PHANTOM SHIP
-OR
Thc Flying Dutchman.
++-1Y CAPTAIN MAMTYAT,
CHAPTER XXIII.
“I have then Been him,” said Philip,
after he had lain down on the sofa in
the cabin for some minutes to recover
hlmaelf, while Amine bent over him.
“I have at last seen him. Amine! Can
you doubt now?”
‘‘No, Philip; I have now no doubt,”
replied Amine, mournfully; “but take
courage, Phnlp.”
“For myself, I want not. courage—
but for you, Amine you know that his
appearance portends a mischief that
will surely come.”
“Let It come,’’ replied Amine calmly;
"I have long been prepared for it, and
so have you."
“Yes, for myself; but not for you."
“You have been wrecked often, and
have been saven; then why should
not I?’
“But the sufferings.”
“Those suffer least who have most
courage to bear up against them. I
am but a woman, weak and frail In
f body, but I trust I have that within
me which will not make you feel
ashamed of Amine. No, Philip, you
will have no walling; no expression of
despair from Amine's lips; If she can
console you, sho will; if she can assist
'M you, she will; but come what may, if
she cannot serve you, at least she will
prove no burden to you.”
"Your presence in misfortune would
unnerve me, Amine.”
“It shall not; it shall add to your
resolution. Let fate do its worst.”
"Depend upon It, Amine, that will
be ere long.”
“Be it so,” replied Amine. “But,
Philip, it were as well you showed
v yourself on deck; the men are fright
ened and your absence will be ob
served.”
“Yon are right ” said Philip; and
rising and embracing her, he left the
cabin.
Philip, on his return to the deck,
found the crew of the vessel in great
consternation. Krantz himself ap
peared bewildered—he had not forgot
ten the appearance of the Phantom
ahlp off Desolation harbor, and the
vessels following her to their destruc
tion. This second appearai ee, more
awful than the former, quite unmanned
him; and when Philip came out of the
cabin he was leaning in gloomy silence
against the weather bulkhead.
"We shall never reach port again,
sir,” said he to Philip, as he came up to
him.
“Silence! silence! The men may hear
you.
“It matters not; they think the
same,” replied Krantz.
"But they are wrong,” replied Philip,
turning to the seamen. “My lads, that
some disaster may happen to us after
the appearance of this vessel is most
probable; I have seen her before more
than once, and disasters did then hap
pen; but here I am, alive and well;
therefore It does not prove that we
cannot escape as I have before done.
We must do our best and trust in
heaven. The gale Is breaking fast, and
in a few hour3 we shall have fine
weather. I have met this Phantom
ship before, and care rot how often I
meet it again. Mr. Krantz, get up the
spirits—the men have had hard work
and must be fatigued.”
The very prospect of obtaining liquor
appeared to give courage to the men;
they hastened to obey the order, and
the quantity served out was sufficient
to give courage to the most fearful and
Induce others to defy old Vanderdeeken
and his whole crew of imps. The next
morning the weather was fine, the sea
smooth and the Utrecht went gayiy on
her voyage.
Many days of gentle breezes and
favorable winds, gradually wore off
the panic occasioned by the supernat
ural appearance; and if not forgotten
it was referred to either In Jest or with
indifference. They now had run
through the Btraits of Malacca, and
entered the Polynesian archipelago
Philip's orders were to refresh and call I
for Instructions at the small Island of
Boton. then In possession of the Dutch. ,
They arrived there in safety, and after
remaining two days, again sailed on
their voyage, intending to make thulr
passage between the Celebes and the
island of Oalago The weather was
still clear and the wind light; they
proceeded cautiously, on account of the
reef* and currents, and with a careful
watch for the piratical vessels which
have for centuries Infested thiwe seas,
but they were not notice led, and had
gained well up among the Island* to j
the north of Uaiago when it fell calm,
and the vessel was born* to the east
ward of It by the current. The calm
lasted several day*, and they could
procure no anchorage; at last th*y
found th*ro**lv*s among the cluster '<f
islands near to th* northern coast of
New tlulnea.
The anchor was dropped and th*
sail* furled for th* night; a driisllng
rain came on. the weather was thlc t.
and watchea were stationed In every
part of the ship that they might not tr»
surprised by the pirate proa* fur the
turrenl ran past the ship at the rate f
of sight or nine mites per hour, and
these vessel* If hid among the Islands,
might sweep down upon them unper
reived
It was 13 a'rttHh at night when
Philip, who was in bed wav awaheaed
hy a shush, he though I It might be a
proa running alongside, and he starlet
from his bed and ran out He found
Krantz, who had been awakened by
the. same cause, running up undressed.
Another shock succeeded, and the ship
careened to port. Philip then knew
that the ship was on shore.
