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THE POET TO IHS HARP.
pernicious toy ! struck with so feeble hand.
The note but reached to the fend player e ear,
Barren, X fling it on the sand,
And curse it here!
Most foolish, fatal “ instrument of woe! ”
TLat, uhile it prompts the melancholy thrall
To sing a thousand joys be dees not know,
Kobe him of all.
Where is my yonth ? Gone in a song nnheard—
Gone every stirring, manly enterprise;
For real passion, lo! an empty word,
And dreams and lies.
And woman's love—Ah, cruel trick of song,
That fills the heart up to the very brim,
Sor lets the man die out, though all have long
Been dead to him.
Delusion folk wed by a strange despa r!
Life lost - hope lost— in solitude I dwell.
Like some pale anchorite whose faith—whose prayer-
Died in his cell.
came over his countenance which a man with a
very lively imagination might have construed
into a feebly incipient smile, and at last he
said:
“ I will drive you there.”
“And defend me if we are attacked? Don’t
forget that.”
“Yes, I will defend you.”
“Well, then, here is your money; and now
“Here, you, sir—come down !”
The coachman did not stir.
“Come down, I tell you, or we will fetch
you.”
He did not make the slightest motion.
“Come, boys, let us fetch him,” said the
leader to the others, and threw a good-sized
stone at the driver.
“All right,” they answered, laughing; and all
(For Tt<f Sun, y South.)
Cosmopolitan Stories;
see that you are ready as soon as I have finished four went to work with a vim, and made stones
my supper.” and pieces of wood fly around him thick and
By the time the Englishman was through with fast like hail,
his evening meal, the moon had risen beauti- He shook himself three or four times, as a
fully in a clear, blue sky, and the inn-keeper j well-directed missile hit him rather hard, and
announced to his guest that the horses were ; finally commenced his descent slowly and delib-
ready. j erately. When he had reached the ground, they
The stranger paid his bill and wn*” a sign to ! all gathered around him, and one of them gave
his new coachman, who followed him out in ?he a vigorons slap to the crown of his hat, so that
yard and climbed upon the box like some huge, it sunk down over his eyes, and said:
unwieldy, antedeluvian monster. The landlord, “This, my tall friend, you must take as a
with his hat in his hand, opened the coach door hint to be a little more attentive when gentle-
to the stranger, wishing him a happy journey, men speak to you.”
and the carriage started. He raised his hat again and adjusted it on his
They had been rolling for about half an hour head without saying a word,
on a smooth and even road through a dark [[I say, look at me!” another addressed him.
—OR.—
UNDER SIX FLAGS.
pine forest, and the Englishman, leaning com
fortably in a corner of the carriage, was just
chuckling to himself over the clever manner in
which he had foiled the landlord's design upon
his purse, when the carriage suddenly stopped,
the door opened, and through it looked a head,
He did not budge an inch.
“Now, I will try to teach you some manners,”
the robber continued, “by showing that yon
must turn your face towards the person who
does you the honor to address you.”
And he took hold of the driver’s nose rather
CHAPTER XVIII.
ABOfT A COACHMAN.
Another day was gone, and another evening
had swept its dark shades around the eastern
hemisphere.
The tap-room of a remote village inn in the
Black Forest commenced to till gradually with
its hnbitnal evening customers, who, snugly en
sconced behind their beer-glasses and tobacco
pipes, were before long quietly ventilating the
tame news of their obscure neighborhood.
Suddenly the indistinct hum of voices was
interrupted by the noise of carriage wheels roll
ing np the inn-yard, and as every unimportant
event assumed a greater significance in that
out-of-the-way place in proportion to its dis
tance from the high roads of lite, everybody was
on the tip-toe of expectation. Their curiosity
was soon satisfied, for in a few minutes the door
was thrown open, and in walked a tall, ruddy,
middle-aged gentleman, the importance ol whose
bearing announced him to be something above
the common herd. His general appearance, as
well as his accent when he commenced speak
ing, convinced the company assembled that he
was an Englishman.
