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Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, March 24, 1900, Image 3

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The Two on Galley Island.
-JETtS> By FREDERICK EAMES.
CHAPTER XX.
Ill'VI!INC mb nlAi mINTMOT
THE HIIIS OK A VERY STttAXCK
MONSTER.
Keene looked at her in deep distress,
hilt seemed unable to offer a word. He
kicked small pebbles from him and thrust
his hands into his pockets and out. but
ih.it seemed to be the end of his re
sources. Yet he half started toward her
once or twice, and only held back as
though some strong, controlling thought
had each time occurred to him. But
finally he was dearly unable to stand it
any longer, and he came and stood over !
her. The sobs had h ssened i little, and I
she half raised her head as he paused.
"Miss Lake.” he said in a very gram I
voice, "1 wouldn’t take it quite so hard.
If one ship comes as near as that, an
other will. Next time wo may cat< L her
by daylight, and then we'll bring her."
She was wiping her eyes by this time,
and she put out her poor little sunburned
hands in a kind of pitiful gesture of dep
reeation.
“Don't think I'm quite a coward or
have giv< u all up to this one disappoint
ment." she said brokenly. "Only, you
know. I had almost made up my mind
She faltered and could not quite finish.
"I know'. 1 know." he said hastily, "it
was very hard. I don't wonder that you
feel had. and 1 don’t think you're a
coward 1 know you are not. But let s
get new courage from the sight of this
craft and believe in the coming of an
other one. Yes, the more I think of it
the more I feel sure of another on**.
She could not help a doleful smile, even
in the midst of her troubles.
"The fact is.” lie went on, "I'ui be
ginning to think that l am partly to
Jdamc that we didn't do better this time.
\ ought to have had a big pile of fuel
refeoty, and not had to wait and build a
lit rye. one-horse beacon. Next time l
woiV4 be caught napping."
"a\, no! Y'on mustn't blame your
self!" Tfcln* said earnestly. "You did all
you'could- The night was dark and the
ship passfed too far away. That was all.
Sow I'll try to cheer up. and we'll lie on
the watehyor the next customer."
With tln\eontradiotoriness of woman s
nature blesVd contradictoriness- Arvn
I -ike had passed at once from comforted
to comforter. aM was now again ready
to take up herWt of the care and the
burden. She r\>\ as she spoke, and
wiped iu*r eyes. \ .. .
Keene looked nt\jer gratefully, ami at*
expression much |ke admiration came
into his eyes. % , . n
"Yes." he said, little unsteadily,
"we’ll be cheerful atm mi the watch.
She did not noticeVaiiy peculiarity m
his manner, and after a moment lie re
sumed and suggested that they go back
to the huts. She bravely insisted that
she must have one look at the vanishing
ship first, and w hen this had been ob
tained—it made her lip quiver a little,
after all—they adopted his suggestion.
The rest of the day passed without any
occurrence of note, though they were
both more thoughtful than usual.
After this a week or more went by.
and no more sails came in sight or other
exciting event happened. But during
this time tho weather grew somewhat
colder, it rained more, and their farm
prospects grew rather dubious. In fact,
Keene lind to acknowledge that tile beans
were probably chilled beyond recovery.
In two or three days, however, it
off warmer and drier, and .theMirospeet
now fioganto make greater exertions to
keep up their food supply without en
croaching on the Kornpard stores, for
some of these were running a little low.
In this they were fairly successful, for
the fishing held out better than Keene
had anticipated and lie found two more
nests of sea birds’ eggs. He was so
lucky, also, as to discover some edible
mussels. They were small, but seemed
quite sweet and wholesome.
Meantime lie had carried out his idea
of gathering a large supply of fuel tpeat
and weeds and rushes dried at the fire),
and had made a huge pile, packing large
flat stones over it to keep it as dry a*
possible. In fact, he built a kind of rudo
hut over it. He obtained more oil from
the fat fish and kept this in readiness to
pour nil. lie was determined that his
next beacon should not fail for any lack
of size or substance.
It bad now been full j ten days since
the appearance of the sail, and one morn
ing Iveene declared his intention of going
to Breat Head, to learn how his signal
ting fared. As it was cool and pleasant, j
and the way comparatively dry. Arva
concluded that she would go too. and they I
set off. Keene's ingenuity had provided :
her jvitli a pair of canvas overshoes, |
rude, to Is* sure, but a great protection j
from th<* hard rocks, and as he had coat- j
ed the bottoms and a part of the sides
with a preparation made of hardened
glue—this had come to light in the box i
with the nails—thej' were nearly water- j
proof, and answered well for rubliers.
But he chose* the high shoulders and tops
of the rocky ridges, and they got on very !
well without risking the wet spots, j
Keene had not lieon as far as the gorge
since the earthquake, though he had once
or twice gone to the top of the rise above,
and it now occurred to him to note what,
if any, change had been made iu the sin
gul.ar split and its bridge. He was til*'
more readily led to think of this as lie be
lieved he saw, as he drew near, that a
certain place along the brink <>t the * in
was thrown up into a low. peculiar ridge.
