The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, June 02, 1904, Image 2
01oldetahij
CopjTjrht IVi bjr Bo
CHAPTER XIV 1
THE CBYPT.
The human mind, though busiest
jrheo exchanging ideas in conversation
;with others, dives depest in solitude.
Probably no case was ever profoundly
considered unless the student wasi
Alone, and never so profoundly as
when involuntarily?when the mental
faculties are so absorbed in contenfplaticn
of one subject that diversion
from it is as being awakened from
fe alee p
I experienced this truth when?having
retired to my room, set down the
lantern, and exchanged my boots for
Uppers?I placed my elbows on the
mantelpiece and my head upon my
band*, and stood so for I know not
flow iong. That such was my attitude
Yor not less than two hours I am sure
I from the~ interruption which dispelled
... my reverie.
I bad emptied my pockets, end all
.the money I possessed?six sovereigns
And some odd shillings?lay before me
on the mantelpiece. Perhaps it was
the sight of the9e few coins which led
me to review my experiences of the
past twelve days, and to seriously ask
myself for the last time oeiure seeding
.issuranoe by actual essay, what
were my chances to find the treasure
which had been deposited in the crypt
beneath my father's house. That the
treasure of which I had that day read
bad been disposed of as described by
; f my ancestor. 1 did not for a moment
, . doubt; that such a treasure should be
suffered to rest undisturbed for more
than two hundred years, there were
many reasons to doubt. Yet was it
j not distinctly asserted by Roger True V
man that the treasure was In the Abbot's
Cell In the crypt?that it was to
remain there until he built a hospital?
Might not the bricked-up arch which
my aunt Gertrude had noticed when
she went over Holdcnhurst Hall be
^ ' this same Abbot's Cell alluded to by
f- my ancestor; and might not the reason
; for its being bricked up be to secure its
contents? And if that were so, could
a. ft^ymjeuts be other than the quarter
HP0?qjj0VwMllOa Venetian sequins which
bad io strfifaj.f fallen 'into my ancestor's
possession and been as strangely
bestowed by him? It must be so. No
>?ne of my family had ever built or
'endowed a hospital?no one of them
* bad ever possessed so much money
sls a quarter of a million Sequins, im,v
less it were this same Roger Trueman:
auid had so large a sum of money been
found In our house and appropriated
by any member of my family at'any
period I could not have failed to hear
U' ef It. -Yes; the money must certainly
be there, and I would presently go below
and look at it, aud my father aud
s. I would fetch it upstairs in the morning.
Then would my father and I in;T,
sist on returning to uncle Sam the
Hi umsf which he had so generously
(( given to us; then would I ask Con- *.
stance Marsh to become my wife;
tiienWhat
a thing is money?the epitome
of all men's desires! Why, those six
small yellow counters lying ou the
shelf before me would buy the hard
<Iaiiy labor of an East Anglian giant,
who to gain them would sweat and
toll In the parched fields from sunrise
to sunset for twelve weeks?wages
-current this last quarter of the nine*
tcenlh century. For less than two of
them will not a man labor in darkness
hi the bowels of the earth with constant
peril to life or limb, or stand before
a roaring furnace, or work in the
noxious air of a factory amid the maddening
whirl of machinery for a week,
esteeming himself fortunate if such
elender means of life so earned be not
denied him? For want of these same
coun:ers has not a loving husband and
lather watched his wife pine and his
child die? Auswer, you who have
t>een up aud down this England of
ours, you who have traversed her
towns and villages. you who know how
the 7>oor live and how they die, is it
not so? Why, la the towns of Christian
Englaud, is every man plucked
toy the sleeve who passes along the I
bjeway? What is the cause? Lust?
Kay; dire need of a pitifully few silver
counters, and the inability of hundreds
of thousands of women to gain them
by means more honorable. Even I,
whose life has not yet run to two decades.
and who have always lived remote
from the busy haunts of men,
car:not but knows these truths; and is
it not wrong iu one who has youth,
leisure, and the luxuries of life to so
pass onately desire to grasp this treasure,
which he has doue nothing to ac?juir>..
and which certainly is not his?