“Where is the landlord ?” he asked.
“Here, sir,'' answered a rather corpulent, red
faced individual who walked up to him, taking
his pipe out of his mouth.
“Landlord,” continued the Granger, “how
long will it take me to reach the town of D ,
which I understand is situated somewhere on
the other side of the mountain ridge that runs
between it and this place?”
"About two hours, my Lord.”
The landlord addressed him with this title
partly because he wanted to curry favor with
him for some secret reasons of his own, and
partly because be had an undefined idea that
every Englishman was more or less entitled to
that appellation.
“Can you get me post horses for that place
this evening ?” the Englishman further asked.
“Ah—well—yes—I suppose I can, if you wish
it particularly.”
“You appear to hesitate. What is the diffi
culty ?”
“Now, n.y Lord, to tell you the truth,” said
the landlord, scratching himself behind the ear,
“I would hardly advise anybody to undertake
that journey so late as this.”
“ And why not ?”
«■ Well, you see, there are some right bad peo
ple abroad in these parts just now, and several
robberies have been committed here within the
past few weeks.”
“Pshaw! I am not afraid of robbers,” said
the stranger, who imagined he could see through
the landlord’s reasons fr wishing to detain
him. “I have a dear old tric-nd in the town ot
D who is expecting me this evening, and I
must go, robbers or no robbers.”
“If you will, you will—that is all,” rejoined
the landlord, reluctantly. “But let me advise
yon not to start before the moon rises, at any
rate, which will be in about an hour from now.”
“There is some sense in that,” said the Eng
lishman, with a quizzical smile. “Yes, I will
wait til! the moon rises, and in the meanwhile
you may prepare a good supper for me.”
At this juncture an ill-favored fellow, who
had been listening attentively to the conversa
tion between the landlord and his guest, finished
his glass, paid his reckoning, and left the room
quietly.
“Did von notice the man who went out just
now, bit Lord ?” asked the landlord.
“ Yes! Why ?”
“I did not like the looks of him at all,” said
mine host, shaking his head mysteriously. He
then turned to the guests and asked
“Does any one of you know him ?”
They all answered 'in the negative.
“That man is not all right, you may depend
upon it,” he continued, gravely. " I think, my
Lord, yon had better reconsider your intention
of departing this evening.
“Bah!” exclaimed the stranger, contemptu
ously; “ don’t you bother your brain about rob
bers" any further, but see that you get my supper
and the horses ready as soon as it is consistent
with your nature.”
“Very well, my Lord.”
In spite of all his apparent nonchalance, the
Englishman was not nearly so well at ease as
his conduct indicated. He walked up and down
the floor, weighing in his mind how much cause
for fear there really might exist, when his eyes
fell upon an object that he had not observed
hitherto. This was a man who was sitting all
by liimselt in a corner, half hidden by the shade
and motionless like a hog. The only indication
ot life which he now and then gave was when
he slowly reached out his arm and carried to
his lips a" tall beer-glass that was standing on a
table at bis side. The Englishman approached
him and began surveying him with deep aston
ishment. He must have been at least seven feet
tall; his -shoulders were broad as a barn-door,
and" the knitting ot his frame indicated a
strength that would have been sufficient to pull
down a church-steeple.
Finally the Englishman addressed him:
“I say, friend.”
He did not move.
The Englishman touched him lightly on the
shoulder and said:
“ I want to speak to yon. ’
He raised his eyes slowly to the Englishman’s
face, as if to ask him what he wanted.
•• Do you know the way to D ?” aaked the
latter.
“Yes,” the German answered, in a voice like
the blast of a bass trombone.
“Cau you drive well?”
“Yes.” .
“Will you drive me to D this evening :
“Don’t know.”
