Part 42 (1/2)

”_Here lies Harry Please-Yourself_

”Mad on footballing, theatres, music-halls, dances, and the like.

Nothing else morning, noon, or night seems to interest him. There he is, dead in pleasure.

”_Here lies James Haughtiness_

”Full of high notions about his abilities, or his knowledge, or his family, or his house, or his fortune, or his business, or his dogs, or something. There he is, dead in pride.

”_Here lies Jane Featherhead_

”Absorbed in her hats, and gowns, and ribbons, and companions, and attainments. There she is, dead in vanity.

”_Here lies Miser Graspall_

”Taken up with his money--sovereigns, dollars, francs, kroner, much or little. 'Let me have more and more' is his dream, and his cry, and his aim, by night and day. There he is, dead in covetousness.

”_Here lies Sceptical Doubtall_

”Hunting through the world of nature, and revolution, and providence, and specially through the dirty world of his own dark little heart, for arguments against G.o.d and Christ and Heaven.

There he is, dead in infidelity.

”_Here lies Jeremiah Make-Believe_

”With his Bible Cla.s.s and Singing Choir, and Sunday religion, and heartless indifference to the Salvation or d.a.m.nation of the peris.h.i.+ng crowds at his door. There he is, dead in formality.

”_Here lies Surly Badblood_

”Packed full of suspicions and utter disregards for the happiness and feelings of his wife, family, neighbours, or friends. There he is, dead in bad tempers.

”_Here lies Dives Enjoy-Yourself_

”Look at his marble tomb, and golden coffin, and embroidered shroud, and ermine robes. This is a man whose every earthly want is supplied--Carriages, music, friends. There he is, dead in luxury.

”_Here lies d.i.c.k Never-Fear_

”His mouth is filled with laughter, and his heart with contempt when you speak to him about his soul. He has no anxiety, not he.

He'll come off all right, never fear. Is not G.o.d merciful? And did not Christ die? And did not his mother pray? Don't be alarmed, G.o.d won't hurt him. There he is, dead in presumption,

”_Here lies Judas Renegade_

”His grave has a desolate look. The thorns and thistles grow over it. The occupant has money and worldly friends, and many other things, but altogether he gets no satisfaction out of them; he is uneasy all the time. There he is, dead in apostacy.

”There are any number of other graves. It is interesting, although painful, to wander amongst them. All, or nearly all, their occupants are held down by a heavy weight of ignorance, a sense of utter helplessness. And all are bound hand and foot with chains of l.u.s.t, or pa.s.sion, or procrastination, of their own forging. In the midst of these graves you live, and move, and have your being.

”What is your duty here? Oh, that you realised your true business in this region of death! Having eyes, Oh! that you could see.