The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, December 16, 1885, Image 3
BE, TiLIAGE'S SEE10I.
HISSED OFF THE STAGE.
Text: "Menshall clap their hands at him
and shall hiss him out of his place.1' Job
rxvii. 23.
This allusion seems to bo dramatic. The
Bible more than once makes such allusions.
Paul says: "We are made a theatre or spectacle
to angels and to men." The theatre is
*o old that no one can fix the dato of its
birth. Arcliiioctius, Mmonuics ana fcoion,
who wroto for it dithyrainbics, lived about
lix or seven hundred years before Christ. It
is evident from the text that some of the habits
of theatre-goers were known in Job's time
because he describes an actor hissod off the
?tage. Tne impersonator comes on the
boards anil, either through Jack of study of
the part he is to take orinaptness or other inaapacity,
the audience is offended and expresses
its disapprobation and disgust,first by
over applause, attempting by great clapping
of hands to.drown out what he says. That failing
to stop the performer, the spectators put
their tongue against their toeth and make
terrific sioilation until he disappears behind
the curtain. "Men shall clap their hands at
faim and shall hiss him out of his place."
My text suggests that each ono of us is put
on the stage of this world to take some part
McCulIough, the actor, recently buried, was
no more certainly appointed on any occasion
oc- annrtonnc r,* Wlwin h"7?)Toct; nq
W no buvuo, ? w..vv.
Sing Lear, or Charlotte Cushman as Meg
Merrilies, or John Kemblo as Coriolauus, or
Garrick as Macbeth, or Cook9 as Richard
III., or Kean as Othello, than you
and I are expected to take some especial
ai'.d particular part in the great
flrama of human an 1 immortal life. Through
what hardship and suffering and discipline
these artists went year after year that they
might be perfected" in their parts, you have
jftenread. But we, put on the stage of this
life to represent charity, and faith, and humility
and helpfulness?what little preparation
we have made, although we have three
talleries of spectators, earth and heaven and
Hell. Have we not been more attentive to
the part taken by others than to the part
taken by ourselves, and, while we needea to
be looking at home and concentring on our
own duty, we have been criticising the other
performers and saying "that was too high,"
?r "too low," or "too feeble," or "too extravagant,"
or "too tame," or "too demonstrative,"
while we were making ourselves a dead failure
and preparing to be ignominiously hissed
off the stage. Each one is assigned a place;
cimarniinwrflriw han?inc around the
irama of life to take this or that or the
ather part as he may bo called upon. No one
:an take our place. "\Ve can take no other
place. Aye, it is not the impersonation of
another; we ourselves are tbe real Merchant
of Venice or the real Shy lock, the real filial
^ordelia or the real cruel Regan, tho real
Portia or the real Lady Macbeth. The
tragedian of the playhouse at the close of the
third scene of the fifth act takes off the attire
of Gonzalo or Edward Mortimer or
Henry V..and resigns the character in which
tor three hours he appeared. But we never
put off our character, and no change of apparel
can make us any one else than that
which we eternally are.
Many make a failure of their part of the
drama" of life through dissipation. They
have enough intellectual equipment and good
iddress and geniality unbounded. But they
have a wine closet that contains all the
forces for their social and business and moral
?verthro%v. So far back as 959, Kins Edgar,of
England, made a law that the drinking cups
ihould have pins fastened at a certain point
In the side so that the indulger might be re
tnindeu to stop before lie got to me bottom.
But there are no pins projecting from the
lldes of the modern wine cup or beer mug,
and the first foint at which millions stop is
at the gravelly bottom of their own grave.
Dr. Sax, of France, has recently discovered
lometuing whi:h all drinkers ought to know,
fie has found out that alcohol, in every
lhape, whether of wine or brandy or beer,
pontains parasitic life called bacillus potumaniiP.
By a powerful microscope these
jiving things are discovered, and when
fou take strong drink you take them into
Ihe stomach and then into your blood, and
jetting into the crimson canals of life, they
ro into every tissue of your bjdy and your
intire organism is taken possession of by
these noxious infinitesimals. When in delirium
tremens a man sees every form of
reptilian life it is only these parasites of the
brain in exaggerated "size. It is not a hallucination
that the victim is suffering from. Ha
>nly sees in the room what is actually crawling"
and rioting in his own brain. Every time
fou take strong drink you swallow these mag
Sots, and every time tne lmuiDer 01 aicouu
1 any shape feels vertigo or rheumatism or
oausea it is only the jubilea of these maggots.
Efforts are being mado for the discovery of
101110 germicide that can kill tlia parasites of
alcoholism, but the only thing that will ever
Bxtirpate th?m is abstinence from alcohol
?nd teetotal abstinence, to which I would before
God swear nil these young men and old.
^America is a fruitful Jcountry and we raiso
large crops of wheat and corn and oats, but
the largest crop we raiso in this country is the
crop of drunkards. With sickle made out of
the sharp edges of the broken glass, of bottle
md demijohn they are cut down, and there
tre whole swathes of them, whole winrows
of them, and it takes all the hospitnls and
penitentiaries and graveyards and cemeteries
to hold this harvest of hell. Some of you are
eoing down under this evil, and the neverdying
worm of alcoholism has wound around
you one of its coils, and by next New Year's
day it will have another coil around you,
ftud it will after a while put a coil around
four tongue and a coil around your brain
ftnd a coil around your lung and a coil
around your foot and a coil around
your heart, and some day this neverdying
worm will with one spring tighten all
the coils at once and in the last twist of tbat
awful convolution you will cry out, "Oh, my
God!" and be gone. The greatest of dramatists
in the tragedy of the "Tempest*
*9nds staggering across the stage Stephano,
the drunken butler; but across the stage of
human life strong drink sends kingly and
queenly and princely natures staggering forward
against the footlights of conspicuity
and then staggering back into failure till
the world is impatient for their disappearance
and human and diabolic voices join in
hissing them off the stage.
