The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, October 24, 1900, Image 7
pr
f
deTtalmaqes sermon.
iUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
/object: Thickening Gloom ? Orowine
Old Without Relision a Dismal Pronpect?Connoting
SneKMtloni to Thoie
Who Have Patneil Life'* Meridian.
[Copyright 1HIW.1
Wasittxoto:*, D. C. ? In tins scrm""
t)r. Talmapre discourses upon the invitation
Riven to Christ to stay overnipht in
the Oriental villase, and makes so"16 con*
solatory suggestions. The text is Luke
txiv, 29. "Abide with us, for it 13 towara
tvening."
Two villagers, having concJu"^" their
errand in Jerusalem, have /rfarted^out at
the city pate and are on .*n .fy
Emmaus, the place of ?if'
t They go with a sad heart. Jesus, who
had been their admiratio* their joy,
had been basely massacred and entombed.
As, with sad face and bf?fen heart, they
pass ot? their a. e^ger accost*
them. Thev tell Him their anxieties and
' bitterness of soul. He in torn -talks to
ft ' them, mifehtily expounding the Scriptures.
He throws over them the fascination of
Kv intelligent conversation. They forget the
^ time and notice not the objects they pass
and before they are aware have come in
front of their house. They pause before
the entrance and attempt to persuade the
stranger to'ferry irith them. Ihey press
optfn TPia- their hospitalities. Night is
fftKMUI. W Ot uuu|(cu ;w u1. uuwiki?
from the dew, He cannot go much farther
now. . Why not "*top there and continue
their pleasant conversation? They take
Him by the arm, ani they insist upon His
coming'in. addrewing'Him in the words.
"AbidirVitb ua. for it is toward eve*fag."
The lamp#' are lighted, the table is spread,
pleasant soeialties are enkindled. They ret
foice in the nresence of this stranger guest.
He asks a blessing upon the bread they eat.
and "He hands a piece of it to each. Suddenly
and with p/erwhelming power the
t. thought flashegrtpon the astounded people?it
is th#T-<ord! And as they sit in
v-^~ nreathlessMmder, looking upon tliiie resurrected
bpy Jesus. He vanished* The
interv^r ended. He was frone.
Wit# many of us it is a bright sunshiny
ajjjjkyw prosperity. There is ,not a cloud
" ? ?j. _ i?* 1.1i_ ? ? '
J" SKV? noL H ieai WJWUIg III iuc Njhip^
JjHP^no chill in the air. But we ca'nnet gtpxt
|P" nil this to la3t. He is not an iatdJigeBt
f man who expect# perpetual dajMtt of
*oy. The sun will after ?while near the
lorizon: the shadows will lengthen.
While I speak many of us stand in the
very hour described in the text, 'Tor it is
toward evening." The request of the text
I, is appropriate for some' in everyj^fyBjfcnity,
for with them it is toward Mrevtnintr
of old ace. They have passeditfe?*ineridian
of life. They are sometinajB. startled
to tain!c how. old they are. TWyMo
not, however, like others to remarif^po-:
it. If others suggest their approximation
toward' venerable appearance, they say,
"Why, I am not so old^after all." Thev t
fc". 'do. indeed, notice that they cannot lift
; quite ae much as once; ti^ey cannot walk
quite so fast; they cannot read quite so
(I well without SDectacles; they cannot so
easily recover trom a cougn or any occaR
sional ailment; they haye lost their taste
[ for merriment; they are surprised at the
quick passage of the vear; they sav that it
only but a little while ago that they ;
were toys; they are (join? a little down
hill; there is something in their health, (
Something in their vision, something in
their walk, something in their chancing
associations, something above, something
beneath, something within to remind them
that it is toward evening.
The great want of all such is to have
Jesus abide with them. It is a dismal
thing to be getting old without the reju)
V' venating influence of religion. When we
top on the down grade of life and see
' 1nat it dips to the verge of the cold river,
vie want to behold some one near who
will help us across it. When the sight
loses its nower to glance and gather up,
we need the faith that can illumine. When
i we feel the failure of the ear. we need the
clear tones of that voice which in olden
times broke up the silence of the deaf
wilh cadence3 of mercy. When the axmen
of death hew down whole forests of
strength and beauty around us and we
jf. are left in solitude," we need the dove of
? . ' divine mercy to sing in our branches.
When the shadows begin to fall and we
feel that the day is far spent, we need
most of all to supplicate the beneficent (
Jesus in the prayer of the villagers.
"Abide with us. for it is toward evening."
' The request of the text is an appropriate |
exclamation for all those who are approaching
th* gloomy hour of temptation.
There is nothing easier than.to be good
natured when everything pleases, or to be ,
humble when there is nothing to puff us J
I uo, or forgiving when we have not been
assailed, or honest when we have no inducement
to fraud. But you have felt the
grapple of some temptation. Your nature
at some time quaked and groaned under
the infernal power. You feel that the devil
v was aft<er you; you saw your Christian
) graces retreating; you feu ed that you
would tail in the awful wrestle with sin
and be thrown into the dust. The gloom
thickened. The first indications cf the
night weVe seen. In all the trembling of
your soul, in all the infernal suggestions of
t Satan, in all the surging un of tumultuous
/ passions and excitements, you felt with
awful ertinhasis that it was toward evening,
In the tempted hour you need to ask
Jesus to abide with you. You can beat
. back the monster that would devour you;
yon can unhorse the sin that would ride
juu uuwu., )uu ittu BUdipeii cut; uhuivba
Bfe . .with which you split the head of helmeted
abomination. Who helped Paul shake the
|pc brazen gated heart of Felix? Who acted
like a good jailor when all the crew howled
?> in the Mediterranean shipwreck? Who
j|" helped the martyrs to be firm when one
R;-v'; . # word of recantation would have unfastened
I ' the withes of the stake and put out the
ft : v kindling fire?
When the night of the soul came on
^4f;V. and all the denizens of darkness came ridIfcrvV
i11? upon the winds of perdition, who
gave strength to the sour' Who gave
R&-, . Calmness to the heart? Who broke the
spell of infernal enchantment? He who
heard the request of the villagers, "Abide
with us. for it is toward evening." One
of the forts of France was attacked, and
the outworks were taken before night.
