CHURCH AND STAGE.

Timaru Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 3277, 28 March 1885, Page 3

CHURCH AND STAGE.

(By G. R. Sims.) Extremes meet much more frequently m real life than they do m fiction. The fictioniat generally brings extremes together for the purpose of exciting om mirth by a remarkable contrast. No one has been more successful m obtaining ludicrouß situations out of the meeting of extremes than the author of the ." Bab Ballads." Incongruity has been the device upon his literary banner, and, thanke to the perfect art and exquisite finish oi his style, he has carried that banner to victory again and again. The extremes that met first, if I remember rightly, m the pages of Fun when poor Tom Hood sat so comfortably m the editorial chair, have met again and again upon the stage of the Opera Comique and the Savoy, and have never failed to provoke a British audience to mirthl'. But m real life, except on rare occasions, there is more pathos than humor m the meeting of extremes. There is tragedy, not comedy, m the .] spectacle of Lazarus shivering upon the doorstep of Dives — starving for a crust of bread, while the feast that costs a fortune is spread within, for-: a dozen dyspeptic millionaires, who pay their doctors golden guineas for' "something to give me an appetite, don't you know. " It is a subject for sorrow and not for mirth, when the daughter of a hundred earls, fair and innocent and happy, steps from her carriage to enter the gaily-lighted theatre, and rubs elbows as she passes with the poor painted daughter of the night. It is strong drama, not screaming farce, when the weary work-girl toils far into the night for a starvation wage at the costly robes which a fashionable Phryne will wear for a few short hours on the morrow, spoil with a spilt glass of " fizz," and fling aside. Onß day last year I was personally conducted over a well-known lunatic asylum. It was a fine afternoon, [and many of the patients were m the grounds. I mixed freely with them, and conversed with those who, spying a stranger, hastened to find a confidant for their troubles. They were all of them perfectly sane ; they had been brought to the asylum because they were m somebody's way. One buxom young woman had been torn from her parents because : the Prince of Wales had arranged to elope with her, and it was most important that she should go home again, as the Prince was waiting at Westminster Abbey for her, with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and he would be wondering why she didn't come to marry him as arranged. I also met m the grounds a venerable gentleman of benevolent appearance, who took me into a quietcorner, and asked me to lend him a farthing. I offered him a penny, which was the smallest coin I had about me. He heaved a deep sigh, and said that was no use. The Bank of England had been offered to him a bargain — the bank, with all its contents. The price was only a thousand pounds ; but the Governor and company had made it a stipulation that the pur-chase-money should be paid m farthings. The old gentleman had already saved up nearly a hundred, but farthings were getting very scarce. He would gladly give five shillings each for them if I would tell him where they were to be had. I stayed m the grounds an hour, and should have stayed longer but for the determined attitude of an old lady, who held me fiercely by the collar of my coat, while she went into very minute details of a murder which she had committed. The victim was her husband, and his crime was making faces at her. She had killed him by making faces at him — such dreadful faces, that' he had died by inches, of fright. She began to show me the sort of faces that had proved fatal to her victim, and I was exceedingly glad when one of the keepers came and took her away, and enabled me to beat an honorable retreat. Not m the dangerous or the sick wards, but m a ward where a few quiet patients, who did not care to go out, were gathered together, I came upon a clergyman and a clown. The clergyman sat m a great arm-chair m a corner by the fire, Mb face hidden . in ' the shadow. The clown sat on a low stool at his feet. My courteous guide pointed them out to me at once. Speaking m a low voice, that his words should not reach the two madmen, he told me their story!. "There's a curious case m the oorner yonder. You see the old gentleman with his back to the light ; he's a clergyman ot the Church of England. He has bean here for years ; quite harmless, but has suicidal mania. That's quite sufficient for his friends to have him kept here." " Has he had' any great trouble, then 1 " I ask. "Go up quietly and look at him," is the answer I receive. I walk casually towards the little group m the corner, and give furtive glances at the clergyman. •It is enough : I understand Why he wUheu to kill himself. The upper

