The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, January 01, 1890, Image 1
BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JANUAKY 1, 1890 VOLUME XXXIV NO. 32.
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Christmas Carols.
It Ib the blessed Christmas time,
And on the frosty air there swells
The music of the sweet-voiced bells,
Ringing ihelr olt-repeaied chime
Of how the birth
Of Christ on earth
Brought down the peace of God to men.
O, Joyfully they sing of peace,
in ancient carols sweet and dear,
Bat mingling with their chant I hear
The sound of strife that will not cease.
But fierce and strong,
Still rolls along.
Until their song is drowned again.
1 near tno worm s aeep undertone:
The prayers for breau, the sound of tears,
The bitter curse, the ribald Jeers, j
The sighs for rest, the knell, the groan ;
While from afar |
The sound of war
Rolls sullenly upon my ear.
Bnt still the bells repeat tbe strain, '
"Rejoice! rejoice I rejoice again !
Peace acd good will are ootne to men !" !
And, as I hear their sweet refrain,
Before me pass,
As In a glass.
The centuries since tbe Saviour's birth.
2 see the star of peace arise.
And send lis beams of heavenly light
Down through the gloomy shades of night
"Which cover all the earthly skies,
But few are they
To whom a ray
Comes through the clouds that wrap the
earth.
And then, as In a troubled dream,
Nations and empires rise and fall.
With klngB and priests and creeds, but all
Are lost in the fierce, rushing stream
Of war and blood.
Whose wrathful flood
8W*eps throne aud fane beneath Its tide.
W Now dark skies growing clear I see.
While error's tidal wave recedes.
And, In the place of Iron creeds,
Men learn to love sweet charity.
And triad bells play,
On Christmas Day,
"God's peuce Is here, and shall abide."
Though still comes not the perfect day,
I read the future by the past,
And know that It sIihII come at last?
S "That darkness shall be sweptaway;
Thai love and peace
Shall still Increase
Till hushed to rest all strife shall be.
Peal out, sweet bells, your melody!
God's oeace Is like a flowing river,
Which widens ever and forever,
Until It rolls a mighty sea,
Whose waters swell
Unfathomable,
As wide as is eternity.
Pictnrc of Whllefleld.
A writer in the Sunday Magazine
draws a pen-and-ink picture of Whitefield,
the famous preacher of the last
century, as he appeared when, surrounded
by the beauty and the fashion,
aud the lower classes of London,
he preached one of his open-air ser
mens:
In and out among the well-dressed
many there moves a crowd of people
who wear neither silk nor velvet
There is the arti*au, with his wife and
children, who have come out here
chiefly for the sake of the fresh, sweet
country air; there are the city clerk
and his sweetheart doing a little flirting
to while away the time; there is
Ahe poor needle-woman, whose pale
face has such a wistful look, that we
fancy her heart must be beginning
^ .dimly to guess that if she could grasp
;the meaning of the great preacher's
words, it might possibly bring iuto her
life even more warmth and coloring
ithan there is in the dresses she stitches
for the grand ladies.
Suddenly the murmur of voices
1 At
CIT T !
L1J 9 ?
Ssthai
. to Come. E
ales J
which had been running through the
vast assembly is. hushed. The duchesses
and couutesses incline their
heads a quarter of an inch forward;
the fans and the actret-ses cease to flutter
; the mass of the people make a little
rush all in the same direction.
Everv eve is fixed on a man who is
ascending slowly a green bank near at
hand. At first sight there is nothing
very remarkable in his appearanceHis
figure is tall and spare, and dress
is homely ; when he turns towards the
audience, we see that he squints, and
he has no especial beauty of feature.
But the moment he begins to speak
his face is forgotten in his voice. How
does it thrill with holy passion as he
tells of his dear Lord; how does it
ring with stern indignation against
sin, and yet how does it melt with tenderness
over the sinner ! It is so clear
that it is heard at the further end of
the wide assembly: and yet so sweet t
that music is the only word that can f
?* ? : j? _ c i.
give an lutu ui its tunes.