Tht besieging army lay down, thinking
that there wis but little to do in the
f? morning, and that the soldiery in the fort
coald be easily made to surrender. But
during tht night, through a back stairs,
they escaped into the. country. In the
morning the besieging array sprang upon
' / the battlements, but found that their prey
was gone. So when we are assaulted by
temptation there is always some secret
stair by which we might get off. God
will not allow us to be tempted above
what we are able, but with every temptation
will bring a way of escape thav we
may be able to oear it.
The prayer of the text is appropriate
^ for all who are anticipating sorrow. The
greatest folly that ever grew on this
planet is the tendency to borrow trouble,
out there are times when approaching
Borrow is so evident that we need to be
making especial preparations for its com
?ig. vae 01 jour cnuurcii uus lately Deeome
a favorite. The cry of that child
strikes deeper into the heart than the cry
of all the others. You think more about
it; you gi. e it more attention, not because
it is any more of a treasure than the others,
but because it is becoming frail. There
is something in the cheek, in the eye and
in the walk that makes you quite sure
that the leaves of the flower are going to
be scattered. The utmost nursing and
medical attendance are ineffectual. The
pulse becomes feeble, the complexion lighter,
the step weaker, the laugh fainter. No
more romping for that one through hall I
and parlor. Thet.nursery is darkened by
an approaching calamity. The heart feels
with mournful anticipation that the sun
fs going down. Night speeds on. It is toward
evening.
} You . have lo.ig rejoiced in the care of a
mother; you have done everything to
make her "last days happy; you have run
with quick feet to wait upon her every
want. Her presence has been a perpetual
blessing in the household. But the fruit
gatherers are looking wistfully at that
nree. Her soul is ripe for heaven. The
gates are ready to flash open for her entrance.
*But your soul sinks at the thought
^ of separation. You cannot bear to think
/ V ? *
' last look at that face, which from the firal
hour has looked tfpon you with affection
1 Rnf. wnu cpc that life jj
uncnangc<ii/.v.. j ?? ? ? _
ebbing, and the grave will soon hide her
from ya'ir sight. You sit quiet; you feel
heavy nearted. > The light is fading from
the sky; the air is chill. It is toward
evening.
Vou nad a considerable estate and felt
independent. In five minutes on one fair
balance sheet you could see just how you
stood with the world. But there came
complications. Something that you imagined
impossible happened. The best
friend you had proved traitor to your interests.
A sudden crash of national misfortune
prostrated your credit. You may
to-day be going on in business, but you
feel anxious about where you are standing,
and fear that the next turn of the
commercial wheel will bring you prostrate.
You foresee what you consider certain
defalcation; you think of the anguish of
telling your friends that you are not
worth a dollar; you know not how you
will ever bring your children home from
school; you wonder how you will stand
the selling of your library o: the moving
into a plainer house. The misfortunes of
life have accumulated. You wonder what
makes the sky so dark. It is toward
evening.
Trouble is an apothecary that mixes a
great many drafts, bitter and sour and
nauseous, and you must drink some one
of them. Trouble puts up a great mar*
packs, and you muat carry some one of
them. There is no sandal so thick and
well adjusted but some thorn will striks
through it; there is no Bound so sweet but
the undertaker's screw-driver grates
through it. In this swift shuttle of the
heart some of the threads must break.
The journey from Jerusalem to Jimmaua
will soon be ended. Our Bible, our common
sense, our observation, reiterate in
tones tttfet vri cannot mistake and ought
not to disregard?it is toward evening.
% woftj of the text are pertinent to
us all from the fact that we art nearing
the evening of death. 1 have heard it
said that we ought to live as though each
moment were to be our last. I do not believe
that theory. As far as preparation
is concerned we ought always to be ready,
bufc cannot always be thinking of
dephAiftr we have duties in life that demahcFour
attention.
Whan a* man is selling goods it is his
businfe to think of the bargain he is
making; when a man is pleading in> the
courts, it is his duty to think of the interests
of his clients; when a clerk is adding
up accounts it is his duty to keep his
mind upon the column of figures. He who
fills up his life with thoughts of death is
far from being the highest style of Christian.
I knew a man who' used often to
say at night, "I wish I might die before
morning!' He is now an intidel.
But there are times when we can and
1-i. frt fr?nnfpmnla.
OUgUl to K"c vuiociin vv, W?~ e
tion of that solemn moment when to the
soul time ends and eternity begins. We must
go through that one pass. There is no
roundabout way, no bypath, no circuitous
route. Die we must, and it will be to ua
a shameful occurrence or a time of admirable
behavior. Our friends may stretch
out their hands to keep U3 back, but no
impioration on their part can hinder us.
They might offer large retainers, but
death would not take the fee. The breath
will fail? and the. eyes will close, and the
heart will stop. You may hang the couch
with gorgeous tapestry, but what does
death care far bed curtains? You may
hang the room with the finest works of
art, nut what does death care for pictures?
You may fill the house with the wailings
of widowhood and orphanage. Does death
mind weeping?
Listen to Paul's battle shout with misfortune,
hark to mounting Latimer's fire
song; look at the glory that hath Teft the
dungeon and filled the earth and heavens
with the crash of the falling manacles of
despotism and then look at those who
have tried to cure themselves by human
prescriptions, attempting to heal gangrene
with patch of court plaster ana to
stop the plague of dying empires with the
quackery of earthly wisdom- Nothing can
sneak Deace to the soul, nothing can un
strap our crushing burdens, nothing can
overcome our spiritual foes, nothing can
open our eyes to see the surrounding
horses and chariots of salvation that fill
all the mountains but the voice and command
of Him who stopped one night at
Emmaus.
You ought to be willing to exchange
j-our body that has headaches and sideaches
and weaknesses innumerable, that
limps with the stone bruise or festers with
the thorn or flames on the funeral pyre
of fevers, for an incorruptible body and an
eye that blinks not before the jasper gate?
and the great white throne. But between
that and this there is an hour about which
no man should be reckless or foolhardy.
I doubt not your courage, but I tell you
that you will want something better than^
a strong arm, a good aim and a trusty
J ?l mmo fn vniir last hatfcle.
You will need a better robe than any you
have in your wardrobe to keep you warm
in that place.
Cirsumstances do not make so much difference.
