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Expiring Embers — A Study of Death 



THE evening camp-fire of our lives burns low, 

 and the shadows, with stealthy approach, 

 close around us. We dispel them with a bit 

 of the crystallized sunshine of other days, a memory 

 which blazes up, as does this resinous rib of an 

 ancient and forgotten pine; but it, too, dims to a 

 coal, and fades to ashes. 



There is a sigh of a passing breeze in the pines, 

 the note of a distant night bird — whatever is heard 

 amid the prevailing silence is gentle and soothing, 

 as if Nature were fearful of disturbing our decline 

 into slumber. We shall not know when light and 

 thought have passed away. It will only be a con- 

 sciousness of balmy restfulness that will soften as it 

 deepens, till it is gone. Why, then, should we long 

 to sit awake by the expiring embers? No, let us 

 not live in the light of the past. Let us rather go 

 and sleep with our loved ones. The shadows may 

 have their victory over us and over all that is ours. 

 When we awaken it will be in the sunlight of another 

 day and in the warmth and gladness of an unknown 

 sun. 



When the little boys were to retire to-night they 

 lingered to talk over their plans for to-morrow. To 

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