“Now listen to me,” continued the English
man, talking as distinctly as he could in order
to make as stroDg an impression as possible on
this semi-animated Colossus. " It you will
drive me to D , and promise te defend me it
we are attacked on the road, I will give yon this
money.”
And he took three shining sovereigns ont of
his pocket and snowed them to the Black ior-
ester.
The eyes of that gentleman rested for some
seconds on the coins. Gradually an expression
from the bearded lips of which issued this com- roughly, and turned his head around. The lat-
mand; , ter showed no sign of any emotion, except that
“ Step out!” i his lips became slightly compressed, and a dusky
The traveler did so, and found himself stir- frown was gathering on his brow,
rounded by four very suspicious looking char- A third one of the party, whom the English-
acters, in an open glade, into which they had man recognized as being the person who left the
just emerged. * , tap-room while he was talking to the landlord,
The one -who had opened the carriage door, j now came forward and said:
and who seemed to be the leader of the party, j “ It has been decided in open court that you
was a rather pleasant, jovial-looking sort of an are going to have a good thrashing, and by way
individual, who showed unmistakable evidence ; of an appetizer to that feast, I would pray you
of having seen better days. He addressed the j to accept this.”
Englishman in a polite and friendly way. j And he gave him a violent kick on his shin.
“ Do not be agitated, I pray you, sir. You ! The coachman clenched both his lists, drew
have not the least cause for fear, if you conduct j them up to a level with his shoulders, and
yourself, as I have no doubt you will, in a man- j struck out in different directions, the right
nor befitting this occasion. As you may have ; hand hitting the leader, and the left the man
guessed already.my friends here and I aregentle- who had just spoken, with such violence that
men whom the world has treated rather roughly, j they fell senseless to the ground, completely
and who for that reason have been obliged to stunned by the fury of the blows. He then
engage in a business which I believe is generally j seized bold of the third and threw him, as if he
looked down upon with some disfavor by soci- j had been a kitten, a distance of about ten yards,
ety. You, however, being to all appearances a j where he fell down with a great splash into a
sensible and unprejudiced man, cannot help j pool of stagnant water by the roadside. The
seeing that a more equal division of property j fourth one took to his heels, and ran for his
would be nothing but just and equitable, and as ; life.
ferent religious creeds, and other matters re
lated to the subject.”
“ Thank heaven. I shall be out of the country
by that time,” said Francois aside to Jonathan.
“ When will you come back, John ?” Karl
asked.
“I think I shall be here towards the end of
September. ”
“About that time my business will require
{ my presence here also,” said the Russian, “and
if Jonathan will remain with me till that time,
I hope we shall return together.”
“Of course we shall,” said the American.
“Ah! this fits very nicely,” Francois ob
served. “ I shall try to be present, and then
we can continue our meetings for some time,
can we not?”
“l”es,”said John, “if you all wish it.”
They all gave their enthusiastic approval to
Francois’ proposition.
“Suppose we meet here,” John resumed, “on
the first of the coming October, at eight o'clock
in the evening; will that suit you ?”
It suited them to a nicety.
“ Well, that being understood, let us now
adjourn.”
“Before we separate,” said the Russian, “let
me send for a basket of champagne and a box of
cigars, and have a parting glass with you.”
“Very thoughtful in you, Michael,” said
! Karl.
And after having wished each other a pros-
j perous journey and a happy return over the
sparkling fluid, the Cosmopolitans took a recess
till the first of October.
VEND OF THE FIRST SERIES.)
[In finishing the First Series of the above
titled stories, I cannot refrain from expressing
my thanks to my many friends and the public
for the kind interest they have manifested in
| these insignificant productions. These stories
j were originally not intended for publication,
| and lay no claim to literary merit; but since I
learn that the public has received them with
some favor, however undeserved, I may feel en
couraged to continue them at some future time.
-0. A. E.]
we evidently stand in greater need of money
than yon do, perhaps you would have no objec
tion to handing over your purse to us poor fel
lows.”
