Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1888-02-29

L uoi0 udJ nave D6eu uO CidSSio oAo
in her features, but all the hospitals OF Har
rison's Landing and Fortress Monroe woul.
J have agreed that she was beautiful; and
any rough man in all that ward had insult
ed her, some wounded soldier would hav
} leaped from his couch, on his best foot, ant
struck him dead with crutch.
Again: I advise you not to depend FOL
happiness upon the batteries of men. 1t II
poor compliment to your sex that 80 man.
| men feel obliged in your presence to one
} unmeaning compliments. Men capable O
elegant and elaborate conversation else
where, sometimes feel called upon at the
door of the drawing-room to drop thell
common sense and to dole out sickenine
batteries. They say things about youl
dress, and about your appearance, that you
know, and they know, are false. They say
you are an angel. You know you are not
Determined to tell the truth in office, and
store, and shop, they consider it honorable
to lie to woman. The same thing thai
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
o, let no one trample on your self-respect.
The meanest thing on which a woman can
build her happiness is the batteries of men.
| Again: 1 charge you not to depend for
| happiness upon the discipleship of worldll-
ness. l have seen men as vain of their old
fashioned and their eccentric hat as your
brainless fop is proud of his dangling foole-
ries. Fashion sometimes makes reasona-
BILE demand of us, and then we ought to
yield to it. The daisies of the field have
their fashion of color and leaf; the honey
suckles have their faahion of ear drop, and
the snowflakes flung out of the winter hea.
| fhoix pf
After the summer shower the sky weds the
the earth with ring of rainbow. And do
not think we have right to despise the
elegances and fashions of this world, espec-
tally if they make reasonable demands upon
us; but the disoiplsship and worship of
fashion is death to the body and death to
the soul. 1 am glad the world is improving
Look at the fashion plates of the seven
teenth and eighteenth centuries, and you
will find that the world is not so extrava-
CANT and extraordinary now as it was then,
and all the marvellous things that the grand
daughter will do will never equal that done
by the grandmother. Go still farther back,
to the Bible times, and you find that in
| those times fashion welded a more terrible
| sceptre. You have only to turn to the third
chapter of Isaiah, a portion of Scriptures
| from which once preached to you ser
mon, to read: "Because the daughters of
Zion are naughty, and walk with stretched
forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and
mincing as they go, and making tinkling
with their feet: In that day the Lord will
take away the bravery of their tinkling
ornaments about their feet, and their cauls,
aud their round tires like the moor, the
chains, and the bracelets, and the muffers,
the bonnets, and the head-bands, and the
tablets, and the ear rings, the rings and the
nosejewels, the ehangeable suits Of apparel,
and the mantles, and the wimples, and the
crisping pins, the glasses, and fine linen,
and the hoods, and the veils." Only think
of woman having all that on! | am glad
that the world is getting better and that
fashion, which has dominated in the world
so ruinously in other days, has for little
time, for little degree at any rate, relaxed
its energies. All the splendors and the ex-
travaganza of this world dyed into your
robe and flung over your shoulder cannot
wrap peace around your heart for siugle
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 a Saviour's Righteousness. The
home may be very humble, the hat may be
very plain, the frock may be very coarse;
but the halo of heaven settles in the room
when she wears it, and the faintest touch
of the resurrection angel will change that
garment into raiment exceeding white, SO
as no fuller on earth could, whiten it.
come to you, young women, too day, to say
that this world cannot make you happy.
know it is bright world, with glorious
sunshine, aud golden rivers, aud tire-work-
ed sunset, and bird orchestra, and the dark
est cave has its crystals, and the wrathiest
wave its foam wreath, and the coldest mid
night its flaming aurora; but God will put
out all these lights with the blast OF His
own nostrils, ard 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 de-
fender in every strait. l do not ask you to
bring, like Mary, the spices to the sepulchre
of dead Christ, but to bring your all 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.
o, 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
Christ's song, and let this Sabbath air rus
tie with wings of rejoicing angels, and the
towers of God ring out the news of souls
saved.
"This world its fancisd pearl may crave,
IT is not the pearl for me;
| Twill dim its lustre in the grave,
| Twill perish in the sea.
But there's pearl of price untold.
| Which never can be bought with gold
| o, that's the pearl for me-"
The snow was very deep, and it was still
falling rapidly, when, in the first year Of
young woman die. 1t was very humble
home. She was an orphan; her father had
been shipwrecked on the banks of New.
foundland. She had earned her own living.
As entered the room l saw nothing attrac-
tive. No pictures. No tapestry. Not even
a cushioned chair. The snow on the win.
dow easement was not whittier than the
cheek of that dying girl. 1t was face
never to be forgotten. Sweetness and maj.
esty of soul, and faith in God had given
her matchless beauty, and the sculptor
who could have caught the outlines of those
features, and frozen them into stone. would
have made himself immortal, With her
large, brown eyes she looked calmly into
the great eternity. sat down by her bed
side and said: sNow tell me all your trou.
bles, and sorrows, and struggles, and
doubts.' She replied: 81 have no doubts OF
struggles. 1t is all plain to me. Jesus
has smoothed the way for my feet. l wish
when you go to your pulpit next Sunday
you would tell the young people that reli-
gion will make them happy. % death,
where is thy sting?' Mr.. Talmage, l won.
d if this is not the bliss of dying?'
said: "Yes, think it must be-" L lin
gered around the couch. The sun was set
ting, and her sister lighted candle. She
lighted the candle for me. The dying girl,
the dawn Of heaven in her face, needed nc
candle. l rose to go, and she said: u
thank you for coming. Good night! when
we meet again it will be in heaven in
heavenl Good night! good uightP' For
her it was good night to tears, good night
to poverty, good night to death; but when
the sun rose again it was good morning
The Ii ght of another day had burst in upon
her soul. Good morning! The angels
were singing her welcome home, and the
hand Of Christ was putting upon her brow
a garland. Good morningl Her sun ris-
ing. Her palm waving. Her spirit exult
ing before the throne of God. Good morn
ing! Good morning! The white lily O.
poor Margaret's cheek had blushed into the
rose of health immortal, and the SHOWS