This, however, might possibly have ex
isted before and he not noticed ir. '
Though Arva had once or twice been a- ,
far as the gulch, and e\en across the ;
causeway, she had never observed them
with any exactness, and so would not be
likely to speculate, in her turn, upon any
sf these changes. By this time they were .
■'? sight of the spot where the flag should
and there it waved, safely enough.
”<Kist a little further.” said Keene. ”1
want to see what mischief the earth- ,
quake may have worked in Deep Bulcli.
Arva acquiesced and they went on to j
the brink of the chasm. That is. Keene
'vent to tfe brink, while Arva hung j'isr
a few step* back, being, in her opinion. ;
quite near etough.
At first git net* it seemed a* though
there'had been no change, after all. 1 lie
odd little ridge proved to lie of old and 1
undisturbed carts and rock, and was an
other instance of how one < an **•- new
things for the firs* time in oid place*.
It might have been a little childish, but
there was so dreadfully tittle that was
novel in their physical surroundings that
Keene was really disaproiuted that there
had been no more disturbance in tin*
gulch, lit* was about to tu?n away, mean
ing to rejoin Arva. who was a few paces
back, when he was surprise by hear
mg her break out: “Why. !Ir. Keene,
"hat are those? Look th<*re!'’
He turned, finding her pointing quite
excitedly a t some object apparently in
the opposite wall of the ravine.
lie began to inquire what she man.*. *
*:*Pt*n* hack as he did so. that he nigh
**, . point of view, when she ex
claimed again: "Why. thev are bones
no*;, like those on the shore!"
lie now saw what she meant. From
m r .k‘hough not from hi*, a space
_ opposite bank, just behind a little
fll J. Pear the bottom, was visible, i
t i from this were what gw*mwi. ;
A."" nT . thr< ''’ huge ribs. There I
K In 00 ,n Particular that either
tx.-ene or Arm were oblige.! to do just
t .a V mp *
t the former that they could not kill
time lx*tter than by unearthing and ex
amining these inter- -'ting bones. No
sooner thought of than promised, and
Arva sat down on a rock to wait, while
Keene hurried away after his bar and
shovel. He was back in a short time
mid crossed the eausev.av to descend
bv tin- rough path on the other side.
This did not take him long, and though
Arva held her breath and secretly wished
that -he had kept her discovery to her
self. he jumped safely down at last from
the lowermost rock and stood on the bot
tom. The lionets protruded from a slop
ing spot about five feet above, and there
fore nearly oil a level with his face. They
had clearly been uncovered by the shock
of the earthquake, which had shaken
down a considerable patch of earth and
stones.
Seeing that ICeone was really safe. Ar
ea's fears yielded to curiosity, and she
edged along as near the brink of the
chasm as she da rial, and then lay flat
down to watch his operations. He had
landed on the little layer of fallen earth,
and staggered over it in getting his bal
ance. but then steadied himself and
stepped forward to examine the bones.
Arva was prepared to hear him ex
press surprise, or even to contemplate
the objects silently, as though wit! great
curiosity; lmt she was not prepares for
what he did do. He took one step for
ward. stoppixl and then turmsl his back
on the find and looked tip at
her. "Xo bones at all." came to her as
tonished ears. "They’re ribs of some
vessel.”
“Of a vessel?" she shouted back, as
soon as she could collect herself. "Why,
that seems hardly possible! How could
they get in there?”
How, indeed, when tlu* eaitsowav rose
high and firm as a castle wall at the
entrance of the cut? lie shook his head
instead of answering, and began to take
off his jacket. In a moment he had
the liar in his hands and was prodding it
into the bank. Then he dropped it and
began to pull at one of the ribs. He
seeliit-d to effect nothing by this, and re
! turned to the bur. The noise of the
chug, chug, into the hank went on for
a few minutes, and lie lifted and twist
ed zealously, and then abruptly stop|ied.
| She was about to ask him what the mat
ter was when he suddenly turned on his
j heel and raced, as though for dear life.
* across the valley. IK* was none too soon,
; for he had scarcely turned before the
1 front of the bank startl'd out, and in an
i instant came thundering down. She ut-
I fered a cry of dismay, but it was barely
j out of her mouth when he answered it
; with a laugh, lie was safe. He caught
I up his shovel, which he had luckily left
a. little distance out. and started back.
She struggled with her confusion and
excitement for a moment or two, ami
then rallied enough to look again. The
first glance was naturally toward the
scene of the slide, and she had scarcely
east her eyes upon it when she utteml
an exclamation of astonishment.
In the shallow depression left by the
tall stood tin' bleaching frame and partly
unoi-vered ribs of a small and most re
markahle-lookii.g ship.