Many also make a failure in the drama of
life, through indolence. They are always
making calculation how little they can do
for the compensation they get. There pro
more lazy ministers, lawyers, doctors, merchants,
artists and farmers than have ever
been counted upon. The community is full
of laggers and shirkers. I can tell it from
the way they crawl along the street, from
their tardiness in meeting engagements, from
the lethargies that seem to hang to the foot
when they lift it: to the hand when they put
it out, to the words when they spoak. Two
young men in a siorw. in tuo mjnuu^ tuo
one goes to his post tbe last minute or cne
minute behind. The other is ten minutes before
tbe time and has his hat and coat hung
up, and is at his post waiting for duty. The
* one is ever and anon, in the afternoon, looking
at his watch, to see if it is not most time
to shut up. The other stays half an hour
after he might go, and when asked why, says
he wanted to look over some entries he had
made, to be sure ho was right, or to put up
gome goods that had been left out of place.
The one Is very puuctilious about doing work
not exactly belonging to him. The other is
glad to he)p the other clerks in their work.
The first will be a prolonged nothing, and he
will be poorer at sixty than at twenty. The
other will be a merchant prince. Indolenco
is the cause of more failures in all occupations
than you have ever suspected. People are
too lazy to do what they can do, and want to
undertake fcthat which they cannot do.
In the drama of life tbey don't want
to be a common soldier, carrying a halberd
across the stage, or o falconer, or a mere attendant,
and so lounge about the scenes till
they shall be called to be a Macready, or a
Murdock, or a Siddons, or a Junius "Brutus
Booth. Tbev say, "Give me the part of
Timon of Athens rather than that of Flavius
his steward." "Let me be Cymbeline, the
king, rather than Pisano, the servant.' After
a wane tney, uy some acciaoiiw ui jji usjjwntjf
or circumstances, got in the place for which
they have no qualification. And very soon,
if the man be a merchant, he is going around
asking his creditors to compromise for ten
cents on the dollar. Or if a clergyman, he
is making tirades against the ingratitude of
churches. Or if an attorney, by unskilful
management he loses a case by which widows
and orphans are robbed of their portion. Or
if a physician, he by malpractice gives his
patient rapid transit from this world to the
next, as the clumsy surgeon of Charles.II.,
king of Navarre, having sewed up the feeble
limbs of the king in a sheet soaked in inflammable
material.and having no knife to cut
the thread, took a candle to burn off the thread
and the bandages took fire and consumed the
king. Our incompetent friend would have
toggle a splendid horse doctor, but he wanted
| to be professor or anatomy in a university,
j He could havo soi<l enough confectioner}'
to have supported his family, but lie
wanted to have a sugar refinery" like tlie
Havemeyers. Ho could havo mended shoes,
but ho wanted to amend the Constitution of
the United States. Toward the end of life
these people aro out of patience,oat of money,
out of friends, out of everything. The}- go
to the poor-house or keep out of it by run- J
ning in debt to nil the grocery and drygoo Is
stores that will trust them. People begin to
j wonder when tlie curtain will drop on the
scene. After a while, leaving nothing but
their compliments to pay doctor, undertaker
and Gabriel Grubb, they disappoar. Exeunt!
Hissed off the stage.
Others fail in the drama of life through
demonstrated selfishness. They make all the
rivers empty into their sea, all the roads of
molument end at their door and they gather
all the plumes ot honor for their brow. They |
help no ono, encourage no o:ie, rescue no one.
"How big a pile of money can I getr"and
"how much of the world can I absorb?*' are
the chief questions. They leal about
the common people as thj Turks felt
toward the Asapi, or common soldiers,
considering them of no use except to fill
up the ditches with their dead bodies
while the other troops walked over to them
to take the fort. After a while this prince
of worldly success is sick. The only interest
society has in his illness is the ofTect that his
j possible disease may have on the money markets.
After a while he dies. Great newspaper
capitals stated how he started with noth?
ing and ended with everything. Although
for sake of appearance some people put handkerchiefs
to the eye, there is not one gonnino
tear shed between Central Park and the Battery
or between Brooklyn Heightsand Brooklyn
Hill. The heirs sit up all night while he
lies in state, discussing what the old fellow
has probably done with his money. It takes
ail the livery stable3 within two miles
to furnish funeral equipages and all the
mourning stores are kept busy in selling
weeds of grief. The stone-cutters send in proposals
for a monument. The minister at the
r>hsf>miir><! r?ads of the resurrection, which
makes the hearers fear that if the unscrupulous
financier does come up in the General
rising, he will try to get a corner on tomb]
stones and grave-yard fences. All good men
j are glad that the moral nuisance has been removed.
The Wall street speculators are
glad because there is more room for themselves.
The heirs are g!ad because they got
possession of the long-delayed inheritance.
Dropping every feather "of all his
plumes, every certificate of all his stock,
every bond of all his investments, every dollar
of all his fortune, he departs, and all the
rolling of dead march in Saul and all the
pageantry of his interment, and all the exquislteness
of sarcophagus, and all the * extravagance
of epitaphology cannot hide the
fact that my text has come again to tremendous
fulfilment; "Men shall clap their hands
at him and shall hiss him out of his place."
... ~ -r
You see the Clapping comes ut>iure tuo msa.
