Tired Church Members | Page 9

The only
question is in which way will you help him on. Things must be judged
of quite apart from their money-making results. The old African maker
of "greegrees" (charms) burns them all when she becomes a Christian;
and the young carpenter just converted under Mr. Moody's preaching,
gives up his only job because he can not do it for Christ, and will not
even drive a nail in the scaffolding about a theatre. For the money that
changes hands there, is the price of "the souls of men."
You do not believe all this: you do not believe that evil can hide among
such fascinations. And for the actors, they are not men and women! Are
they not kings and queens and fairies? The glamour of their dress, the
strangeness of the scenes, the un-everyday tragic or fantastic air of it all;
with sometimes the witchery of music or the wonders of artistic effect,
lay a spell upon your common sense. Do I not know? Have I not seen
young Christian girls from the country a standing jest with people who
knew the world, because--beginning with what the laughers called "a
holy horror" of the theatre--they yielded and went "just once." Then,

"only once more,"--and then presently would go every night, to see
everything!
When Miriam was six years old, some acquaintances over-persuaded
her father to let them take her to see Cinderella,--Cinderella and some
part of Der Freischutz; and one who was there remembers well how
hard the little hands grasped the edge of the box, and how impossible it
was to win the young eyes round, even by a vision of sugarplums. To
the end of her life, I fancy, she will see now and then a picture out of
that fairyland. Next day Miriam entreated earnestly to have the pleasure
over again; strengthening her plea with this remarkable promise, that if
she might go once more, she would never do anything wrong again as
long as she lived! Her father paced up and down the room with a grave
smile upon his lips, the little suppliant following with eager feet, ever
renewing her request, and he answering little; for the matter was
beyond her ken. But he was a Christian who kept off the Debatable
land; and where his foot might not enter, he would not send his child.
Had he not himself dedicated her to be the Lord's? She never went
again. Never to the theatre; never again to any such place, until long
afterwards; and with that going he had nothing to do.
Miriam had grown up, had become a Christian and a happy one; and as
yet no "flatterer" had beguiled her off upon the "Enchanted Ground."
But at last the temptation came, in a very specious way.
There was a new Prima Donna at the opera house that winter; a young,
pretty woman, working hard (it was said) to support her mother; and
Miriam, going daily to see dear friends at the same hotel, often heard
the singing and practising that went on in the Prima Donna's rooms.
And Miriam was very fond of music, and had been able to hear very
little that was really good; and now in a moment one thing took
possession of her; she must go to the opera!--Tickets too costly, and no
one to take her, made the thing look impossible on the one side; and on
the other--there was her Christian name and promise. Of course it was
wrong for Christians to go!--she knew that. Yet for the time, nothing
seemed tangible or real but this; go she must! And so from week to
week this fever of desire grew and increased, fed from time to time by

those snatches of song that floated through the great hall of the hotel.
At last one day her friends said (knowing nothing of all this), "Miriam,
you must go with us to an undress rehearsal. We have got tickets, and
you must go." Then beginning to answer the objections they
expected--"It is only undress," they said; "the house half lighted, and
the actors not in costume. Anybody might go,--and you must."--"It's a
very moral opera," began another. "Of course we would never take you
to see anything else."
Miriam was too ignorant of the world and its theatres to fairly
understand all these advantages,--indeed I fancy longing made such a
din in her ears that she paid but little attention. For a while she
withstood--then desire rose up like a whirlwind and carried all before it.
They had tickets for that very night,--her friends, said one morning,--a
ticket for her also--and an escort. She yielded and went. Went first to
take tea with her friends, on the way; and I have heard her speak of the
thrilling, pent-up excitement