It was a very ancient affair, ns could
be seen at tlu* first glance. The single
mast (the craft wu technically a sioupi
was broken or rotted to a mere stump
and that rose* nearly amidships „f „ dock
that must once have looked up at both
ends, almost like a crescent. The frag
ifif. iy.i'i", ' va: : originally a kind >'t
bc.tk finished tno stern, mm just rorwuid
of #h's was t!:** framework of a sum 11
platform or poop-deck. There was !,
good amount of spate preserved between
Iln* ns ng bow and stern, and there were
still planks enough left to show the
eours-e of three rows of square holes,
winch clearly indicated three banks of
oars, sin* was, then, a very ancient craft
indeed—a galley, or, to lx* more exact -i
trireme. ’
"What do you think of that?" shouted
up Iveene. as lie stopped lx*fore tin*
Strange discovery and pointed at it. IR
looked an odd showman, indeed, in IP*
Nineteenth century clothes, with his coat
ofl. and this relic of bygone ages stand
ing up, as it were, on tin* stage before
him.
"I rn amazed to know wliut to think "
faltered down Arva. "It almost frightens
nie. How long do you suppose it has
been there?"
"Certainly for more than a thousand
years, answered Keene. "It seems to
be an ancient war galley ."
But how could it possible get there?"
she asked.
"I don’t know." ho returned: “but it
‘Must have been before tjiat causeway ex
isted. Int going to see what else | eati
discover about it. By the way. the ends
of these ribs are petrified."
It was rather tiresome work, shouting
up and down in this way, and In stopped
nud liegan to use his shovel. He worked
cautiously, lest another downfall should
!{!’<• ar. but still made quite rapid progress.
1 lie bank at this point was largely tom
posed of a kind of clay, mixed with 1.-irgi
and small stones somewhat like shale in
appearance, and he soon discovered quite
an admixtures of round pebbles and sen
shells. D was clear enough now. it it
had not been before, that thi* particular
spot, no less than the wreck which it
embedded, had once been covered bv the
seu.
Keene directed hi* efforts mainly to
digging away tile mass in which the after
part of the ship was emlx-dded, and w hen
It-:* had obtained a considerable clear
space, he struek *ff a projecting plank
cud i raw led in. Even down in the gorge
the light could now enter the shell, and |
he eoujd have no difficulty in seeing his
way. There were a few minutes of *us
pense. Arva feeling excited and n little
worried, and then Keene broke away an
other plank and appeared in the opening.
He had some objects in his hands, and
as the light caught them they glanced
like metal. From her station Arva could
not clearly make out what the objects
were, bat sin* rather thought *h.*m to lx*
fragment* of weapons. One. indeed, con
siderably resembled a segment of a
shield.
He stooped and lowered these things
carefully a far as he could, and then
let them drop. They gave out a clanging
sound, showing them to be really metal, j
Keene then withdrew to the interior i
again.
Arva was placed at too great a distance
above the spot to lx* able to get much
of a view of vvhtit w is going on. but she
kept a careful wat'-h to set* what Keene
would produce upon IPs reappearance.
At least this strange di* every gave a
little variety and novelty to their life.
But now, it* she looked down, she saw j
Keene come to the oiiening again. He i
had no load, this time, ami le* moved ;
as though he were in a hurry Swinging j
himself outside he ran to where his shov- )
el lay and < aught if up. looking eagerly
about him a> he did so. In a moment he
stepiied to a spot a few feet away and
Ix-gxii to dig.
"What is it?" eallfxl down Arva. tin
,lfle to restrain her curiosity.
Keene looked tip ami smiled.
I want my crowbar." In* answered.
"I will tell you what for in a few min
utes"
He resumed h digging nail presently
stooped down and pulled out the bar.
Droppa g file shovel he weld baek to the
ship and crawled again into the hole.
By this time Arva was decidedly eager
to’know what was going on. and she for
A Thrilling
Talc of
the Sea.
got the terror of high places enough to
crawl nearer the verge. Presently slit
heard a subdued pounding.
CHAPTER XXI.
WHAT KEKN’K POINI) IN THE KARIN
OK THE tJAI.I.EY.
The holt by which Keene had entered
led directly into a long, wide space w hich
smellt'd damp and cellar-like, and which
was still a lit tie obscure ns to light, tin
the previous occasion he had 1 leeoiuo
somewhat accustomed to the dimness,
and In- i,ad thou readily made out that
the place was that chiefly occupied by
the I'-wtrs. This the tiers of benches
and ' he peculiar stair-like standing-spaces
along 1 1n- sides showed. Besides, there
weic -till several fragments of the oars
themselves. .!i -t aft of where he stood
was a partition or bulkhead, and this
scented to separate the small berth that
lay hi yond l oin the present large gener
al cabin. ’lieue was a doorway lending
in. and he had noticed it on his previous
eiitiaiice. but had not then stopped to
extei' •’ his i \pl* intioiis -o far.
Immediately in front of him was a high
platform, divided into two levels and
reached by steps, and on each of these
levels were tin ruins of a rather elab
rnloly carved chair. Something clung
to l-.th that suggested leather, only dried
a .lit rotted till it seemed more like
charred paper, and the higher-placed
i tiair had something traced in the wood
work. as though it had mice been gilded.
