Abbeville progress. (Abbeville, Vermilion Parish, La.) 1913-1944, 1917-10-13
SORROW FOR LIE DEAD.

The following art !" from a "hre
noted and eminent liter, cannot but
meet with the general appreciation Of
= thinking and conSc -ativc people.
The sorrow for the dead is the only
sorrow from which we refuse to he III
vorccd. Every other affliction to FOR
got. hut this wound we consider 1t a
dutv ia keep open. This affliction we
cherish and brood over l" Soi';hic.
Where is the mother who would willing
w forget the infant that has perlShc /
like blossom from her arms, though
every recollection is n pang! Where
is tbe child that would willingly for
get a tender parent, though to remem-
Der be but to lament Who, even in
the hour of agony, would forget the
friend over whom he mournsI
No, the love which survives the tomb
is one of the noblest attributes of the
soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise
its delight; and when the overwhelming
burst of grief is Gained into the gentle
tear of recollection; when the sudden
anguish and tho convulsive agony ovci
the present ruins of all that we loved
is so softened away into pensive med
itation on all that it was i'll the days
of its loneliness, who would root out
such a sorrow from the hearth Thougi
it may sometimes throw a passing
cloud over the bright hour of gayety
or spread a deeper sadness over the hou
Of gloom; yet who would exchange i.
even for the song of pleasure, or the
burst f revelrv? No; there is vote.
from the tomb sweeter than is a song
There is remembrance of the dead &
which we turn even from the charms OF
the living.
Oh, the grave! the grave! 1t buric
every error, covers every defect, ex
tinguishes every resentmnt! From it
peaceful bosom spring none but fond
regrets and tender recollections. Who
can look down upon the grave even of
an enemy, and not feel a compunctious
throb, that he should have warred with
the poor handful of earth that lies mold
ing before him9 But the grave of those
we loved-what place for meditation
There it is that we call up, in long re-
view, the whole history of virtue and
gentleness, and the thousand endear.
ments lavished upon us, almost UNDECIDED
in the daily intercourse of intimacy;
there it is that we dwell upon the ten.
derness, the solemn, awful tenderness,
of the parting scene; the bed Of death.
whichwith all its stifled gricfs, its noise
less attendance, its mute, watchful as
siduities, the last testimonies of expir.
ing'love, the feeble fluttering, thrilling
Oh! how thrilling-pressure of the
hand, the last fond look Of the glazing
eye turning upon us, even from the
threshold of existence, the faint, falter.
ing accents, struggling in death to give
one more assurance of affection
Ay, go to the grave of buried love-
and mediate! There settle the account
wit thy conscience for every past en-,
dearment unregarded, of that departed
being. who can never. never, never re-
turn to be soothed by thy contritionl
If thou art child, and hast ever added
a sorrow to the soul or a furrow to the
silvered brow of an effectionate parent
if thou art a husband and hast ever
caused the fond bosom that ventured
Its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt
one moment of thy kindness or thy
thuth; if thou art a friend, and hast
ever wronged, in thought, or word, OF
deed, the spirit that generously confided
in thee; if thou hast given one unmerit
ed pang to that true heart, which now
lies cold and still beneath thy feet; then
be sure that every unkind look, every
ungracious word, every ungentle action
will come throngng back upon thy mem
DRY, and knocking dolefully at thy soul;
then be sure that thou wilt lie down
sorrowing and repentant on the grave
and utter the unheard groan, and pour
the unavailing tear; more deep, more
bitter, because unheard and unavailing
Let us then bow down to the will of
an "All Wise" and "Beneficent God,
and hcnceforth be more considerable and
affectionate in the discharge of our
duty to the living.
Many a man is rich without money.
Thousands of man with notbinr, -, +bo;x