It may be bright day when you
push off from the planet, or it may be
dark night and while the owl is hooting
from the forest. It may be spring, ana
your soul may go out among the blossoms,
apple orchards swinging their censers in
the way. It may be winter and the earth
in a snow shroud. It may be autumn and
the forests set on fire by the retreating
year?dead nature laid out in state. It
may be with your wife's hand in your
hand, or you may La in a strange hotel,
with a servant faithful to the last. It
may be in the rail train, shot off the
switch and tumbling in long reverberation
down the embankment?crash, crash!
I know not the time, 1 know not the
mode, but the days of our life are being
subtracted away, and we shall come down
to the time when we have but ten days
left, then nine days, then eight days, then
seven days, six days, five days, four dayB,
three days, two days, one day. Then
hours,?three hours, two houis; one hour.
Then only minutes left?live minutes, four
minn+oB fhrpp minutes, two minutea. one
minute. Then only seconds left?four seconds,
three seconds, two seconds, one second.
Gone! The chapter of life ended!
The book closed! The pulses at rest! The
feet through with the journey! The
hands closed from all work! No word on
the lips! No breath in the nostrils! Hair
combed back to lie undisheveled by any
human hands. The muscles still. The
nerves still. The lungs still. The tongue
still. All still. You might, put the stethoscope
to breast and hear no sound. You
might put a speaking trumpet to the ear,"
but you could not wake the deafnes*. No
motion. No throb. No life. Still! fc'till!
On earth with many of you the evening
is the happiest part of the twenty-four
hours. You gather about the stand. You
talk and laugh And sing. Y ou recount the
day. You plan for the morrow You
i l A?:J
have games ana repartees, mum an uc
toil ot the day that is the goal for which
you run, and as you take out your watch
or look at the descending sun you thrill
with the thought that it is toward evening.
So death comes to the disciple.
What if the sun of life is about to set?
Jesus is the dayspring from on high, the
perpetual morning of every ransomed
spirit. What if the darkness comes?
Jesus is the light of the world and of
heaven. What though this earthly house
does crumble? Jesus has prepared a house
of many mansions. Jesus is the anchor
that always holds. Josus is the fountain
that is never exhausted. Jesus is the
evening star hung up amid the gloom of
the gathering night.
You are almost through with the abuse
and backbiting of enemies. They will call
you no more by evil names. Your good
deeds will not longer bs misinterpreted ot
your honor filched. The troubles of earth
will end in the felicities of heaven. Toward
evening! The bereavements of earth
will soon be lifted. You will not much
i lnncpr stand Douring your grief in the
tomb like Rachel weeping for her chil
dren or David mourning for Absalom
Broken hearts bound up. Wounds healed
Tears wiped away. Sorrows terminated
Xo more sounding of the dead march. To
ward evening. Death will come sweet at
slumber to the eyelids of the babe, as ful
rations to a starving soldier, as evening
hour to the exhausted workman. The skj
will take on its Bunset glow, every clouc
a fire psalm, every lake a glossy mirror
the forests transfigured, delicate misti
climbing the air. Your friends will an
nounce it, your pulses will beat it, youi
jovs will ring it, your lip> will whisper it
"tojwdeveaipg.'* ?
THE SABBATH SCHO(
I I
I INTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMEf1
l| FOR OCTOBER 28.
Subject: The Prodigal Son, I/nke
11-24 ?Golden Text: Lnke it.i 1
Memory Verses 20-24 ? Comment
on the Day'* Lesson.
11. "A certain man." The simple,
pretentious beginning of the most bea
ful of all the parables. The man is h
the image of God the Father. "Two soi
Both are Jews. The idea that the el
son represents the Jews, and the youn
the Uentiles ia foreign to the parable,
in character the two sons may be said
be representative of mankind, for
have in them examples of two great phn
of alienation from God?the elder is bli
ed by his self-righteousness, the youn
degraded by his unrighteousness.
12. "The younger." He represe
openly wicked persons, such as the pu
j cans and sinners. He also represents 1
I thoughtless, careless youth. "Give me 1
| portion of goods." This will appear pi
when it is considered that it has beer
! custom in the East for sons to dema
, and receivc their Dortion of the inhei
j ance during the father's lifetime. "He
! vided?his living." The .yielding to the
quest strikingly sets forth the penniesi
of free-will to man, and also tne fact
(rod's bestowing many gifts upon e*
the unthankful and disobedient.
13. "Not many days." He had decic
upon his course and hastened to be go
j "Gathered all together." Sinners that
! astray from God venture their all. "To
! his journey." He was weary of his fa
j cr's government and desired greater 1
, erty. As soon as the bridle of restraini
j grace is taken off we are soon gone. 1
I journey the prodigal took represents 1
sinner in his departure from God.
went into a "far country," far from tri
i and virtue. "Wasted his substance."
sinners waste the gifts God has giv
I them. Time, talents, energies, life,
| wasted. "With riotous living." In vei
r 30 we see how low he fell. His bo<
mind and soul were debased and ruined
14. "Spent all." He did not stop un
his last dollar was gone. His passic
reigned. This represents the sinner w
lias tnrown awuy me nicay, iavur a
love of God. and has wilfully rejected t
salvation of Christ. "A mighty famin<
The soul living at a distance from G<
I and shut out from intercourse with Hi
! will very soon feel ita own utter emp
i ness. A mighty famine will follow. "
j want." Real want is soul want. T
prodigal now felt the effects of his <lia
j pated course, 'i he steps downward w<
| "apostasy, proflgacy, penalty." See Pr<
. 24 : 34.
15. "Joined himself to a citizcn." T
same wicked life that before was rep:
} sented by riotous living is here repi
i sented by servile living, for sinners a
j perfect slaves. The devil is the citizen
I that country; he is both in city and con
| try. "To feed swine." This was dout
degrading, and especially so to a Jew.
