Rensselaer Republican, Volume 23, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 March 1891 — BALEFUL AMUSEMENTS. [ARTICLE]

BALEFUL AMUSEMENTS.

|THE fourth sermon on the V PLAGUES OF GREAT CITIES. Corrupt AmnMu.nti th« Wont Plagues of this World;„A Bose, and the Universe, a Garland. Rev. Dr. Ta Image preached at Brooklyn last Sunday. To help stay the plague now raging I Droject certain principles hy whi b you may judge in regard to any amusement or recreation, finding out for yourself whether it is right or whether it is wrong. | I remark in the first place, that you can judge of the moral character of 'any amusement by.its healthful result or by its baleful reaction. There are people who seem made up of hard facts. They are a combination of multiplication tables and statistics. If 'you show them an exquisite picture they will begin to discuss the pigments Involved in the coloring. If you show them a beautiful rose they will s ibmit to a botanical analysis, which is Only the post mortem examination of a flower. They never do anything more than smile. There are no great tides "of feeling surging up from the depths of their so il in billow after billow of reverberating laughter. They seem As if nature had built them by contract and made a bungling job of it. . But blessed be God, there are peo.ple iflLtho wor d who have bright faces, and wnose life is a song, an anthem a puan of victory. Even their troubles are like the vines that crawl up the side of a great tower, on the top of which the sunlight sits, and the soft air of summer hold perpetua carnival. They are the people you like to have come to your house; they are people I like to have come to my house. If you but touch the hem of their garments you are healed, Now it is the-o exhilerating and sympathetic and warm hearted people that are most tempted to perni ious amusements. In proportion as a ship Is swift.it wants a strong helmsman; in proportion-as a horse is gay it wants a, stout driver, and these people of exuberant nature will do welL to look at the reaction of all their amusements. If an amusement sends you home at night nervous so that you cannot sleep, and you rise up in the morning, not because you are slept out, But because your duly drags you from yor si embers you have been where you ougot not to have been. There are amusements that send a man next day to his work bloodshot, yawning, stunid, nauseated; and they are wrong kinds of amusement. Ibby are entertainments that give a man disgus; with the drudgery of life, with tools because they are not swords, with working aprons because they are not robes, with cattle because they are not Infuriated buds of Ihe arena. If an,; amusement send-; you home longing lo a life of romance and thrilling adventure. love that bikes prison and shoots it-clf/ nKfyi) light adTentures and hairbreadth escapes, you may depend upon it that yciu arejdie sacrificed victim of nneanctified p ensure. ' Uur recieations are intended to build us up, and if they pull us down as to o.ir moral or physical strength, you may come to the conclusion that fcoey are obnoxious. There is nothing more depraving .than attendance upon amusements that are full of innuendo and .ow suggestion. The young man enters. At first he sits far'bac i, with his hat on ami his coat col ar up, so irful that some body there nay know him. Several nights pass on. He takes off his hat earlier and puts his coat collar down. The blush that first came into, iiis cbeek when anyt ling indecent was en acted comes no more to his cheek. Farewell, young man! You have probably started oa the long road which ends in consummate destruction, uhe stars of hope .will go out one by one, until you will bo ieft, in utter darkne s Hear you not the rush of the maelstrom, in whoso outer circle your bo it now dan.es, making merry wiihthe whirling waters? But yon are being drawn in, and the gmtie motion will become terrific ag.tation. You cry for help in vain. You pull at the oar to put back, but the struggle will not avail. You will be tossed, and dashed, and shipwrecked, and swallowed in the whirlpool that has already engulfed in its wrath ton thousand hulks. Young men who have but ju t come from country residence to city residence will do well to bo on guard and let no one entice you to places of improper amusement.. It Sr mighty alluring when a young man, long a citieen, offers to show a new comer all around,

Slid further: Those amusements are wrong which lead you into expenditure beyond your means. Money spent in reoreition is not thrown awav. It is all folly for us to come from a place of amusement feeling that we nave wasted our money and time. You may by it have made an investment , worth more than the iransao.ion tnat yMded you hundreds of thousands of dollars. Hut uow many properties havo been riddled by coally amusements! ' first time I ever saw the city—tit the city of Phil idelphia—l was a more lad. I stopped at a holel, and I remember in the evening one of these men plied me wi h his infernal art. He saw I was green. He wanted to show me the sights of the town. He painted the path of sin until it looked like emerald, but I was afraid of him. I shoved back from the basilisk—l made up my mind he was a basilisk. I remember how he wheeled his chair round in fron of me. and with a concentered and diabolical o fort attempted to dnstioy my soul; but there were U«ou angels in the air that night. It was no good resolet 01 on tny part, but it was the all eneompa9ing grace of a good (iod that delivered me. Hewaro’. .beware! O young man. “There is a wry tuat -oerae h right unto a man. 'but the end theiuof is deal h." Tue table bus boon robbed to pay

