Mr. World and Miss Church-Member by W. S. Harris
Mr. World and Miss Church-Member by W. S. Harris
"Have you met with any hindrances to your work?" queried the chairman of the meeting.
"Many indeed. Some Parks refuse our class of Theatres, while others are closed to every class. But our committee is determined to push ahead."
"Onward, ye comrades," urged the chairman. "Buy up the stock of every Park, if possible, and furnish recreation for the church. Do not become too bold at first in the introduction of lewd and foolish plays, or you may be fought by the popular churches."
"Hardly possible," replied the leader. "So many in the church are glad to wink at these incongruities, for they are thereby given a chance to satisfy their carnal appetites without being classed with the regular Theatre crowd."
"This is one of our happiest modern hits," chuckled the chairman, as the committee turned away, amidst the mad-like cheering,
Next I saw that the chairman raised his hand, and at once I heard three sharp clangs which were the signal for the "Church-Choir" committee. "What has the church-choir to do with the Theatre," thought I, as I saw the obedient host answering to their call.
"What tidings, good or ill?" asked the chairman in a tone of confidence.
"Progress slow, but sure," briefly answered the leader of the committee as he stepped a little nearer to the chairman to give his report.
"Ours is a difficult task. Some choirs are hedged about that we cannot so much as reach them with suggestions. Nevertheless, we have succeeded in many sections, notably in certain large cities. We report, with pride, that some churches have engaged genuine theatrical singers to render special selections during the regular Sunday services. Is it not an evidence of our success when the opera-stage singer of Saturday night furnishes the chief solo for church-goers on Sunday morning? This is winning certain people to the Theatre, for in many instances they cannot wait until the next Sunday; so they visit several theatres during the week to keep their spiritual strength renewed."
Then the demons cheered to the echo, and I listened with a sad, heavy heart.
The leader continued:
"We are also endeavoring to get the regular church-choirs to imitate the popular theatrical stars. Of course, we do not oppose the use of religious words, if we cannot induce them to sing our selections. We are aiming to create a taste for the up-to-date novelties in music, in contrast to the old dry singing in certain churches of the King's Highway." (Prolonged applause.)
As this tall, wiry demon continued to unfold his deep-laid plans, I well understood why Satan has selected the church-choir as an objective point, and has delegated so large a number of imps to do work in that special direction. I then cried within me: "Oh, that these churches would not use their choir-corners as an advertising medium for the Theatre! And that choirs, in their musical devotions, may be led by the Spirit of God rather than by the imps of Hell!"
This committee retired with special encomiums.
The chairman rose and I heard four sonorous clangs which summoned the "Ministerial" committee. At once its members, in their sedate and portly attitudes, surged down the massive aisles.
I shuddered as I saw the variety of these mean Satanic faces, portraying a depth of vileness, mingled with shrewd and scholarly insight. With great care I studied this pack of Hell-hounds, gathered from the ends of the earth, now standing in sullen mood, ready to give their report.
"What tidings, good or ill?" asked the chairman.
"The tidings are good," replied the famous leader. "By our efforts we have silenced many a voice which formerly thundered against us. To-day many more ministers are in sympathy with the modern Theatre of the higher grades, although not a few of these must hold their views in secret. Others speak apologetically, and still more come out in bold defense of what they term the 'Select Theatre.'"
"What do you consider the most hopeful line of your work?" further asked the chairman.
"Our work in the theological schools," quickly responded the leader. "Special sections of our committee have labored with stealthy vigor to capture the preacher before he reaches the pulpit. The last years of the century have witnessed phenomenal gains for our cause. By winning the theological student early to our Theatrical theories we are likely to gain his heart and sympathy in after years. Our success along these lines is the most hopeful sign of the times, and bespeaks the ushering in of more sensible conditions. (Furious applause.)
"Before retiring," continued the leader, "let me quote the utterances of a certain broad-minded clergyman: 'The clean Theatre of the twentieth century will be, and ought to be, the moral prayer-meeting for Christians, while the spiritual prayer-meeting will be held in the church as usual.'"
The whole army of devils cheered like madmen. I was so aroused that I felt that ecclesiastical lynch law should be applied to any minister whose utterances caused such jubilee among the legions of Hell.
I could not remain to hear the report of:
"The Moral Play" committee,
"The Variant Dance" committee,
"The Sacred Concert" committee and other committees whose names I could not learn.
Mr. World and Miss Church-Member: A Twentieth Century Allegory by W. S. Harris
Arabella, a state-trained prodigy, won freedom after seven brutal years. Back home, she found her aunt basking in her late parents' mansion while her twin sister scrounged for scraps. Fury ignited her genius. She gutted the aunt's business overnight and enrolled in her sister's school, crushing the bullies. When cynics sneered at her "plain background," a prestigious family claimed her and the national lab hailed her. Reporters swarmed, influencers swooned, and jealous rivals watched their fortunes crumble. Even Asher-the rumored ruthless magnate-softened, murmuring, "Fixed your mess-now be mine."
Corinne devoted three years of her life to her boyfriend, only for it to all go to waste. He saw her as nothing more than a country bumpkin and left her at the altar to be with his true love. After getting jilted, Corinne reclaimed her identity as the granddaughter of the town's richest man, inherited a billion-dollar fortune, and ultimately rose to the top. But her success attracted the envy of others, and people constantly tried to bring her down. As she dealt with these troublemakers one by one, Mr. Hopkins, notorious for his ruthlessness, stood by and cheered her on. "Way to go, honey!"
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
For three years, Hailey loved Kieran. Yet the wildlife photos she risked everything to take ended up helping another woman win a major competition. Hurt and finished with waiting, Hailey left him, filing for divorce and vowing to prove herself on her own. She never expected her ex-husband's most powerful rival to offer his support. "I admire real talent. Applause belongs to the deserving," he said. Though Hailey tried to keep her distance, he pursued her with unwavering determination "This isn't just a whim. I've had my eye on you for a long time."
To most, Verena passed for a small-town clinic doctor; in truth, she worked quiet miracles. Three years after Isaac fell hopelessly for her and kept vigil through lonely nights, a crash left him in a wheelchair and stripped his memory. To keep him alive, Verena married him, only to hear, "I will never love you." She just smiled. "That works out-I'm not in love with you, either." Entangled in doubt, he recoiled from hope, yet her patience held him fast-kneeling to meet his eyes, palm warm on his hair, steadying him-until her glowing smile rekindled feelings he believed gone forever.
Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."
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