That sense of mystery and a long-for
gotten past riling to these old relics as
it had to the secrets of the quarry cham
ber. ;.nd Keene w as quite w illing to leave
them and go on to other explorations. It
occurred to him. however, as be went,
that the throne-like affair was probably
for thi> commander of the ship and foi
his director of the rowers, the latter In
ter provided with a gavel and a sounding
board. a- he had heard, to time the
strokes.
lie did not go very far forward, partly
because il was too dark to see much,
and partly because there -ccmcd little;
to see. (.ravel and sand had sifted
through the broken sides, and in one or
two places lay in little rifts among the
honchos, and in general every thing had a
bare and sea-washed look. The how ap
p-.tred to have suffered more than the
>'!her end of the ship, and however she
hail come into her present position, it
s. i ii'ed e'ear that she had lirst stood a
hard beating and hammering. On turn
ing to come hack Keene noticed some
r isty scraps of iron at tho end of one
rower's bench, and this reminded him of
the Roman custom of sometimes chain
';l g the wretched creature- in their places,;.
They diil this, he believed he had read, in
-it' Ii emergencies a- storms and buttles.
Hi' passed along to other benches, then,
pushing away the sand with his foot*
and it- i\evy case found the scraps of the
fetters. But whether, in this particular
instance, the Kont-'ii masters if such
they were Inid found no cause to put ou
tlu ir chains, or whether the bones of lh.
victims had utterly decayed and disap
p. ared whatever the fact Keene saw
nothing resembling human remains
among the sand and debris.
But ii was dispiriting and dreary
enough iu the pi net*, even without such a
di-e -vcij. ami In* soon turned his back on
the ion-some benches and walked to the
lighter after doorway. Passing in
he found himself at the foot of two low
step-, the tyeads nearly rotted away, and
took a long stride to tile cabin above.
This was light! <1 front one after-window,
the other being blocked by the dirt out
side. ao4 also received the light tint:
eatne through the cracks and in at tin
door. It was a single apartment am
did m t take long to exit mine. Atj- i
glcMxs) it could be seen that it had b*ci
occupied by W chief nelson ou board
On nil four w.-ills were the frngo#9*
of what had been hangings of rich tapei
try. ami scattered about were the tunl
bjed-in remains of handsome tables au|
divans. Of cushions and draperies limit
remained bits of faded cloth and mas'Ses
of mildew, with a few decaying scraps of
leather that almost resembled withered
autumn leaves, and on the floor was a
rottmg patch of what must once have
been a large and uniquely beautiful rug.
Paris of ihis still returned its original
filer ami texture, and but. for the fatal
dampness il would clearly have suffered
but comparatively small injury front the
lapse of the hundred* of years. On two
walls were suspended parts of armor—a
shield, breastplate and bnekpiei-e. all a
mass of rust and on the floor lava
heavy, rusted mace. This might havi
‘alien from the wall or it might liavi
been east there by its owner: there war
nothing to show. In the middle of tin-
I'htee. close liy a hrokcu-dov. n table, was
a large .copper lamp. This must have
fallen with its chains from overhead. Il
was th,. one thing little affected by its
long exposure and tin* enormous lapse of
time.
.The only other object which a Brat ted
Keene’s particular attention at this time
was a certain nith-r fN-ctt liar-looking;
chair, which stood against one of the
walls. ,\s little as lie knew of the man
m is ami customs of those remote times
he was aware that most ancient peoples
certainly the Bteeks and Romans fa
voted divans and eom-lies rather than
eliaii s. and that an affair like this indi
cated more the demands of state or jx-i u
liar occasions than mere every day use,
I his Diet gave it ninn importance in his
eyes, and its own pe-uiiar shape sitggi• t
■ug. iu fact, a kind of liltfi- throne, add
ed to the interest.
It ippeared to have lx-e:i made front
some foreign wood, tin* color very- d,,t'k.
either naturally or from it* great age,
and the back was very high, while the
arms were made to continue down iu
straight pieces and formed the leg*. It
had once been fitted with a cushion, the
front having an apron or curtain: but
this, like other articles of the kind here,
was now a men mass of rags and mil
dew-. In I (Hiking at i his rather singular
piece of furniture Keen** was actuated
by nothing more than ordinary curiosity,
ami after studying il a few moments he
turned away and began to reflect what
h“ had lest do next. Presently it oc
curred to him that Arva would fie in
teresfed in the pieces ~f armor they' ;
might lx* useful as kitchen utensils, also,
he thought- and in* took them down to
carry them out. At nine tin* thick spike*
which they hung uj>oti. already all but
rusted through, broke short off. and he
was forced to catch the things in his
arm- or run the risk of a hard thump on
the head. Ho laid them down, and then,
seeing how terribly rusty they ware, he
took out hi* knife and gave one of them i
a brief *i raping. But it would not do to
keep Arva iu n<-h sits|-use. and he soon I
stopped and prepared to carry the pieces j
out Ifi* had taken them in hi* arm*
and was already n step toward the ibxir
when his eye happened to rest again on J
the (sld chair. A gleam of light had i
penetrated and was shining across it. j
and In* thought he (-aright a glimpse of
something that flashed.
