Мхи старої садиби
The Procession of Life
Butthevisionaryshapesofalongposterity,forwhosehomethismansionwasintended,havefadedintonothingnesssincethedeathofthefounder’sonlyson.Therichmangivesaglanceathissablegarbinoneofthesplendidmirrorsofhisdrawing-room,anddescendingaflightofloftystepsinstinctivelyoffershisarmtoyonderpovertystrickenwidowintherustyblackbonnet,andwithacheckapronoverherpatchedgown.Thesailorboy,whowashersoleearthlystay,waswashedoverboardinalatetempest.Thiscouplefromthepalaceandthealmshousearebutthetypesofthousandsmorewhorepresentthedarktragedyoflifeandseldomquarrelfortheupperparts.Griefissuchaleveller,withitsowndignityanditsownhumility,thatthenobleandthepeasant,thebeggarandthemonarch,willwaivetheirpretensionstoexternalrankwithouttheofficiousnessofinterferenceonourpart.Ifpride—theinfluenceoftheworld’sfalsedistinctions—remainintheheart,thensorrowlackstheearnestnesswhichmakesitholyandreverend.Itlosesitsrealityandbecomesamiserableshadow.Onthisgroundwehaveanopportunitytoassignovermultitudeswhowouldwillinglyclaimplacesheretootherpartsoftheprocession.Ifthemournerhaveanythingdearerthanhisgriefhemustseekhistruepositionelsewhere.Therearesomanyunsubstantialsorrowswhichthenecessityofourmortalstatebegetsonidleness,thatanobserver,castingasidesentiment,issometimesledtoquestionwhethertherebeanyrealwoe,exceptabsolutephysicalsufferingandthelossofclosestfriends.
