Wheeling register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1878-1935, 1889-02-18

uusU not forget TO say that as Christ,
stooplng down, with His finger wrote on
the ground, it is evident that His sympa.
thies ale with this penitent woman, and
that de has no sympathy with her hypo.
critical puIsuers. Just opposite TO that is
the worlds habit. Why didn't these un.
clean Pharlsees bring one of their own
number to Christ for excoriation and capi-
tai punishment No, no; they overlook
that IN man which they damnate in q
woman. And SO the world has had for
offending women scOurges and objurgation,
and for just one offense she becomes an
outcast, while for men whose lives have
been sodomic for twenty years, the world
swings opens its doors Of brilliant welcome
and they may sit in Legislatures and SEN
stfs and Parliaments or on thrones. I'm
like the Christ OF my text, the world
writes mans misdemeanor in dust, but
chisels woman's offense with great capi-
tails upon ineffacesble marble! For for
eign lords and princes, whOse names
cannot even be mentioned in respectable
circles abroad because they are walking
lszarettOs of sbomination, our American
princessss of fortune wait, and at the first
beck sail out with them into the blackness
of darkness forever. And in what are
called higher circles of society there is not
only The imitation of foreign dress and for
eign manners, but an imitation of foreign
dissoluteness. l like an Euglishmsn and
like an American, but tue sicSest c,ea-
ture on earth ia IN American playing the
Eoglishmau. Society needs to be con-
structed on this sahject. Treat them
alike, masculine crime and feminine
crime. II you cut the one in granite, cat
them both in granite. 1t you write tie
one in dust, write the other in dust No,
no, says the world, let women 90 down
aud meu 20 up. What is that hear
FLASHING into the East river at midnight,
and then there is a gurgle as Of strangula-
tion and all is still. Never mind. II IL
only woman too discouraged to live.
Lat the mills of the cruel world grind
right or.
LITERATURE OF DUST
But while / speak of Christ of the text,
his stopping down writing in the dust, 0
not think l underrate the literature of the
dust. II is the most solemn aud tremea-
deus Of all literature. 1t is the greatest
of all libraries. When Layard exhumed
Nineveh he was only opening the door of
its mighty dust The excavations Of
PomDeii have only been the unclasping of
the lids Of volume Of nations dust,
When Admiral Farragut and his friends
few years ago, visited that rssurrected city,
the houle of BalbO, who had been one Of its
chief citizens in Its prosperous days, was
opened and a table was spread in that
house which eighteen hundred and
tsn years has been buried by volcanic
eruption, and Farragut and his guests
walked over the exquisite m0ssics and
under the beautiful frescO, and il almost
seemed like being entertained by those
who eighteen centuries ago had turned to
dust. Oh this mighty literature of the
dust. Where are the remains Of SEN
nacherib and Attila and EpsminoDdas and
Tamerlane and Trojan and Philip of Ma
cedon and Julius Ce3N? Dust! Where
are the heroes who fought on both sides ~
Cterones, at Hastings, at Marathon, at
Cressv, Of the 110 600 men who fought at
AgincOurt, Of the $50, 600 men who faced
death at jena, of the 100000 whose ar
NOR glittered in the sun at Wagram, of the
/, ,O00, 600 men under Darius at Arbells, Of
the 2,641 600 men under Xerxes ct Their
mOpyle? Dust!
FORGIVENESS.
Oh. this mighty literature Of DUST 1t
is not so wonderful after all that Christ
chose, instead of an inkstand, the impress
sionable sand on the floor Of an ancient
temple, and, instead of hard pen, put
forth His fOrefnger with the sam9 kind OF
nerve, and muscle, and bone, and flesh, as
that which makes up our own foTefngeT,
and wrote the awful doom of hypocrisy
and full and complete forgiveness for re-
psntGut sinners, even the worst.
And now I can beli9ve that which l
read, hoH that a mother kept burning
candle in the window every night for ten
wears. and one night very late poor waif
of the street entered. The aged woman
said 70 her, 'Sit down by the fire, and
the stranger said, why do you keep that
light in the windOw?" The aged woman
said: "Thit Is to light ray wayward dAUgh-
Ter when she returns. Sinc9 she went
away ten years ago, my hair has
turned white. Folks blame me for
| worrying 9DOut neri out you see am ner
mother, and sometimes, half dozen
times night, open the door and look
cut into the darkness and cry, Lizzie!
Lizzier But l must not tell you any
more about my trouble, for guess, from
the way you cry, you have trouble enough
Of your own. Why, how cold and sick you
seem! Oh, my. csn it be? Yes, you are
Lizzie. my own lost child Thank Col
YOU are home againw And what a time
Of rejoicing there was in that house that
night! Ard Christ again stopped down,
ard in the ashes of that hearth, now
lighted mp not more by the great blazing
logs. than by the joy Of reunited house
hold. wrote the same lberating words
that he had written more than eighteen
hundred years ago in the dust of the
Jerusalem temple Forgiveness! A word
broad enough snd thigh enough to let pass
through it all the armies of heaven, mill
lion sbraast, on white horses, nostril to
nostril flank to flank.
COLLAPSE or ASKY SCRAPER.