JBuc a few days ago, and the whole
aplric of greed was foreign to my nature,
now is my whole being dominated
by it. Alas, cau it be that Love,
purest of passions, evokes Avarice?
.No; desire of that which is necessary
in compassing a natural and laudable
. .ambition is not avarice. These se?juir.s
are necessary to me if I am to
win the girl upon whom I have set
any heart; nay. more, perhaps they I
*bave been reserved iu this mysterious I
way for this special object. Have!
% not ibe wise uieu of the earth in every
ascribed what are commonly called
. jnjc>:eries to the orderly decrees of
irstglHa^
?v;
ALTER BLOOMFlELD
BERT B JSXF.R'8 SOXS.
high powers? But for ray love of
Constance Marsh the question whether
there exists a hidden treasure in our
house or not would only languidly interest
me. Che sara sara. Now will I
light my lantern and go below. If?
Heavens! what was that? #
I turned about in a fright as great
as that of a thief disturbed in his nefarious
work, yet it was nothing more
than a gentle tapping on the outside
of my door. It was now a quarter of
an hour past midnight, and my father
and the servants should have been in
oea at jeasi two uuuro. ?-ys a
at my watch the tapping was repeated,
as gently as before. I am ashamed
to confess how much this simple circumstance
alarmed me. I listened intently
for a mmute, conscious of nothing
but the loud ticking of my watch
and the violent throbbing of my heart,
when the tapping was repeated a third
time, still very softly. With a great
effort I disguised my terror, and called
out boldly?
"Who's there?"
"It's only me, Master Ernest," replied
the feeble voice of John Adams.
"What do you want?" I asked, flinging
the door wide open.
"Are you 111? Is there anything I
can do for you?" inquired the old
man. '
"No, I am not ill, and there is nothing
you can do for me. Why do you
trouble me with such an absurd inquiry?"
"I thought I heard you walking
about, and that I saw a light in your
room."
I "Why, I have not moved off the
hearth-rug these two hours or more,
and the only light here is that taper
on the mantelpiece."
"You are not aner.v with me. Master
Ernest ?" jileaded the old man.
"No, no; why should I be? You are
very attentive. Go to bed at once."
I watched the old man as he slowly
waited away along the corridor carrying
a lighted candle in one hand,
and shading its dame with the other,
and did not re-enter my room until
after I hod heard bis door close.
This simple incident abated much
of my Courage, and caused me to postpone
my visit to the crypt for a full
hour. I was very anxious and nervous,
but not to be deterred from carrying
out my resolve. At half-past one
o'clock I quietly emerged from my
room, closing the door behind mc as
noiselessly as possible. In one hand
I carried a lantern?lighted, but with
the wick turned so low that it emitted
only a feeble gleam?and in the other
a riding whip without a thong, on the
butt of which a heavy hammer was
mounted?an instrument used by my
sporting forefathers for opening obstinate
dve-barred gates. I tried to
persuade myself that I carried this
weapon solely to assist in removing
any lumber or other inanimate obstruction
which might lie between me
and the object of my search, and not
for defense?an ingeuious but unsuccessful
attempt at self-deception.
The light from my lantern, feeble
though it was, caused my form to cast
an enormously exaggerated shadow
on the floor and wall of the corridor.
The carpe s had been removed from
the corridor and stairs, a circumstance
I had not considered, aud despite my
soft slippers and careful tread, a distinctly
audible and weird creaking proclaimed
each step I set. I paused for
a moment outside Old John's door. It 1
was closed and all was dark and silent |
within. The creaking of the stairs was
so loud that had any inmate of our
house chanced to have been lying 1
awake my errand must have iufalli- 1
bly been betrayed.
