Year: 1867

Since last we closed the weeks labor
with quiet article like this, the old year
has gone and another hurried to fill its
place. There was no waiting; no blank
space between the tive. How like life
and death. We live; we have our spring
summer, autumn and winter. We roll
up our minutes, our mission is ended
We 90 home, and before we are in the
coffin another one sits in the chair we
cannot take with us. Sometimes we sit
here in the sanctum and, surrounded by
the hundreds of mementoes on the walls,
stands and desks, wonder what people
live for. Who knows7 There should
be some aim and object, yet no one in
ten who reads this chapter can answer
US truly,f he does not know-has never
thought. Some live to make money.
Mockeryl What is wealth to us when We
have gone home Some live to escape
death in fear of the beautiful sublimity
of the unknown. We pity the one who
is afraid to died. We are sorry for the
one who is 10th to 90 home, for that home
has no attraction, no more than his place
of carousal or torturing dread has of
u
ment without sign or murmur, for we
believe to die is to gain happiness. There
is desire for life with all Of us-but for
one, death has no terrors. 1t is but the
sleepy and instantaneous waking to in
herit lifes s labor. When we can be no
longer of use, let US die in the harness
and not 90 tottering, stumbling to the
bottom of the hill, so. hard to climb when
the veins are full, the blood hot, and the
energy of manhood is urging us onward
and upward.


The only dread death has is the fact
that we are so soon forgotten. We sicken
and die. Perhaps the hand Of love will
smooth the restless pillow, the kiss of
love still the wildly throbbing brain
perhaps not. Or we may fall at mo-
ments notice by the wayside. Who of
us know? Workingman-brother--no
matter from whence ye come, think of
this tonight Do not throw this aside
for we mean we'll to you. What are you
living for? Why are you toiling weary
hours ? Is it for yourself2 Thenindeed
YOU are selfish. Is it for those you love 2
Then toll on and God give you rich re-
ward. Is it to make a homer Then
save more than you squander, for saving
of earnings is saving of manhood, of life,
of honor, of nobility. You are going
home. Then 60 by the most pleasant
route. Do not enter your home in filth
and negligence. Go not there with red
eyes, unsteady gait, maudlin speech and
at the dead hour of bitter night. Live
Coz vonrself- for others. Go to
your cottage or your cheerful
home your rooms or your man
sion. Look There is weary eyed
woman waiting for your presence. The
single hour of night has come. The fire
is nearly out. The little ones are in bed,
covered with the well worn clothes, worn
during the day as well as by night to
keeo them warm. The lamp burns dimly,
the oil is nearly out The clock ticks
fearfully loud, echoing over the bare
floor. The wind howls without Oil but
this weary waiting and watching IS pain
full And yet it is so FOOTBALLS, but
not his Other steps, but not the ones
my ears 20 out to gather. " Does he love
me ? No yes no yes--then why does
he not come? All the week i have
toiled--all the week worked and waited
for Saturday night, to bring to me my
love, but he comes not yet All His
step, no, yes, yet not his The tears-i-
the tears--the sorrow Of heart-who
can read it. And this is the one so
loved once l love even now, for-for-
for for-oh God / know not why, but |
love him.