The thickness of the night prevented
them from ascertaining where they
were, but the lead was thrown over
the side and they found that they were
lying on shore on a sand-bank, with
not more than fourteen feet of water
on the deepest side, and that they were
broadside on with a strong current
pressing them further up on the bank;
Indeed, the current ran like a mlllrace,
and each minute they were Bwept Into
shallow water.
On examination they found that the
Bhlp had dragged her anchor, which,
with the cable, was still taut from the
starboard bow, hut this did not appear
to prevent the vessel from being swept
further up on the hank. It was sup
posed that the anchor had parted at
the shank, and another anchor was
let go.
Nothing more could be done till day
break, and impatiently did they wait
till the next morning. As the sun rose
the mist cleared away, and they dis
covered that they were on shore on a
sand-bank, a small portion of which
was above water, and round which the
cirrrent ran with great impetuosity.
About three miles from them was a
cluster of small Islands with cocoa
trees growing on them, but with no
appearance of Inhabitants.
‘‘I fear we have little chance." ob
served Krantz to Philip, "If we lighten
the vessel the anchor may not hold,
and we shall be swept further on, and
It Is impossible to lay out an anchor
against the force of this current."
"At all events we n.ust try; but I
grant that our situation Is anything
but satisfactory. Mend all the hands
aft."
The. men came aft, gloomy and dis
pirited.
“My lads,” said Phill, "why are you
disheartened?"
"We are doomed, sir; we knew It
would be so."
“I thougnt It probable that the ship
would be lost—I told you so—but the
loss of the ship does not involve that
of the ship’s company—nay, it does not
follow that the ship is to be lost, al
though she may be in great difficulty,
as she is at present. What fear Is
there for us, my men? The water is
smooth—we have plenty of time before
us; we can make a raft and take to
our boats; It never blows among these
Islands, and we have land close under
_1 ~ - f _ fx_t *.1_1 _ __
our lea. I^et us first try what we can
do with the ship; if we fail, we must
then take care of ourselves,"
The men caught at the Idea and went
to work willingly; the water casks
were started, the pumps set going, and
everything that could be spared was
thrown over to lighten the ship; but
the anchor still dragged, from the
strength of the current and bad hold
ing ground, and Philip and Krantz per
ceived that they were swept further on
the bank.
Night came on before they quitted
their toll, and then a fresh breeze
sprang up and created a swell, which
occasioned the vessel to beat on the
hard sand; thus did they continue
until the next morning. At daylight
the men resumed their labors, and the
pumps were again manned to clear the
vessel of the water which had been
started, but after a time they pumped
up sand. This told them that a plank
had started, and that their labors were
useless; the men left their work, but
Philip again encouraged them, and
pointed out that they could easily save
tnemselves, and all that they had to do
was to construct a raft which would
hold provisions for them, and receive
that portion of the crew who could not
be taken into the boats.
After some repose the men again set
to work; the topsails were, struck, the
yards lowered down and the raft was
commenced under the lee of the ves
sel. where the strong current was
checked. Philip, recollecting his former
disaster, took great pains in the con
struction of this raft, and aware that
as the water and provisions were ex
pended. there would lie no occasion to
tow so heavy a mass, lie constructed It
in two parts, which might easily lie
severed, and thus the hosts would have
less to tow. as soon as circumstances
would enable them to part with one of
them.
CHAPTRR XXIV
Night ugain terminated their latiorii
and the men retired to test, the weath
er continuing fine, with very little
wind. Ily noon the next day the raft
was complete; water and provision*
were safely stowed on txiard. a secure
and dry place was fitted up for Amine
in the center of one portion, spar*
ropes, sails and everything which rouhl
prove useful. In case of their being
forced on shore, were put in Muskets
and an.munition were also provided
and everything was ready, when the
men came aft and pointed out to Philip
that there was plenty of money on
board which It waa folly to leave,
and that they ntshed to carry as mu h
as they could sway tsith them As this
Intimation * as given in a way thtt
made it evident thev intended It should
he compiled With. Philip did not re
fuse but teeolved In hit own mind
that whea they arrive*! al a p>a »
where he could exercise hie authority.
the money should be reclaimed by the
company to wj^om It belonged. The
men went down below, and while Philip
was making arrangements with Amine,
handed the casks of dollars out of the
hold, broke them open and helped
themselves — quarreling with each
other for the first possession as each
cask was opened. At last every man
had obtained as much as he could
carry, and had placed his spoil on the
raft with his baggage, or In the boat
to which he had been appointed. All
was now ready—Amine was lowered
down and took her station; the boats
took In tow the raft, which was cast
off from the vessel, and away they
went with the current, pulling with all
their strength to avoid being stranded
upon that part of the sandbank which
appeared above the water. This was
the great danger which they had to
encounter, and which they very nar
rowly escaped.
