Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1907-08-13
mund.n. Matters.

I have heard It intimated from various
sources that this goodly heritage OF real
estate on which we live, taken g q
whole, is not 90 fiat Is 1t might have
been. When viewed In the bulk 1t bears
striking resemblance to base ball
only more bulky. It 10 also affirmed
that It IL in nowise stationary, but that
there Is certain degree OF looseness
about It, and It does not stick to the
axle but rotates with ease, and 10 prompt
and rapid in it's movements. The earth
is due at this point IL N. daily, Sundays
not excepted, and rain or shine, blow
high or blow low, 1t comes up to time,
or nearly 80, whether dinner is ready or
not, but in order to get there 1t is nee
essary to strike q one-thousand-mile-
hourly gait and plus. 1t is forced to do
much better than that to bring around
the new year on schedule time.
To cali the earth a "slow coach" Is an
inaccuracy. One thousand miles in six
ty minutes! IT'S q good, round, jolly
pace, we'll worth the travelling, and well
worth the price of the whole round trip.
What a delightful sense of security as
we 90 whirling around, knowing that
nothing was built by contract in track or
rolling stock! One thousand! And yet
how many there are who feel personally
snubbed and aggrieved because 1t isn't
fifteen hundred. They see no sense nor
reason why 1t shouldn't be fifteen hun
dred.
He who makes unfavorable criticisms
on the established rate of speed Is
chronic fault-fnder. He is an uneasy
citizen of this great republic. Whoever
is president he never is satisfied. The
deeps and the shadows of his soul are
forever ruffled by squalls. The Their
mometer and he are at variance. The
weather never suits him-or hardly ever.
It is always too hot or too cold, too wet
or too dry-always food or drought.
There is always little too much or
little too little of the "Hammer Brand"
in his biscuits, and the wife OF his
bosom hears again that they are not such
biscuits as "Mother used to make"
One thousand miles! Yet, hush! bark!
Do you hear any sound, any jar, any
creaking of the machinery, even at that
fearsome rate of speed? Not any. Which
leads us to infer that the bearings are
perfect, fabricated from the beginning,
with a perpetual lubricant, as 'twere.
When we step out into the moonlight,
out under the silent crystalline heavens,
and the beating of our own hearts Is the
only sound we hear, when We place our
feet upon the earth, the solid earth, and
look out over these hills and mountains,
and valleys and things, and consult our
own particular and individual impress
sions of the situation, we are glad to say
that there is a marked sluggishness In
the movements of our earth; indeed,
there ia no movement here, no tick here,
perfectly quiet, perfectly docile.
Things are not what they seem, always
and altogether. Jot that down! What is
earth with all its solids and with all it's
fluid extracts, with all its beauty and
with all its bloom, in comparison with
all these diamond points that swing and
sing above US out and away in Gods H.
limitable space! Nothing at all, scarcely.
Take that sun that shines for US, that
warns us, that comforts us and makes
hay for us, call it liquid mass, then
take our earth and tossi 1t into that liquid
mass, and what is the result? Well, per-
haps bubble will arise to the surface,
float for moment, then break and be no
more forever. o, yes, our earth Is just
bulky enough to raise bubble-no great
of bubble either, and yet tolerable
bubble as bubbles go.
All! but it is a good world to live in
what there is of it-and there is enough
of it such as it is-and it is a good world
to die in. How many death scenes the
gray old world has witnessed since Time
was young-outward bound forever,
with but here and there spiritual
visitant, and he usually plans to turn up
/ in the dark of the moon and is seldom
warmly welcomed.
All, yes! good world to enter
and a good world to leave-excel-
Il lent world to leave, and we ought to
leave it in perfect trust, knowing that
the departure of our slight avoirdupois
will not cause the earth to cast her belt,
will not add to, nor detract from, that
everlasting one thousand miles an hour.
1t will still 60 spinning around on Its
own invisible axis after we have become
invisible. 1t will still 60 fluking on it's
high pathway round the sun, with the
stars and stripes still swapping in the
breezes, when our eyes are full of dark
ness and our ears are dull OF hearing.
Not note is lost from the worlds music
when we have ceased to sing in the land
of the living. Our voice may make dis
cord in the harmony, and the song will
still 60 on, better and sweeter, with one
more element of discord eliminated.
It is a comfort to refect-a cold,
crawling, creepy comfort-that If we are
of no special use while living, if we have
never caused two blades of grass to
grow where but one grew before, to
beautify and to benefit, we shall do that
at least, not many decades hence, when
gentle death with cunning hand reduces
us to plant food-unless we should get
spilled overheard in mid-ocean or sleep
in so low bed that the roots OF the
green things growing shall fail to reach
and appropriate our little scuttleful OF
Il ,oLo, and homo roaol JoUN