16. '"Would fain have been filled wi
! the husks." (R. V.) Thb husks were n
the / pod* of some other fruit, but "t
fruit of the carob-tree. used for feedi
swine." He was driven to the extremi
of trying to satisfy his hunger with t
food that was fit only for. swine. So s
ners endeavor to satisfy the soul wi
earthly and sensual delights. "No m
gave unto him." Thpee whom he h
called his friends now deserted hi
They had taken his money and then c?
him aside. Satan's agents do the sai
to-day. The saloonkeeper will rob a m
of his money, health and character, a'
then kick him out of the back door
die. 1
17. "He came to himself." Sin <
thrones the reason. A state of sin is
state of folly and madness, but the ma
ness is in the heart. Eccl. 9:'3. His la
of reason is seen, 1. In that he call
'for his money.' 2. When he left hon
3. When he went to live with harlo
4. When he undertook to satisfy his hi
ger with swine's food. But he now begi
to sense his, condition and see his fol
Those who have <5nce known the Lord ca
not derive satjdfaetiou-i from the woe]
"Bread enough* and; to :8?are." The lowe
in my father's hcto^e has Bread to givethe
poor. God's: people are. abundani
supplied .with (rood things.' "I pen
with hunger.!' - dinners will not come
Christ until they see themselves ready
perish. v
-IS "T will nriao " "FTrf find lpff. Iinme
his own free'will, and lie must retilrn
the" same way. God comnels no one to
right. "And go." Following the de
sion there must be an effort put fori
In returning to God there is something
do. "I have sinned." The first thing
do is to make a full confession of o
sins. 1 John 1:9; Job 33 : 27, !
"Against heaven." Against God. Eve
sin is a sin against God. "And befr
thee." He had also sinned against 1
earthly father. It is ever a token of t
sincerity of repcntanfce when one vie
even the sins committed against oth<
a3 transgressions against God.
19. "No more worthy." He is ready
humble himself. He knows that in justi
his father could 6hut theuloor against hii
he will nlead for mercy only.
20. "He arose." He immediately did
of these things that he had decided upc
"His father saw him." So God kno
when we start toward Him. Sin had ma
the distance great, but. as soon as the 1<
one starts to return the father had co
passion. "And ran," etc. This rep
sents the readiness with which God
ceives returning sinners.
21. "I have sinned." He makes tl
confession personal; he abases him?t
This is always the result of true repei
ance. "And am no more worthy." j
true penitents feel their unworthine
* tL.i 1.1 J
rney are conscious mat laev aesei
nothing but denth. and their only hope
in the mercy of Christ.
22. "But the father." ' The father (
not wait until he had finished his conf
"sion. In this we see the great affecti
of the father and his willingness to f
give. "Said to his servants." The fa
er's joy is full, and he instantly issued
ders to celebrate his return. "Bri
forth quickly." (R. V.) Let us show
once by our actions that the wanderer
fully reinstated. "Put a ring on his han<
A sign of affection and th^t he was a f;
man. There is no license given here
j adorn the body, as some have vainly tr
to show. The true standard for si
I adorning is given bv Paul and Peter.
, Tim, 2: 9, 10; 1 Pet. 3: 3. 4.
23. "Be merry." Be joyful and hap;
The Bible gives the children of C?od
cense to shout for joy. When Christ
stores the wanderer there is general
joicing, and he is immediatelv treated
a son. The best that God has is gi\
him, anH the past is entirely blotted ou
24. "Was dead." "Lost to all go
jriven up to all evil." "Is alive agiii
Here was snecial cause for rejoicing. \\
would not be partaker of this joy?
I
TRAMPS INVADE KANSAS.
Flocking by *Hundre<lh to Their Kavoi
Winter K??>rl.
The railroads of Kansas are v/acin; v
against the army of tramps hob
that lias overrun the vicinity of in
pendence. Tor years tramps hivo in;i
tained a rendezvous at Drum, u few m
east of Independence, and now as the c
weather has begun they are pouring i
their winter quarters by the htiudrt
The resort has a national reputation,
old gas well, plugged up and abandon
furnishes enough gas through a leak
| all the fuel the tramps can use.
i ??
A Congestion of Public IIou*e*.
1 In Ireland in 1896 the total number
1 licensed houses was 18,751. In that co
' try the congestion of public houses 1
terrible. In one city (Tratee)~^in
street, forty yards long, so narrow^
' two carts cannot pass in it, there
' twelve public houses. In another tc
there are ten to a population of 179,
f another one house in three, in anot
| one to every thirty persons.
r
I" Hnl f nf M AtlCfl.
1
, Captain Liddle, of the Entrlish s
i King Bl.ddyn, on arriving at Now V
City reported that he passed a hot gey
r spouting water seventy-five feet, in
, middle of the Gulf of Mexico.
.
)L,1 GOD'S MESSAGE TO MAN.
? ?? ^
JTS PRECNANT thoughts frou the
I WORLD'S GREATEST PROPHETS.
* . My Faith?God's Sympathy Alwayi Pre8?
I ciotis?1 he Scent of Sweutnesi?Touch?'y
I in it the D1 vine Spirit?Trmtlnfc In God
j ?Quiet Way of Doinc lhlnj* tfc* Ue#U
I .
u . I trust iu God; whatever ills
utl" Around my pathway fall,
ier,? Whatever clouds obscure my sun.
He sends and guides theui all.
??F I am not wisp to frame a creed,
to ta'k of divine;
1 may not draw 'twixt right and wrc
seg A faultless boundary line.
"g" I cannot tell what saints shall fill
8 His glorious courts above;
i I only know this blessed truth,
blj. That God is boundless lovo.
the
[.jjg And knowing this, I cannot fix
a[n The limits of his grace,
k a Or say that any soul shall miss
_ j The liirht of his dear face.
ma ? - - rit
jj.. So ia my faith I rest content
re. Where'er my lot may fall;
ion I cannot wonder far from Him
0? Wnose care is over all. .
ren ?Mm. E. E. Brown in Univerpaliat
Leader.
led
ae* God's Sympathy Always Precious.
go
)0k The late Dr. W. M.. Barbour once
th- preached a sermon from the text, "He
ib- shall come down like rain upon the
ing mown grass," in which, with the delicacy
"he and skill jof which he was master, he
;he showed how the mown grass is just in
He the condition to be enriched by the rain,
ith and in how many ways the divine gift of
So rain ministers to the needs of the earth,
en drawing therefrom choice ' lessons of
all comfort and consolation to those in afflierse
tiou. It was a beautiful suggestion of
iy, the peculiar receptivenep.s of those 'who
I. have been afflicted and have learned to
itil accept affliction in a lowly, humble spirit
?na for the peculiar blessings which God
ho can bestow at no other time and upon
nd no other mood. God understands us
he through arid through, and never makes
a misinke in dealing with uSj Probably
>d, we might never fcarn, adequately at any
rate, the possibilities of his infinite tou>ti
derness and compassion if we werg not
In reduced by sorrow in some form to such
he a state as to need'them.1 There is a
l31' whole side of the divine character
:re which is revealed in our distress, which, 1
>v- but for affliction, might go unknown and
, unnoticed. The price is worth the payhc
ing, even by suffering, if the suffering
re* brings this precious assuronce of the I
rc* divine presence and comfort. , At no
iT_ec other time doos our Heavenly Father j
"l appear more winsome nnci inviuug. ma
l?" sympathy always is precious whenever
''y we are conscious of it, but, probably be- |
i, cause at no other time is pur sense of j
V} need equally greati at no other time is 1
his revelation of himself within our I
Jiearts sb unspeakably nweet and satfsfying.
