nm$immmnmmm
The Commoner.
'JUNE 30, 1905
3
throughout Russia and from today you will assist
mo in this new work." He then shook hands
with the representatives, greeting cordially even
those who have been most insistent upon gov
ernmental reforms. This is a great victory for
the doctrine of self government and the czar will
soon find that he has gained influence rather
than lost it by making the people co-partners in
the work of government. The people will endure
things for which they are themselves responsible
and will patiently await remedies which they
themselves can apply. Now if the czar will give
them free spirit and a free press He will convert
a heretofore sullen constituency into enthusiastic
supporter. The public official who trios to sup
press criticism not only intensifies the crlticlmu
but denies himself the advantage of suggestions
from the opposition. The more cQntrali'.Qd the
government the more do thoso in authority need
the frank and candid criticism of political adversaria.
U
GOING DOWN THE VALLEY"
An aged man lay dying one evening in a
western hotel. In the office on the floor below a
number of friends had congregated to await the
end. Aside from those friends and the members
of the family gathered at the bedside it was not
generally known that in that great building a life
was going out. In the parlor on the same floor
on which the dying man's room was located as
sembled a little party, all ignorant of the import
ant events going on within a few doors. A sweet
faced girl was asked to sing. Soon the men
waiting in the office below and the grief-stricken
ones gathered at the bedside of the dying father
and husband were listening to one of the sweetest
voices over heard singing one of the sweetest
songs ever sung. The watchers heard:
.We are going down the valley one by one
With our faces toward the setting of the sun.
Down the valley where the mournful cypress
grows,
Where the stream of death in silence onward
flows.
Instantly every man in the-office below re
moved his hat, and- one of the watchers at the
bedside opened the door a bit wider as the sweet
singer gave the refrain:
We are going down the valley, going down
the valley, t
Going toward the setting of the sun
We are going down the valley, going down
the valley,
Going down the valley, one by one.
It was. plain to the persons gathered at that
bedside that the dying man heard and under
stood the singer and the song. Plainly he was
straining his ears to catch the music and the
words; and plainly he succeeded, because a smile
lighted up his face upon which the death damp
had already gathered as the girl sang:
We are going down the valley one by one;
Human comrades there will you and I have
none.'
But a tender hand will guide us lest we fall
Christ is going down the valley with us all.
As though anticipating the wish of the dying
man, the watchers at the bedside, their voices
trembling with emotion, sang again the last
verse. As they concluded: "But a tender hand
will guide us lest we fall, Christ Is going down the
valley with us all,u the watchers knew that that
particular voyage was at an end; and in their
heart of hearts they felt that their friend had
not been unattended in his pilgrimage.
It has been written that "men fear death as
children fear to go in the dark; and as that nat
ural fear in children is increased with tales, so
is the other." But children may be trained to
abandon their fears of the night which is just
as much a part of natural law as the day even
as death is as much a part of divine law as birth.
And "men, who are only boys grown tall, for
hearts don't change much, after all," ought to
outgrow these fears that, properly, have no place
in the thoughts of intelligent men.
Of course it is easier to make such sugges
tions than to act on them; but is it unreasonable
to believe that the present day dread of death
could be measurably reduced if "men were edu
cated by others and by themselves to regard
it as passing through the very thin shadow sepa
rating the living, from the dead?
Some will say that the "way to cure these
fear3 is pointed out in "the faith of the mothers."
We know that men have been greatly streng
thened by that faith when "going down the val
ley," but we know, too, that many men whose
opinions' did not lie exactly along the lines of
the orthodox religion, and other men who had
no fixed religious belief, have met death without
a tremor. We know, also, that even among men
who are firm believers, and among men who have
lived eminently correct lives the fqar of death-
and not alone the natural reluctance to terminato
life exists, in pronounced form. Even the faith
that is bred in the bone of the member of the
orthodox household has not served In all cases
nor as a rule to cure men of the fear of the sum
mons from "over there." Because this is so men
should teach' one another to look upon death not
as an unnatural thing, but as mere fulfillment of
God's law; for "we are going down the valley
one by one."
Death is no more mysterious than birth, and
there need be no more of the elements of tragedy
in the one than in the other. Every man who
- dreads not death and meets it calmly sets an
example to his living fellows; and the instances
they are many where men have without fear or
trembling closed their eyes for all time are
worthy of being recalled occasionally. It would
be well if the popular conception of deatli could
be somewhat' revised through frequent recitals of
instances where deathbed scenes have proved an
inspiration to the living witnesses.
Colonel Sol G. Kitchen of Missouri was fa
mous as a brave officer in the Confederate army.
A few days before his death he said to his wife:
"As soon as the doctor tells you I am dying I
want Lu (his daughter) to go to the piano and
play 'Jesus, Lover of my Soul.' " When the doc
tor announced that death was rapidly approach
ing, the daughter took her seat at the instrument
and with tears streaming down her cheeks played
that fine old air as it was never played before.
The dying man heard the music and recognized
the sign. With a smile on his face and fuintly
repeating the words: "Safe into the haven guide;
O, receive my soul at last" the fiae old soldier
passed down: the valley
All the world is familiar with the scenes
at the death bed of William McKinley. We re
member that twice after It was known that the
president was dying ho recovered consciousness
and on each occasion summoned his wife to the
bedside, seeking in spite of his pain to comfort
th: distressed woman. Evidently realizing that
the end was near, in one of these moments of
consciousness he murmured, "Good-bye, all, good
bye. It is God's way. His will be done, not ours."