(Continued Next Woek.i
Promoting Bond Koatta.
The appearance of the automobile ini
Bueno* A.vrcs has been the signal for a j
good read* agitation throughout the ir
gontim Republic. The Argentine Tour
ing club has Ixs-n orr.a. ized. and roads ;
exclusively reserved for bicycles and light '
automobiles are already in course of con- j
struct ion. Philadelphia Record.
—For the term of four years jus? past !
the total sale* of the Western branch ;
of the Methodist Eniseorui! book com
mittee amounted to #4,8?rt.f*22.r7. which
figure exceeds by almost SHnO.OOO the
sale* of th preceding r.-nn of fc *r years.
Zsljj i mjjmlilljN
(Copyright, I.ouis Klops' h. itten.t
CT? T a time when the whole country
/AY is in controversy as never before
* concerning the theater, and some
play- are being arrested by the police, j
and others are being patronized by Chris- ;
tint; people, this sermon of Dr. Talmage
is of much interest. The text is l. Corin
thians vil.. 1. "They that use this world
as not abusing it."
!My reason for preaching this discourse
is hat 1 liavo been kindly invited by two
of the leading newspapers of this country
to inspect and ro]“'rt <>u two of the popu
la; plays of the day to go some weeks
ago to Chicago nud s.*e the drama "i, , u-<
V;.dis" and criticise it with n speet to its
moral effect and to go to N j <>rk and ;
sc-' the drama "Ben-llnr" ami write my
opinion of it for public use. Instead of ’
doing that 1 propo-e in a sermon to tli- ;
v iss what we shall do with tin dramatic
>Ymont which < io-i ha- implanted in:
n-.auy of our natures, not in It* or 100 or j
1.000. but in the vast majority of the hu
ll .ii race. Some people sneak of the dra j
tea ns though it were something built up
'•outside of ourselves by the Congreves
and the Hnldsmitli* and the Sliak-peare
nd the Sheridans of literature and that
*!h"U we attune out tastes to correspond
\ntli human inventions. Not at all. The
drama is an echo from the feeling which
I Sou has implanted in our immortal souls.
U is seen lirst in tlu* domestic circle
lining the children or 1 years of age
idnylug with their .lolls ami their cradles j
and their earl-, seen ten years after m ;
•he playhouses of wood, ten years alter !
( in the parlor charade, utter that in the (
elaborate iiri]iersonn!ions in the mad.*-!
mies of music. The ditliyramhie and j
elnssie drama, the seiitimental draiuti. the j
romautic drami. were merely echoes of!
the human sioii.
I do not speak of the araiua on the 1
jpueiic shelf, nor of the dran a in the play
jtlollsi*. lint l s|s',. 1, of the ilnimatie ele- ]
jjhient in your soul and mine. We make
'linen responsible for it. Tin y ate not tv
isiHiusdile. They are responsible for the
j• i si"ii of it. but not for the original
Jiinplaiitatinii. Cod did that work, and 1
j-appose h" knew what he was übimt
wilt'll lie niii'le us. We are nearly all
moved by the speetacuiur. When on
Tliuuksgiviug day we decorate our
. hurdle* with the enttou ami the t ire and
the apples and the wheat and the rye and
the oats, our gratitude to Cod is stirred.
When on Easter morning we see written
in letters of flowers the inscription. “He
Is Risen,” our emotions are stirred. Ev
ery parent likes to go to tho school eshi
-idfion with it* recnnlitm* and its dia
logues and its droll costumes. The lorelt
i light profession of the political campaign
i- merely the dramntirafioii of principles
involved. No intelligent man *an look in
I any secular or religions direction without
finding this dramatic element revealing.
• unrolling.• demons;rating it-elf. What
shall we do with it ?
t'orm'li Do Not Suppress,
Siiatl we suppr.—- ii? Y<ui can a- eas
ily suppress its Creator. You nitty direct
it, you may educate it, you may pmify
it/you may harness u to miiltipoteut u-i
fuiuc.-s. and that it is your duty to il".
.lii-i as we cultivate the taste for (tie
beautiful mid the sublime by bint haunt
ed glen and roistering ireuiii mid cam
tacts let down in uproar over the mossed
rocks, am! the day lifting its banner of
victory in the cast, and then setting e\
erything on tile as ii retreats through
the gates of j 1..- west, nud t lit' Austerlitz
and Waterloo of an August thunder
storm blazing their barter;.- into a *nl
; try afternoon, ami the round, glittering
tear of a world wet on the Cheek of the
; night us in this way we cultivate our
i taste for tin- beautiful and sublime, -o in
'•very lawful way we are in cultivate the
dramatic clcm.-ur in our nature. In .-u-iy
staccato passage in literature, In antitli
•■si- and synthesis, by every tragi' pa
■ u jimit •; it li.'