Like the gentle smn'mer rain which
Lg falls softly and (is absorbed thirstily by;
I the grass which has .been freshly*'
cropped, so the ministration^ ^of God
an de^tMuls upoti the stricken, rjchfng soul 1
aJ to soothe and fortify, to cheer and
m strengthen it. "Thy geptlenesa 1 hath
jgj made me great," said tjie psalpiist. Sure- j
Qe ly,it,must have been as he looked back I
an upon^a'time of affliction or sorrow of
.j some kir.d that he said it.
to
' ' The Scent of SweetneM.
Iea
I walked over a meadow, and the air
t(j. was fnll .of delicious fragrance. Yet I
ck conld see no flowers. There was tall
ed grass wla*ring on all sides, but the fraie.
prance did not come from the grans,
tg." ,1'hen 1 parted the grass and looked beln.
neath it, and there, tflose to the earth,
na hidden oht * of sight by the Bhowy
|y. growths' in the meadow, were' multim
tudes of Ibwly little flowers. I had found
Id. the secnrt of the swefrtness^-it poured
?8t out from these hntnble, hiding flowers,
to This is a picture of wha|t is true everytly
where in life. Not from the great, the
rii y-conspiciious, the famed in any cominunito
tjl, comes the fragrance which most
to sweetens the air, but from lowly lives,
hidden, obscure, unpraiscd, which give
by out the aroftia of unselfishness, of kindin
ness, of gentleness. In many a home it'
do is from the room of an invalid, * sufci
forer. that the swe:;tnesa comes' which
;h. fills all the house. We know that it ia
to from the cross of Christ that the hal- '
to lowing influence flowed which all)
ur theso conturies has been refining and en28.
riching and softening the world's life.
ry So it is always?ont of weakness and
ire suffering, and from crushed, broken
iia lives, comes the blessing that renews .
ho and heals the world.
\V8
>rs "The healing of the world
Is in its nameless saints."
to * " \} .
ice ? ,T. F Miller, I). D.,'in "The Building
a; cf Character." , '
' " Touching
thfi Divine Spirit. '
>n. . i.v .?
ws We need the Reettig'eyfy* the hearing
de ear, the feeling heart. Do yon'not often '
catch brief and fugitive glimpses of thic
m- hidden sacredness in tne races or men, in
re- the occupations of life, in the common
re- scenes and /places? I do. I stood the
other day in Burnet Woods and gam!
his at the summit of a hill along which
:lf. stood a sentinel line of Hrches, the ;
at- brown leaves still clinging scantily' to 1
ill their bared limbs in shreds and patches, j
as. like the worn garments of half-naked i
ve beggars. I hud looked long at them in
ia one of those fits of abstraction in which
the soul seems unconsciously, to be
lid yearning for and searching after the sees*
crets of the universe, and after that
on spiritual beauty which lurks in every
or- landscape, when suddenly it flashed upon
th- me for an instant and was gone. I canor
not describe it. I could not recall it./ It,
ng had vanished utterly: but I know that
at I had seen it! My heart bounded, my
is ; bosom heaved, my eyes filled with tears,
i" I had touched in some way the hem of
ree thp garment of the Divine Spirit of life,
.to It was a mystery, but it was a reality,
and I have perceived it often in places,
lph und times, and occupations, and people,
J but it flits as quickly as It appears,?
Charles Frederic Goss, in "Hits und
Py- iMisses."
h* 1
rerc.
Trusting: In Qcd.
as We bless Thee. Heavenly Father, that
*en we know thee: all the way of this earthit
, i.. i,....* u.?~,i ...? i
?j in*- IUUII imni Hum vur uuuu, wc uurc
0(1; walked with thf*e, and we know thee; !
j?- ! thou art Love. In the hour of gladness
ho we hav-i offered our sacrifice of praise;
now that the dark hour conies, still our
heart is fixed, trusting in thee. In our suffering
we discover?new every morning,
fresh "very evening?the joy of thine
Jt? adding. The burden of our heart ever
shows ns more thy love. I^oss, V >reavement,
loneliness, make thee all in all,
var and out from I he ashes of our grief and
026 pain springs the deeper, sweeter joy, the
do- eternal peace of the soul close-knit unto
tin- thee. Through Jesus Christ we thank
ilcs thee, Father, and give thee &till our
o!d praise. Auien.
n to
d*- The quiet way of doing things is ihe
A,n best and most effective way always. God
moves the planets with less noise than
for make moving a wagon-loci of iron
rails through the street.
of FORTUNE WITH STRING TO IT.
un
ivas 800,000 LMt to a Columbus Girl If She
one ^urrJ' Testator's Son.
*Fhcre J a legacy of 500,000 waiting for
arc Miss Mi3y Gilbert, of Columbus, Ohio,
>v/.n tor severai years a teacher of water color
'."J painting hi'the Columbus Art School, if
ahe can -comply with the conditions imposed
by fl.-r deceased uncle, D. J. Kldridge,
of (i.hic.v.:o.
According to the terms of his will, Miss
ibin Gilbert ;s t<> receive the $60,000 if she will
ork marry ildri Ige's eldest son. If she
ser, refuses the legacy goes to another. She
the has not yfe made up her mind whether to
accept, j
ly " i >> '
"the great destroyer
SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOU"
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.