The world cheers before it damns. So it i3
said the deadly asp tickles before it
stings. Going up, is he? Hurrah? Stand
back and let liis galloping horse3 dash
by, a whirlwind of plated harness and
tinkling head gear and arched neck. Drink
deep of his Madeira and cognac. Boast of
how well you know him. All hats off as he
passes. Bask for days and years in the sunlight
of his prosperity. Going down, is ho?
Pretend to be near-sighted so that you cannot
see him as he walks past. When men ask
you if you know him, halt and hesitate as
though you were trying to callup a dim memory
and say: " Well, y-e-s, yes; I believe I
once did know him, but have not seen him
for a long while." Cros3 a diiForent ferry
from the one where you used to meet him
lest he ask for financial help. When you started
life he spoko a good word for you at the
bank. Talk down his credit now that his
fortunes are collapsing. Ho put his name on
two of your notes; tell him that you have
changed your mind about such things and
that you never indorse. After a while his
matters come to a dead halt and an assisgnm-snt
or suspension or sheriff's sale tako3
place. You say: "Ho ought to have stopped
sooner. Just as I expected. He made too
big a splash in the world. Glad the balloon
has burst. Ha ha!" Applause when he wont
up, sibilant derision when ho came down.
' Men shall clap their hands at him and hiss
him out of his place." So, high-up amid the
crags the eagle flutters dust into the eyes of
the roebuck, and then with eyes blinded it
goes tumbling over the precipice, the great
antlers crashing on the rocks.
Now, compare some of these goings out of life
with the departure ot' meu and wc^ien who,
in the drama of life, take the part that God
assigned them and then went away honored
of meu and applauded of the Lord Almighty.
It is about fifty years ago that in ajeompara
tively small apartment of the city a newly
married pair set up a home. The first guest:
invited to that residence was the Lord Jesus
Christ, and the Bible given the bride on the
day of ;her espousals was the guide of that
i VinncnhnM Davs nf sunshine were followed by
days of shadow. Did you ever know a homo that
for fifty years had no vicissitude? The young
woman who left her father'3 house for her
youug husband's home started out with a
parental benediction and good advice she
will never forget. Her mother said to her
the day before the marriage: "Now, my
child, you are going away from us. Of
course as long as your father and I live you
will feel that you can come to us at any
time. But your homo will be elsewhere.
From long experience I find it is best to serve
God. Jt is very bright with you now, my
child, and you may think you can got along
without religion, but the day will come when
you will want God, and my advice is, establish
a family altar and. if heed be. conduct
the worship yourself." The counsel was
taken, and that young wife consecrated
every room in the house to God.
Years passel on and there were in that
home hilarities, but thoy were good and
healthful; and sorrows, but thoy were comforted.
Marriages as bright as orange-blossoms
could make them, and burial j iu which
all hearts were riven. They have a family
1 -* -*- aL- ?Knf nl) fUo rvlona ia illn.
JUL III lUt) UeUlULOl J, V UK ail uue piuvu
initiated with stories of resurrection and reunion.
The children of the household that
lived have grown up and they are all Christians,
the father and mother leading the way
and the children following. What care
the mother took of wardrobe and education,
character and manners! How hard she
sometimes worked! When the head of the
household was unfortunate in business she
sewed until her fingers were numb and bleeding
at the tips. And what close calculation
of economies and what ingenuity in refitting
the garments of the elder children for the
younger, and only God kept account of that
mother's sideaches and headaches and heartaches
and the tremulous prayers by the side
of the sick child's cradle and by the couch
nf Hiis mm fnllv f?rnwn. The neighbors often
noticed how tired she looked, and old acSuaintances
hardly knew her in the street.
iut without complaint sbo waited
and toiled and endured and acoraplished
all these year9. The
children are out in the world?an honor to
themselves and their parent3. After awhile
the mother's Ia3tsicknc3s comes. Children and
grand-children, summoned from afar, come
softly into the room one by one, for she L>
too weak to see more than one at a tima.
She runs her dying Angers lovingly through
their hair and tells them not to cry, and that
she is going now, but that they will all mo^t
again in a little while in a better world, and
then kisses, them good-bye, and says "God
bless and keep you, my dear child
*Vhe day of the obsequies comes, end
the officiating clergyman tells
the story of wifely and motherly enduranco. j
and many hearts on earth and in heaven
echo the sentiment, and as she is carried off
the Btage of this mortal life, there are cries of
"faith unto death; she hath dono what sho
could." while ovei'Doweriner all the voices of
i earth and heaven is tho plaudit of the God
i who watched her from first to last, saying,
i "Well done, good and faithful servant, thou
i ha3t been faithful over a few things, I will
make thee ruler over many tilings; enter
thou into the joy of thy Lord.1'
But what became of the father of that
household? Restarted as a young man in
business and had a smull income, and having
, got a little ahead, sickness iu tho family
i swept it all away. He went through all tho
business panics of forty years, mot many
i losses and suffered many betrayals, but kept
i right on trusting in (Jod, whether business
was good or poor, setting his children a good
example and giving them the best of counsel,
and never a prayer did he offer for
"'1 % < ? U.,* h'a^a mnnfiAnnrl in
till tliUdC y Cull 3 UUU IUCJ VI ci O ULAWJU ll?
it He is old now and realizes it cannot
be long before ho must quit all these
sccnos. But ho is going to leave his children
an inheritance of prayer and Christian principles
which all the defalcations of earth can
never touch, and as he goes out of the world,
the church of God blesses him and the poor
ring his door-bell to see if ha is any better,
and his grave is surrounded by a multitude
who went on foot and stood there before
the procession of carriages came up,
and some say "There will be no one to take
his place," and others say, ,;\Vho will pity me
nowf" and others remark, "He shall be held
in everlasting remembrance." And as the
drama of his life closes, all the vociferations
and bravos and encores that ever shook the ,
amphitheatres, and tho Drury Lanes, and tbo
Covent Gardens and the Haymarkets and
tho colossoums of earthly ?po >taclo were tamo
and feeble compared with the long, loud
thunders of approval tint shall break from
the cloud of witnesses in tho piled-up gallery
of tho heavens. Choose ye between the life
that shall closo by being hissed oft' tho stage
and the life that shall close amid the acclammations
supernal and archangelic.
