(1876)
LONELINESS, PERILS OF
Recently a London pastor preached a sermon on the after-business occupations of young people, in which he said that from 6 to 11 P.M. was the danger zone for young folks who are employed during the day. Speaking of the mesmeric glitter of London, and the fascination of its so-called amusements, he made the assertion that he believed that the theaters and music-halls should be controlled by the churches.
The Sunday-school Chronicle sent an interviewer to ask him why he made this statement. His answer follows:
“First of all,” said the pastor, “I have been so deeply imprest by the sense of awful loneliness which is experienced by young people coming to central London from the provinces. I know for a fact that scores of young men and women go to the bad because of the absolute friendlessness of their lives. Six months ago I spent two days at the Old Bailey Sessions House trying to snatch a girl of nineteen from prison. She came to London motherless and friendless, and was spoken to kindly by a young man in Oxford street. She appreciated the apparent sympathy which this stranger extended to her—well, the rest of the story of her downfall may be imagined. Many of these young people have nowhere to go after business hours but the music-hall or the public-house, and the things they take away from these places and retail in their houses of business are the questionable jokes which they have heard. So for these young people I plead for churches that are homes and amusements that are healthy.”—The Advance.
(1877)
Lonesomeness Abated—See [Reminders].
LONGEVITY ACCOUNTED FOR
Senator Chauncey M. Depew, entertained at a dinner on the occasion of his seventy-sixth birthday, said:
Fifty-four years in public and semipublic life and upon the platform all over this country and in Europe for all sorts of objects in every department of human interest have given me a larger acquaintance than almost anybody living. The sum of observation and experience growing out of this opportunity is that granted normal conditions, no hereditary troubles, and barring accidents and plagues, the man who dies before seventy commits suicide. Mourning the loss of friends has led me to study the causes of their earlier departure. It could invariably be traced to intemperance in the broadest sense of that word; intemperance in eating, in drinking, in the gratification of desires, in work, and in irregularity of hours, crowning it all with unnecessary worry.—New York Times.