Alcoholic Heredity?HUtory of a Fainll,
of Eight Children, Whose Father Wn
a Hard Drinker?Every Member Bu
One a Degenerate?An Awful Warning
I can possibly better illustrate what th<
term nervous diathesis means by detailini
the history of a neurotic family. Iti
father was a man of vigorous personality
strong of brain and in excellent bodiij
health. From early manhood, in order t<
more easily accomplish his work, he hac
indulged excessively in alcoholic stipu
lants, yet never to the extent of intoxjca
tion. The mother wa? a gentlewoman, ol
delicate, nervous organization, and re
fined mental temperament, worrying ovei
trifles, excitable, and, at times, suffering
from the milder forms of hysteria. A fam
ily of eight children was born to them. It
childhood high and frequent fevers with
out adequate cause were observed. Theii
dentition was frequently complicated b>
nnH ah thp ficrp r?r fr.wr* vmm
epiiepay developed in one of the children.
Another child, delicately molded, and extremely
precocious, could read at the age
of three, and displayed considerable ability
as a musician. She ^aa sent to school
when six, and was soon regarded as an infant
phenomenon, advancing rapidly in
her studies. She tailed to develop physically,
and early suffered from astigmatism.
At the age of twelve, owing possibly
to a slight fright, she became choreic, improved,
relapsed at the end of three
"month#, and finally recovered except for
slight habit spasms. A third child, apparently
normal and giving but little evidence
of any unusual nervous or physical
disturbance, yet developed a megrim at
the age of sixteen. Another daughter had
always shown a certain weakness of body, a
poor appetite, digestive disturbances and
constipation. Like the mother she was
nervous, and at times morbid. An unhappy
marriage and too- frequent bearing
of children resulted in a permanent melancholia.
The oldest boy was fairly bright,
but' provfed decidedly unruly in the &hool,
, and refused a university education. He
j worked faithfully and, untiringly, and rose
i to the head of a large business establishment,
manifesting no bodily or mental peculiarity.
TThe second son was excellently
endowed: At an early age he exhibited
marvelous activity, rapidly passing through
the various grades of the common schools,
and entered the university when barely
sixteen. . His university course was most
brilliant. He'was the honor man of his
class, was an excellent debater, -and led
I in religious work/ 'What was given him to
, do he. did-well, but his mentality was one
| of doubt, and he could not decide upon
his life work. Ht went to Harvard for a
I post-graduate course, then to 'Germany.
! While there he found brain (concentration
j impossible, worried much over trivial afi
fairs, and became very* despondent. There
so6n develqbed serious stomach derangements.
and he suffered greatly with intestinal
dyspepsia. He returned to his home
depressed, overwhelmed with morbid fears,
incapable of prolonged mental efforts, and
remains a confirmed neurasthenic. Another
son, with very much the' same hisi
tory, studied law, rose rapidly in his profession,
and, except for occasional dipsomaniac'outbreaks,
is fairly successful. The
fourth son was not bright, took but little
interest in nis studies, smritea wnen possible,
left school at an early age, coh:
sorted with evil companion^, and seemed
unable to comprehend his moral delinquencies,
wandered from place to place,
gambling and dissipating and finally became
a confirmed criminal. In this family
frroup onlv one became insane. The reason
far this development the family could not
possibly conceive, honestly' denying insane
heredity, yet every member of the
family, except one, presented either physical
or mental stigmata of degeneration.?
Dr. Robertson, in Occidental Medical
Times. > ,
Drlnlc Habit AlnonsfWorten.
Some surprising statements were made
at the late State Convention of the Connecticut
Catholic Total Abstinence Union
by th? Rev. Walter Shnnley, the Prfcsidetit
or the organization, in his annual
address to the assembled guests of the
State societies. The priest'talked on the
projects of temperance in the State, and
said that he regretted to say that while
habitual intemperance among men was
decreasing alcoholism among women was
becoming more comnion. He said in part:
"Considerable comment has, been niade
lately concerning the drink habit among
society women and the danger of this
growing custom amoi)g the women. Accordiiig
to competent authority, drinking
is decreasing among men, but increasing
among women, and among women of the
wealthier classes. It is to be regretted
that women. who vare leaders in society
imitate ,thei drinking customs of English
society, and, thfit the old American ideas
of respectability .jri this matter are fast
disaopearing. It is to be hoped that
Catholic women will not be brought to
itrinnt this dancp^mis HrinU fimliinn "
Mlnoe Plea Under a Ban.
Mrs. Cornelia .B, Forbes, President of
the Hartford Branch of, the Womab'a
Christian Temperance Union, has made
the discovery, that the required fee or
fiftv cents is not the stumbling block that
,BP" -he way of new recruits to that organ>n,
but homely and provincial cider.
O. .ount of this subtle and "danzerdus"
beverage, the society has relegated mince
pies to-the-'black list, and the New England
housewife who considers cider the essential
element to the success of her*pies
refuses on this account to join the ranks
of the white ribboners. Such was the reEort
made at a recent meeting in Hartford
y those who have been striving to increase
the membership.
- Salvation For the Slave of Drink.
What is the price of freedom for the
slave of drink? Self-denial! Is this hard?
Oh, husband! Oh, brother! take in hand
1:?.? :? 1?r?
Liial. giuoo ui li^uvu, ilium it UCIUIC JUUt
eyes and see therein the tear9 of a loving
wife, dear children, and blasphemies, woes
and miseries of which it has been the
cause, then tell me how you can deal it out
to others, or take it yourself. Oh! think
of the souls damned through the means
of it, who will risi* up on judgment day
against the drunkard and the vender of
drink, and then with all the horror of
which your soul is capable dash away the
fatal cup forever from your lips.
A Town Witliout Saloon*.
The Great Northern Railroad has won
its fight to prevent the incorporation of
the town of Hillyard, near Spokane. The
contest was rather peculiar in some particulars.
Hillyard is a town established
and owned by the company. In order to
secure entry for the saloons an attempt to
incorporate the town was made, but has
failed, and the railroad will continue to
run the town without saloons.
The Crncade In Brief.
At Bayonne, N. J., twenty saloons were
refused renewal of license and closed.
The Church Temperance Society of the
Protestant Episcopal Church is operating
fifteen ice-water fountains.
The trend in the direction of temperMice
is so marked in the South that the
daily newspapers are beginning t? take
notice of it and discuss it editorially.
Disking on the police force is not ti
be allowed in San Francisco. H. R. Smun
was fined $100 for being drunk on July 4,
and barely escapcd dismissal from the
forcc.
Citizens of PaiO Alto, Cal.. have defeated
the effort to establish a tavern with
a bar near the university grounds.