Oh, men and women on thg stage of life,
many of you in the first act of the drama and
others in the second and some of you in the
third and a few in the fourth and here and
! there one in the fifth, but all of you betweon
entrance and exit, I quote to you as the
peroration of this sermon the most sugggestive
passage that Shakespeare ever wrote,
although you never heard it recited. The
author has often beon claimed as infidel and
atheistic, so the quotation shall bo not only
religiously helpful to ourselves, but grandly
vindicatory of the great dramatist. I quote
from his last will and testament:
'In the name of God,.amen. I, "William
Shakespeare, of Stratford-upon-Avon,, in the
county of Warwick, gentleman, in perfect
hjalth and memory (God be praised), do make
this my last will and testament, in manner
and form following: First, I commend my
soul into the hands of God, my Creator,
hoping and assuredly believing through the
only merits of Jesus Christ, my Saviour, to
be made partaker of life everlasting."
"Then follow the bequests and the signature,
by me, William Sliakespere. Witnesses
to the publishing hereof, F. Collyns, Jesse
Shaw, John Robinson, Hammet Sadler, Robert
Whattcott." Fit and beautiful closing
of the drama of this life by the great dramatist.
TEMPERANCE TOPICS,
The llesit Drink.
Water, water everywhere!
It is the gift of God,
Sailing in the cloudy ;iir,
Bathing the dewy sod,
Reflecting in the placid stream
The moonbeam's silver sheen
Ideal of the poet's dream,
Home of the Great Unseen,
Water, water everywhere!
'Mid rocky solitude,
Laving the fields of earth so fair
In richest plenitude;
Forming the rock, feeding the plant,
The life of bird and beast;
And ministering to human want
The greatest and the least.
Water, water everywhere!
The beverage of Heaven;
Relieving ill and soothing care
^ 1-- 4.1.~
joy xieaveuiy rumui ^ivl-u.
Perennial is the mountain spring;
Eternal rivers flow,
And all celestial blessings bring,
And wipe out every woo.
Water, water everywhere!
Health-giving, pure and free;
Naught else can once with it compareAll
things with it agro*.
Drink here alone, and drink your fill;
It only is the source of health,
The power of brain, and mind, and will,
The spring of surest wealth.
?Youth's Temperance Banner.
Tempt !Vot the Weak#
"James Dunton, arrested for drunkenness
and disorderly conduct. Fined
five dollars. In default of payment sent
to jail for thirty days."
This item in the morning papers met
my eye, and I read it again, for the
name seemed familiar. Could it be possible
that this was my old schoolmate?
And mv mind turned back to the time
when Jame3 stood among the brightest '
of his class. True, he was a little wild,
and soon after he left school he commenced
drinking, and would occasionally
become intoxicated. Then he joined
a temperance organization, and seemed !
so deeply in earnest that I had really ;
thought him safe from all further temp- '
tation.
Such was the condition of things
when I moved to a distant city in the
far West. I had been absent for ten
years, and was now on a visit to the old j
home. I had heard nothing of Jame9
Dunton during my absence, and supposed
him s'all working in the temper
aauu iiiuiv3i
Could it be possible that this was the
same mau? On inquiry, I found it to be
j true. James Dunton had become a victim
of intemperance, alter abstaining for
three years. lie had not simply gone
back to his old way, but had fallen far
lower, until the chances of his ever reforming
seemed almost hopeless. I called
on him; and learned the story of his fall:
"I had tasted no kind of liquor for
more than three years,' and had conquered
the old habit so far that it had
little or no temptation for me. One
evening I attended a party celebrating
the birthday of a lady friend. Wine and
other liquors were used quite treeiy. i
had twice refused to drink, when the
hostess approached and offered me a
glass of wine. I begged her to cxcuse
ine from accepting it, but she answered
lomewhat petulantly:
" 'I should think you might drink once
with me in honor of this occasion.'
"As I said something about the principle
involved, and the possibility of a
single glass leading to a further indulgence,
she retorted rather sneeringly:
u'Oh! I beg your pardon. I had supposed
that Mr. Dunton was man enough
to drink a harmless glass of wine without
fear of becoming a drunkard.'
uTliis stab at my pride, in the presence
of others who had no scruple9
about taking an occasional glass, had its
effect, and with some light remark in
reference to the excuse I had been
making, I took the wine and quickly
drank it. This led to another, and then
T Iiriahnrl tn ehnw the ladv I
uuuiuui, iut l vw w?.. ? ? _
that I had sufficient manhood to drink
several glasses of wine if I chose. The
result was, I was carried home beastly
drunk. After that night all the old
cravings came back ten-fold. I tried to
fight against it, but it seemed of no use.
Mv courage all forsook me, and I became
reckless. In my false attempt tosustai-n
my manhood I bad lost all. I feel now
that my fate is fixed and there is no help
for it. The sooner that the end comes
the better for all concerned."
