Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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f By Rev. Frink De Witt Talmatfe, D. D. Los Angeles, Cal., Aug. 14.—In bis aermon the preacher shows how one sin breeds other sins, how remorse tor tures and makes cowards of men and how human nature is pretty much the ^<ame today as in the time of Adam. The text is Genesis ill, 8, “And Adam and his wife hid themselves.” “Where was the garden of Eden?” is the theme of a never ending discus sion. Some think its site was at the north pole. The site of the garden does not, however, concern us so much as the event which took place there. Man was put on his trial in that gar den, and he failed. The consequences of his disobedience have come down to us, for all his descendants have been deprived of the blessings which would have been theirs had he obeyed God. I do not wonder that the sterile region around the north pole should have seemed a fitting scene for the catas trophe. In the course of the ages It may have been that the glory and fer tility of Eden may have been trans formed Into a region of ice and snow. Many have tried to penetrate it and have failed. It seems as If the guardian angel, with her sword, who once stood at the gate of Eden, saying to the first an cestor. of the human race, “Thus far shalt thou go and no farther,” stands today with the same warning message for the children of the twentieth cen tury. Her garments of the white “wings of a dove covered with silver, md her feathers with yellow gold,” have been changed for the long flowing robes of spotless snow. She is perhaps the same sentinel, although her ward robe of springtime has been thickened Into the heavy toga of winter. Instead of swinging in her hand a sword of fire, she now holds in tight grip her glittering blade of Ice. Site of Garden of Eden. Some think the garden of Eden was fragrant with the flowers of a conti- -• nent which once stretched between the old world and the new. Explor ing parties have gone forth and have claimed that they have located with their sounding lines the lost Atlantis. They assert that the islands of the New Hebrides are only the highest mountain peaks of that famous conti nent which was sunk by tidal wave and engulfed by earthquake. Some claim that the garden of Eden was In Persia, others that it was watered, by the onflowlngs of the mighty Nile, others that it was in India and still others that it was in central China. But here today, in the words of my text, we are not concerned with the site of the garden of Eden, but with the conduct of our first parents after they had sinned. No sooner had Adam and his wife eaten of the forbidden fruit than they hid themselves, as frightened hares bide themselves in the Jungles of the forests from the baying hounds. The voice of God call ing them to confession of their sin was a summons to Judgment which they would have evaded if they had been able. Our first parents hid ihemselves aft- * er they had sinned. That is always ^ the impulse of the conscious sinner. He shrinks from meeting the God whom he has offended. A famous writer once declared, “The sins of the garden of Eden are as old as the dawn of creation, yet, like the rising sun, each day they are ever fresh and have new applications for each changing hour.” . What we first want to do is to find out how Adam and Eve sulked away Into the Edenic Jungles to hide them selves after they had eaten of the fruit of the forbidden tree, then to ask whether living men and women are not now acting in the same way in trying to conceal themselves In similar hiding places. I want to show them bow vain are such attempts at con cealment from the omniscient eye of God and by the help of the Holy Spirit to woo them from their retreats and lead them to bend in humble contrition at the foot of the cross. Application of the Text. Modern application the first. We find Adam and Eve hiding away from God In the garden of Eden when we see men and women shunning the faces of those whom they have wronged. We find the Satanic retreat of the first par adise In the skulking feet and the averted gaze and the conspicuous ab sence of those who after they have In jured a brother llee his presence even as the prodigal son when he desired to do wrong planned to take his goods and leave his father’s house and go Into the far country where he would not be in the presence of his parents, whose hearts the wayward boy was breaking. It is a peculiar but incon trovertlble fact that sin, no matter whether spasmodic or habitual, pro duces a sense of humiliation and deg radation In the presence of its victims whom it has deceived or injured. Thus Herod, the tetrarch, although he was a great Roman governor, trembled when he thought the beheaded John the Baptist was risen from the dead. Remorse is a terrible castlgator. She has in her hand the grip of an un- 4 breakable steel