Once in the eutrance hall, I again
paused. All was still and quiet as the
grave. Setting down my lantern, I
took from my pocket a huge key I had
been careful to abstract from its accustomed
place a few hours before,
and which opened a door in a stillroom
at the back of the entrance hall,
whence a steep flight of steps led down
into the crypt. There was now no
further danger of disturbing anybody,
and I entered the stillroom with confidence,
but was annoyed to find the
door which opened on the steps which
led to the crypt standing partly open;
and reproached myself for my carelessness?for
doubtless I was the last
person there?regarding the circumstance
as additional proof of my nervousness.
However, It could not matter,
and I pushed open the door yet
wider and boldly descended into the i
crypt.
I had not visited the crypt since I
conducted my aunt Gertrude through
it, and perhaps less than half a dozen
times before. Certainly I had not previously
observed it so closely as I now '
did. It was a large vault, built entirely
of stone, the mainway of It being
au apartment about eighteen feet
wide and as long as the house?that
is to say, a hundred and ten feet? :
with eight arched recesses on either 1
side, whereof the one to which I was I
bound differed nothing from the others i
except in being closed by a brick wall (
at the fro.nt. The majnway was tolcr- 1
ably clear, but nearly all the recesses <
were tilled with miscellaneous lum- 1
ber, for the most part ancient apd pe- 1
culiar?terrestrial and celestial globea,
telescopes, retorts, crucibles, and
strange instruments of which I did
not know the names, doubtless the
whole of them long ago rendered
worthless by modern and improved
means of scientific investigation. Notwithstanding
my extreme eagerness
to accomplish the object of my visit
to this place, I procedeed hut slowly
on my way, looking into each recess,
first on the right and then on the left,
resolving to thoroughly examine every
object in it after 1 had informed my
lather of my magnificent discovery.
My spirits were greatly elated; for
indeed it was scarcely possible that I
should now be disappointed, my greatest
fear?that the workmen employed
about the house had been into the
crypt to use it as a store for their tools
and materials?being dispelled, for no
sign of them or their belongings was
anywhere to be seen.
In this mood I reached the Abbot's
Cell, and, having turned up the wick
of my lantern, stood before It and
considered it. Yes, there it was; and
its aspect was the same as when my
attention was first called to it by aunt
Gertrude. And now. how was I to remove
so much of this brick screen as
would enable me to pet through to
where the treasure chests were concealed?
I observed with joy that the
mortar between the bricks, from age
and want of timely repair, was nearly
all crumbled and gone; but though I
could have drawn a few of the bricks
out of their places with the aid of
my hammer, I refrained from doing so
for fear, of the upper bricks falling upon
me, which from their loose appearance
seemed more than probable.
To get a couple of boxes, stand them
011 end one upon the other and mount
to the top, was the work only of a
few minutes. I then applied my hammer
as a lever to force up one of the
topmost bricks, and was surprised to
find that it was merely laid in its place
and not attached in any way to its
fellows. This was the case with another,
and yet another. Why, all the
bricks were perfectly loose?merely
piled one upon another as a child
builds houses with wooden blocks.
I removed more than a hundred 1
bricks which formed the upper rows
by simply lifting them one by one and j
laying them aside upon the floor, j
When a sufficient number had been re- j
moved to enable me to see what was
within, I stood my lantern on what i
was now the top of the wall and, with
fppiincs of intense satisfaction and
delight, beheld several square black ,
chests at the end of the recess. Forgetting
in the excitement of the moment
that the wall with which I was
dealing was only such in appearance,
I leaped on to the top of ti, and by
aid of ray hands dropped down on the
inside, pulling a large part of the
structure inwards with me and dashing
my lantern to the ground with so i
much force that the glass was broken i
and the light extinguished.