I tried to encourage him to hope for
better things, but he would not listen.
As I went away I thought of the wonderful
influence of woman, and how
ead that it should ever be put to such
bad use?that it should be used to lead
men downward, when it might do
so much toward lifting them up.
The loss of manhood through life, and
of soul through eternity, are too weighty
matters to be trifled away.?(7. L. llilL
The unexpected report comes from
Loudon that so many members of the famous
Carlton club have become temperance
men that there has been a great
falling off in the consumption of its celebrated
wines. i
Thanksgiving.
Glad in the sun-hino,
All things lift their voicei
To the Giver of good;
And the whole world rejoiot*
Because of the 1 ovo
Of the Father above.
Who knows His forgiveness
Will evermore render
A tribute of praise;
For Ilia love is so tender
That words fail to show
Whut our grateful hearts know.
Then let nil Ilis children f
Rejoice without measure;
The ercnt love of God
Is our solace and treasure:
Sinco He holds U9 dear,
What is there to fear ?
RELIGIOUS READING.
I
A Pertinent Question.
A poor child, straying into a Sun- '
day school one day, asked simply: "Is ]
this the way to heaven?" The super- 1
intendent was for a moment startled. ,
Was the school, indeed, the way to ,
heaven ? AVas he trying to maice it i
so? Were his teachers intent on the I
same object? The artless question j
struck home. From desk to class the question
went round with a thrill. <
"What were they all doing? Whither <
were they all tending? The question (
was like an angel suddenly come into
their midst to make a record ol! all '
that transpired in that school. Oh, ;
superintendents, teachers, make sure
of this one thing: with all your efforts [
t-n imnnrt n i\Mr 1 od (TO malffl tho SfllVil- I
IVJ illij/AL K l\UUUiWgV| MIMMW V ?n- .
tion of the soul of paramount interest;
whether your school be a model or
struggling up to perfection, be sure
that every scholar shall feel that it is
the road to heaven.
Poverty and Poor Preaching.
The calamity which I stand in dread
of, and which is next to the withdrawal
of the divine blessing, the
greatest a church can suffer, is that
the rising talent, genius and energy of
our country may leave the ministry of
the gospel for other professions. "A
scandalous maintenance," Matthew
Henry says, "makes a scandalous ministry."
And I will give you another
equally true. "The poverty of the
parsonage will develop itself in the
poverty of the pulpit." I hav'e no ,
doubt about it. Genteel poverty, to
which some ministers are doomed, is j
one of the great evils under the sun. j
To place a man in circumstances ,
where he is expected to be generous ]
and hospitable, to open his hand as {
wide as his heart to the poor, to give ]
his family good education, to bring t
them up in what is called genteel life, i
and to deny him the means of doing so
is enough, but for the hope of heaven, 1
to embitter existenca i
In the dread of debt, in many i
daily mortifications, in harassing fears (
what will become of his wife and (
children when his head lies in the *
? ? AiiUivnfa<1 roin/1 finrl
^niy Uj (l lil(tn ui luiti y iijauu uuu ,
delicate sensibilities has trials to boar
more painful thaD privations of the
poor. It is a bitter cup, and ray {
heart bleeds for brethren who have \
never told their sorrows, concealing c
under i their cloak the fox that gnaws c
at their vitals.?Dr. Thomas Guthrie. c
1
Adorning; the Gospel. (
Speaking on the words in Titus 2:10, c
"That they may adorn the doctrine of j
God our Saviour in all things," Rev.
Dr. Alexander Maclaren says: "Let c
us think for a moment of this wonder- t
ful possibility that is opened out here r
before every Christian, that ho may t
add beauty to the gospel. lie may
paint the lily and gild the refined
gold. For men do quite rightly and
legitimately judge of systems by their
followers. It would not be a fair
thing to test a philosophy or a body of
political or scientific truth by the conduct
and character of the men that
professed it; but it is a perfectly fair
thing, under certain conditions and in
certain limits, to test a system of
practical morality, which professes to
do certain things with people's character
and conduct, by its professors.
It is just as fair, when a creed comes
before our notice which assumes to
influence men's conduct, to say; 'Well!
I should like to see it working,' as it
is for any of you mill-owners to say,
when a man comes to you with a fine
invention upon paper: 'Have you got
a working model of it? Has it ever
been tried? "What have been the results
that have been secured by it?
Or as it would be to say to anybody
that claimed to have got a 'medicine ?
that will cure consumption,' to say, ^
Have you any case? Can you quote c
any cures?' So, when we Christians ]
stand up and say, 4We liave a faith g
which is able to deaden men's minds v
to the world; which is able to make E
them unselfish; which is able to lift
them up above cares and sorrows; 1:
which is able to take men and trans- 1
form their whole nature, and put new
desires and hopes and joys into them'; a
it is quite fair for the world to say, s
'Have you? Does it? Does it do so u
with you? Can you produce your ?
lives as working models of Christian- 11
ity ? Can you produce your cure as a c
proof of the curativo power of the ^
gospel that you profess?' So this posnihility
does lie before all Christian ^
men, that they may by their lives ^
conciliate prejudices, prepare people ti
to listen favorably to the message of v
God's love, win over men from their o
antagonism, and make them say: t
Well, after all, there is something in lc
. /II f 99 U
that ^nnsiiuniiy.