vise. She wields a whip which has a thousand lushes. Each revolution of her avenging arm fetches the heart’s blood a thousand times. Even under the very brightest of conditions remorse is a merciless and an implacable torturer. I once asked an old soldier this question: “Captain, did you ever kill a man in the civil war?” At once his eyes took on a faraway look. Then he slowly and regretfully answered me: “I have asked myself that same question a thousand times, but I have never dared answer it, even to myself. I know, however, that some of our com pany’s rifles must have killed some soldiers during the civil war. I know, furthermore, that when I was a young man I was a crack shot. When as a boy I went hunting, I never used a shotgun, but always a rifle. I could ns easily hit a flying bird or a leaping Jack rabbit with one ball as I could put four out of every five rifle shots Into the bull’s eye of a target. I fur thermore knew that there were certain battles in which we could see the whites of the enemy’s eyes. I was one of the best of sharpshooters. But I never knew absolutely whether I killed a man, because I never wanted to know. I would not want to see the face of a man whom I turned into a corpse and to realize that I had wreck ed that man’s home. I would not want to know that I had made his wife a widow and bis children orphans. After the battles were over I never crossed the fields in the direction where I had been shooting. I was afraid to see the proofs of my marksmanship." Remorse, even when we are in the line of duty, has awful results. How much more terrible is it for one to look upon the toce of one whom the sinner has wronged. Oh, sinner, let me prove to you that you are now, like Adam and Eve, hid ing In one of the Satanic retreats. Why do you dislike Mrs. So-and-so? She was the wife of one of the best friends you ever had. Has she wronged you? No. The reason you dislike her and never want to be seen in her compan ionship is because that dead friend left you the executor of his estate. You mismanaged it. You criminally mis managed it. You used her money for your own benefit If that widow had wanted, she might have put you in Jail. Now you hate her. You never want to meet her, not because she has wronged you, but because you have wronged her. Why We Do So* ForKlve. Why is that lifetime friendship be tween you and your school chum broken up? You were both born in the same country village. You grew up together. You played ball together, flew kites together, went fishing in the old brook together, sat side by side be hind the same school desk and ate your lunches out of each other’s basket. You came to the city on the same train, lived in the same boarding house and went to work at the same city store on the same day. Why are you estranged? I will tell you. You both fell in love with the same girl. In order to win that girl’s affections you lied about your old friend. You circulated evil re ports about his past life, when you knew that no squarer, truer man ever lived. You said his family was not re spectable, when his mother used to be a second mother to you and helped nurse you when you were sick. You hate your old school friend not because he has done an injustice to you, but be cause you have done an injustice to him. “What is the matter with Mr. So-and-so?” I once asked my father. “He never comes around the house as he used to do.” “No,” said father, “he is my enemy. I loaned him some mon ey. He would not pay me back. How ever, for old times’ sake I forgave him the debt and said it was all right. But he has never forgiven me the injustice he has done me.” But again I learn that our first an cestors sought other refuges besides leaf and flower and clinging vine and tree trunk and bush. It is true that the tropical forests are so dense that they make excellent hiding places. Sir Gordon Gumming, the great hunter of wild beasts, tells us that the Ceylon jungles In places are so impenetrable to the eye that the keenest and most experienced hunters may sometimes be unable to distinguish the wounded elephantine monster only a few yards away, though the valleys and the mountain sides may be thunderous with the bellowings of the dying wild beast. But sin never tries to cover up sin by the curtain of leaf alone. Sin always tries to conceal sin behind the bulwarks of other sins. Thus, when Adam and. Eve hid themselves from the presence of God in the garden, they tried to conceal their sin with the sin of falsity. They pretended they did not hear God when he called. They tried to conceal sin by saying, "The reason we have not answered thee, O God, is because we were unclothed and dare not appear before thee naked, as thou didst create us." They tried to conceal sin in exactly the same way as thousands and tens of thousands of living men try to conceaj sin with sin. Ah, the “poisonous ivy” behind which Adam and Eve concealed