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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!

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