It would be a simple matter to be a
moder drinker if it were not 39 much
haruer to reluse the second drink than the
first one.
Under the Clark law, when even partially
enforced in Iowa, crime decreased to
a remarkable extent. In eighteen months
the aggregate convict population of_ the
two penitentiaries ran down from 750 to
532.
In Scotland the number of licensed
houses, taking the whole country through,
is one to over 300 of the population as
again jt one to 219 in England. The total
numher in 1896 was 11,421, including grocers'
licenses.
?
^ " R :' * }.'.. |
. : " ' ' *
- v ? *?r-' *r + :
.'a traitor ho the flag.
r Henry Yanc0-|Enters Alcatraz Military
Prison For Life. i
* V
J V
He Deserted in the Philippines and
* rj . .
f Joined the Insurgents?He Wu
. Sentenced to Be Shot.
; <ry'- /
' San Fran^sco (Special).?Triators to
r the flag of the United States have been
I rare in the army. Instances of hero
ism ar$.s6 common that it Is only a
| case of special daring that attracts gen.
eral attention. It is otherwise with a
^genuine case of treason. These are so
' rare that when a prisoner arrived here
i from the Philippines with the crime
charged against him remarkable inter;
eat was taken in the case. Investigu,
tipna of the man's antecedents proved
that lie was not a native of the United
States, and possibly not a citizen.
Henry Vance is the name of the man i
who deserted from the American ranks ]
and went over to the Filipinos, aiding (
and comforting them and leading ,
them, in a Major's uniform, against
the flag he had sworn to defend.
Little is known, of Vance's history
prior to the tteghmlng of the war in
Cuba. He was boni In the City *of
Mexico iwenty-seyen years ago, his
father being a Spaniard and his
mother a Mexican. He was In the
Spanish ranks in Cuba and fought
against the Americans for a time.
V/hen the Spaniards surrendered he
became a camp follower, attaching
himself to the Twenty-third United
States Infantry. He next turned up in
the Philippines, where he associated
with the Spaniards, working against
both the Americans and the Filipinos.
He was then known as Enrique Vance,
and he displayed such hostility to the
Americans that he stood In the line
of promotion to higher rank. But the
Spaniards lost, and while they were
being sent home home Vance hung
around the American quarters in Manila
and eventually enlisted In Company
I, Thirty-seventh Volunteers,
vvuifu >va? luuul' up largely or aischarged
soldiers re-enlisting in the
Philippines. He was made a musician,
and through his musical abilities and
Ingratiating manner he won many
friends among the Americans. After
some months of service he was protooted
to ,the post of principal musli
cian. All the while, It was discovered
later, he acted as a. spy for the Filipinos,
a- . .
/Sight toonths of service with the
Americans gave the traitor a good Insight
into the methods of the Americans
?tad a, fojr idea of-their plans of
camp&l&n. . Completing his sticret aegotlatiim?
with Aguinaldo or other officers
acting in Agulnaldo'a behalf, \
Vance secured a commission of Majo." (
in the Filipino Army and deserted.
For a long time he was supposed to*
hl)T0 haan IrtlloH Thon ronnrto nama f
In of his capture. Still later rumors ! 1
spread that be bad been seen among 1
the FiUgitnos wearing a uniform and t
assisting in operations against the ?
Americans. . E
It was Vance's trick of imitating
American bugle callp thafled to his ,
capture and conviction as a traitor. A
small party of soldiers of the Forty- 8
second Infantry laid a ,trap for the 8
traitor and succeeded in capturing him <
five months after he had joined the r
Filipinos. He was accompanied by y
two half naked Filipinos, and pretend- j
ed to be a prisoner in their bands, t
The Filipinos told another story. They .
declared thijt they were acting under
his orders, and that he held the rank a
of Major. As Vance wore side arms
at the time, and could have easily I'
overpowered the-,'Filipinos if. he had b
so minded, the assertion of his com- g
panions was accepted^as true and e
Vance was charged with^deaertion and ^
treason.* ; tl
, In company with other prisoners,
ttoaaa mna +n irnn f a ??' t) it? d
? ttuvv nuo luucu IU IUC yuovu ui i>ur
bid pending court-martial. He was 4
found guilty of desertion and treason o
and was sentenced to be shot The li
findings were forwarded to President l?
McKlnley, who commuted Vance's i
sentence to imprisonment for ninety- ^
nine years. Vance, with other Amerl
can prisoners, was conveyed to Manila
and placed on board-the transport
Thomas, bound for San Francisco. [
Upon arrival at San Francisco the
prisoners, Including Vance, were soon
marched on board a tug bound for Alcatraz
Island. Not onev of the other
prisoners noticed Vance or conversed
with him. He was In disgrace even
among disgraced men. The tug made i
her way to the steep hill that stands c
guard at the entrance of the Golden t
Gate, and Vance turned for the ltust t
time to gaze upon the sceng of life before
him. Then, heavily manacled,
he stepped within the gloomy walls 8
that crown the great rock, never to re- t
appear alive. The last object that at- T
tracted his gaze was the Stars and
Stripes, floating from the parapet. f
Fatal Panic In Russia.
Five thousand pilgrims assembled at 0
the St. Nlkander Monastery, In the e
Porkhoff District, Russia, for a relig- c
lous festival. A panic was caused by a
a false alarm of Are, and four men c
1 and thirty-six women were crushed j
to death, many others being seriously t
'njured.
* Population of Delaware. (
The Census Bureau, at Washington, j
has announced that the population of rj
Delaware In 1900 is 184,735, as against .
16S.493 In 1890, representing an in- ?
crease since 1890 of 16,242, or 9.6 per 11
cent. , 0
a
Boers Capture Three Towns. t
The Boers now occupy Wepener. as +
well as Rouxville and Ficksburg, in a
Orange River Colony, and the British
are attempting to surround them.