.Nmv. I have to te!l you pot i.uly that
< fid ha- implanted tbi- >',nimatn- element
Ml ottr natures, but Ii ate to tel! you in
the Scriptures ll.' cultivate* it, lie I >II
to it, he develops it. I do not car.- where
vent open the Bible, your eye will fall
ilium a drama. Here it i* in the book of
.Judges, the tir tree, till vine, the olive
trie, tin' bramble they nil make speech
cs. Then at the close of the seem, there
is a coronation, and the bramble i- pro
claimed king. That is a political drama.
Here if is in the book of Job: Enter Eli
pbuz. Hilda.!, Zopluir. Elihu and Joti.
i'll* opening net of tin- drama, all dark
lie--; the closing id of the drama, atl
sunshine .Magnificent drama is the
book of Job!
Here it is in Solomon'- Song The r>
gion, an orictilnl region vineyards, pom
pgramites, tnonntnin of myrrh, flock of
she. p, garden of spices, a wooing, a
bride, n bridegroom, dialogue after ilia
logae iuti-li-e, gorgeous, ail suggestive
drama is tb" book of Solomon's Song.
Here it is in the book of J.uko: Costly
mansion in the night! All the win low
bright with lllumintit ion! The floor
n-quake with the dan.. . Returned sou
in costly garment* which do j m very
well tit him perhaps, for they were r.m
made- for him, but he must swiftly leave
off his old garh ami prepare for this <-\
t.-mporizeit levee! Routing son at tin
hack door, too mad to go in. because they
are making such a fuss! Tears of sym
pathy running down the obi man's .-beck j
at the story of his son’s wandering and ;
suffering anil tears of jov at ids return! ]
When you heard Murdock recite "The !
Prodigal Son" in one of his reading*, you ;
did not know whether to sob or shout. j
Revivals of religion In: *■ started j .let uti- j
tier the reading of that soul revolutioniz- j
ing of "The Prodigal Son.”
Here it is in the book of Revelation; ;
Crystalline sen. jx-arlr gate, opaline river,
amethystine capstone, showering coro- !
nets, one vial poured out incarnadining 1
the waters, cavalrymen ~f heaven gallop
ing o|| white horses, nations in doxology,
halleluiahs to the right of them, hallelu
iahs to the left of them. As the Bible
opens with th‘/*(!rama of the first pftra-
dise. so it close* with the drama of the |
second paradise.
An t i.| li it.v of I liy Drama.
Mind you, when l say drama. 1 do not ,
mean myth or fable, for my theology is j
of the oldest type otHI years old. thou-j
sands of years old. a- eld as the Bible.
When 1 speak of the drama at the le
ginning and the close of the Bible, 1 t"
not mean an allegory, but 1 mean the I
truth m> stated that iu grouping and in t
startling effect it is a Bod given, world j
resounding, heaven echoing drama. Now.
if Bod implanted this dramatic element ,
;n our natures, and if he ha- cultivated |
and developed it in the Scriptures, 1 tie
mam! that you recognize it.
Because iiie drama has again ami again
been degraded and employed for destruc
tive purposes is nothing against the dra
uui, any more than music ought to be
accursed because it lias been taken again
and again into the -atuninlian wassails
of fI.tHM vers. Will you refuse to en
throne music on the church organ be
cause the art has been trampled again
and again under the lee! of the lascivious
dance?
It i nothing against painting and
sculpture that iu Corinth and Herculane
um they were demonstrative of vulgarity
and turpitude. The dreadful museum at
Pompeii shall throw no discredit on Pow
ers’ “Brock Slave” or Church's "Heart
. t the Andes" or Rubens' "Descent from
the Cross" or Angelo's "East lodgment,"
The very fact that again and again the
drama ha- been dragged through the sew
ers of iniquity is the reason why we
should snatch it up and start it out on a
grand and a holy and a magnificent mis
-inn. Kot me say at this |pnt in toy *cr
moil that the drama will never be lifted
to its rightful sphere by those people who
have mt sense enough to distinguish be
tween the drama nud the playhu-o. ’I lie
drama is no more the theater than a
hymn hook is a church. 1 am not speak
ing iu regard t the theater at all. Tho
drama i* a literary expression of that
feeling which Boil implanted in the hu
man sou!. Neither will the drama ever
tie lifted to its proper sphere by whole
sale denunciation of all dramatists. It
you have' not known men and women con
nected with the drama who ate pure in
I hear! and pme in upcech and pure in life,
! ii is beeanstr ! ,*ou have uni had very wide
I aequniulau.Y'.
Wholesale denunciation of all tlrama
i lists will never elevate the drama. Yon
: dor stand a church and a theater on oppo
; -ite sides of the street. The elltlfell
I-bouts over to thi' theater, "You are nil
; scoundrels," The theater shouts buck,
"Noil are all h> pn rites," and they both
fa!-ily,
I hiiiloviiieut of Di'utnntie \rt.
