, he lies all day long
waiting for dissolution, or in the night
rises on his cot and fights apparitions of
what he might have been ana what he will
| be. He started life with as good q pros
pect as any man on the American continent,
and there he is, a bloated carcass, waiting
! for the shovels of public charity to put him
| five feet under. He has only reaped what
he sowed. Harvest OF wild oats! There is
a way that seemeth right to man, but the
end thereof is DEATH
''To others life is masquerade ball, and
| rs Mt such entertainments gentlemen and
ladies put on the garb of Kings and Queens
or mountebanks or clowns and at the close
! put off the disguise. so great many pass
their whole life in a mask, taking off the
mask at death. While the masquerade ball
of life goes on, they trip merrily over the
! floor, gemmed hand is stretched to gemmed
| hand, cleaning brow bends to cleaning
brow. On with the dance! Flush and rus
| tie and laughter Of immeasurable merry
making. But after awhile the languor Of
death comes on the limbs and blurs the
eyesight. Lights lower. Floor hollow
with sepulchral echo. Music saddened in
to wall. Lights lower. Now the mask
ers are only seen in the dim light. Now the
| fragrance OF the flowers is like the sicken-
| ing odor that comes from garlands that
Lights lower. Mists gather in the room.
Glasses shake as though quaked by sudden
thunder. Sigh caught in the curtain.
Scarf drops from the shoulder of beauty q
shroud. Lights lower. Over the slippery
| boards in dance of death glide jealousies,
envies, revenges, lust, despair and death.
Stencil OF lamp-wicks almost extinguished.
Torn garlands will not half cover the ul-
cerated feet. Choking damps. Chilliness.
Feet still. Hands closed. Voices hushed.
Eyes shut. Lights out.
| Young man, as you cannot live life over
again, however you may long to do so, be
sure to have your one life right. There is
in this assembly, l wot not, for we are
made up of all sections Of this land and
from many lands, some young man who
has gone away from home and, perhaps
under some little spite or evil persuasion
of another, ana his parents know not where
he Is. My son, go home! Do not go to
seal Don't go tonight where you may be
| tenn pt ed To Co homai XOur father