St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1899-02-25

beyond the reach OF Ehud's dagger.
see ! great many people trying to climb
up in social position. having an idea
that there is safe place somewhere
far above, not knowing that the noun
tain Of fame has top like Mont Blanc.
covered with perpetual snow.
We la6gh at the children Of Shinar
for trying to build tower that could
reach to the heavens. but l think if our
eyesight were only good enough we
could see Babel in many dooryard.
Oh, the struggle is fierce! 1t is store
against store, house against house,
street against street. nation against ma
ton. The goal for which men are run
ming is chairs and chandeliers and mir
rors and houses and lands and presi-
Dental equipments. II they get what
they anticipate, what have they? Men
are not safe from calumny while they
live, and worse than that, they are not
safe after they are dead, for have seen
swine roo; up graveyards. One day
man goes mp into publicity, and the
world does him honor. and people climb
up into sycamore trees to watch him as
he passes, and as he goes along on the
shoulders of the people there is wav-
ing of hats and wild huzza. To-mor-
row the same man is caught between
the jaws of the printing press and
mangled and bruised, and the very
same persons who applauded him be
fore cry: "Down with the traitor!
down with him!"
Belshazzar sits at the feast, the
mighty men Of Babylon sitting all
around him. Wit sparkles like the wine
and the wine like the wit. Music rolls
up among the chandeliers; the chan
deliers fash down on the decanters.
The breath of hanging gardens floats
in on the night air. The voice of revelry
floats out Amid wreaths and tapestry
and folded banners finger writes. The
march Of host is heard on the stairs.
Laughter catches in the throat. 4
thousand hearts stop beating. The
blow is struck. The blood on the floor
is richer hued than the wine on the
table. The kingdom has departed. Bel
shazzer was no worse perhaps than
hundreds Of people in Babylon. but
his position slew him. Oh. be content
with just such . position as God has
placed you in! 1t may not be said of us:
ale was a great general" or He was
an honored chieftain," or He was
mighty in worldly attainments." but
this thing may be said of you and OF
me: He was good citizen, faithful
Christian, friend of Jesus" And that
in the last day will be the highest of all
eulogiums.
learn further from this subject that
death comes to the summer house. Egg
lon did not expect 10 die in that fine
place. Amid all the flower leaves that
drifted like summer snow into the win
dow, in the tinkle and dash of the foun-
tains, in the sound of thousand leaves
futing on one tree branch, in the cool
breeze that came up to shake feverish
trouble out of the kings locks-there
was nothing that spake Of death, but
there he died! In the winter, when the
snow is shroud, and when the wind is
dirge, it is easy TO think of our NOR
tally, but when the weather is pleas
ant and all our surroundings are agree
able, how difficult il is for US to appre-
ciate the truth that we are mortal.
And yet my text teaches that death does
sometimes come to the summer house.
He is blind and cannot see the leaves.
He is deaf and cannot hear the foun-
tains. Oh, if death would ask us for
victims we could point him to hundreds
of people who would rejoice to have him
come. Push back the door of that howell
Look at that little child-cold, and sick,
and hungry. It has never heard the
name of God but in blasphemy. Pa
rents intoxicated, staggering around
its straw bed. Oh. death, there is a
mark for thee! Up with it into the
light! Before those little feet stumble
on life's pathway give them rest.
Here is an aged man. He has done his
work. He has done it gloriously. The
companions of his youth all gone, his
children dead, he longs to he at rest.
and YEARLY the days and the nights
pass. He says: Come, Lord Jesus.
come quickly" Oh, death. there is a
mark for thes! Take from him the staff
and give him the scepter! Up with
him into the light, where eyes never
grow dim, and the hair whitens not
through the long years Of eternity. All!
death will not do that. Death turns
back from the straw bed and from the
aged man ready for the skies and comes
to the summer house. What doest thou
here, thou bony. CHASTITY monster, amid
this waving grass and under this sun
light sitting through the tree
branches? Children are at play. How
quickly their feet go and their locks
toss in the vivid. Father and mother
stand al the side of the room looking
on, enjoying their glee. 1t does not
seem possible that the wolf should ever
break into that fold and carry on
lamb. Meanwhile an old archer stands
looking through the thicket. He points
his arrow at the brightest Of the group
he is a sure marksman-the bow
bends. the arrow speeds! Hush now.
The quick feet have stopped and the
locks toss no more in the wind. Laugh
ter mas gone out OF tue nail. OeAtu IN
the summer house!
Here is father in midlife. His COM
ing home at night is the signal for
mirth. The children rush to the door,
and there are books on the evening
stand. and the hours pass away on glad
feet. There is nothing wanting in that
home. Religion is there and sacrifices
on the altar morning and night. You
look in that household and say: lean
cot think Of anything happier. do
not really believe the world is so sad
a place as some people describe it 10
be-" The scene changes. Father is
sick. The doors must be kept shut.
The deathwatch chirps dolefully on the
hearth. The children whisper and walk
softly where once they romped. Pass
ing the house late at night. you see the
quick glancing Of lights from room to
room. 1t is al over! Death in the sum-
mer house!
Here is an aged mother-aged. but
mt infirm. You think YOU will have The