Fortunately I was not unprovided j
for such an emergency, as, being a
smoker, it was my custom to carry
matches. I soon extricated my lantern
from among the bricks which
had fallen with it, and having relit it, j
proceeded to examine my surround- ;
ings. At the end of the recess stood
the black chests which I bad noticed ]
from the outside, orderly disposed in
three rows, three chests in a row?one j
chest less than I had expected to find. 1
Looking about me more particular^', j
I beheld with dismay the tenth chest j
nearly in the middle of the apartment, j
with a half-burned caudle protruding ,
from the neck of a bottle and an or-*
dinary up-to-date box of matches
standing upon it; at sight of which my
burning hope fell to zero. Having removed
the candle and matches, I
tapped the chest with my hammer; it j
was resonant. I lifted it; it weighed '
scarce ten pounds, and the lid fell off j
on to the floor. I held my lantern J
close and scrutinized it eagerly, and? 1
Oh, cruel fate!?it bore every sign of j
having been recently opened; the thick
black paint was grazed in a way that
denoted the action of a double-pointed
crowbar as freshly as if the chest had
been forced open an hour ago. I stood
it down, run to the ether chests, and
quickly moved them from where they
stood. Not one of them contained any
thing. but each of them bore the same
unftistakable traces of recent violalion
as 1 had observed upon the first.
Mad with rage and disappointment,
[ quitted the recess in the manner I
had entered .it, pushing outward a lot
of loose bricks in the act, and was
striding rapidly along the mainway
with intent to go at once to my father
and tell him all, when an object met
my gaze which arrested my progress
and almost stupefied me with terror,
in a recess near to the door by which
[ had entered the crypt crouched the
ligure of a mau, his back towards me
the better to conceal a small lamp
which he carried.
I was never robust, and my breakdown
at this critical juncture must
iu justice be ascribed to natural weakness
rather than to cowardice. My
tirst impulse was to rush at the in
Lruder and strike him down with my
uammer, but all power of locomotion
bad deserted me. I tried to shout for
help, but my tongue refused its office,
ind. involuntarily relaxing my grasp
jf my lantern and weapon, I sank insensible
to the ground.
To be continued.
Clinching: a llargaiu In China.
When you engage a servant or make
t bargain in China it is not considered
binding until the "fastening penny"
lias been paid. Although his bad faith
s notorious in some matters, yet, to
lo him justice, when once this coin has
Lieen paid by you the Chinaman, coolie
>r shopman, will generally stick to
lis bargain, even if the result to him
i>e lQ?fc
\
, M '
Method* of Building.
IE present general move7(
m Jj ment for better roads and
O I O the prospect of national
^ X aid in road building have
'W greatly stimulated the
study of the best methods of road
building.
While to the general public the idea
of building permanent roads is to use
broken stone after the system first employed
by John McAdam, about the
year 1785, other methods should be
carefully studied in order to build the
best and most durable roads at the
lowest cost.
It seems a remarkable fact in view
of the great Improvements in everything
connected with modern life, that
we are still building our roads the
same way they were built over 100
years ago. This resulted from the universal
introduction of the railroad,
which caused the improvement of
our common roads to be sadly neglected,
as well as advancement in the
art 01 unuuiug mem.
A great obstacle in the way of building
durable roads of crushed stone is
found in the lack of suitable stone in
most localities where good road stone
1? found. In New York State, for instance,
where road building has been
very active in recent years, stone has
been shipped over 300 miles in some
instances in order to obtaiu stone of
good quality.
, The lack of good road material has
caused careful study of various methods
of road building by experts, with
the result that for general use a modification
of the old stone wheel track
or tramway roads, which have been in
constant use for over 100 years without
material wear or cost, has been
highly commended. The old tramway
roads could only be built at reasonable
cost in a few localities having suitable
stone, but by substituting paving
brick for the stone slabs, this superior
form of road can be cheaply built in
every locality.
In fact, even in the favored localities,
where good road stone is abundant,
the use of these brick wheel tracks
considerably decreases the first cost
of roads, while they practically do
away with all re: air expenses, as well
as the dust and mud, and at the same
.. .. . .. .. /
time enable tnree or iour times tne
load to be bandied with tbe same team
force.
Tbis improved method of road building
has been adopted by a number of
localities and the cost has been found
to be from $1200 to $2500 a mile, according
to the relative cost of materials,
labor, etc, while the average cost
of crushed stone roads has been about
$9000 a mile in New York, where the
greatest amount of road building has
recently been done.