The Englishman looked up at his defender,
but as he found him very tranquil and uncon
cerned on his seat, without giving the slightest
sign of any intention to come to his employer's
aid, and understanding that any attempt at sin
gle-handed resistance would be worse than use
less, he thought that the best tking to be done
under the circumstances was to enter into the
humor of his assailants, whereupon he handed
the leader his purse anil said:
Your reasons are so extremely cogent and
When this feat had been performed, which
did not occupy more time than about half a
minute, the driver again relapsed into his usual
apathy, bowed down, and commenced leisurely
to rifie the pockets of his victims. He recov
ered all that his employer had lost, and found
a good many things besides, which he gathered
up in his hat and offered to him.
“ These things do not belong to me,” said the
Englishman.
“All the same,” answered the coachman.
“You take them and try to find their owner.
But get into your carriage and let us be off, for
it is getting late.”
As soon as his patron had resumed his seat,
convincing, that it would be churlish in me to j he climbed up on the box and drove on, as if
. ,i ..J ±i. ; i... j l r .A *X>I : i -i. 11-.:-
try to refute them, and therefore I hope you will
accept this small token of my friendship and re-
gard.”
“ Well, now, this is what I call pleasant and
comfortable,” said the robber, putting the purse
in his pocket. “It is really charming to meet
with gentlemen who understand howto conduct
bnsiness without indulging in any unnecessary
circumlocutions. But to proceed. Time is not
of much value to people of your independent
position in life, whereas we poor foresters must
always be c n our lookout and endeavor to utilize
every minute; and as ie do not happen to have
a watch among us, I should not be surprised if
yen would relieve us of this difficulty also by
transferring to us the possession of yours.”
The Englishman again looked at his coach
man. He was immovable.
“Well, you seem to be fully impressed with
the truth of the old adage that ‘time is money,’ ”
he said, and handed over his watch.
“ I see a beautiful ring on your finger there,”
continued the forester, as he styled himself.
“Now permit me to let you have a glance into
the romantic part of my life. I love a beautiful
girl, and I am happy to say that my tender feel
ings are reciprocated; but it has always been a '
that has lasted some seven centuries now, and
it is no telling how long his Red Bearded Maj
esty will stay at his marble table yet.
“ Well,” said Karl, “I don’t think that will be
so very long. I believe, to judge from present
indications, that the old emperor is stirring,
and if he is the next one to disturb Michael's
nothing had happened. They arrived at their
destination without further adventure, and when
the Englishman had told his friend of his
driver’s exploit, the latter sent an order to fur
nish his guest’s valiant coachman with a big
supper and plenty of beer.
As Karl thus finished his story, John re
marked:
“That coachman of yours, Karl, is a very-
fair representative of the immense power of the
Teutonic race, which lies hidden under cover of
its naturally tbrpiu dispp^fffftn.”
“Yes, pretty fair,” sai4 Karl. “ Der deutche
Michel is very fond of his quiet nap) If rudely
awakened, however, he giifes terrible slaps some
times, and it is a pity that his inclination to
wards snoozing returns as soon as the excite
ment is over.”
“ What were those German words you pro
nounced just now?” asked the Frenchman.
“ Der deutche Michel, or the German Michael, if
you will have them in translation.”
“What is the meaning of that expression,
Kari ?”
