Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1888-03-02

Wo1o Waeuou uuu tHe new UuuuuSes Woio
put round the splintered limbs, and the
exhausted boy fell off into his first pleasant
sleep, she put her hand on his brow, and
he started in his dream and said: ooh, l
thought an angel touched me-" There
may have been no classic elegance in the |
features of Mrs. Harris, who came into
the hospital after the Seven Days, awful
fight, as she sat down by a wounded
drummer boy and heard him soliloquize:
"A ball through my body. and my poor
What pity it is" And she leaned over
him and said: "Shall be your mother
and comfort your" And he looked up and
said: Eyes, I'll try to think she's here.
Please to write long letter to her and
tell her all about it, and send her lock Of
my hair and comfort her. But / would like
to have you tell her how much suffered
yes, would like you to do that, for she
would feel SO for me. Hold my hand
while de-" There may have been no
classic elegance in her features, but all the
hospitals of Harrison's Landing and Fort
ress Monroe would have agreed that she
was beautiful; and if any rough man in all
that ward had insulted her, some wounded
soldier would have leaped from his couch
on his best foot and struck him dead with
a crutch.
Again: advise you not to depend for
happiness upon the batteries of men. It
is poor compliment to your sex that so
many men feel obliged in your presence
to offer unmeaning compliments. Men
capable of elegant and elaborate CONVEX
sation elsewhere, sometimes feel called
upon at the door of the drawing room to
drop their common sense and to dole out
sickening batteries. They say things
about your dress, and about your app
pearance, that you know, ana they know,
are false. They say you are an angel.
You know you are not. Determined to
they consider it honorable to lie to a wo-
man. The same thing that they told YOU
on this side of the drawing-room three
minutes ago they said to some one on the
other side of the drawing room. Oh, let
no one trample on your self-respect. The
meanest thing on which woman can build
her happiness is the batteries of men.
Again: charge you not to depend for
happiness upon the discipleship of world
liness. have seen men as vain of their
old-fashioned and their eccentric hat as
ling fooleries. Fashion sometimes makes
a reasonable demand of us, and then we
oughtto yield toit. The daisies of the field
have their fashion of color and leaf; the
honeysuckle have their fashion of ear
drop; and the snowtiakes flung out of the
winter heavens have their fashion of ex.
quisiteness. After the summer shower
the sky weds the earth with ring of rain
bow. And I do not think we have right
to despise the eiegancies and fashions of
this world, especially if they make reason
and worship Of fashion is death to the
body, and death to the soul. am glad
the world is improving. Look at the
fashion plates of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, and you will find that
the world is not so eXtravagant, and extra
ordinary now rs it was then, and all the
marvellous things that the granddaughter
will do will never equal that done by the
grandmother. Go still farther back, to
the Bible times, and you find in those times
fashion welded q more terrible scepter.
You have only to turn to the third chapter
of Isaiah, portion of the Scriptures from
which once preached to you a sermon, to
read: Because the daughters of Zion are
naughty, and walk with stretched forth
necks and wanton eyes, walking and minc-
ing as they go, and making tinkling with
their feet: In that day the Lord will take
away the bravery of their tinkling orna-
ments about their feet, and their cauls, and
their round tires like the moon, the chains,
and the bracelets, and the mufiers, the
bonnets, and the head bands, and the tab
let's, and the earrings, the rings, and the
nose jewels. the changeable suits of APP
parel, and the mantles, and the wimples,
and the crisping pins, the glasses, and the
| fine linen, and the hoods, and the wells. !"
Only think of woman having all that ont
am glad that the world is getting better,
and that fashion, which has dominated in
the world so ruinously in other days, has
for a little time, for q little degree at any
rate. relaxed its energies. All the SPLEEN
IL 1~ta NE IN ~~lS
dyed into your robe and flung over your
shoulder cannot wrap peace around your
heart for q single moment. The gayest
wardrobe will utter no voice of coincidence
| in the day of trouble and darkness. That
woman is grandly dressed, and only she,
who is wrapped in the robe of Saviour's
righteousness. The home may be very
humble, the hat may be very plain, the
frock may be very coarse; but the halo in
Heaven settles in the room when she wears
it, and the faintest touch of the resurrec-
raiment exceeding white, so as no fuller on
earth could whiten it. come to you,
young women, to. day, to say that this world
cannot make you happy. know it is o
bright world with glorious sunshine, and
golden rivers, freworked sunset, and bird
orchestra, and the darkest cave has its
crystals, and the wrathiest wave it's foam
wreath, and the coolest midnight Its
flaming aurora; but God will put out ali
these lights with the blast of His own nos
trils. and the glories of this world will
perish in the final confagration. You will
never be happy until you get Your sins
forgiven and allow Christ Jesus to take
full possession of your soul. He will be
your friend in every perplexity. He will
be your comfort in every trial. He will be
your defender in every strait. I do not
ask you to bring, like Mary, the spices to
the sepnlcher of dead Christ, but to bring
your oil to the feet of living Jesus. His
word is peace. His look is love. His
hand is help. His touch is life. His smile
is Heaven. Oh, come, then, in flocks and
groups. Come, like the south wind over
banks of myrrh. Come, like the morning
light tripping over the mountains.
Wreathe all your affections on Christ's
brow, set all your gems in Christ's coronet.
pour all your voices into Christs song, and
let this Sabbath air rustic with the wings
of rejoicing angels, and the towers of God
ring out the news of souls saved.
| This world its fnnced pearl lnuy crave,
| 'Ts not the pearl for me;
| Twill dim it's luster in tho grave,
Twill perish in the sea
But there's pearl of price untold
| Which never Gun be bought with gold;