His face, too, and his feature has g
changed since we Jast looked at him. r
Meaning has come in to every move- g
ment of his hand ; each feature answers
to the theme that is upon his lips, as does j
the lake to the lights and shadows in j
the sky above; his form seems to have
grown majestic, and to be like that of ^
the desert preacher, or of hi in who
cried against Nineveh. f
Winn he speaks of heaven we al- e
most believe that he has been there: a
when he tells of the Savior's love and c
sufferings it seems to us that he must s
[have walked with Peter and John at c
His side; when lie tells a story by a
way of illustration, as he often does, g
the description is so vivid that we listen
breathlessly, as though we really a
saw the scene he paints with our bodi- j
'J ^yrit. J
For two hours the tide of eloquence j
flows on unceasingly, and still the lis- j
tening crowd remain enthralled. I)ifferent
signs of emotion appear among ,
them. e
The hard faces of the mechanics s
work with unwonted feeling; the ],
brow of Hume grows smooth ; even (
Chesterfield, who liillierto lias stood
like a statue of one of his own ances- c
tors, so far forgets himself when the I
preacher, in a lively parable, is describ- \
ing a blind beggar on the edge of a t
precipice, as to start forward and niur-l?
mur, "O save him, save him." L
No wonder they are thus moved, for
the preacher himself sets the example, s
' f
The C/irtHllan Arbitration, (Philadelphia)
well merge next year (1890)|t
into the Measenyer of Peace. The i
name will be Christian At filtrationand j
\ Messenger of Peace. It will be pub-1
lislied at Richmond, Intl., and l'iiila-jl
delphia, Pa. M
DRY I
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id 61
^member the
Erom
Christmas Day.
All hall, the Lord Is born to save,
Born to redeem us from the grave,
Horn as the safe and only wuy
. From darkest night to heavenly day.
Born as our light while here wo tread
In sinful mazes dally led,
Born as our lile wblle hero we lie,
Ensnared by sin and doomed to die.
Born with his word^of truth to show
All doubting footsteps where to ro. *
Born to dispense his heavenly grace
On all the sons of Adam's race.
Born true repentance to Impart
To every broken, coutrlte heart,
Born saving faith each day to give
To all who through his name will live.
Born by his Spirit, cleansing soul
And mind and heart 'till all is whole,
And free from every taint of sin,
Perfect and good and pure within.
Born to prepare in heaven a place
To each "belfever of the racp,
Bora with the saints to dwell above,
Where hearts meets heart in peace and
love.
Freda's Christmas.
Hans Strobbe was not a good father
o the little ones, for he had learned to
rerjuent the saloon on the corner, and
t is easy to believe that, when lie came
taggering home, he did not bring
nucli happiness with him ; this is very
ad, but it is true.
But Minna took great comfort with
ler boy Carl. Even when he was ony
a ten-year-old boy he would carry a
>ail of water from the pump, though
t was never so full, and he would chop
iway at the knottiest stick that he
ouud in the lean-to behind the kitch?"*
lian li nf It t(_< m Af tiwiA<l_Kr\v tirnu
it, au kuui uis iiiuiiici r> nuuiruwA
ilways full. And when baby Freda
ried, he took her up so carefully and
angto lier so gently, that her tears
leased to How, and she would lie in his
inns quite satisfied with the care that
he received.
It would take a long time to tell all
ibout them, ho we must be satisfied to
mow that while Hans went from bad
o worse, until he was arrested and
ocked up, Minna was stri^j ng hard to
teep a home for the children, as well
w to bring them up in the fear of Hod.
\nd when Christmas came, Carl was
ixteeu years old, while Freda was but
even. As to llans?none of them
enow where he is, nor do they wish to
loso. i
Freda had been playing with some)
:hildreu in the yard, and they had
teen bragging of what wonders they I
vould liiid in their stockings. And
hat brought her into the house.
'Mamma, why cannot I hung up my
locking as well as the other girls?"
Minna thought a moment before she
poke, and in that time she remembcrsd
how (liHiculL it was to get enough
or the children to eat, and then she
bought of the toe of Freda's shoe that
leeded to be mended ; besides, she
ooked down at the knee of Carl's i
nints that had to be pieced very care- j
ully, because the cloth was so thin |
foDS
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Days?FRIDA'
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that it would hardly hold the stitches ;
then she thought of*how soon the coal
would be gone, and whatever she did
she must keep a fire, for the weather
was cold and the snow was coming.
No doubt this seems a long thought
to you, but then the mind is quick in
passing over thoughts, and a mother's
thoughts come very swiftly sometimes,
and when she did speak she said, "My
darling, God has not given us the
money to keep any Christmas." Her
voice was low and sweet, but Fredii
looked greatly distressed, and the
bright smile died out of her face.
"Who wants to hear a story?" the
mother askod. Now. if there was an v
thing that Carl and Freda really did
like, it was a story; so Carl, on his
footstool, and Freda, nestled in her
mother's lap, were eager listeners.