the elub. The champagne has cheated the children's wardrobe. The carousing parly has burned, up the boy’s primer. The table cloth of the corner saloon is in debt to tie wife’s faded dress. Excursions that in a day make a tour around a whole month’s wages; ladies whose lifetime business to to "g o shopping.” large bets on horses, have their counterparts in uneducated children, bankruptcies that shock he. money market and appall the church, and that send drunkenness staggering across the richly-figured carpet of the mansion, and dashing into the mirror, and drowning out the of musio with the whooping of bloated sons come home to break their old mother’s heart. I saw a beautiful home, where the bell rang violently late at night. The son had been off in sinful indulgences. His comrades were bringing him home, 'they carried him to the door. They rang the bell at l o’clock in the morning. Father and mother came down. They were waiting for the .wandering son, and then lhe comrades, as soon as the door was opened, threw this prodigal headlong in the door-way crying, ‘-The e he is, drunk as a fool. 1 Ha, ha!” When men eo into amusements that they cannot afford, they first borrow what they cannot earn, j and then they steal what the cannot | borrow. First they go into embarassment, and then into lying, and then into theft; nnd when a man go s as far on as that, he does not stop short of the penitentiary. There is not a p ison in the land where there are not v.ctims of unsanctified amusements. Merohantsof Brooklyn or New York, is there a di-arrangement in y rtir accounts? Is there a leakage in your money-drawer? Did not the cash ao counvs come out right last n ght? I wilt tell you. There is a young man in your store wandering off into bad amusements. The salary you give him ; mav meet lawful expenditures, but not. the sinful indulgences in which he has en’ered. an Ihe takes by theft that which you do not give him in lawful salary. How bright the path of unrestrained amusement, oaens. The young man -ays: “Now I am off for a good time. ’ Never mind ecoimy, I’ll get money somehow. What a fine road! -What a beautiful day for a ride! Crack tho whip. a r d over the turnpike! Come, -boys, fill hhh yew —glasses. Drink! Long. life, health, p’enty of rides ust like this!” Hard-working men hear the clatter of tho hoofs, and look up and* say; "Why, I won ler where those fellows got. their money from! Wo have to toil and drudge. Th ydo no’hing.” To those gay men life is a thrill and an excitement They stare ■it other people, and in turn are stared’ at. The watch-ch iin j ingles. The cup foams. The cheeks Hush. The eyes Hash. The midnight hears their gu" : aw. They swagger. Ttioy jostle decent men off the sidewalk. They take the name of God in vain. They parody the hymn they learned at their mother’s knee: and to all pictures of coming disaster they cry out "Who cares!” and to the counsel of some Christian friend. "Who are you:” Passing | along the street some night you hear 1 1 shriek in a grogshop, the rattle of tho ! watchman’s club, the rush of the po!'ce. What is the matter now? Oh, j this reckless young man has been j killed in a grogshop fight. Carry him 1 home to his father’s house. Barents will come down and wash his wounds and close his eyes in death. They forgive him.all he ever did, although he can not in his silence ask it. The orodigal has got homo at 1 st. Mother will go to her little garden and get the sweetest flowers and twist them into a cha iletfor tlio silent heart of the way- ! ward buy. and push back from the bloated brow the long locks that were once her pride. And the air will be ■ ent with the agony. Tho great dramatist says, "How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.” i I go further, and say tlvse are unchristian amusements which become tho chief business of a man’s life. Life is an earnest thing. Whether wo were bora in a palace or hovel, whether we are affluent or pinched, we have to work. If you do not sweat with toil you will sweat with disease. You have a soul that is to bg transfigured amid the pomp of a judgment day. and aft r the sea has sung its 1 ist chant, and the mounti ns shall have comedown in an avalanche of rock, you will live and think and act, high on a throxe where seraphs sing or deep in a dungeon where demons howl. In a world where there is so much to do for yourselves, and so much to do for others, God pity that man who has no hing to do.

I had a friend at the West.—a rare friend. He was one bf the first to welcome me to my now lone. To fine personal appearance,*he added a fen erosity, frankness an i ardor of nat .re t mt made me love him like a brother. But I saw evil people gathering around him. They came up ibom tle saloons, from the gambling ho Is. They plied him wi h a thousand arts. They sei/.ed upon his social nature, and he could not stand tho charm. They drove him on the rocks, liko a ship full-wiuged shivering on the breakers. 1 used to admonish him. I would say. “Now, I wish you would quit ihese bad habits, and become a Christ an.” “Oh.” he would reply, ••I would like to; I would like to; but I have gone so far that 1 do not think there is any way back.” In his moments of repentance he would go home and tike his little girl of eight year?, and embrace her convulsively, and cover her with adornments, and strew a ound her pictures and toys, and everyth ng that could make her happy; and then, as though hounded by an Jtvii spirit, he would go out to the enflaining cup and the house of shame, like a fool to the correction of the stocks. Your sports are merely means to aq end. They are alleviations and helps.