Eifly essays about the sorrows of the
| poor could not affect me as a little dra
| am of accident and suffering 1 saw one
slippery morning in the streets of l’liiin
dolphin. Just ahead of me was a lad.
wretched in apparel, his limit amputated
at the knee; from the pallor of the boy -
cheek,' the amputation not long before,
j lie had a package of broken food under
!.ts arm food lie bad begged, I suppose,
at the .loot's. As be passed on over the
slippery pavement, cautiously nud care
fully, 1 steadied him until his crutch slip
pel and he fell. I helped him up as well
as 1 could, gathered up tin fragments of
the package as well as I could, put them
under one arm and the crutch under the
other arm. But when I saw the blood
run .low ii his pale click I burst into
tears. Fifty essays about the sufferings
of the poor could not touch one like that
little drama of aeeidetit and sufleting,
(Mi, we want iu all ottr different' depar:
mi nts of usefulness more of tin* dramatic
element and less of the didactic. The
tendency in this day is to drum* religion,
to whine veligioii, to cant religion, to
moan religion, to croak religion, to (tepid
cbnri/.e religion, when We ought to pre
sent it mi animated nud -peetaellliir man
tier.
Eel me say to nil young minister- of
the go-pi-i; If you have this dramatic
element ill your nature, use it Inr tiod
and heaven. What we want, minister*
j ami laymen, is to get our sermon* nud
lour exhortations and our pi ,vers out of
| tin* old rut. The old hackneyed religious
I phrases that come snoring down through
the centime* will never arrest the
ir: -e-. What we went today, you in
your sphere and 1 .n lay sple-n. is t <
freshen up. People do not want in their
*eriiii,n- the chain flower- bought at Dm
millinery shop, but the japoim tis wet with
the morning dew: not the heavy bone*
of extinct megatherium of pa*i ages,
but the living reindeer caught lust An
gu-t til the edge of Hchroon lake. We
want to drive out the drowsy, and the
prosaic, and the tedious, and flic bum
drum, ami introduce the brightness, and
the vivacity, ami the holy sari asm. and
the stuietilieil wit, ami the epigrammatic
power, mill the blood red earliest ness, and
the lire of religious zeal, and I do not.
know of any way of doing il a* Well as
through the drnmutie.
Purpose of tlu Drama,
But now let us turn to tin- drama us an
amusement and entertainment.
Rev. Dr. Bellows of New York many
years ago. in tt very brilliant but lunch
criticised sermon, took the position that
the theater might be rerun tiled and made
auxiliary to the church. Many Christian
|x-ople lire of the Milne opinion. 1 do not
agree with them. I hove no idea that
success i in that direction. Whit I have
said heretofere on this subject, a* far as
I remember, is my scntitn< nt now . But
today ! take a step in mlvntmc of my
former theory. Christianity is going to
take full possession of this world and
control its maxims, it* laws, its litera
ture, its science and its amusement*.
Shut ou * I roto the realm of < hristianity
anything, and you give it up to sin and
death.
i; Christianity is mighty enough t<>
manage everything but the amusements
of the world, then it is a very defective
Christ, nii itls it capable of keeping
account if the fears of the world and in
competent to make record of its smiles?
1* it good to follow the funeral, but dumb
nt the world’s play? Can it control all
the other elements of our nature but the
dramatic element? My idea of Christian
itv is that it can and will conquer every
thing. What we want is a reformed
amusement association in every city and
town of the Fnited State. J would have
this reformed amusement association hav
ing in charge this new institution of tin*
spectacular take possession of some hall
or academy. It might take a smaller
building at the start, but it would soon
ueed the largct hall, and even that
would not hold th<- people; for he who
opens h -fore the dramatic element in hu
man nature an opportunity of gratifica
tion without compromise and without
danger dm** the mightiest thing of this
century, and the tides of such an insti
tution would rise as the Atlantic rises
at Eivcrpool docks.
The Spectacular.
There are tens of thousand* of Chris
tian homes where the -mis and daughters
are held back from dramatic entertain
ment for reasons which some of you
would say are good reasons and others
w ould say are poor rea-ous, but still held
back. But on the establishment of -itch
an institution they would feel the arrest
of their anxieties ami would say on the
establishment of this new institution
which 1 have called the spectacular,
"Thank Bod, this is what wo have alt
been waiting for.”
Now. as 1 believe that 1 make sugges
tion of an institution which wiser men
will develop. 1 want t•> give some charac
teristics of this new institution, this spec
tacular, if it is to be a grand social and
moral success. In the first place, its en
tertainments must be compressed within
an hour and three-quarters. What kills
sermons, prayers and lectures and enter
tainments of all sorts is prolixity. At a
reasonable hour every night every cur
tain of public entertainment ought to
drop, every church service ought to cease,
the instruments of orchestras ought to
be unstrung. What comes more than
this comes too late.
ttn the platform of this new institu
tion there will be a drama which before
rendering bas been read, expurgated, ab
breviated and passed upon by a board of
trustees connected with this reformed
aiiuiM nieiit association. If there be iu a
drama a sentence suggesting evil, it will
ibe stricken out. If there be in a Bhnk
-peaivau play i word with two meanings,
1 a good meaning and a bad meaning, an
! other word will be substituted, am holiest
w ord looking only one way. The caterers
to public taste will have to learn that
Sbiikspcarean nastiness is no lietter than
tYnigrevcnn mistiness. You say, "Who
will date to change by expurgation or ab
breviation a Shnkspenrean play?" 1
dare. The board of trustees of this re
foi 1 amusement association will dare.
