The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1894-10-20

(hooS cA a>A
the glittering scenes of social life, dis
eases stand right and left and balance
and chain. The breath of the sepulcher
floats up through the perfume, and the
froth of deaths lips bubbles up in the
champagne. l am told that in
some of the cities there are
parents who have actually given up
housekeeping and gone to boarding
that they may give their time
illimitably to social designations. 1
have known such cases. 1 have
family after family blasted in
that way in one of the other cities
where l preached. Father and mother
turning their back upon all quiet cul-
ture and all the amenities of home,
leading forth their entire family in the
wrong direction. l give you the his
tory of more than one family when l
say they went on in the designations of
social life until the father dropped into
a lower style of dissipation, and after
awhile the son was tossed out into So
ciety a nonenity, and after awhile the
daughter eloped with q French dancing
master, and after awhile the mother,
getting on further and further in years,
tries to hide the wrinkles, but fails in
the attempt, trying all the arts Of the
belle, an old nirt, n poor miserable but
terfy without any wings.
II there is anything on earth beauti-
full to me it is M aged woman. her
white locks flowing back over the
wrinkled brow-locks not white with
frost, rs the poets say, but white with
the blossoms of the tree Of life, in her
tenderness of gracious memories, her
face q benediction. As grandmother
passes through the Don the grand
children pull at her dress, and she al
most falls in her weakness; but she
has nothing but candy or cake or .
kind word for the little darlings.
Oh, there is beauty in old age.
God says 80. THE hoary head Is q
crown of glory" Why should people
decline to get old? The best things,
the greatest things l know of arc aged.
Old mountains, old seas, old stars and
old eternity. But il there Is anything
distressful, 1t is to see IN old woman
ashamed of the fact that she Is old.
What with all the artificial appliances,
she is too much for my gravity. I
laugh even in church when l see her
coming. The worst looking bird on
eartn Is q peacock when 1t has lost its
feathers. would not give one lock Of
my old mothers gray hair for SO. 900
such caricatures of humanity. And II
the life Of q wording, II the life of q
disciple given to the world is sad, the
close of such a life is simply q tragedy.
Let me tell you that the designations
of social life are despoiling the useful
ness Of q vast multitude Of people.
What do those people care about the
fact that there are whole nations in
sorrow and suffering and agony, when
they have for consideration the moro
important question about the size of
. glove OF the tie Of q cravat? Which
Of them v er bound up the wounds of
the hospital? Which one of them ever
went out to car for the poor? Which
of them do you find in the haunts of
sin distributing tracts? They live on
themselves, and it is very poor pasture.
Sybaris was q great city, and It once
sent 800 horsemen In battle. They
had . minstrel who had taught the
horses Of thearmy q great trick. and
when the old minstrel played Q certain
tune the horses would rear, and with
Their front feet seem to beat time to
the music. Well, the old minstrel was
offended with his country, and he went
over to the enemy, and he said to the
enemy: "You give me the mastership
of the army and I will destroy their
troops when those horsemen come from
~Sybaris." So they gave the old minstrel
h management, and he taught all
the other minstrels a certain tune.
Then when the cavalry troop came up
the old minstrel md all the other
minstrels played q certain tune, and at
the most critical moment in the battle,
when the horsemen wanted to rush to
the conflict, the horses reared and beat
time to the music with their forefeet,
and in disgrace and rout the enemy
fed. All! my friends, l have seen 1t
again and again-the minstrels of
pleasure, the minstrels Of dissipation,
the minstrels of goddess association
have defeated people in the hardest
fight of life. Frivolity has lost the
battle for ten thousand folk.
You know as well as I do that the
designations of social life are destroy
ing thousands and tens Of thousands Of
people, and It is time that the pulpita
lifted their voices against them, for ]
now prophesy the eternal misfortune
Of all those who enter the rivalry.
/ wish from my heart that l could
marshal all the young people in this
land to an appreciation of the fac that
--,. lc,. ,.-~A& ,rDlx - 1lA I'D
your amusements and recreations arc
only to help you along in that work.
At the time of q religious awakening q
Christian young woman spoke to q man
in regard to his souls salvation. He
fioated out into the world. After
awhile she became worldly In her Chris
tian profession. The man said m day:
"Well, l am as sa fe as she Is. ] was q
Christian, she said she was n Christian.
She talked with me about my soul; II
she Is safe ! am safe" Then o sudden
accident took him off without an oppor.
tunity to utter one word of prayer.
Do you not realize, have you not no
ticed, young men and old-have you
not noticed that the designations of So
cial life are blasting and destroying q
vast multitude? With many life is q
masquerade ball, and as at such enter
tainments gentlemen and ladies put on
the garb of kings and queens OF
mountebanks or clowns, and at the
close put off the disguise, SO q great
many pass their whole life In q mask,
taking of the mask of death. While
the masquerade ball of life goes on,
they trip merrily over the floor,
gemmed hand Is stretched to
gemmed hand. and cleaning brow
bends to cleaning brow. On with the
dance! Flush and rustic and laugh.
ter of unreasonable merry-making.
But after awhile the languor Of
death comes on the limbs and blurs tho
eyesight. Lights lower. Floor hollow
with sepulchral echo. Music saddened
into a wall. Lights lower. Now the
maskers are only seen in the dim light.
Now the fragrance Of the flowers are
like the sickening odor that comes
from garlands that nave lain long in
the vaults of cemeteries. Lights lower.
Mists gather in the Glasses
shake as though quaked by sullen
thunder. Sigh caught in the curtain.
Scarf drops from the shoulder
of beauty, a shroud. Lights lower
Over the slippery boards In
dance Of death glide jealOusies, envies
revenges. lust, despair and. death.
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