A section <^f this brick track road
in the United States Department of
Agriculture grounds during the last
four seasons shows no material wear,
and has been uniformly free from dust,
mud and ruts during that time, while
an adjacent section of crushed stone
road has been nearly ruined during the
some time, partly by the washing of
water. *
For hilly roads these brick wheel
tracks are especially adapted, as by
depressing the tracks below tbe adjacent
road surface the water is successfully
carried down the hills on
them without the use of the objectionable
water breaks, besides enabling
three times the grade to be used without
disadvantage.
Government road officials recommend
that long term convicts he employed
in penitentiaries in making the
brick, cement, etc., for these roads,
and short term convicts be used in
making the roads, to the moral and
physical betterment of the convicts,
and claim that in this way the building
of these superior and most durable
of roads should cost but $800 to $1200
a mile in many localities. This makes
an interesting comparison with the
cost of $9000 a mile in New York State
for crushed stone roads, some of which
have been nearly ruined by two or
three years of use, while wheel tracks
similar to the brick tracks, built of
stone, near Albany,.N. Y., in 1S33, at
a cost of $1500 a mile, show very little
wear in more than seventy years
of constant and heavy traffic.
If convicts were thus employed in
such penitentiaries as Sing Sing, New
York, for instance, where the best of
brick clays could be delivered at very
low cost by boat, and from which the
brick, etc., could be cheaply shipped by
boat to nearly every point along the
proposed New York and Chicago road,
that road could probably be built for
less than one-fifth of the cost of building
it of crushed stone, have three
times the smoothness and more than
ten times the durability of a crushed
stone road, and at the same time be
nearly dustless and mudless.
Brick made at Sing Sing could also
be cheaply delivered at all points in
New York State, and also be shipped
to all points along Lake Erie by boat,
thus enabling the greater part of the
proposed New York and Chicago road
to be built by this superior system,
and at a cost so low as to be insignificant
when compared with its substantial
and lasting benefits.?Waynesboro
(Pa.) Herald.
English Gold Coins.
There were 9,100:000 new gold sovereigns
issued in England dunhg
1903, as compared with 4,523,000 in
1902. Half sovereigns issued numbered
1,044,000. : gainst 2,121,000 in 1003.
f
A SERMON FOR SUNDAY
AN ELOQUENT DISCOURSE ENTITLED,
. ."LIFE'S ASSETS."
Tlie Rev. Dr. Arthnr H. Goodenongh
Talks Instructively on the Infinite
Possibilities That Are in Man?What
We Need to Know.
"Bristol, Conn.?The Rev "Dr. Arthur
H. Goodenough preached Sunday morning
on "Life's Assets." The text was from 1
Corinthians iii:21, 22. 23: For all things
are yours; whether Paul, or Apollos, or
Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or
things present, or things to come; all are
yours, and ye are Christ's and Christ is
God's." Dr. Goodenough said:
Man aspires. His eye is on the sky.
Man was made to walk erect. His impulse
is to climb. This fact indicates his destiny.
The earth beneath us and the world
about us contribute to our flight, but they
offer us no home. The world, so near to
us and so essential to our present life, has
its limitations and fetters. Man is impatient
of limitations; he aspires to the infinite
and the infinite is always above us.
The nobler man's nature the more restless
and determined is he to ascend. No
philosophy of life is(true that fails to recognize
this instinct of the soul. Man desires
more room, more room is above, and
above is something that attracts and
draws. That fact is man's salvation.
It is generally believed that man had his
origin in God. God is the root from
which all men have sprung. It is equally
true that Gcd is the complement of man
and his goal. How noble is man. What
infinite possibilities are in him. Man is not
a waif, aimlessly wandering through a
trackless wilderness, nor an orphan minus
a parent's guiding hand and tender voice.
