Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 November 1893 — CLOSE OF AN EPOCH. [ARTICLE]

CLOSE OF AN EPOCH.

END OF THE WORLD’S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION. Oration and Song: Give Way to Prayer and Dirge at the Finale of a Joyous Season— Exercises Held in Festival Hall—Last Day Shrouded in Gloom. Now a Reminiscence. The end came at sunset on Oct. SO. The great Columbian Exposition faded as quietly and sadly as an autumn day, and when the belching cannon had sent a score of shots to heaven and pelted the domes anJ pinnacles with a million echoes the giant had died. Silverthroated chimes tolled the knell, murmuring fountains sang the roquiem, white clouds hung as the shroud. The night stole on, the breakers slept, the lagoons grew as calm as painted ponds, the lights blinked < ut and it was over. It passed as gently as the withering of a summer rose, to leave a memory as sweet as tbe fragrance of an incense pot. The mighty organ groaned and wept, the preacher prayed, the whizzing pulleys ceased their jangle, the rattling wheels hung silent, the throttles were choked. The waning moon looked down at midnight upon a wilder net b of beauty awaiting the assassin's ax. Columns, towers and turrets, portals, peristyle and palaces, Dianas, mermaids and heroes, archers, Neptunes and pyramids, sculptors’ groups and artists’ panels, treasures of genius and marvels of brain, all stood mute at the altar side, awaiting the torch to make them ashet. It was a sight sadder than a funeral and as melancholy as a winter forest. The wind sent shafts to the marrow and rattled grewsomely in the withered loaves and frosted boughs, and from end to end the fairy acres were as somber as the valley of the shadow of death.

The End Conies in Woe. There were no pageants, no long lines of gorgeous tlcats, no noisy processions. Neither bombs nor mortars rent the sky, nor were sizzling rockets loo.ed. There were no merry banqueters, no concerts, no jubilees. The trumpeters vho heralded the Fair were silent, and the thousands who sang the patriotic hyms a half year ago were hushed. The flaming fagots that flared under the ribs of the gilded dome were unlighted. Thei'e were no epics read, no striding meters un. oiled, no majestic bars blown by tho wind. There were no chapeaux, no epaulets, no gathering of the nation's great. No orators scaled the heights with congratulatory eloquence, no gonfalon fell at the signal of a potentate. All the fete's became funeral pyres; rejoicing hymns were burned to songs of sadness, and triumphant strains were dropped to death marches. Tears ran where smiles were wont and sorrow filled breasts where pride was due. Pity for the end became grief for the calamity and all the thousands mourned the tragedy which ended the grandest event of four wonderful centuries. Fate had been cruel and in its unkindness had added a piteous death as the climax. Thus the sadness of the end was twofold and the great Fair went out under a double cloud. The final function was in Festival Hall. President Palmer held the center of the line of honor, and on either side were President HigiDbotham and Director General Davis. Behind them sat distinguished men, whose hemes make a circuit of the earth. After an invocation by Mr. Barrows and an ad-' dress by Mr. Higinfcotham, President Palmer formally executed the edict of Congress. Simple in the extreme were the closing acts. Tho war ship and revenue sloop loosed their guns and all about the grounds rolled the roar of the last act. Sailors were stationed at each flag mast, and when the first shot echoed to the shore the halyards were drawn and the emblems of sixty nations were furled. The streamers on tho staffs of honor in the main court came down to earth, tho droam was ' over and the World’s Columbian Exposition became a memory.