And while the world was receding from him and
he realized that he was "going down the valley,"
he chanted the words of that beautiful hymn
"Nearer My God to Thee. Nearer to Thee."
The people of Nebraska are familiar witli
the scenes occurring at the death-bed of John
S. Robinson, at one time a member of congress.
-The facts as hereinafter stated 'are well authenti
cated, and it is safe lo say that no more inspiring
t scenes were ever enacted in the very presence
of the grim reaper. For, perhaps, twelve hours
before his death Mr. Robinson was perfectly con
scious of all that was going on about him. The
same cheerfulness that during the days of his
strong manhood endeared him to his friends
characterized his dying moments. When after
a consultation of phyoicians it was announced
that there was no longer .any hope, that fine
philosophy with which he had been wont to cheer
up his fellow democrats after a political defeat
was brought into play, and he said: "We have
lost the battle; but we at least have the con-
solation of knowing that we made a good fight."
Perhaps an hour before death came the nurse,
ascending the stairway just outside the sick
chamber, stumbled and in keeping with an old
superstition,, made an ejaculation.
When the nurse entered the room, Mr. Robin
son said: "I see you are superstitious."
"How do you know that?" asked the nurse.
"You stubbed your toe on the stairway and
I heard what you said," replied the dying man.
Twenty minutes before this man died, he
turned to a friend at the bedside and directing
his attention to a cigar stub on the dresser, said:
"Give me that cigar. I am going to have another
good smoke, anyway." His friend replied: "John,
, you'd better have a fresh cigar" and from his own
pocket he tendered the dying man an Havana
which Mr. Robinson proceeded to light and aj:
parently enjoy. .
, . , For himself he seemed to have not the slight
est fear. There was, unquestionably, deop anxloty
on his part lest his good wife ncedlossly suffer;
and his whole thought scorned to bo to give to
his sweetheart and his helpmeet, out of his own
poor and all but depleted stock of strength, the
courago and the vigor essential in that the most
trying moment of her life. Turning to his brother
at the bedside, ho asked: "Jim, have you got
your nerve with you?" The brother, well nigh
choking with emotion, replied In the affirmative.
"I am glad of it. Hang on to it to the end, we will
need It all," said the dying man.
Perhaps five minutes before he passed away,
ho noticed that all the windows in tho room were
open wide; and ho noticed, also, that his wife
wore no wrap. "Put on your jacket. Kate; you'll
take cold," admonished tho thoughtful man who
at that moment stood at the very threshold of
eternity.
It Is not difficult to discover that this man
had some very firm convictions on the great ques
tion affecting tho future. It must bo evident to
every one that he was well fortified to moot and
solve the secret of nature. Some of those who
shared his confidences know that he did not be
llevo that there was an extremely broad chasm
between this life and the next. They know,that
he believed that men who die live again; and that
somehow and some way the living who have loved
and lost their beloved may enjoy tho consolation
of that sweet communion by which was smoothed
the sorrow of one of whom it was written: "A
guardian angel o'er his life presiding, doubling his
pleasures and his cares dividing."
And so when ho came to bid farewell to
the one nearest and dearest to him he turned to
his good wife and said: "Tho end is drawing
near, but wo must not worry." And then -with
striking emphasis, he added: "It's all right; and
I'll be standing right there, Kate, waiting for
you on the other shore with outstretched arms."
Some one has said: "The heavens them
selves blaze forth tho death of princes." Perhaps
it was merely a coincidence, but it Is, however, a
fact that at the very moment when the spirit of
this brave man took Its flight there came a heavy
peal of thunder; and as the hands were folded
on t-ho breast, Senator "William V. Allen, one of
the watchers at the bedside, turned to a com
panion and said: "It is as though the artillery
of heaven were firing a salute in welcome .to a
superbly brave man."
Though we may call the thunder peal a mere
coincidence, who will say that it was not eminent
ly fitting that the heavens themselves should
blaze forth the death of a man capable of so much
love, courage and philosophy?
Will we not do well to remember that "man.
makes a death which nature never made," and)
that "It is impossible that anything so naturak;
so hecessary and so universal as death, should!
ever have been designed by Providence as an
evil to mankind."
Don't you remember the story of "He and
She?" They said she was dead. They left the
room glad to get away from its awful stillness.
They sought to take him with them. "But he who
loved her too well to dread the sweet, tho stately,'
tho beautiful dead, he lit his lamp and took
tho key and turned It alone again, he and she.
He and she; but she would not speak, though he
kissed, in the old place, the quiet cheek. He and;
she; yet she would not smile, though he called;
her the name she loved erewhile. He and she;
still she did not move to any passionate whisper
of love'
He wanted to know whether there was a
language of death and vhat was the infinite won-t
der of It all; he wanted to learn "the very
strangest and suddenest thing of all the surprises
that dying must bring." With his hot tears rain
ing on the dear, sweet face he pleaded for a wordy
Did he plead in vain? "Who will believe that
he heard her say, with the sweet, soft voice, in
the dear old way: 'The utmost wonder Js this
I hear, and see you and love you and kiss you,
dear; and am your angel who was your bride
and know that though dead, I have never died."
RICHARD L. METCALFE,
,mfcic.i, iift.i.gyafo uj .i... ;' - .. .
-V .
oik j ,AAt.4mj., a jAJMt.-A.jJ,-.w..-.. --...vi..,jkjji--,vjT.J..j.AJHjeto'.r-,
