How many a heart， that would have been insensible toany other call， has responded to the doleful accents of thatvoice！ It has gone far and wide， and high and low， and leftscarcely a mortal roof unvisited. Indeed， the principle isonly too universal for our purpose， and， unless we limitit， will quite break up our classification of mankind， andconvert the whole procession into a funeral train. Wewill therefore be at some pains to discriminate. Herecomes a lonely rich man； he has built a noble fabric forhis dwelling-house， with a front of stately architecture，and marble floors， and doors of precious woods； the wholestructure is as beautiful as a dream， and as substantialas the native rock. But the visionary shapes of a longposterity， for whose home this mansion was intended，have faded into nothingness， since the death of thefounder’s only son. The rich man gives a glance at hissable garb in one of the splendid mirrors of his drawingroom，and， descending a flight of lofty steps， instinctivelyoffers his arm to yonder poverty-stricken widow， in therusty black bonnet， and with a check-apron over herpatched gown. The sailor boy， who was her sole earthlystay， was washed overboard in a late tempest. This couple，from the palace and the almshouse， are but the types ofthousands more， who represent the dark tragedy of life，and seldom quarrel for the upper parts. Grief is such aleveller， with its own dignity and its own humility， thatthe noble and the peasant， the beggar and the monarch，will waive their pretensions to external rank， without theofficiousness of interference on our part. If pride—theinfluence of the world’s false distinctions—remain in theheart， then sorrow lacks the earnestness which makesit holy and reverend. It loses its reality， and becomes amiserable shadow. On this ground， we have an opportunityto assign over multitudes who would willingly claim placeshere， to other parts of the procession. If the mournerhave anything dearer than his grief， he must seek his trueposition elsewhere. There are so many unsubstantialsorrows， which the necessity of our mortal state begetson idleness， that an observer， casting aside sentiment，is sometimes led to question whether there be any realwoe， except absolute physical suffering， and the loss ofclosest friends. A crowd， who exhibit what they deem tobe broken hearts—and among them many love-lore maidsand bachelors， and men of disappointed ambition in arts，or politics， and the poor who were once rich， or who havesought to be rich in vain—the great majority of thesemay ask admittance into some other fraternity. Thereis no room here. Perhaps we may institute a separateclass， where such unfortunates will naturally fall into theprocession. Meanwhile let them stand aside， and patientlyawait their time.
If our trumpeter can borrow a note from the doomsdaytrumpet-blast， let him sound it now！ The dread alarumshould make the earth quake to its centre， for the heraldis about to address mankind with a summons， to whicheven the purest mortal may be sensible of some faintresponding echo in his breast. In many bosoms it willawaken a still， small voice， more terrible than its ownreverberating uproar.
The hideous appeal has swept around the globe. Come，all ye guilty ones， and rank yourselves in accordancewith the brotherhood of crime！ This， indeed， is anawful summons. I almost tremble to look at the strangepartnerships that begin to be formed， reluctantly， but bythe invincible necessity of like to like， in this part of theprocession. A forger from the state prison seizes the armof a distinguished financier. How indignantly does thelatter plead his fair reputation upon ’Change， and insistthat his operations， by their magnificence of scope， wereremoved into quite another sphere of morality than thoseof his pitiful companion！ But， let him cut the connection ifhe can. Here comes a murderer， with his clanking chains，and pairs himself—horrible to tell！ —with as pure andupright a man， in all observable respects， as ever partookof the consecrated bread and wine. He is one of those，perchance the most hopeless of all sinners， who practicesuch an exemplary system of outward duties， that evena deadly crime may be hidden from their own sight andremembrance， under this unreal frost-work. Yet he nowfinds his place. Why do that pair of flaunting girls， withthe pert， affected laugh， and the sly leer at the bystanders，intrude themselves into the same rank with yonderdecorous matron， and that somewhat prudish maiden？
Surely， these poor creatures， born to vice， as their sole andnatural inheritance， can be no fit associates for womenwho have been guarded round about by all the proprietriesof domestic life， and who could not err， unless they firstcreated the opportunity！ Oh， no； it must be merely theimpertinence of those unblushing hussies； and we canonly wonder how such respectable ladies should haveresponded to a summons that was not meant for them.
We shall make short work of this miserable class， eachmember of which is entitled to grasp any other member’shand， by that vile degradation wherein guilty error hasburied all alike. The foul fiend， to whom it properlybelongs， must relieve us of our loathsome task. Let thebond-servants of sin pass on. But neither man nor woman，in whom good predominates， will smile or sneer， nor bidthe Rogues’ March be played， in derision of their array.
Feeling within their breasts a shuddering sympathy， whichat least gives token of the sin that might have been， theywill thank God for any place in the grand procession ofhuman existence， save among those most wretched ones.