Man's origin and destiny are one. It is
God. If your five-year-old boy is in need
he instinctively cries, "My father." If he is
in trouble he as naturally cries, "My
mother." Instantly the complement of his
needy nature is at hand. Father and
mother are to him all that he needs. We
are only larger children, with larger and
more imperative needs. Is there any help
for us? We have outgrown the ability
of our earthly parents to help us. What
shall we do? As the thirsty ox turns to
the babbling brook, we turn our eyes to
the heavens and say, "My Father?God,
help me." And quicker than thought the
help comes. Here we have the philosophy
of happiness and the secret of success. As
witnesses to this fact we call to the stand
Augustine, Bernard,. John Howe, Isaac
Watts and Charles Wesley. The upward
look wins. The man who aspires to God,
and holiness, and immortality is the one
to whom this text is spoken. "All things
are yours; for ye are Christ's and Christ
is God's."
The thing that wise men are thinking
about is life. Bread and acres and dollars
are only incidental. God made the acres.
God's sunshine and showers grew the grain
from which the bread is made. God furnished
the material to make the dollar.
Therefore, acres and bread and dollars are
good because God had something to do
with producing them. These are valuable
contributions to life, some of our life
values. Life itself is worth more than all
of them put together. The man who cultivates
your farm is worth more than the
farm. The man who builds your home is
worth more than the house. We are not
paupers. No man, woman or child in this
world need be poor. There are other values
beside dollars. We are heirs to untold
riches. Our heavenly Father, the unseen
capitalist, has invested largely in us, and
He is no spendthrift. He has put the
value where it may multiply. Life is a
leeoie imng at me ocgiiiiuug, su ? >uc
acorn, but in the acorn is the massive
oak; so is the bulb, but the bulb contains
the tint and perfume of the lily. So life
as we see it in the babe, it contains a
Kepler, a Newton, a Gladstone, a McKinley.
Character is a result, a product. Character
tells the story of our conduct and industry.
Character is the fruitage of our
thinking, our willing, our loving, our doing.
And character is tne man. Character determines
one's value to himself and to society.
This is what makes biography the
popular literature of our day. People interest
people. Biography is death to pessimism.
Thousands of men and women
have succeeded in life. They have feasted
on the universe and enjoyed the infinite,
and the books tell us how they did it.
My young friends, the one thing in this
world for you to do, is to follow their
example. You may. Character is no ready
made thing; it is made to order. It means
plan and purpose and persistence. You
do not have to make the machinery nor
the material; these are furnished. The selection
of the web, the feeding of the loom,
the weaving ox the cloth is ours. The result
is character, and character is destiny.
This is the work ox" life. Human chances
are not equal. Circumstances favor some
more than others. No doubt of it. But
^lfen every man has a chance, aye, more,
every man has a probability of success.
There are possibilities of failure, and many
seem to fail, but there is no excuse for
failure. Oh. horrible, heartbreaking word
is failure. May none of you ever know
what it means. There is a way of escape
from it. Make a right, not to say, best,
use of ?what is in you, wisely appropriate
what is about you, give reason the i-ein.
Enthrone conscience. Be religious." And
every step will be an ascent, every act the
advance of the soul, and the enrichment
of being. All things are yours to do with.
It was never easier to be good than
now. Perhaps it is never easy to be good.
What makes it easier to be good to-day
than it was yesterday? The multiplicity of
helps at hand. To read some newspapers
and to hear some speakers, one would
suppose that nobody was good. The fact is,
t.ie world is full ot good people. What is
goodness? Not the muttering of a creed
nor the repeating of a prayer; not the
reading of the Bible nor going to church.
Cood people do these things, but these
things are not essentially goodness. Bad
people may do them, too. Goodness is
consideration for the other fellow, sweetness
of temper, gentleness of conduct, nobleness
of purpose, love to God and man. It
is to live kindly and truly and well. It is
like the Christ doing good every day and
everywhere, "hie is the goodness that
counts in our day. And we rejoice to believe
that it is constantly on the increase.
Goodness is true religion, and true religion
is goodness. The two arc inseparable. It
is a culturing, refining, elevating process.
