The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-04-18


tcaton and irregular habits. To bear ND
under this tremendous nervous strain, they are
tempted to artificial stimulus, and how many
thousands have gone down under that pressure
God only knows. They must have something
to counteract the wet: they must have some
thing to keep out the chill, and after scant
nights sleep they must have something to re-
vive them for the mornings work. This is what
made Horace Greeley such stout temperance
man. He told me that he had seen so
many of his comrades 90 down under that temp
tation. Oh. my brother of the newspaper pro-
fession, what You cannot do without artificial
stimulus God does not want you to do. There
is no halfway ground for our literary people
between tetotalism and dissipation. Your
professional success, your domestic peace,
your eternal salvation, will depend upon
your theories in regard to artificial
stimulus. | have had so many friends
quenched, their homes blasted; that 7 cry out
this morning in the words of another: Look
not upon the wine when it Is red, when 1t
moveth itself Alright in the cup. for at the last
it biteth like serpent and it stingeth like an
adder"
Another trial of this profession Is the fact that
no one seems to care for their souls They feel
bitterly about it, though they laugh. People
sometimes laugh the loudest when they feel the
worst. They are expected to gather up religious
proceedings, and to discuss religious doctrines in
the editorial columns, but who expects them to be
saved by the sermons they monograph. or by the
doctrines they discuss in the editorial columns?
The world looks upon them as professional.
Who breaches to reporters and editorss Some of
them came from religious homes and when they
left the parental roof, however regarded or dis
regarded, they came off with fathers benedic
ton and mothers prayer They never think
of those good old times but tears come into their
eyes, and they move around this great, roaring
metropolis homesick o, if they only knew
what helpful thing it is for a man to put his
weary head down on the bosom of a sympathetic
Christ! He knows how nervous and tired you
are He has heart large enough to take in all
your interests for this world and the next Oh.
men of the newspaper press, you sometimes get
sick of this world, it seems so hollow and unsat-
isfying. If there are any people in all the earth
that need God, you are the men, and you shall
have Him. if only this day you implore His
mercy.
A man was found at the foot of Canal street.
AS they picked him up from the water and
brought him to the morgue, they saw, by the
contour of his forehead, that he had great men,
tai capacity. He had entered the newspaper
profession. He had gone down in health. He
took to artificial stimulus. He went down
further and further, until summer
day. hot, and hungry, and sick, and
in despair, he flung himself off the
dock. They found in his pocket reporters
pad, a lead pencil, photograph of some one who
had loved him long ago. Death as sometime it
will, smoothed out all the wrinkles that had
gathered prematurely on his brow, and as he lay
there his face was as fair as when. seven years
ago. he left his country home, and they babe him
good bye forever The world looks through the
window of the morgue, and says: Its nothing
but an outcast;" but God says it was a gigantic
soul that persisted, because the world gave him
no chance.
ing press that they help us more and more in the
effort to make the world better I charge you in
the name of God, before whom you must account
for the tremendous influence You hold in
this, country, to consecrate yourselves
to higher endeavors. You are the man
to fight back the invasion of corrupt litera-
ture. Lift up your right hand and swear
new allegiance to the cause of philanthropy and
religion. And when, at last. standing on the
plains of Judgment, you look out upon the un-
fuence. may it be found that you were among
the mightiest energies that lifted men upon the
exalted pathway that leads to the renown of
heaven. Better than to have sat in editorial
chair, from which, with the finger of type, you de-
cded the destinies of empires, but decided
them wrong, that you had been some ngeoned
exile. who, by the light of window iron-grated
on scraps of New Testament leaf picked up
from the hearth, spelled out the story of Him
who taketh away the sins of the world.
In eternity Dives is the Beggar!
Well, my friends. we will all soon get through
writing. and printing, and proofreadng, and
publishing.
Our life is book. Our years are the chap
days are the sentences Our doubts are the in
terrogation points Our imitation of others are
the quotation marks. Our attempts at display
dash. Death the period Eternity the per
Grafton. 0 God, where will we spend it,
Have you heard the news, more startling
than any found in the journals of the
last six weeks? 1t is the tidings
that man is lost. Have you heard the news, the
gladdest that was ever announced, coming this
day from the thrones Of God, lightning couriers
leaping from the palace gate9 The news! The
glorious news! That there is pardon for all guilt,
and comfort for all trouble. Set it up in
double pleaded" columns and direct it to the
whole race.
A Scotch poet, insane on everything but re-
ligion, wrote this beautiful yet strange rhythm:
God hath pardoned all my sin,
That's the news! That's the news!
l feel the witness deep within,
That's the news! That's the news
And since He took my sins away,
And taught me how to watch and pray,
I'm happy from day to day,
That's the news! That's the news!
And now if any one should say:
What's the news9 What's the news!
0 tell him you've begun to pray
That's the news That's the news!
That you have joined the conquering band
And now with joy at Gods command.
You marching to the better land,
That's the news! That's the news!
Hvman Life in Russia.
On tho Russ;an from fiar IL once har hat