It is no depreciation of a drama, the ali
! Ine\ intion of it.
I’lii-ltUatiou of tin- Di-nmii.
(>n the platform of this new institution
this spectacular, under the care of the
very best men and women iu the commu
nity there .-hall be nothing witnessed that
would be until for a parlor. Any atti
tilde, any look, any word that would of
fend you seated at your own fireside in
your family circle w ill be prohibited from
that platform. By wlmt law of common
sense or of morality docs that which is
not tit to be seen or heat'd by five people
become lit to be seen or heard by 1 ,r* * I
people? tin the platform of that S|H*r
iaeiilar all the wcciics of tin* drama will
be as chaste as was ever a lecture by Ed
ward Everett or a sermon by E. W. Hub
ert son. On the platform shall come only
Mich men and women as you would wel
come to your homes. I do not make the
requisition that they he professors of re
ligion. There are professors of religion
that 1 would not want in my parlor or
kitchen or coal cellar. It is not w lint way'
profess, but what we are. All who eon'
ou that platform or the spectacular wb
be gentlemen and Indies iu the ordinary
acceptation of those terms, persons whom
you would invite to sit at your table and
whom you would introduce to your chil
dren ami with whom yon would not be
compromised If you were seen passing
down Pennsylvania avenue or Broadway
with them, (in that platform there shall
lie no i nrmi-er, no inebriate, no cyprinn,
no foe of good morals, masculine or femi
nine.
Prediction of the tbit lire.
I would go t• such an institution, such
j a -pci locular. I should go once a week
the rest of my life and take my family
with me. and the majority of the families
of tin' earth would go to such an institu
tion. 1 expect the time will collie when
I can, without bringing upon myself ertt
ielsiu, without being an inmnaiatent
Christian, when E n minister of the good
old Presbyterian Church, will be able to
go to some new institution like this, the
spei tncular, and see “Hamlet” and "King
Ecnr” Mild the "Merchant of Venice” amt
tin "11 mu lilniek" ii ii ■ I "Josl'iia Whit
comb.' Meanwhile many of us will have
this dramatic element unmet and itnre
| gated.
Beware of Contamination.
Tim .imu-emeiil* of life arc beautiful
I .iii.l tliev are valuable, but they cannot
| pay you for the loss of your soul. 1 could
; not tell jour eharuetcr, I could not tell
i jour prospects for this world or the next
i by tin' purlieulttr church you attend, but
‘if ymt will tell me where yon were last
j night ami where you were the night be
fore and where you have been tli" nights
of thi' last month, I think I could guess
where you will spend eternity.
As to tin- drama of your life am) mine,
it will soon end. There will be no encore
to bring us back. At the beginning of
that drama of life stood a cradle, at tin*
end of it will stand a grave. The first
; act, welcome. The last act, farewell.
The intermediate acts, banquet and bat*
] Me. procession* bridal and funeral, songs
i and tears, laughter and groans.
It wis not original with Shnkspettre
when he -aid, "All the world’s a stage
and nil the men and women merely play
ers." lE' got it from St. Paul, who 1
centuries before that had written, "We
arc made a spectacle unto the world and
to ingcls and to men." A spectacle in a
coliseum fighting with wild beasts iu an
amphitheater, the galleries full, looking
down. Here we destroy a lion. Here
we grapple with it gladiator. When we
fall, devils shout. When we rise, angels
-ing. A spectacle before gallery above
gallery, gallery above gallery. Ballery
of our departed kindred looking down to
j -<■(* if we are faithful anil worthy of our
fhrUtiau aueestry, hoping for our vie-
I tory, wanting to throw ua a garland.
i glorified children ntul parents, with cheer
on cheer urging us on. Oh, the spectacle
in which you and I are the actors! Oh,
ih>- piled up galleries looking down!
Scene; The last day. Stage: The rock
; ing earth. Enter- Dukes, lords, kings,
beggars, clowns. No skord. No tinsel.
No crown. For footlights: The kindling
flames of a world. I'or orchestra: The
trumpets that wake the dead. For ap
plause: The clapping floods of the sen.
For curtain: The heavens rolled together
as a scroll. For tragedy: “The Doom of
the Profligate." For the last scene of
:h>- fifth act: The tramp of nations nerosi
the stage, some to the right, others to
the left. Then the belt of the lust thun
der w ill ring, and '.he curtain will drop!

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