It is ever making for the best tnat life is
capable of. What Cod wants lor His children
is'^ue best. The desire of God is
human ha^nincss. To this end He is patient
and indulgent. He is prodigal in
gifts. He is ever lavishing His love upon
us. God is neither mean nor littlei He is
the great Father, giving Himself for the
salvation, the enrichment, the perfect happiness
of His children. God is not the author
of pain. He takes no delight in
tears. The blessed Saviour ceases not in
His age-long effort to make the sons of
earth happy. The law of the universe, the
design of everything is happiness. HaDpiness
is everywhere. Wander in the woods,
walk in the meadow, meander by the
stream, rest in the valley and climb to the
hilltop, and in everything and everywhere
you will find happiness. It springs up like
a well of life, filling the air with its
music, flooding the earth with its joys.
How much more does our heavenly Father
desire you, His children, to be happy. The
only condition of happiness is to be good.
"Blessed are the poor in heart, for thev
shall see God." Holiness of life makcth
rich and tendeth not to poverty.
To the untutored, this looks dike an impossible
thing, and many ask: "How can
I do this?" Easy enough. All that !
needed is the disposition, and the effort.
First of all, look at your bank account.
Did you know you had a bank account?
Well, you have. See, please, what stands
to your credit, the gift of another. These
assets are ours because we live in the
twentieth century, and because we are
Anglo-Saxons. "All things arc your*;^|r
Whether Paul or Apollos, or Cephas, or
the world, or things present, #r things to
come: all are vours; and ye are Christ*
and Christ is God's." That is a wonderful
statement. It places us under tremendous
obligation. What an incentive to
attempt something, what an inspiration to
noble achievement. The great personalities
of history?Paul, Cephas, Apollos. Past,
present, future. The world, God and
Christ, all yours, to make the goal and
win. Then there can.be no excuse for
failure.
A-practical question which meets us is,
"How may I utilize these many gifts of
God for my own advancement and betterment?"
The answer is, "By right appropriation."
Just as the parched earth
drinks in the gentle rain drops, making the %
grass to grow; just as the bee sips the
honey from uie fragrant flower, so we must
learn to appropriate the good in everything,
to our own growth and refinement.
Life everywhere is sustained by appropriat- ,
ing the outward to itself. The great intellects
which teach and bless the world
to-day are great and capable because of this
appropriation of knowledge. To the good
belongs the best of two worlds. It was
once thought that the Christian's world
was exceedingly limited. The Bible,
hymnal, a long sermon and a dreary prayer
meeting were all that the Christian had
any right to. Anything else would chill
his fervor and narrow his vision and
tarnish his soul. Thank God, that day is
so far behind us. To-day we know that
evervthinz within reach and everything
?'. ; ?
UtUIIIl 31^111/ 13 Uun, it wc iu?c uuu, iu cnused
in the advancement and enrichment
of our lives.
Look at it a moment. Take an inventory.
Try to itemize the blessings of the good
God. Explore the world of art, the product
of the centuries, it is ours, for God made
fthe beautiful. What a store house of lessons
and inspirations and soul delights are
the art galleries of the world! The win- /
dows in cathedrals and churches have for
ages been telling the story of Christ. "The
Nativity," by Burne-Jones, is the pride of
England; "The Transfiguration," by Raphael,
the glory of Italy. These are but samples
of tne beautiful in art, which are ours
for the 'delight and- culture of the soul.
All sciences and literatures belong to us,
for God is the Author of all truth. Shakespeare
and Booth and De Reszke, these
and the host of others like them, are ours
to charm away our cares and rest of mind.
The marketplace crowded with the yield of
the field, the wealth of the mine, the product
of the factory, is ours, for God is i imminent
in nature and industry and hunfen
skill. The advance in surgery and medicine,
the limitless pleasures in travel?all
this is ours, available and usable assets
to make life rich and happy and good.