"The German Michael is a kind of mythological
^ ; ^ embodiment, or allegorical personification of
source of :egret to me that an unpropitious fate ; the strength, kindness, endurance, sagacity and
has ever disabled me from testifying the warmth , sluggishness of the German character, ’ an-
of my emotions by offering the lady of my love ; swered K rl.
some of those little trinkets after which the! “ He gave us a pretty good pawing the other
guileless female heart so often hankers. Now, ' year, that German Michael,” continued Fran-
it strikes me that that very ring of yours would j cois, good-naturedly. “But don’t you think he
be the very thing to present her with, and if you | is preparing for another nap now, Karl?”
would like to part with it, I assure you that the | “I am afraid he is getting a little drowsy,”
remembrance of you will forever remain green was the German's inoffensive rejoinder. “ But
in two loving hearts. ” i if he should go to sleep again, pray don’t awaken
The Englishman pulled it off and gave it to him as abruptly as you did the last time, Fran-
his eloquent interlocutor, remarking: j cois, if you know what is good for you—and
“I have always been an admirer of tbe fair | for us, too.”
sex, and would be very happy indeed if this “ I suppose that same celebrated Michael
little trifle should prove to be the means of join- never will have a bright, permanent awaken
ing in closer bonds two hearts and minds so i ing,” said John, “until the return of good old
noble as yours and your sweetheart’s undoubt- j emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, after his doze
edly are.”
“Thank you a thousand times, my dear sir.
We will remember you in our prayers. New, is
there any other tririe you would feel prompted
by your generosity to btstow on us, your unfor
tunate friends ?”
“ There is a small trunk containing a few arti
cles of wearing apparel in the carriage yonder, dreams, then beware ! But talking of Friedrick
but I could not think of insulting gentlemen of Roihcart, I would remark that ”
your sensitive and refined feelings by offering “ I beg your pardon for interrupting you,”
you anything of that kind.” ; John here interposed, to the evident relief of
“Of course not. Wnat do you take us for? Francois, “but I received a letter from my
We could not accept a tittle of it, even if you i mother yesterday, informing me that my pres-
were to force it on us. And this affair being enee in England is required as speedily as pos-
now ended, as I hope to our mutual satisfac- sible. I must, therefore, be up early to-morrow
tion, it only remains for me to give you our morning to catch the first train, and find my-
most heartfelt thanks for your unwonted gener- self, on that account, under the disagreeable
osity. If there is anything in the world we can necessity of bidding you gcod-night, and fare-
do for you, pray mention it, and you will com- well for some time.”
mand our unlimited services.”' “I am very sorry to hear that, John,” said the
“G=ntlemen, it is almost impossible for me Swede. “This will, of course, break up our
to express the gratitude with which your liberal club, for the present, at least.”
offer fills my heart; hut as our respective lines “I am afraid it will,” said the Russian. “But
of business are somewhat divergent. I am afraid yet, this happens rather opportunely as far as I
I shall have no opportunity to avail myself of am concerned. I also have got some advices
your kind proposi'.ion. Y’et hold, though! I from Russia, which compel me to leave you in
believe I have a favor to ask of you.” a few days, and when I mentioned it to my
“What is it? Name it! Tell us!” they all friend Jonathan, on our way hither this evening,
exclaimed, eagerly. he expressed a desire to go with me for the pnr-
“ Do you see that bulky coachman on the box pose of—what was the expression you used,
yonder?” Jonathan?”
“ Yes, he is visible enough.” “Prospecting,” said the American.
“Well, that man pledged himself, for the con- “Yes, that was it —prospecting, whatever that
sideration of three pounds sterling, to drive me may signify, '
to the town of D ■, and likewise to assist me "That means, in our parlance, to fly around
in settling accounts in case I was to have any a strange country in order to catch chances,” I
transactions with gentlemen of your persuasion, explained Jonathan.
Yon can judge for yourselves how he has ful- 1 "Well, as there seems to be a general break- j
filled the second part of his bargain. Now, if ing up of our charming little club,” said the
you will give him a good, sound thrashing, it Frenchman. “I shall continue my journey to
would make the remembrance of this meeting Rome, which was so agreeably interrupted by
vastly more agreeable to me than it otherwise my making your acquaintance, and seize the op-
might be, and also benefit our iriend yonder by portunity to make a few sketches during my
teaching him to pay a stricter attention to his slow traveling to the land of sunshine and poe-
moTal obligations in the future.” try. But what are you going to do with your- j
“Nothing can be more reasonable,” said the self, Karl?”