P
si
When we pray for any virtue, we n
should cultivate the virtue as well as ^
pray for it; the form of your prayer ;
should be the rule of your life; every : h
petition to God is a precept to man. | jq
Look not, therefore, upon your prayers j
as a short method of duty and salva- ! o
tion only, but as a perpetual monition y
of duty. By what we require of God i N
we see what he requires of us.?Jer- j
emy Taylor. \tf
Tcmpcrancc Notes# j Ji
The Paris wine merchants are petition- ,
ing to have the municiple laboratory j cj
abolished, as by publishing the charac- |
1 ? ?^ ~ C iU nrlulfArofinna if. ,
tur aau UUlUUUt UL tucu -- u<
is ruining their business. j w
Temperance puts coal on the fire, meal tli
in the barrel, flour in the tub, money in , M
the purse, crcdit in the country, content- j;?
ment in the house, clothes on the chil- j
dren, vigor in the body, intelligence in ;
tlie brain, and spirit in the whole con- j al
stitution.? FranTclin% '
WOli OF KtlL :
1
Brought to Mind by the Celebration ]
of Elizabeth Caiy Stanton's
? . . i -i-k . 1 n 1
B3ventiein .dirtnciay. i
]
Jennie June Tells of Susan B, An- j
thony, Lucretia Mott, Lillie <
Devereux Blake, Etc.
7 ?
[Special New York Letter.]
It was a remarkable gathering that sig- 1
nalized the recent seventieth birthday <
of Mrs. Elizabeth C'ady Stanton in the t
parlors of Dr. Clarence Lozier. It is not c
so many years since the still beautiful '
but now white-haired woman was, with \
Susan B. Anthony?her colleague for (
nearly h.ilf a century?the target for jibes c
and sneers; the butt of all small-brained t
paragraphists when nothing else offered i
upon which to sharpen their wits. But a
times have changed?the world certainly I
moves. Mr3. Stanton has not altered, 1
sxcept to grow older and less active i
than formerly, though still retaining all r
tier clearness of brain, all the force, ap- a
parently, of lier trained intellect. Miss
A.nthony, also,remains strong,true to her J
JAM O lAttnl /I ?? ?
L/UUTiVblUUOj IUJU1, UUVULUU, iiUUiiUl as U
sver?but the world views them with i
different eyes. It forgets the}' were ever a
"course"' and "masculine," had "loud" c
voices, and carried "big cotton umbrel- s
las." It showers upon them good for- j
tune, and praises in old age the beauty ?
and nobility of character it denied they a
possessed twenty or thirty years ago. s
ELIZABETH CADY STANTON. J
rhe occasion was a strong reminder of a
similar one that took place years ago on ft
:he occasion of the sixtieth birthday of
[Iorace Greeley. But national and world- p
ivide, indeed, as had been Horace Gree- n
ley's services to humanity, it was not by a
my public or spontaneous outburst that lj
lis natal day was celebrated. It waa n
;he thought and work of an individual, a
md there were jjreetings and responses
ind the memory of that benignant, childike
face, radiant with happiness, can
lever be forgotten, still it was as nothi
ng in its significance compared with the
nitburat of aflection and greeting which
:ame from every part of the country and
ivcry quarter of the globe and made a
lalo for the'white head of Elizabeth
Jady Stanton on her seventieth birthday.
The "celebration" seems to have bejun
with Mrs. Elizabeth Boynton Ilar>ert,
who devoted the November number
of her Keio Era to tributes in prose
ind verse, and it was echoed by clubs
md suffrage societies all over the
jountry, while the crowning fete in New
fork was signalized by the presence of
wi;_ 1 1" e .1 ii__ j;
^ueea jCiiizaueiu nersen, unci me reaumg
)f a spccial paper prepaied for the oc:asion,
"The Pleasures of Old Age." e
Royalty itself?her of the ruff, I mean jt
?might have been proud of the letters t]
ind cablos from the old world, the let- a]
ers and telegrams and gifts from the ti
lew. The flowers, the books, the pic- g]
ures, the silver, the mosaics, the C'ali- b
ornia blankets?even bank check?, ?]
vhich, as the recipient remarked, were
is welcome to old ladies of spendthrift jr
cadencies as to the young. Tributes in ^
)rose aud verse were plentiful enough to c]
ill volumes; but the one that pleased ^
nebest came in a letter from a married jr
laughter living in England. p
Among the hundreds of clubs and so- tc
:ietics that specially celebrated the event f?
vas the New Orleans Woman's Club?a jc
ignlficant fact, as showing not only the ^
:ordiality that exists between the women ^
>f the South and the women of the si
tforth, but the utter change that has ?
aken place in public sentiment in every ?
iart of the Union. tl
Mrs. Stanton's resume of the "Pleas- 0
ires of Old Age'' was delightful, and
ertainlj went far to prove, as she said, g
hat "at fifty, not fifteen, began the t<
i ji . f i. 1: r_ n tr
rue neyaay 01 a womnn b iiic. very a:
ouching were the remarks made by Miss ^
Anthony, who referred to the length of ^
ime they had worked together since tl
850, when they met at the first anti- it
lavery convention, which met at Mrs. ti
Itanton's residence in Seneca Falls. N. tl
f. Since then they had been ardent 8j
lo-laborers, and were spending their a]
Rter days, one at seventy, the other at j(
ixty-five, in collecting materials and e;
writing their history of the reform te
Qovements of this century. ti
Mrs. Lillie Devereux Blake, in one of tl
ler bright, ready speeches, told the fol- m
owing anecdotes: tc
"Mrs, Stanton is better known for her
bility than for her ready wit. A smile ^
corns to be lurking always in the cor- tl
ers of her mouth, and n merry retort is jn
Ycr on her lips. I remember one such jc
ustance which occurred at the earliest w
onvention at which I was present. It b,
. as at Newport in the summer of 1869. w
Irs. Isabella Beecher Hooker made her m
rst public speech on that occasion. She jn
ad a manuscrij)t in her hand from w
\ S 1_ _1... J U..L
' men sue reuu, uut uaviug u, auuuy ua- ??
ivc gift a9 an orator, she frequently di- tli
erged from the paper. In the course t],
f her remarks she came to some allusion ti;
d Moses, when looking up from her m
:cturc she said: s0
"I have always thought that when I w
asscd to a better world the person I
lould most wish to see, of course after
lembers of my own immediate family, w
rould be Moses."