All this is the product of the past, the
gift of the good God. Its presence should
shame badness out of existence. How can
people be bad when they think of the
goodness of God? What are we doing with
life's assets? They are the raw material*
out of which we may weave the soul's seraphic
robe; they are the steps by which
we ascend to the home of perfect day.
They are to our spirits what air and dew
and sunlight are to the seed. Plants
grow by appropriating things ab extra to
their use; souls grow by doing the same
way. The business of life is to convert
all these forces and gifts into life and -TJ
character. The sool must drink in it$/
full of God and rise to the perfect life in
the endless day beyond the stars.
What wfe need to know to-day is the
proper use of things. That means study,
the exercise of the mind. Others have
studied and thought for us. The result is
the locomotive, carrying us sixty miles an
hour; the electric wire, by which we talk
to a friend 1000 miles away. If wealth
is to benefit the owner'of it. he must use
it and use it wisely. So, if we are to feel
the stimulus and reap the benefit of the
accumulations of the ages, as life's assets;
if these are to answer their need, in the
making of a man?we must study and
think and pray. In the right use of these
is the making of a holy character.
All that has been said is, we believe,
true. But it is not the whole truth. We
must go a step further. Man has heart
conditions and soul needs, which neither
nature, nor science, nor Scripture, can
meet. Man needs a God. God is everywhere.
God is in the euulight which
bathes us eveiy day with its warmth and
glory. He is in the bread which we eat;
He is in the music which comes floating
through the air, making the heart to dance
for joy. But this Goa is too vague, too
vast, too impersonal. Can this God be
personalized? It is God's eternal purpose
to adapt Himself to the limitations and
needs of His children. We do not think
of God merely as Power, or Majesty, or
Holiness. God is Love. Love is the winning
thing. Love conquers. Love is bent
on drawing home to the Father's heart all
His wayward and lost ones. The human
heart cries for God. What kind of a God? ??
Not the God of the atheist, not the God of
the Deist, not the God of the narrow
theologian, but the Eternal God. And
Jesus Christ has revealed Him to the
world. This Jesus Christ and this God
are ours, this completes the list. There
is nothing more that can be added. Flowers,
pictures, music, ships, railroads, tele* ,
phones, philosophy, science, religion, human
fellowships, friendships, loves, plus
God and Christ. All are yours. Don't
complain of poverty any more; never be
afraid of failure; never again say "I can't.''
Goodness does not mean exemption from
the common ills of life. Every life has its
burdens, every heart has its own secret
sorrow. We would not minimize the cares
wnicn are inevitaoie. iney arc not loyous,
but grievous. Many tears are shea in
the private chamber. Many feet are treading
lonely Daths. And blessed be God, our
heavenly Father knows it all. The Christ,
the Saviour of Men, is touched with the
feelings of our infirmities. All the love of
the Deity, all the power of the Almighty,
all the compassion of the Lover of Soui
is for us. Look up, then. Be of good
cheer. 'Tis better further on. In company
with the Saviour, nothing can harm
us. The path of the good is as the shining
light, shining more and more unto the
perfect day.
"Loose me from earth's enclosure, from the
sun's
Contracted circle set my heart at large;
Eliminate my spirit, give it range
Through provinces of thought yet unexplored;
Teach me, by this stupendous scaffolding,
Creation's golden steps, to climb to Thee."
No Triumphal Entry.
It is the irony of history that Christ's 1
entry into Palestine is so often misinterpreted.
To me there is hardly more bitter
irony in the life of Jesus than to speak
of His triumphal entry into Jerusalem.
The multitude came out to meet Him,
threw their garments and palm branches
in front of Him, and the people sang. But what
of the central figure? He saw the .
great city, and wept over it. What a contrast
was that with the triumphal march
of a conqueror.?Rev. Dr. A. A. Berle,
Salem, Mass. _ _____
The Only Standard.
Our churchman's life has paganism ha
it. Nowadays many men are saying "If
a pagan is honest, pure and true, why
should he need religion? Outside of the
Christian life there is no standard of right
Christ is the only standard.?Bishop William
Lawrence, Episcop; 'ian, Boston.