chief, as he and his comrades showed their ap- “I shall remain here the whole summer, and
predation of the traveler's joke by a hearty continue my researches. And what are your
laugh. “Such looseness of morals as that lei- plans. Erik?”
low has exhibited is highly reprehensible, and “I shall make a trip to Sweden for two or
calculated to shock one’s feelings, and we cer- three weeks, to look after some property I have
tainlv owe it as a J.utv to voursell and the com- there.” he answered, “and then I will return
(For The Sunny South.)
RELIGIOUS DEPARTMENT.
Donation Parties to the Clergy.
Many things wear very clever names, that are
very bad things, “ one of which ” a donation
party “ is whom.” We are opposed to them in
toto. They have done damage to many of the
churches, and it is to the discussion of that
damage we call attention. The injury has been
threefold.
1st. It has hurt the preacher.
There is inseparably connected with the things
the notion that the preacher is a kind of object
of charity—a sort of pauper too worthless to
receive a stolid salary, and too respectable to be
boarded at tbe poor house. Perhaps in a less
clearly defined way, but yet in some way, the
preacher feels this, and whenever he does he
either compromises his manliness by approving
of them, or feels embarrassed by the kind (?)
but humiliating insinuation contained in them.
We commend to our readers the words of a
great American writer on this subject. Speak
ing of those preachers who love such things he
says:
“They are men whose hands are always open
to receive whatever comes; who delight in dona
tion parties and who grasp right and left with
insatiable greed at gifts. They become so
mean spirited that they do not like to pay for
anything, and do not think it right that they
should be called on to pay for anything. They
are sponges upon their people and the commu
nity. Wherever they happen to be, they ‘ lie
down on the brethren.'
“ The abject meanness into which a pastor
can sink and the corresponding and consequent
powerlessness into which he can descend, finds
too frequent illustration among the American
ministry. It is shocking and sickening that
there are some men who seem forced by their
parishes to live in this way, and it is still more
disgusting to find some men who seem tolerably
comfortable and contented while living in
this way. If a man is fit to preach he is worth
wages. If he is worth wages they should be
paid with all the business regularity that is
demanded and enforced in business life.
“ Good, manly pastors and preachers do not
want gifts; they want wages. It is not a kind
ness to eke out insufficient salaries by donation
parties and by benefactions from the richer
members of the flock. It is not a merit, as they
seem to regard it, for parishes or individuals to
do this. It is an acknowledgement of indebt
edness which they are too mean to pay in a
business way.”
We shall next week and the week after discuss
its effect upon the church and the world.
rnunity at large to check a depravity of this
kind as far as it lies in our power. ”
He now turned to the coachman and called
out:
and keep yon company, Karl, if you wish it.”
“Ah! that will be splendid,” exclaimed the
German. “Then we can continue our discourse
touching the influence of climate upon the dif-
The Pen After the Pistol.
In a late issue of the “ Southern Christian
Advocate,” Doctor Haygood, the editorial corres
pondent, lets fly a volley against church papers
advertising pistols. Keep up the music, it is
“melodious to our attentive ear.” We hope
his pen will not only be “mightier than the
sword,” but more powerful than the revolver.
If he carries his point he deserves a memorial
page in the records of those courts who take
cognizance of the crime of carrying concealed
weapons.
Book Notice.
“Jesus the Christ.” “ Lessons from the Evan
gelists,” by Atticus G. Haygood, D. D.,
President of Emory College. Macon, Ga. ;J. IF.
Burke.
The above is the title of a series of question
books prepared for Sunday school use, by Dr.
Haygood. He has brought to his task culture,
talent and the valuable experience of his life as
as Sunday School Secretary of the M. E. Church
South. He has wrought a good work. To
those who approve of the system of Bible truth,
of which the Doctor is one ot the brightest ex
ponents in this country, these books will be in
valuable. They are admirable, inimitable in
conception and perlect in execution. Price S3.00
per dozen.