And Minna told the sweet story of I
the Christchild, of His birth, life and c
death, not forgetting to remind them t
of His taking the little ones in His 1
I arms and saying, "Sutler little chil- a
dren to come unto me, and forbid a
them not, for of such is the kingdom c
of heaven." t
When tbe story was ended, she told t
Carl that she would like him to read at c
home while she took Freda for a look i
at the stores. The child's delight was
great, never greater than when before r
a confectioner's window. "Oh ! look, <3
mamma, look at that lovely box?it is 1
only eleven cents; do buy it, mam- P
ma!" t
g
But Minna shook bis head and wip- .
ed away a tear with the corner of her
shawl. She could not spare even the j
few pennies. Did you never notice
how God often prepares for our neeus,
just as be brought Fred (Jay to tbe
window at llie same moment tbatMinna
came there with Freda. Now, '
Fred had some money that he had saved
to buy presents with, but be felt
sorry for tbe little girl, and, taking a
bright half-dollar from his store, he
handed it to the child, saying, "Take!
this, little girl; it is for you."
]5ut the child was frightened audla
hid her face against her mother. L,
.... : N
l es, lane it, mue gin ; n is ior your
own .self." n
"Minna rooked into his brown eyes, t
and, seeing them full of kindness, put I
her hum! on the child's head, and said,, ?i
"Take the money, darling, and thank i I
the gentleman."
You would lie astonished if you j
could know how many things that
half-dollar paid for, tree an.1 all. liutij,
you ought not to he surprised to know j
that this is a true story, or that Fred's! J
Christmas was a great deal nicer than : j
it would have liecn if he had not felt ?
that it was more blessed to give than j
to receive. (>
KTORf
and
nuarv
I. SATURDA
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1. to
, Christmas Song.
On Jnda's hills the sun had net;
The moon rode hlijh o'er Olivet;
The starry skies, In watchful rest.
Leaned o'er the blue lake's peaceful breast.
Fair Sharon's roses on the air
Were breathing out their fragrant prayer,
And o'er the sweet and holy calm
Tho dews of Hermon shed their balm.
In that blest hour of peace and love,
Bright angels left their home above,
To bear to the unconscious earth
Tlin ctnrunf a Sowlnnr'u hlrtli
To fell how God's beloved Spn
Left for a time His royal throue,
To bring to our unworthy race.
The riches of Ills Father's grace.
Well might the herald angels then
Sing "Peace on earth, good-will to men,"
And all the host of heaven reply,
"All glory be to God on high!
And earth take up the Joyful song,
And rolling years the notes prolong,
Till all creation join the strain,
Ana shout as one the glad "Amen!"
The Mistletoe.
/ J
In old-fashioned English families, a
>ranch of the mistletoe is suspended
>n Christinas eve from the ceiling of
he hall. Any woman who passes be.
leath the mystic spray incurs the penilty
of being then and there kissed by
,ny man who chooses to avail himself
if the privilege. One of the supersti*
utions associated with this custom is
lint the maid who is not thus kissed
,t Christmas will not be married durng
that year.
This hanging of the mistletoe is a
elic of the days of Druidism, handed
[own through the centuries. The
)ruids reverenced the plant when
ound on the oak. the favorite tree of
heir divinity Tutanes. At the winter
olstice, a great festival was celebrated
n his honor. The people, led by their
iriests, the Druids, went in procession
o gather the mistletoe. When the
ak was reached on which it grew,
wo white bulls were bound to a tree,
.'lie Chief Druid, clothed in white, asended
it, and with a golden knife cut
he sacred plant which was caught, by
not her priest in the folds of his robe.
The bulls, and often human victims,
i-ere sacrificed ; and the mistletoe, dialed
intosmai! pieces, was distribut(I
among the people. They hung the
ni'ni'u ni-nr il/uiru r\f tlioir linimPS
s a propitiation and shelter to the sylan
deitie? during llio season of cold.
In the Scandinavian mythology, the
nistletoe is a plant of n?> mean impor"
mice, it, so the legend relates, having
icen the instrument of the slaying
if Haider, tlie god of eloquence and
MK't ry.
jSalder, one day, told Friga, his
not her, that he had divanipt a dream
rhich foreboded his death. She, to
iroteet her son, secured an oath from
ire, ice, earth, water, the animals, and
ilants that they would do Haider no
larni. lie being thus assured, took
lis place amid the combats of the
;ods, and fought without fear.
Lonkc, his enemy, seeing that not
lie of ris arrows, which fell in show
lAI
Moi
v 18
Y and MONDj
2 p.n
ers upon Balder, did him the least
harm, determined to discover the socket
of his invulnerability. Disguis- n
ing himself as an old woman, he paid ^
his court to Friga, and complimented 0
her upon the valor and good fortune of
her son. . _
She, seduced by the flattery, answer,
ed that nothing could injure Balder, as n
all the powers of nature had sworn not j
to harm him. She added, however, jj
that there was one plant which she v
had not invoked, thinking it too insignificant
to inflict injury on any one. a
?? A wlinf- mn v h? thp nftm? nf
I " ? ?j ? w
plant?" asked Loake, in the blandest g
of tones. jj
"It is a feeble little shoot which p
grows on the bark of an oak," answered
the simple Friga. g
Loake immediately procured the h
mistletoe, and made from it an arrow, a
Entering the assembly of the gods, he w
said to blind Heda, "Why do you not s(
contend with the arrows of Balder?" b
"I am blind, and have no arms," an- s!
swered Heda. ^
"Balder is before thee. Shoot!" said A
ic
Loake, handing her tbe arrow of mi9- "
tletoe. Heda shot; and Balder fell 8
dead, pierced by the insignificant ^
plant.?Selected.
