The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1898-08-09

;nto monument granite with the let
ters thai the storms Of LOCO years can
not obliterate. Bishop Harrington nau
hook of only three leaves. The nrst rear
MAS HACK the second leaf red. the third
leaf white. The black leaf suggested SIN;
the red leaf asoneH,entl the wb ~hi'e s,o Os
God will a~brndantly pardon.
SYMPATHY FOR THE PENITENT-
/ must not forget to say that as cnrisI-
STOPPING down. with his anger wrote on
the ground IL is evident that mis- sympa.
thies are with this pentent woman and
that he has no sympathy with her npyo-
critical p~ursuers. Just opposite TO tnat
is the worlds habit. Why didn l these
unclean Pharisees bring one of their own
number to Christ for excoriation and
capital punishment? No. no. They over
look that in a man which they damnate
N a woman. and SO the world has had
FOR offending woman scourges and obtuT-
cation. and for just one ofense she be-
comes an outcast. while for men whose
lives have been sodomic for twenty
years the world swings open its doors
OF brilliant welcome. and they may SIT
in high places. Unlike the Christ OF my
text, the world writes a mans misde-
meanor in dust. but chisels a womAn's
orense with great capitals upon n-enace-
able marble.
For foreign lords and princes, whose
names cannot even he mentioned IN r-
spectacle circles abroad because they are
walking iazarettos Of a~bomination. some
of our American princesses Of fortune
wait and at the first beck sail out with
1nFm lnko NHG uAstNNhE>S u AtA " AtA-
ever. And in what ere called higher cir
Giles of society there Is row not only tho
imitation of foreign dress and 'oreien
manners, but an imitation OF foreign DIS
soluteness. / like a foreigner, and i ike
an American. but the sickest creature on
earth is an American playing the for,
eigner. Society needs TO be RECONSTRUCTED
on this subject. Treat them alike. mascu-
line crime and feminine crime. IL you
cut the one in granite. cut them both
In granite. IL you write the on" in dust.
write the other In dust. No. no says
the world; let woman go down and let
man 20 up" What is that | hear plash-
ing into the Hudson or Potomac al mid
night? And then there Is a gurgle a. OF
~strangulation, and all is still. Never
mind. 1t l. only a woman too disCour-
aged 10 live. Let the mills OF the cruel
world grind right on.
his stooping down writing in ;he dust.
do not think l underrate the literature OF
the dust. 1t Is the most tremendous OF
all literature. 1t is the greatest OF al
libraries. When Layard exhumed Nine
web he was only opening the door OF It's
mighty dust. The excavations Of Pom
peii have only been the unclashinE or
the lids OF a volume of "A nations dust.
When Admiral Farragut and his friends
visited that resurrected city, the house
OF Balbo. who had been enc of Its chief
citizens in its prosperous days. was open
ed. and a table was spread in that house
which 1.Slo years had been buried 10y
volcanic eruption. and Farragut and his
guests walker over the exquisite mosaics
and under the beautiful fresco. and II al
GIL n b'iAiE 'tEAtA Aft'N ~
those who eighteen centuries age had
turned 10 dust.
LITERTURE OF THE DUST.
on, this mighty literature Of the dust,
Where are the remains Of Sennacherib
and Attila and Epaminondas and Tam
erlane and Trajan and Philip OF Macedon
and julius Caesar? Dust! Where are the
heroes who fought on both sides at
Chaeronea, at Hastings. at Marathon, at
Cressy. of the 11O. eco men who fought at
Agincourt. of the 10000 men who faced
death at Jena. of the 10000 whose armor
g~littered in the sun at Wagram, OF the
100000 men under Darius at Arbela, of
the 2.6il, 600 men under Nerxes at Their
mopylae? Dust, Where are the guests
who danced the floors OF the Alhambra or
the Persian palace OF Ahasurerus? Dust.
Where are the musicians who played or
the orators who spoke and the sculptors
who chiseled and the architects who
built in all the centuries except our own"
Dust! Where are the most OF the books
that once entranced the world? Dust!
Pliny wrote twenty books OF history; all
lost. The most OF Menander's writings
lost. OF 80 comedies OF Plautus all gone
all gone but nineteen. Aeschylus wrote
100 dramas: all gone but seven. Narro
Romans; not a fragment left. Quintilian
wrote his favorite book on the corrup-
ton of eloquence; all lost. Thirty books
of Tacitus lost. Dion CaSsius wro,e eigh-
ty books; only twenty remain. Beroisius
history all lost. Where there IL one liv-
ing book there are a thousand dead
DoohS ne SltdAtSA llbI IL III W WI ib,
that which has the widest shelves and
longest aisles and the most multitudin-
GUS volumes and the vastest wealth, ~
the underground library. 1t Is the royal
library, the continental library. the hem
ispheric library. the planetary library,
the library of the dust. And all these
these scrolls unrolled. and ali these VOL
umes unclasped, and as easily as In your
the dust off OF 1t and turn over its pages
so easily will the Lord OF the resurrec-
ton pick out of this library OF dust every
volume of human life and open IT and
read it and display it, and the volume
Will be rebound. to be set in the royal
library of the kings palace or in the
prison library OF the self destroyed.
BOUNDLESS MERCIES.
Oh. this mighty literature of the duet!
It Is not so wonderful, after all, that
Christ chose instead of an inkstand the
impressionable sand on the floor Of an
ancient temple. and instead OF a hard
pen put forth his forefinger with the
same kind of nerve and muscle and bone
and flesh as that which makes up our
own forefnger and wrote the awful doom
OF hypocrisy, and full and complete for
giveness for repentant sinners, even the
Christs mercy. Put four ships upon that
ocean. and let them sail out in opposite
directions for 1,0oo years and see IL they
can find the shore OF the ocean OF the
divine mercy. Let them sail to the north
and the south and the east and the west,
and then after the loo years OF voy-
report; No shore, no shore to the ocean
Of Gods mercy"
And now 1 can believe that which I
read. how that a mother kept burning a
candle In the window every night for ter
years, and one night very late a poor
waif OF the street entered. The aged wo-
And the stranger said. 'twhy do you
keep that light in the window? % The
aged woman said: That is to light my
wayward daughter when she returns.
Since she went AWay- ten YEA re- ago my
hair has turned white. Folks blame me
for worrying about her, but you see i am
her mother, and sometimes aalf "A dozen
times a night 1 open the door aid look
out into the darkness and cry, Lizzie.
Lizzie" But / must not tell you any
more about my trouble, for | guess from
the way you cry you nave trouble
enough Of your own. Why. how cold and
sick you seem! Oh, my, Can IL be? Yes.
Won are Lizzie INV nwn lost child Thark