Mrs. Stanton whispered sotto voce, "I
ave often suspected that Moses was a
leecher."
A gentleman on tha platform leaned
ver and asked, "Mrs. Stanton, when
ou go to heaven do you want to see
foses?"
"No," she replied promptly, "I want
> see Lot's wife "
The distinguished lady one* enjoyed a
>ke at the expense of one of the leading j
ldges of the JState. He had opposed !
le married woman's property rights beiuse
he declared if a wife held a separe
ostato it would lead to quarrels in
ic family and direful were the pictures
3 drew of the divorces and miseries
hich would follow such a law.
Despite these lugubrious Vaticinations
lc bill was passed and not long after
rs. Stanton met the judge. She exuded
her hand with a sad and mournl
countenance, saying: "Permit mo
condole with you, judge."
"On what, madam?'' he asked in he
arm. nc
"On your great domestic trials, andjrcj
the troubles between: yourself ana you
wife."
The judge, a most dev oted husDnnd
turned pale and asked agitatedly
"What do you mean? "What have yoi
beard?"
"Nothing," replied Mrs. Stanton se
renely, the merry smile no doubt twitch
ing on her lip3. "But as your wife ha
jow a separate estate and you predictec
uch unhappincss as the result of thi
iff, I presumed you were now on th
;ve of divorce."
The judge joined heartily in the laugl
it his own expense.
Mrs. Stanton and Horace Greeley wen
ifelong friends until the Constitutiona
invention of 1808. Mr. Greeley ii
hat body opposed an amendment to thi
institution striking out the wor(
male" as a qualification for voters
vhich was sustained by George Willian
Curtis, Charles J. Folger and man:
>thers. Just after a somewhat violen
speech by Mr. Greeley againsi the meas
ire Mrs. Stanton caused to be presentee
k memorial praying for its passage headec
>y the name of Mrs. Horace Greeley
Fhe great philosopher was furious, anc
n revenge decreed that her name should
lever again appear in the Tribune excep:
is "Mrs. Henry B. Stanton."
Mrs. Stanton was bom in 1815 ir
Johnstown, N. Y. She was the daughtei
>f Judge Daniel Cady and Margaret Liv
n<rston, his wife. She was educated ir
i class of boys at the Johnstown aca
lemy, and afterward at Miss Willard'i
eminary in Troy, N. Y. Her own ex
>erience turned her attention to the dif
icultics and disabilities of women anc
.roused her strong indignation. Hac
he been a boy her father would have
rained her with the greatest care for the
cgal profession. As it was she was
urned loose amidst Coke and Blacktone
in her father's office,but her menta
.ctivity, her independent lines ol
bought and really splendid forensic
acuities, aided by a fund of ready wit,
vere more subjects for joking by hci
ather than for laying the foundation oi
uture eminence, altnough ho was vcrj
>roud of his clever daughter. In 184C
he married Henry B. Stanton, and wcnl
?itn him to London to attend th(
Vorld's Anti-Slaverv convention held ir
hat city. Subsequently they settled ir
ieneca Falls, and it was from that poinl
hat the call for the first suffrage con
'ention was issued, bringing together
hree women destined to exert an im
lortant influence upon the succeeding
ears and their events?Mrs. Stanton,
iucretia Mott and Miss Anthony.
Since that time the lives of the two have
eon wrought in together, although thej
lave had their separate interests, enter
irises and ambitions?Mrs. Stanton
aturally expending more of her energies
nd the results of her work in her home
ife, Miss Anthony devoting herself al
lost unreservedly to the cause she had
t heart.
SUSAN B. ANTHONY.
The Revolution was Miss Anthony's
-a. ?j _ ii.. _i-i. l
nterpnse, uuu in mu uiiumpt tu suaiaiu
; she lost not only her own money, but
lat which had been loaned by her brother
ad frionds. She bravely maintained it
ill it became a forlorn hope, and then
le relinquished it into hands which she
elievcd stronger than her own. For
iie next few years she worked and
ibored incessantly to pay oil the debts
lcurred for the paper, and never rested
.11 she had earned the money and disbarged
herself of all obligation. Miss
.nthony was born at South Adams on
ebruary 15, 1820. She is of Quaker
arentage, and was for fifteen years a
:acher. Her features are regular, her
tee of a fine, strong type, which has
>st the "rugged" and somewhat anigonistic
expressson, quite foreign to
er nature which it formerly bore, folic
is one of the most tolerant, mostforiving
of mortals, severe only to herself,
ince 1832 she has been associated with
ic suffrage movement, but was previusly
and always distinguished for zeal
l the temperance and other questions,
he is not a writer aud dislikes to have
3 use her pen, but she is a natural orator
rtr/>rlrnr TKo r*n 1 T7
LIU. au Viuv/i. auv
arrier to success had she been a man,
ould have been her conscience, but
len it perhaps would not have acquired
s development under masculine educaon
and training. Her public life and
lat of Mrs. Stauton ha3 been one of
leeches and ( resolutions, conventions
ad flying travel. Not luxurious
mrneys in Pullman palace cars, with
spensive hotels and hotel fare at the
irminatioQ, but hard night and day
aveling by the cheapest liiudes and at
le least expense, snatching a hasty
leal here and there, as time and the con;nts
of a slender purse permitted.