Conserye Your Strength. * P
Some of our young people have read u
till they are crazed of learned black- M
smiths who at the forge conquered "
thirty languages, and of shoemakers 0
who, pounding sole-leather, got to be J
philosphers, and milliners who, while vs
their customers were at the glass trying 11
on their spring hats, wrote a volume of
first-rate poems. The fact is, no *l
blacksmith ought to be troubled with 11
more than five languages; and instead
of shoemakers becoming philosophers, s'
we would like to turn our surplus of t ^
philosophers into shoemakers; andj^v
| the supply of poetry is so much greater ^
than the demand, that we wish milli- ^
ners would stick to their business. ^
Extraordinary examples of work and ^
endurance may do as much harm as ^
good. Because Napoleon slept only In
three hours a night, hundreds of stu- ^
dents liave tried, the experiment, but|^
instead of Austerlitz, and Jena, there!
came of it only a sick headache and a r
botch of recitation. We are told of 0
how many books a man can read in j
the live spare minutes before break- f(
fast, and the ten minutes at noon; but is
I wish some could tell lis how much
rest a man can get in fifteen minutes
after dinner, or how much health.inij',
an hour's horseback ride, or how much j w
fun in a Saturday afternoon of cricket |ti
Ho who has such an idea of the value ^
of time that he takes none of it fori e.
rest, wastes all of his time. I s!
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iY Next
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La
Indifference to Hainan Misery.' / /ill
They who are shocked at a single
aurder in the highway, hear with inifference
of the murder of a thousand
n the battle-field. They whom the -i.: ';M
iea of a single corpse would thrill
rith terror, contemplate that of heaps -1
f human carcasses, mangled by hua
an hands, with frigid indifference.
fa murder is committed, the namive
is given in the public newspaper, J-M
:ith many expressions of commisera- ; ?!
ion, with many adjectives of horrol*, *
tid many hopes that the perpetrator
rill be detected. In the next para- '
raph the editor, perhaps, tells us that ; ^
e has hurried a second edition to the '
'OOO in nrdor fhaf. ho mov Ho t.hft flPflt.
> glad the public with the Jntelli- '.V>^
ence, that in ail engagement which
as just taken place, eight hundred
nd fifty of the enemy were killed. By ^
^ar, the natural impulses of the heart
;em to be suspended, as if a fiend of
lood were privileged to exercise a f*
pell upon our sensibilities, whenever '/&
e contemplated his ravages.
.mongst all the shocking and all the
jrrible scenes the world exhibits, the ~
aufihters of war stand pre-eminent;
et there are the scenes of which the ; V
>m passionate and the ferocious, the
onH tho tiail alilrn tnllr with (Vim.
lacency or exultation.
The immolations of the Hindoos flfl
s with compassionate or horror, and
e are zealously laboring to prevent
lem. The sacrifices of life by oar i\3jj
wn criminal executions are the subset
of our anxious commiseration, and
'e are strenuousiy endeavoring to dl*riuish
their number. We feel that
ie life of a Hindoo or a malefactor is
serious thing, and that nothing but
nperious necessity should induce us 1
> destroy the one, or to permit the d&auction
of the other. Yet what are
lese sacrifices of life in comparison
ith the sacrifices of war? In Napoion's
campaign in Russia, there fell,
tiling one hundred and seventy-three
ays in succession, an average of two >;
jousand nine hundred men per day.
lore than flve nunarea tnousana nuian
beings in less than six monthst
.nd most of these victims expired
ith peculiar intensity of suffering.
Thou that teachest another, teacheat
iou not thyself?" We are carryiDg
nr benevolence to the Indies, but
bat becomes of it in Russia or at /
ieipsic? We are laboring to save a
;w lives from the gallows, but where i'
i our solicitude to save them on the
eld? Life is life, wheresoever it be
icriliced, and has everywhere equal
luimstooi'.r regard. I am not now
kjuiring whether war is right, but
riiether wo do not regard its calamiies
with an indifference with which
re regard no others, and whether that
idifference does not make us acqui
see in evils and in miseries which we
liould otherwise prevent or Condemn, ,
...
v.