themselves was not an arbor of oak, but an arbor of lies and deceits. If they had spoken the truth, they would have said, “The shame we feel, the shame that forced us to hide ourselves from thy presence, is due to our consciousness of wrong doing.” CoaceallnK Sin. How does man try to conceal his first sin behind a mighty bulwark of many sins? Here is a young man who has been brought up in a country home. He was raised up right. He had his first gospel lessons instilled into him at the family altar, in the Sunday school, and in the church pew, where, as a little child, he used to be taken to hear the service, and would sleep through the long sermon, clasped In his mother's arms. Away from home he falls into bad companionship. He gradually gets into the habit of spend ing his evening* in billiard halls, and his Sundays on excursion trains and picnic parties. He drinks a little. He plays cards a little. He dresses a little better than he can afford. He runs a little in debt. One night while seeing some of Ids companions gambling he says to himself, “Why cannot I make ■t little money that way?” He Is a col lector for the store. He plays and loses. He plays again and loses. He feels again for utoney in his pocket. Now his cheeks pale and his hands tremble, for his fingers have touched the envelope which belongs to his em ployer. lie says to himself: "I must win. I will borrow $5 and pay it back very soon.” He plays again and loses; again, and Ins s. What is the result? ihc next day he dare not confess, so he u K’tors bis accounts. He keeps on using other people’s money until at last one night in order to conceal his past sins he forges. Then all the in fernal regions clap their hands for Joy. At last they have a new victim. The law places its heavy hand upon that young man’s shoulder. A striped suit and a penitentiary cell and a broken hearted mother are the results of the sinner trying to conceal his sin behind a bulwark of many sins. But why invent a parable to illus tmte my thought? We can, if we would, find a conspicuous illustration in the history of our own country by following the downward path of one whose name might have been among the most honored In American history. All intelligent men, women and chil dren in this audience have spoken the name of Benedict Arnold with execra tion and contempt. Living or dead, the sentence which this imblttered ex ile spoke to the fugitive Charles Mau rice Talleyrand, who was asking him for letters of introduction to friends in America, is true: “I am the only man born in America, who fought in the American war for liberty, who has not a friend in all America. I am Bene dict Arnold, the traitor.” But today 1 do not see alone Arnold the traitor. I do not see merely the betrayer of West Point. I see, first, Benedict Arnold the hero of Ticonder- oga. I see Benedict Arnold the hero and comxuander of the wonderful ex pedition against Quebec, which in 1775 In midwinter marched through the Maine woods. I see Benedict Arnold wounded before the walls where Wolfe fell and where Montcalm breathed his last. I see Benedict Arnold of Lake Champlain and the conqueror at Ridge field, Conn. I see Benedict Arnold who fought in the first battle of Sara toga and Benedict Arnold, the Phil Sheridan of the second battle of Sara toga, who turned the ebbing tides of defeat into the flood tides of a victory that submerged Burgoyne and his troops even as Pharaoh and his hosts were drowned in the Red sea. Then I see this wounded hero, Benedict Ar nold, wounded the second time at Sara toga, being appointed to the command of the city of Philadelphia, to rest there until his wounds healed. Then I see the aristocracy of the American capital making a pet, a social Hon, of this hero of heroes. Then I see Benedict Arnold running into debt to pay the expenses of his social triumphs and not knowing how to extricate himself. Then I see him led on by sin to conceal sin until at last he had to do something to save himself from financial as well as social disgrace. Then I see him, as a last re sort to conceal sin, trying to barter away the citadel of American inde pendence, West Point. Ah, my friends, when Benedict Arnold started on his downward path of extravagance he never Intended to be a traitor. His attempt to betray West Point was merely the culmination of a long series of attempts to conceal sin. Beware of the first glass, the first He, the first taste of the fruit of the forbidden tree. Oh, yes. But, more than that, beware of the infernal folly of trying to conceal sin with sin. But as we push our way through the flower gardens and the hedges of par adise and see our guilty ancestors standing before God I feel that they are not wdlllng to leave their hiding places of sin even after the embowered roofs and the curtains of leaves have been torn aside, and the guilty pair are compelled to confess that the fruit of the forbidden