The Farmville herald. [volume] (Farmville, Va.) 1890-1934, 1899-04-21
FARNIyILLE. VA. FRIDAY. APRIL 2l. 1899.

The quick feet have stopped ard re
locks toss 10 more lr tlef-ird Laugh
ter has gone cut Of the h4.L Death in
the summer house.
Here iss fatter in miil'fe. His COM
inc home DO night is the signal for
mlrth. The children rush 20 the door.
ana there are books or the evening
stand. ard fle hours pa.s away Oh -.ad
feet. There IS nothing wanting in that
h-ue. Religion Is there and sacrifices
rr the altar morning and night. You
look in that household and say: Il can
not think Of anything happier. I DO
Got really believe the world is SO sad
place as some people describe it TO
Le." The scene changes Father j.
..cA- The doors must be kept shut.
Ile ieatlwatch chirpz d0iefully Oh the
hearth. The children whisper and walk
softly where once they rcmped Pass
p ing the house late at night. you see the
quick g.arcirg u lights from room 70
room. lt isail over. Death 10 the sum
mer house.
Here is an aged mother-aged. but
DOT infrm. You thinky0u win have the
joy Of caring for her wants good while
yet As she goes from house 10 house.
tochi.dren and grandchildreu. her com
ing is a dropping of sunlight 10 the
dwelling. Your children see her com
ing through the lane. and they cry:
~GrauLm0tlcr's come." Care for you
has marked up her face with many a
deep wrinkle and her back st0ops with
carrying your burdens. Some day she
is very quiet She says she is not sick.
but something tells you you viii not
much longer have a mother. She viii
sit with you 10 more At the table nor at
the hearth. Her soul goes out so gently
you DO not exactly know the moment
q It's going. Fold the hands thar have
done so many k.nduesses for yOu right
over the heart that has beat witl love
toward you since before you were born.
Let the pilgrim rest. She is weary.
Death in the summer house.
Gather about us what we viii Of com
fort and luxury. When the pale messeu-
ger comes be does not stop TO look al
the architecture Of the house before he
comes iu. nor. entering. does be wait
TO examine the pictures we have gath
cred on the wall. or, bending over your
pillow. be does not stop to see whether
there is color In the cheek or gentle
ness in the eye or intelligence In the
brow. But what of -hat3 Must W.
stand forever mourning among the
graves of our dead? so. No. The
people in Bengal bring cages of birds
ro the graves Of their dead. and then
they open the cages. and the birds 60
singing heaveuvard. So would bring
to the graves Of your dead all bright
thoughts and congratulations and b.i
them si-g Of victory and redemption.
Istamr ou rhe bottom 0f the grave, and
It brsaas Through into the light and
the glory Of Heaven. The ancieuts used
10 think shat the straits entering the
led sea were very dangerous places,
and they supposed that every ship that
went through those straits would be
destroyed. and they were in the habit
Of putting ca weeds oi mourning for
those who had gone on that voyage, as
though they were actually dead. Do
you. know what they called those
straits? They called them the "Gate
of Tears" i stand az the gate Of tears
through whah many Of y0uv loved ones
have gone. ard I want 10 tell you that
all are not shipNrecked that have gouA
through those STRAITS into the great
ocean stretching cut beyond. The
sound that comes fhoa that other shore
on still nights when Re are Wrapped
in prayer makes ne thirk Nat tie de-
parted are not dead. we are the dekd-
we who toll. we who weep. We who Sin
we are the dead. How my heart aches
for human sorrow-this sound of boak-
ing hearts that I hear all about me. ibis
last look Of faces that never viii
brighten again. this last kiss clips that
never viii speak again. this widowhood
and crphauare, Oh. when Will the day
Of sorrow be gouei
After the sharpest winter the spring
dismounts from the shoulder Of a south
ern gale and puts its warm hand upon
the earth, and in its palm there comes I
the grass. and there come the flowers.
and God reads over the poetry OF bird
and brook and bloom and prou0uuces it T
very good. What. my friends, il every
winter had not its spring and every
night its day. and every gloom its glow. .
and every bitter now its sweet here .
after If you have been on the sea, /
you know. as the ship passes in the /
night. there is phCsphorescent track I
left behind It, and as the waters roll .
up they toss with uuimag giuabls splsn 7.
dor. Wei. across this great ocean Of +
human trouble Jesus walks. Oh, that .
In the phosphcresceut track Of His feet
we might all follow and be iiiuminedi
There was a gentleman In a rail car
who saw IN that same car three passen- +
gers Of very different circumstances- +
The first was a maniac. He was care
fully guarded by his attendants. His
mind. like a ship dismasted, was beat
ing against dark. dssoists coast, from
which no help could come. The train
stopped and the man was taken out into
the asylum. 90 waste away perhaps
through years Of gloom. The second
passenger was a culprit. The outraged .
law had seized on him. As the cars
io.-ed the ctains ratified On his face
were crime. depravity and despair The
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