The age-herald., 1899-06-11
THE MURMUR
 OF THE WORLD

With those of nobler bulk!
 But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage Tho gentle Thetis, and anon, behold The strong-ribbed bark through liquid
 mountains cut
 Bounding between the two moist clements, Like Perseussz horse: Where then the
 saucy boat
 Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now
 Co-rivaPd greatness? either to harbor fled Or made toast for Neptune. Even so Doth valor's show, and valors worth, divide
 In storms of fortune: For, in her ray and brightness,
 The herd hath more annoyance by the prize, Than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind
 Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, And flies fled under shade, why, then, the thing of courage,
 As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathiZe,
 And, with an accent tuned the self-same key,
 Returns to chiding fortune. 3sah.fb-.i4,s
 
 When the grim marshal of France, sore wounded and bleeding, fell with his dying horse in that sublime charge al Wagram, he caused a coach to be brought and him. self lifted into it. Thus, "swathed in ban- dages," he continued to lead his soldiers until, out of fifteen thousand scarce fifteen hundred were left to sabre the enemys gunners. The immortal last of the Cardi- gans received a false order out of the mouth of a foolish messenger, and died in the execution of it. Probably we should search vainly in seeking nobler instances of re- proving chance proving the real worth of men. MeDonald's chance wounds sent him swathed in bandages along the sunbright way of fame; and the chance speech of a fool proved valor's worth in Cardigan and made him immortal as a god. Neither knew nor cared nor questioned. Theirs to do, theirs to die. Only poor Cardigan's de- there flashed the stainless sword of a stainless race going to death. e--...a.aia.a.
 
 In the affairs and offices of this life 1t is given to every man, in the abound ing spirit of truth and love and justice, to be 8 Cardigan. He whose bright blade was a guide-light in the carnage of the far Russian valley was no worther hero than the man who wins victory over sin or self, defies diversity, or who rises superior to the reproofs of un- happy chance which, tiger-like, crouches ever ready to spring upon the passersby in this great jungle of the world. Mankind does not acclaim him so great, nor is he; but he is at least great in the real morali- ties of organized society. Men sometimes confound the mere eXpediencies of life with the true morality thereof; but that is to serve their own purposes, or whims; and whilst 1t may bring them fortune, the thing they achieve comes to them hooded with unrest, leering hag that mocks and with foul finger points to an end that may not be peaceful so long as truth is white and falsehood black. He is a Cardigan of the virtues who steadfastly and valorously fights it out with reproving chance and comes at last to kiss the hem of the white garment of Peace. He is a hero who throws his glove full fair and free in the face of all opposing forces and claims bat tie for good and noble things. A hero is he who does the best he can: angels could do no more. Cant and hypocrisy are the eter- come any reproof of chance. Upon the di- vine injunction Thou shalt not" awaits the mouthing swineherd's "calr to preach the accursed doctrine of You be damnedw
 
 The untimber'd sides of many bauble boat lie decaying far down in the black deeps of old ocean, where no roar of storm shall reach them, whilst the strong bark masters the masterful wave and defies sea and gale The wind and the sea are rough playmates, and when they are at play the bauble boat goes down, and the strong bark struggles to keep on it's way from port to port, freighted with hopes and fears and fortune and failure. Full-tilt comes the sea, roaring and hissing in riotous wra h, dashing itself in great green bulk against the floating fortress of steel, which trem- bles and quivers under the mighty shock, and then throws back the pillows, scat tered into white spray that flies harmless upon the rude and boisterous wind Open- ing wide it's arms, the sea receives the bark, and pulls it down, down, down, un- til it seems to be lost. But not so. The point of resistance comes, the bark asserts itself, and, staggering and struggling, it rises slowly to the summit of a mountain of water, where it rests for moment like a great fowl, ready to soar and fly afar to where the storm beats not at all The wind and the sea grow weary of play. The wind passes away; the sea grows calm. The bark keeps on it's course as a sentient thing conscious of victory won.
 The bauble boats are many; the strong barks are few. Yet the weak and the strong may sail each in it's appointed water. The boat may not cross the bar, but it may at least sail within good view of the breakers tossing their white caps in- ward as if to mark the line they cannot cross. The bark goes out defiantly; the boat rides safely in calmer waters, per forming the work given it quite as worthily as that done by the strong bark that fol- lows the horizon across the deep. The apex of the great vault of blue is above the boat, whilst the horizon is never reached by bark in voyage of sea in the globes vast circuit. The bark races the storm and losses the warhorses of the sea. The boat rides peacefully under the stars where no wind roars and there is no sea. Thus in very fact may the weak untimberd