i part of his face is eaten away by a terrii ble disease. The disfigurement is ghastly ; ; no bandages can hide it. " You see," says i my guide, " why he suffers from melani cholia and Buicidal mania ; he is terribly sensitive. Even here he keeps his face away from the other patients. He was a well-known preacher once, and drew ■an immense congregation. Now the i poor fellow yonder, who was once a i famous clown, is his only companion." "A famous clown?" "Yes. He was the great " (mentioning a name once famous, m . the annals of pantomime,). " How did he become mad 1" "Itis a curious story, as I've heard it. Years ago it used to be the custom for the men who catch clowns and harlequins after they; have leapt through shop windows "and 'doors —yon know the sort of thing — to. levy black-mail. The catchers expected beer-money every night from the performers, and if they did not get it they would threaten to let their man fall. The poor fellow yonder had a hasty temper, and one night he complained that i the men who had to catch him were drunk. They " rounded on him," as the ' saying goes, and he declared, for their insolence, he would give them no more ' beer-money. The following night he took his flying leap through a shop window, expecting to be caught m the men's arms as usual. They were not there. The poor man fell and struck his head against a 1 pantomime property that was lying about. He was picked up sensoless, and taken to the hospital with a serious , injury to the brain. He recovered his health, but his renson was gone. He i has been here, harmless and quiet enough, but hopelessly insane, for over ten years." Never surely had the mnch-talked-e>f ■ alliance between Church and Stage come about under more tragic circumstances. I learned that often and often, when the ■ poor preacher was more depressed than i usual, his faithful friend the clown would cheer him up, and tell him strange stories of his stage career, and how once he tried , to sing " Hot Codlings " to him, and broke down, for the words would not i come. A clown singing " Hot Codlings " to a clergyman, to cheer him up ! Is not the idea almost a Bab Ballad m itself ? ' sfet there it happened undercircumstances • which would have checked the rising laugh m the most callous-hearted observer. A Wise Deacon. — " Deacon Wilder, I , wnnt you to tell me how you kept yourself ! , and family so well tho past season, when all] , tho rest of us havo been sick so much, and have had tho doctors running to us so often." ; " Brother Taylor, the answer ia very easy. I used Hop Bitters m time, and kept my family ' well, and saved largo doctor's bills. Four shillings' worth of it kept us all well and able to work all the time, and I will warrant it 1 has cost you and most of the neighbors £10 to £100 apiece to keep sick the same time. I fancy you'll take my medicine hereafter." See [Adtt.] We belibve that if every one would use American Co.'c Hop Bitters freely there would be much, less sickness and misery m • the world, and people, are fast finding this i out, whole families keeping well at a trifling . cost by its use. We advise you to try it. ■ Bead [Advt.] s Easily Bbmbmbebed. — The latest mcdi- , cine for horses' legs is called " Neurasthenip- • ponskelesterizo." One of the big beasts J at a cattle show was called " Llanfair Pwllgwyngyllgogerbhwyrwyd Bobw Llandisiliogogogoch." Farmers will easily re- ' member this. The Bad and Woetmess are never ' imitated or counterfeited. This is ' especially ' truo of a family medicine, and it is positive 1 proof that the remedy imitated is of tho 1 highest value. As soon as it had been tested > and proved by the whole world that Hop i Bitters was the purest, best and most valuable i family medicine on earth, many imitations i sprung np and began to Jsteal the notices m , which the press and the people of tho country i had expressed the rnerite of H. 8., and m , every way trying to induce suffering invalids , to uso their stuff instead, expecting to make : money on the credit and good name of H. B. Many others started . nostrums put up m similar stylo to H. 8., with variously devised 1 names m which the word "Hop" or " Hops " were used m a way to induce people to believe they were tho same as Hop Bitters. All such pretended remedies or cures, on matter what their style or name is, and especially those with the word " Hop " or 1 " Hops" m their name or m any way connected with them or their . name, are imitations or counterfeits. Beware of them. Touch none of them. Use nothing but genuine American Hop Bitters, with a cluster of green Hops on the white label, and Dr Soulo's name blown, m the glass. Trnst nothing else. 6gg" Druggists and Chemists are ivavnod against dealing m imitations or counterfeits. — [Advt.]