All this is changed now. "Susan"
as earned her rest, and she takes it in
10 home which Mrs. Stanton succeeded
i earning for herself in Tenallv, N. J.,
i the midst of her friend's family, of
? - - ?? a noff na 1 f oVin
Ult'U SHU 19 US IUUIU u pain u: 11 auu
ilonged to it by blood. Here they
rite the history they have helped so
uch to make, and whatever may be the
dividual opinion in regard to their
ork, credit has at least been given to
icir courage, their martvr-like spirit,
icir constancy, their unselfish devotion,
icir true womanliness and the substanal
benefits they have been largely the
eans of conferring upon their own sex,
i that Mrs. Stanton's daughter may
ell say that one woman, at least, is
ad to acknowledge that her life has
:en made better because those two
omen have lived.
LUCRETIA MOTT.
Lucretia Mott cannot be discussed
re, for the little would be an imperti*
nee and the much out of place?a
:)oti!ioa of what has been better said.,
ir Yet, as one of the group of famonJ
women who met and asked for their
!, share in the right to individual life, liberty
and the pursuit of happiness, withu
out in the least forfeiting or sacrificing
that refinement and delicacy of woman
hood which was her distinguishing fea
ture, her picture, at least, must here
i - ?i Tin a.i ii..4
s nave a puice. vvuu uiui, ever buw iuuu
1 sweet, saintly face could forget? Who
s that ever heard the tones of that pere
suasive voice could fail to be moved by
them?
LILLIE DEVEREUX BLAKE.
Mrs. Lillie Devereux Blake, as th*
j President of the New York State Wo?
man's Suffrage association, presided on
the occasion of Mrs. Stanton's birthday
t celebration. Mrs. Blake is one of tho
i youngest of the suffrage leaders, having
, been born in Raleigh, N. C., in 1835.
I Her father, George Devereux, was a
j Southern gentlemen of Irish descent, her
mother a Johnson, of Stratford, Conn.,a
L direct descendant of William Samuel!
r Johnson, one of the -first two Senators
, from that State. Both her parents were
descendants of Jonathan Edwards. Mrs.,
. Blake was a much admired beauty and
j belle in lier young days, and displayed!
, also much, literary ability. She has been,
I twice married, the first time to Mr. Frank
. Umstead, a lawyer, in 1855, who died in
[ 1859; thfe second time to Mr, GrenfilL
' Blake, in 1866. Her principal workt
previous to 1870 was done for Harper's
y Magazine, the Ecening Post, the Pnila*
[ delphia Press and other journals. She,
. published also several successful novels
aud was and is a correspondent to some
, leading journals still. Since, 1870, how'
ever, her efforts have b6en largely di-j
1 rected toward the enfranchisement of
, women, and it was owing mainly to her
\ efforts that the bill was passed in Newt
York State conferring the right of school
' suffrage upon women. Mrs. Blake still
] retains a youthful and attractive appear,
ancc, she dresses with taste and is an
' energetic and untiring worker. Her
i home in New York is a pleasant, and hospitable
one, and she has two handsome
and accomplished daughters, both,
grown to womanhood, one of whom is
married and now known as Mrs. Beverly
Johnson, the other occupying the position
of vice-principal in one of the
largo public schools.
FRANCES POWER COBBE.
Frances Power Cobbe is a strong figure
in this day and generation, with a
face and form not unlike our own Eliza'
beth Peabody, but possessed of astonishing
versatility and power. Her "hobby"
is, and has been for years past, vivisection,
but she has written also excellent
books like her "Duties of Women," ona
of the noblest text books to put into the
hands of young girls that ever was writ*
ten, and sho still lectures and writes
constantly for magazines and newspapers.
Her intellect is strong and versatile
and her life too serious to admit of
the wasting of time,' but she is a
: thorough lady, very gentle and, courteous
I in manner, with a serene face on which
! the sunset calmness has fallen, for she
was born in Dublin in 1822, and the reI
Ticrions doubts which agitated hec
younger days long ago gave place to
abiding trust in the dictates of her conscience
and the goodness which controls
the world. Some of her works have
been "Intuitive Morals," "Broken
Lights," and she also edited Theodora
Parker's works. She has been a steadfast
worker also all along the line of
modern progress, and with her letter of,
congratulation to Mrs. Stanton sent a
photograph of whicl* the picture ia ^
copy."
FRANCES WRIGHT.
Frances "Wright hardly belongs to this
group. She died in 1852, before the
work in which the women here spoken
of have been engaged had fairly begun.,
j But it would be difficult to measure tha
| influence she exerted in bringing about
I the general approval by her indepenI
r>f thnnorht hnr unselfish life, he*
sacrifice of means and position to the
spirit of her liberator, which burned
like fire in her bosom. She was born in
Dundee in 1795; her father was the
friend of many distinguished political
economists aud reformers, and it was
from him that she obtained that largeness
of view?that enthusiasm for humanity
which was the aspiration of hei
future career. But she lived too soon.
She spent her fortune and died before
any of her efforts had ripened into
fruition. But she was courageous and
sincere, a martyr to her faith and convictions,
and deserves a high place
among women reformers.
Anaconda, Montana, is one of the won-;
ders of the West. Two years ago there
was nothiDg there. Now they have a city
numbering 4,000 inhabitants.