I
Former Postmaster Insane. V
Former Postmaster Henry A. Thorn- t'
as, of Boston, has been committed to b
the McLean Asylum. Colonel Thornas,
who has been ill with brain frou- .
ble for a long time, has grown worse
recently, and the physicians say that ?
the case now Is hopeless. v
New Revolt In San Domingo. V
The Government of San Domingo g
has decreeu the suspension of oonstltutlonal
guarantees on account of a
revolutionary movement in the inte- *
rlor, headed by General Plchardo. r
? o
Minor Mention. 1]
InfieUler Quinn received his release S
from Cincinnati. .1
California Presbyterians have voted 1:
not to change the creer1. o
A Minnesota man has found a pearl 0
worth $2000 in a clam shell. ' t
Immigration to the port of New
York increased 100,000 last year. 1J
All the conductors of the Brookfleld
(Mass.) Trolley line have been appoint- ?
ed special officers. r
I Wild dhcks are so plentiful in Colo- t.
fadu that in some counties premiums jj
are offered for their destruction. f
i ;
W'> ' V' I
' W*i.. a
Make Good Photograph Motinti. ^
The mednlllon tanpstrv snimrpu ?f.i
ten used for library and parlor plllow?( . <?
are sometimes converted Instead lnto:
photograph mounts. The medallion! v-;i ,1;
centre Is cut out, the edge turned back
and neatly bound with gold or silver
braid, and the picture Inserted. Ia
this way the tapestry becomes a wall - ?
hanging or may be, mounted Qn a
3tandard to stand on a mantel or
large table. Tapestry pieces abont
eighteen inches square should be selected.
Luncheon Table*. ' ; $!
For any luncheon, however elaborite
or however simple, one begins to 1' A
jet the table in the same way.. There
must always be flowers oc.fruits, or
sometimes both, la the middle of the S
table. These differ naturally, with
the season. At many large lun- , "$
:heons It is impossible to exchange
i word with one's neighbor because of
:he high flowers between. Many persons
use silver on ihe table for flowjrs,
but men with very aesthetic natures
are apt to cry out. Still, a silver ;
bowl filled with mullein leaves, cov- '$
jred with dew,', makes a charming J.vj
study In color, anci In country houses
is often used.' "SHtver vases and pitchers
for flowers appear on most of the N
fashionable tabled, although lovers of J
the beautiful insfgt -on crystal, fine
pieces of Venetian gjass, or even on V,
luaint bits of potteSy for their flow;rs.
People with lHtJe to choose
Trom, therefore, need 'not bemoan a (1
'ate which compels them to use glass V ' ;
ind not silver. A flsh-bowl is-ijfry
'erred by some people who hav^plenty A
)f silver' to choose from. Ten-cebt V-^
rases, holding ferns and wild flowers. .
ire chosen by some women in the
rountry, rich enough to have'anything " ' r,
hey want, but1 preferring the simpllclles
and the appropriate at,all costs.? , .
larper's Bazar. '
For Burn* and Bruises. N
The most Important point in the ;
ireatment of burns is.to at once ex-i
jlude the air. Cotjtyn'wool saturated ^ :
yith sweet oil is a .safe and Effective '
ippllcation. Do no|t,jrteinove.th4 dress- ,
ng until the Irritation has subsided. ' Js
n the country mother^ often cover ,
heir children's burns with flour. In a]
lerious cases a mixture of, sweet oQ
md molasses is> favored^ Vaseline will
lometlmes be sufficient. If the. air Is ' ;
ceDt awav nature will senerallv re
" ?= -?* >,'
itore the tissue without other assist* 'y,
mce. i _
Table oil or fresh butter rubbed ini* ,,-j
aedlately on a slight bruise will pre- /''/:?
'dnt swelling or disfigurement. But
f the bruise is severe of course a lit- ^
le raw-beefsteak is better. A slight . ,
iruise may often be best treated by
compress wet with witch haoel. ' 5 $8
The first thing to do with a sprain \h')
3 to apply water as hot as can be r'.
orne, and repeat until the pain Is
one. The hot water may be showred
on the sprain, or wet cloths may '';'
e used if frequently renewed. The
oot or ankle can be conveniently im
lersed in the hot water. The next
bing is to keep the injured part thor- -iV,
ughly warm. This is done by wind- t 1
Dg it with wadding or flannel. The
ess a sprined limb is used, the quieter ..
t is kept, the more likely It is to get ;
rell quickly.'
S
j if ^
Maple bugar Ice Cream?For a fam- j
ly of four persons beat a cupful of (
oaple syrup without stirring it Break
he yolks of four eggs into a bowl and 1
urn the hot syrup over them very slowy,
beating constantly. When the eggs
ind syrup are cool fold in carefully a
lint of cream that has been previously
rhipped, and freeze. ^
Baked Tomatoes?Remove the stems
rom some nice ripe tomatoes of an
ven size, cut them in halves and take
>ut the seeds. Lay them in a buttered
arthen dish, fill them with finely
hoppeJ ham, add a little cayenne,
ome grated Parmesan cheese and
over with fine buttered bread crumbs.
Jake ill a moderate oven iur auum
hree-quarters of an hour.
Frlcaseed Chicken with Oysters?
Jook tlie chicken until tender, then /v
ry in butter until nicely browned.
.'hlcken tne liquid in which it was
oiled with flour, made smooth in ont>
lalf cupful of cream; add one pint ol
ysters, reason with pepper and salt
ud cook until the edges ruffle. Place
he chicken on a ptatter, pour the oysers
over, garnish with toast points
nd ?erve.
Old-Fashioned Buckwheat Cakes?
Mssolve one cake of yeast in warm
rater, add one pint of warm water,
tr>rrx fnoannAnfnlci r\f coif* nnrl
uckwheat to make a stiff batter. Let
: rise over night, thin with uiilk; add
tvo tablespoonfuls of molasses or suar.
and let stand for oie bour in a -^3
rami place, then add two-thirds of a
;aspoonful of soda dissolved in a little
rarm water and bake op a greased , ,|
riddle.
Conipolio of Calf's Feet?Get from
be butcher three calf's feet. Split,
euiove the large bone, wash thor- yjgfi
ughly and simmer for an hour and a
all' in two quarts of water, adding a j
ill of vinegar, two teaspoons of salt |
nd twelve peppercorns. In another
ettle place two tablespoons of olive J
l). two onions .sliced, two croon anu <
no rod popper sliced, one-half can of
cmiatoes; cooL twenty minutes, then
ild one cup of cleaned rice and one
line of the rich calf's feet stock, ana i
s the rice swells continue adding the
lock until the rice Ins absorbed all It j
an. Before removing from tbe fire ,
dd the calf's fc?t and ji snltspoon of
eppcr. D'.^h surround-.* i w!ib tweu- J
y-four bluach-d aad stoned o.ivcs. I