Items.
In the Presbyterian General Assembly at Chi
cago, May 20, a memorial was presented relating
to communion wine. The committee reported
that the control of this subject should be left to
the sessions of the several churches, with an
earnest recommendation that the purest wine
attainable be used. An amendment that intoxi
cating wine is not a necessity at communion,
but that non-alcohol fruit of the vine should be
used was tabled, and the report adopted.
We wish they had put that amendment under
the table. The church establishes her divinity
when she continues to progress, while carrying
sneh a load of fools and fanatics.
The Southern Presbyterian General Ass-mbly
in New Orleans adopted a set of resolutions
against the modern dance. They condemn the
public, the private, the round, the square, tbe
high, the low, and the school that teaches it.
Good! “If by their fruits you shall know
them,” be a good test dances are an unmixed
curse. Thackerat says it is the amusement of
a fool, and it is impolite to contradict one’s sen
ior; we agree.
Ox June 3, the Pope at the celebration of his
fiftieth anniversary of his elevation to the epis
copate, received about five thousand pilgrims,
mostly Italians. He was exhausted by the ex
citement. There were present one hundred
and ninety bishops.
The Ohio Synod of the Welsh Calvinistie
Methodist Church convened in Cincinnati, May
25. Rev. J. W. Evans, of Oak Hill, Ohio, was
elected Moderator.
The Northern Presbyterian Church has taken
a square, firm stand on the liqnor question,
j condemning it in toto, whether drank in mode
ration or excess, or sold wholesale or retail.
Refreshing!
I Mr. Henry Field, of Chicago, Treasurer of
the “ Bliss Fond.” has received in all, np to
April 10. $10,130.37. Of that sum he has invest
ed $10,000 lor 10,000 United States bonds, bear-
! ing interest at the rate of four and a half per
cent., and registered in the name of the Bliss
children.
It is a singular fact that the first translation
• of the Bible in the Russian vernacular, approved
i by tbe Czar, as the head of the Greek Church,
and by that Church itself, has been completed
only within the present year.
Bishop Talbott, ofP. E. Church, in Indiana,
denies the charges of Mrs. Emma Molloy, of
South Bend. This temperance lecturer report
ed in Vermont that the Bishop is a drunkard,
j One great reason why the temperance cause has
succeeded so tardily is it has bad so many un
scrupulous advocates who to make their lectures
“take, ’ would tell anything for sensation’s
| sake.
The Convention for 1877, of the Maine Univer-
salists, was held June 26, in Rockland.
The General Conference of the United Bre
thren in Christ, just closed at Westfield, 111.,
elected the following Bishops: the Revs. J. J.
Glossbrenner, D. D., J. Weaver, D. D., J. Dick
son, D. D., Milton Wright, and N. Castle. Tbe
Rev. J. W. Holt was appointed editor of the
“Telescope.” and the Rev. W. O. Toby, assis
tant. The Rev. Daniel Berger was re-appointed
editor of the Sunday school literature, and the
Rev. W. Mittendorf, editor of the German pa
pers. The Rev. W. J, Shuey has been appoint
ed for the fifth time in charge of the financial
affairs of the Dayton Book Concern. The Rev.
D. K. Flickinger was re-appointed General
Missionary Secretary. The Rev. J. K. Billbei-
mer succeeds the Rev. Mr. Holt as Missionary
Treasurer.
Tight Laeiiii
BY S. A. S.
Did you ever find one woman who was willing
to own that she drew her own corset-strings too
tight ? Oh, dear, no! she always wears her clothes
quite comfortable. At night, when sbe takes off
her clothes, there are great red creases in her flesh
where the bones have bent inward. But she never
flings thecorsetaway; she must get herself intoshape
it she dies for it; and in spite ofside aches and head
aches, she clings to hc-r tormentors. Ask her if
her dress is too tight, and she will answer,' ‘Oh, no.
just, see here: ’ and she will draw in her breath and
pinch the waist ot it up between her fingers, but
were it not for the restraining power of corsets she
would not have a button left on the dress-body.