tree has been placed against their lips. Even now they are both trying to conceal sin within sin. What is the man trying to do? Why, he is trying to throw' all the blame of his sin upon his wife. What is the woman trying to do? She is no bet ter. They are both tarred with the same black pitch of meanness. Why, she is trying to throw the blame of her sin upon the serpent. The man said, “The woman whom thou gavest to me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat” The woman said, “The ser pent beguiled me, and I did eat” The young Adam of the present day says, “I believe all my evil desires were in herlted from my ancestors, and they are to blame, and not myself.” The young Eve of modern times, lifting the glass of wine to her lips Just before her doom, says: “I am not to blame. Other people drink. Every one of my friends drink; therefore they set me an example I must follow. They are to blame, not myself.” The young drunkard blames the saloon keeper for selling him the whisky. The saloon keeper justifies himself by’ pleading that the voter approves of his having a license to stand behind the bar. The ReapoBalbllltr of Bin. I believe in many cases the responsi bility of sin may be placed upon other shoulders than upon those of the one who has to suffer. That was a ter rible indictment Peter Neldermeyer, the Chicago bandit, hurled at the churches when in April, 1004, he stood under the shadow of the gallows and said: “It is all well enough to pray with me now’, but it is too late. Who are my two companions and myself, about to die? We Itelong to the great army of the poor, miserable, social out casts. We grow up In the slums, hah’ starved and always miserable. We work day after day like slaves, to die miserably. If the churches did some- fiiug more for those who need their 1 aid in the struggle to earn a living they would do more good than they can by converting men about to be hanged." ' Ah, yes, there was a thunderbolt of terrible truth hurled in that one say ing by a man who was facing eternity. But, though in some cases the respon sibility of sin may J>e placed upon oth er .shoulders, this was not true of Ad am's sin. It was not true of Eve’s sin. | It is not true of your sin. It is not true j of my sin. God is willing to give you and me enough spiritual strength to : resist any temptation which confronts us if we only go to him for help, as he was ready to help Adam and Eve. And, my friends, In reference to our own sins let us have the manliness to acknowledge them. In the courts even a criminal earns the contempt of his fellows w’hen, ns they say, “he pleads the baby act.” The way to forgiveness is by humble confession, and there is no other way. If a man will not take that way he ought to realize that he is dooming himself to destruction, that excuses are of no avail and that he himself and no other Is responsible. Never charge you - doom upon your mother, your wife, your child, your surroundings, when you have no one to blame but your own sinful self. Do not try to conceal sin with cowardly words such as those which Adam ut tered when he said, “Yes, I sinned, but the woman whom thou gavest to t»e with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.” But why should our first ancestors have concealed themselves in their hid ing places of sin? Why should they have run away after the fruit of the forbidden tree was eaten? Why did they Incriminate each other and the serpent after they were brought forth from their arboreal retreat? Did God want to destroy them, as so many seem to think? I confess that in my younger days I used to picture God as a tyrant, a monster, when he was seek ing those two frightened, fleeing sin ners. I used to think his voice was harsh and condemnatory, that the call, “Adam, where art thou?” had in it the roar of a wild African Hon starting forth at night to seek his prey. But a few years ago my mind entirely chang ed in reference to this, for then I heard a great English preacher say: “This call of God in the garden of Eden was not the call to death, but to life. God’s call, ‘Adam, where art thou?’ was the pleading call of a sorrowing father seeking a lost and a wayward child.” It is the same kind of a call the pil grim fathers used when as a searching party they went forth into the dark woods seeking a lost child. It is the same call that you would give If your boy were lost in the Jungles of the Indian hills. Then you would call, “My child, oh, my child, cannot you hear my voice?” As God was calling to our ancestors to come forth out of their hiding places of sin and they would be forgiven, God the Father is calling to you and to me: “Come home, ye wearied and lost sinner. Come home.” Love Relirned Everywhere. Thus we started this sennon with a garden; we are going to end it with a garden. The apostle Paul sees in the story of our first homestead a wrecked and disorganized animal and