The arm of toll is the only arm strong enough to bring up the bucket oat ol the deep well of pleas ire. Amusement is the only bower where business and philanthropy rest while on their way to-stirring achievements. Amusements a: e merely the vines that grow about the anvil of toil and the h o-soming of the hammers. Alas for the man who spends a 8 life in laboriously doing nothing, his days in hunt- ' ing up lo inging places and leu gers. bis nights in seek ng oit some gas lighted foolery! The man who always has on his sporting j icket, ready to hun, forgime in the mountain, or fish in thehroik, with no time to pray, or work, or re id, is not so well off as the greyhound that runs by his side or the fly bait with which he whips the stream. A man who does not work does not know how to play. If God had intended us to do nothing but laugh, he would not have given us -boulders with which to lift, and hands with which to work, and brains with which to think. Th e am u setn ents -of i iie are meraiy ffiiek orchestra playing whi I e the great tragedy of life plunges through ids five j acts—infancy, childho d manhood, ' old age and death. Then exit, the last earthly opport mity. Enter the overj whelming realit es of an eternal world. Igo further, and say that a’l thes amusements are wrong wu chlead into badv company. If you go any place where you have to associate with ihe intern erats, with the unclean, with the abandoned, however well they may be dre-seff, in the name of God quit it. j They willdes o l your nature. They will under nine your moral character. They will drop you when you are de stroyed. They will give not one cent to support your chi dren when yourire dead. They wilt drop not one tear at your burial. They will chuckle over your damnation. j I was summoned to his dettli bed. I -hastened. I entered the room. I found hun, to my surpr se. lying in full every hay dives on the lop of toe couch. 1 , put out my hand- He grasped it ex it- : edly, and said; "Sit do.vn, Mr. T.R—mage, right there.” 1 eat down. He s. id: *‘Last night I saw -my- moth r, ! who has 1 ecu dead twen'y years, and ehe sat just where you sit now. It was no dearm. I was wide awake. There Was no delusion in the matter. I saw her just as plainly as I see you. Wife I wish you would take these st. ings olf of fae. There are str ngs spun all around my bo ’y. I wish you would take them o T of mo.” Ijsaw it was delirium. "Oh.” replied his wife,“my deir. there is no hing there, there is nothing there.” He went on. and said. "Just where you si;, Mr Talmage, my mother sat.- Haiti she to me, ‘Henry, I do wish you would do better.’’ I got out of bed, p .t my arms a:ound her, and said, ‘Mother. I want to do better. I have bean trying to do better. Wont you help me to do be ter? You used to help me.’ No mistake about it, no delusion, l saw her—the cap and tho apron and the spectacles, j st as she used to took twenty years ago, but I do wish you would tike the e strings away. They annoy me so. 1 can hardly talk. Won’t you take them away.” I knelt down andlprayed, conscious of ! the fact that he did not realize what I was saying. I got up. i said, "Goodi by; I hope you will be better soon.” I He said, -“Good-by, gooff-oy.” That night his soul went to the God who gave it. Arrangements were made for 1 16 obsequies. Some said: "Don't bring him in the church; he was too dissolute.” "Oh,” 1 said, “bring him. He was a good friend of mine while he was alive, and 1 shall stand by him now that he is deaff. Bring him to the church.” ! As I sat in the pulpit and saw his body coming up througn the aisle, I felt as If I could weep 'ears of blood. I told the people that day. "This man had his virtues and a good many of them. He had his faults and a good many of them, ’ But if there is any j man in this auHence who is without sin, let him cast the fir§t stone at this co fin-lid.” On one side of the pulpit sat that little child, rosy, sweet-faced, ai beautiful as any little child that sat at your table this morning. I war ant you. She looked up wistfully, not knowing the full sorrows of an orphaD ch Id. Oh. her countenance haunts me to-day, like some sweet face looking upon us through a horrid dream. On the other side of the pulpit were the men who had destroyed him. Taere they Bat, some of them pale from exhausting dl-ease, some of them flushed until it seemed ns if the fires of iniquity flushed through the cheek and crackled the lips. They were the men who had done the work. They wer e the men who had bound him hand and foot. They 1 * had kindled the fire. They bad poured the wormwood and gall into that orphan’s cup. Did they weep? No. D.d tn-y sigh repentingly? No. Did tbev say. "YYhata pity that such a brave man should be siain?” No, sir: not one bloated hand was lifted to wipe a tear from a bloated cheek. They sat anJ looked at the coffin like Vultures gazing at the carcass of a lamb v h iso heart they had rippe 1 out! I cried in their ears as plainly-*as I could "There is a God and a judg nent day!” Did they tremble? Oh no. no. Ti.ey went back from their house of God.and that night, though their victim lay in Oak wood Cemetery, l was * old they ' blasphemed, a d they drank, and the , gam iled, and there was not one less customer in all t.ie houses of iniquity, i This destroyed man was a Sa npsou in : physical strength, but Delilah sheared i him, and the Phi.Utlnes of evil companionship dug his eyes out and th' ev; him into the prison of evil hbts But in the hour of hts death he rose qp and t ok hold of ihe two pillarei curses of God against drunkenness and i uncieanness, and threw himself lorwan. until down upon him and hit i companions there came the thunders of an eternal catastrophe.