I am not an old woman, but I have seen in my
time young ladies crying bitterly from pain caus
ed by tight-lacing, but they would not loosen one
inch oi the corset-string. Oh, no! They must
get themseives into shape, and after getting in
shape, they must stay, or die.
We American woman talk with abhorrence of
the Chinese foot-torture, but is it any more re
volting than our own custom of reducing the
waist to absolute deformity? I blush to acknowl
edge that I have been one of the class who con
sidered corsets a support. But thanks to a dear
friend, who lead me out of darkness into light, I
am free from bondage. What does a healthy body
need of a support? Let us see what the corset
does. It. crowds every one of the important in
ternal organs closely together. This of course
gives them a downward tendency. It dwarfs the
moral and intellectual nature of woman, robs her
ot beauty of countenance and grace of motion,
xhere need be no fear of women ever equaling
man, as a worker, so long as she wears corsets;
they are not strong enough, they will not live
long enough.
One of the greatest objections to corsets is, the
pressure can be gradually increased, almost
without the wearer being aware that she is draw-
ing the strings closer and closer every day.
Tight lacing is not the only objection. If one
could wear them bo they would slip up and down,
they would be stiff and thick, all the same. All
the muscles of the body require to be brought into
frequent exercise, or some part must suffer. Can
we do it in corsets? No, we have to bend with
care, sometimes not bend at all. Girls get the
idea that they must get into shape by the wear
ing of corsets. It is all a mistake. A corset nev-
er yet gave a woman a good figure, but it has of
ten spoiled many fine ones. I believe many a
woman might take a new lease of life, by laying
aside her corsets and never resuming them again.
But the clothing must not be left to drag on
the hips. I speak from experience; we should
see clearer, feel stronger, have steadier nerves,
when once we have attained physical freedom.
An Ideal Woman.
My ideal woman is frank, intelligent,, generous,
energetic, gentle and tender to the heart’s core,
and has a dash of romance about her. The ro
mantic are ever buoyant, for so-called romantic
feelings are only an evidence of the spirit’s fresh
life- They do not really sink into the dry-rot of
an innate existence; they do not swell the list of
■the nervous-minded, and the sordid and the mean,
and the intriguing and the self-righteous. Of
them are not made the slaternly or shrewish wives,
the incapable or indifferent mothers the treacher
ous friends, of whose existence we may hear any
day on all sides
They take no ungenerous advantage of simplici
ty or timidity, they stand aloof from detraction—
they would not willingly sully the pure, bright cur
rent of their own thoughts. They may startle
many around them by an honest outburst of indig
nation, but they will not harbor malice, or seek to
perpetuate the evil they have denounced. Above
all, the romantic are strong in religious faith; for
the ideas of perfection, and beneficence and beauty
and goodness and truth, are most powerfully devel
oped in them. Let no skeptic come near them
with his cold philosophy and useless creed, that
consigns “ dust to dust,” even while the living
flesh might alone and well confute him by the
power ot its unconquerable instincts. Those who
have once tasted of the water of life at the foun
tain-head are not to be dismayed by the reports of
its afier-failing course amid the miry and darken
ed ways of an imperfect and faithless world.
Of this class were the women who, in all ages
and countries, have greatly signalized themselves
in true womanly ways, bearing witness before,
time past and to come, that true nobility of soul,
steadfastness of purpose, heroic courage and high
faith, are naturally allied to tne earnest truth and
the deep-rooted affection of which they spring
spontaneously, amid circumstances requiring the
grandest developments of individual power.
If any one speaks evil of yon let your life be
so virtuous that no one will believe him.
detinct PRINT