vegetable and ichthyological and ornithological and human world. He leads us to see how the whole creation—the birds of the air, and the fishes of the sea, and the beasts of the forest, and the flow ers of the fields—were influenced through and had their natures changed by the sins of man. Once love reigned everywhere. Now the law of life is dependent upon the “survival of the fittest.” The eagle begins to mount higher and higher and higher, not to come nearer to the heavens to see God. but that on account of the greater altitude he can have a wider horizon to swoop; that with his keen eye he may see the helpless dove afar off, into which the feathered murderer can plunge that terrible beak and rip and tear and slay. Once the trees as lovers stretched forth their arms of branches and with rustle and moan talaed to each other until for very love they trembled with delight. Then it was affection, wooing affection, and tender ness, enchanting tenderness. But now the batteries of the storms are un- Hmbered, and the thunderbolts are aimed at their hearts. Now the mighty forest giants, not as lovers, but as dy ing warriors, groan and totter and fall. Once the lion and the lamb lay down side by side to sleep. But after the sin of man the caress of the shag gy brute was the prelude to a bite by which the helpless lamb was gash- ed and torn and became a meal for its foe. But this is not the end. The same inspired writer tells us that the time will come when creation Itself also "shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.” Then shall the day of universal peace dawn, which the ancient prophet described, when not only will men cease from war, but the animal creation will cease to de vour one another, and again “the wolf shall also dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall He down with the kid, and the cow and tfie bear shall feed, and their young ones shall He down together, and the lion shall eat straw with the ox, and the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his band on the cockatrice's den. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy temple, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, ns the waters cover the seas.” Oh, my brother, will you not be lieve that this call of God the Father to his wayward children may mean a paradisaic, an Edenic and a redeemed world, glorified with love on the land, in the heavens and under the seas? Will you not heed the Father’s call, which is today seeking you even in your shameful hiding places? (Copyright, 1904, by Louis Klopsch ] Gome to Us for Your Wagons We handle the W. E. Spach hand made Wagon, also the Piedmont, two of the best makes of Wagons that are on the market. “Don’t Forget It, The Anchor Buggy” We are Agents for Gibbs Machinery Co., of Columbia, fe. G., and can fit you up with auy kind of machinery on short notice. R. M. Wilkins Hdw. Co. All Hinds of Job Work done at The Ledger office neatlv and at prices commensurate with high grade work. Try us. This Bank Pays Fonr Per Cent. On All Gaffney Savings Bank. Capital Stock Paid In Thirty Thousand Dollars. D. C. Ross, Prest. J. Q. Little, J. A. Carroll, B. L. Hames. J. G. Wardlaw. Vice-P. Directors. J. N. Lipscomb, R. M. Wilkins, W. C. Carpenter, D. C. Ross. Maynard Smyth, Cashier. William Jefferies, J. G. Wardlaw, O. E. Wilkins, Commercial Printing Of every description executed with neatness and dispatch at The Ledger office, Gaffney, S. C. New Type, New Presses, the finest quality of Ink and Paper, and Compe tent Workmen. Send us your orders. CUT URICES I have “knifed” the prices on all Slippers, Straw Hats and summer Dress Goods. Now is your time to get Slippers and Straw Hats for less than whole sale price. My entire line of summer goods, consisting of Lawns, India Linens, Batistes, Organdies, Dotted Swiss, Dimities and White Waistings in lace-stripe effects will be sold at cost for cash—no goods charg ed in this sale. I will also close out a lot of Ladies Summer Under vests at greatly reduced prices during this sale. We will offer a big lot of youths’, boys’and chil dren’s Suits at cost for the next few days. Bring the little gents around and let us fit them up in a nice suit for a little money. We will also offer a few men’s two-piece Suits at cost to close out. We have had a very flattering trade on Negligee Shirts and Gent’s Furnishings generally but still have a nice assortment to select from. See us be fore buying your shirts. Good Flour from $2.00 to $2.GO per 100—every sack guaranteed. One and two two quart Fruit Jars at prices that can’t be beat. If you are looking for goods at money-saving prices go to my store at Goforth’s, S. C., or come to my store in the city. Yours for trade, J-1- GOOD NEWS I A full line of Cut Class If you are going to buy, why not buy the best. I Cherokee Drug Co. ^ Prescription Druggists. E Corner Limestone and Frederick Sts., Gaffney, S. C. ^