the procession of life-第5部分

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never　could　determine　what　it　was；　and　there　the　most　unfortunate

of　men；　whose　purpose　it　has　been　to　enjoy　life's　pleasures；　but

to　avoid　a　manful　struggle　with　its　toil　and　sorrow。　The

remainder；　if　any；　may　connect　themselves　with　whatever　rank　of

the　procession　they　shall　find　best　adapted　to　their　tastes　and

consciences。　The　worst　possible　fate　would　be　to　remain　behind；

shivering　in　the　solitude　of　time；　while　all　the　world　is　on　the

move　towards　eternity。　Our　attempt　to　classify　society　is　now

complete。　The　result　may　be　anything　but　perfect；　yet　betterto

give　it　the　very　lowest　praisethan　the　antique　rule　of　the

herald's　office；　or　the　modern　one　of　the　tax…gatherer；　whereby

the　accidents　and　superficial　attributes　with　which　the　real

nature　of　individuals　has　least　to　do；　are　acted　upon　as　the

deepest　characteristics　of　mankind。　Our　task　is　done！　Now　let　the

grand　procession　move！



Yet　pause　a　while！　We　had　forgotten　the　Chief　Marshal。



Hark！　That　world…wide　swell　of　solemn　music；　with　the　clang　of　a

mighty　bell　breaking　forth　through　its　regulated　uproar；

announces　his　approach。　He　comes；　a　severe；　sedate；　immovable；

dark　rider；　waving　his　truncheon　of　universal　sway；　as　he　passes

along　the　lengthened　line；　on　the　pale　horse　of　the　Revelation。

It　is　Death！　Who　else　could　assume　the　guidance　of　a　procession

that　comprehends　all　humanity？　And　if　some；　among　these　many

millions；　should　deem　themselves　classed　amiss；　yet　let　them　take

to　their　hearts　the　comfortable　truth　that　Death　levels　us　all

into　one　great　brotherhood；　and　that　another　state　of　being　will

surely　rectify　the　wrong　of　this。　Then　breathe　thy　wail　upon　the

earth's　wailing　wind；　thou　band　of　melancholy　music；　made　up　of

every　sigh　that　the　human　heart；　unsatisfied；　has　uttered！　There

is　yet　triumph　in　thy　tones。　And　now　we　move！　Beggars　in　their

rags；　and　Kings　trailing　the　regal　purple　in　the　dust；　the

Warrior's　gleaming　helmet；　the　Priest　in　his　sable　robe；　the

hoary　Grandsire；　who　has　run　life's　circle　and　come　back　to

childhood；　the　ruddy　School…boy　with　his　golden　curls；　frisking

along　the　march；　the　Artisan's　stuff　jacket；　the　Noble's

star…decorated　coat；the　whole　presenting　a　motley　spectacle；

yet　with　a　dusky　grandeur　brooding　over　it。　Onward；　onward；　into

that　dimness　where　the　lights　of　Time　which　have　blazed　along　the

procession；　are　flickering　in　their　sockets！　And　whither！　We　know

not；　and　Death；　hitherto　our　leader；　deserts　us　by　the　wayside；

as　the　tramp　of　our　innumerable　footsteps　echoes　beyond　his

sphere。　He　knows　not；　more　than　we；　our　destined　goal。　But　God；

who　made　us；　knows；　and　will　not　leave　us　on　our　toilsome　and

doubtful　march；　either　to　wander　in　infinite　uncertainty；　or

perish　by　the　way！