They numbered eighty-six souls In
all; In the boats there were thirty
two; the rest were on the raft, which,
being well built and full of timber,
floated high out of the water, now that
the sea was so smooth. It had been
agreed upon by Philip and Krantz that
one of them should remain on the raft
and the other in one of the boats; but
at the time the raft quitted the ship
they were both on the raft, as they
wished to consult, as soon as they dis
covered the direction of the current,
which would he the most advisable
course for them to pursue. It appeared
that, as soon as the current had passed
the bank it took a more southerly di
rection toward New Guinea. It was
then debated between them whether
they should or should not land on that
island, the natives of which were
known to be pusillanimous yet treach
erous. A long debate ensued, which
ended, however, In their resolving not
to decide as yet, but wait and see what
. might occur. In the meantime the
boats pulled to the westward, while
the curent set them fast down in a
southerly direction.
Night came on and the boats dropped
the grapnels with which they had been
provided, and Philip was glad to find
that the current was not near so strong
and the grapnels held both boats and
raft. Covering themselves up with the
spare sails with which they had pro
vided themselves and setting a watch,
the tired seamen were soon fast asleep.
"Had I not better remain In one of
the boats ’’ observed Krantz, "Sup
pose, to save themselves, the boats
were to leave the raft.”
‘‘I have thought of that,’’ replied
Philip, "and have therefore not al
lowed any provisions or water In the
boats; they will not leave us for that
reason.”
"True; I had forgotten that.”
Krantz remained on watch, and
Philip retired to the repose which he
so much needed. Amine met him with
open arms.
"I have no fear, Philip,” said she;
"1 rather like this wild, adventurous
change. We will go on shore and
build cur hut beneath the cocoa trees
and I shall repine when the day comes
which brings succor and releases us
from our desert Isle. What do I re
quire but you?”
"We are In the hands of One above,
dear, who will act with us as He
pleases. We have to be thankful that
It Is no worse,” replied Philip. "But
now to rest, for I shall soon be obliged
to watch."
(To be continued.)
KAFFIR’S ANTIDOTE.
Which Made Serpent’* Venom Harmless.
A road party, comprising the usual
gang of from fifty to sixty Kaffirs, was
employed says a writer In the London
Spectator, on the construction of a
road In the Tuegla valley. Natal, about
thirty or more years ago. In the
course of their work they came upon
a huge stone which it was necessary to
remove, but beneath It was the home
of a large black mamba, well known
to the neighboring inhabitants as being
old and, therefore, very venomous.
The mamba is the most deadly of the
South African snakes, and the super
intendent anticipated some trouble
over that rock. He offered a bribe for
the snake's skin, and the gang
"wow’d!” and sat down to "bema
gwi” (take snuff). Rut a slim youth
sauntered forward nnd, amid the Jeers
and protestations of the rest, declared
himself equal to the task. He took
from his neck what looked like a bit
of shriveled stick, chewed it. swal
lowed some of it, spat out the rest on
his hands and proceeded to rub his
glistening brown body and limbs ail
over. Then taking up his stick and
chanting a song of defiance he ad
vanced with great confidence and
| swagger to the bowlder. There he
roused up the mamba which. In great
fury at being disttirlied. bit him in the
lip. The boy took no notice of the
bite, but broke the snake's back with
his stick and, bringing it to his master,
asked for his reward, obtaining which
he went back to his work, and the
> bite of the reptile had no effect upon
him whatever No bribe, not even
; that of a cow (iietter than any gold In
; the eyes of a Kaffir) would Induce the
native to disclose the secret of hi* an
I ildote. which, he said. had been hinde)
down In hi* family for generations
The snake was a very long one and to
old that It had a mane It U a well
known fact that certain of the Zulu*
have an'ldotee for the more deadly
*nake lotions, whtrh they preserve as
a secret within their own famille*.
la litre liaiists
Weary Wethlae “I aitt t had nothin
to eat fer two days Victim Von
. told me that very same atury Just a
week ago " III, then, sorely you
*Milii help a pore bloke at ain't bad
nothin' ter eat far nine daya.”* An
•at era
TALM AGE'S SERMON.
JOY UNBOUNDED, LAST SUN
DAY’S SUBJECT.
The Great Divine DUrouree* to a Mul
•• • A M -
llturifi — III* Thi»m*, "Xi-w Spring* of
•Jny,** I* <• rnplilrally Portrayed —“Thou
lla.it (ihrn Vie a Mouth Land***
The city of Debir was the Boston
of antiquity—a great place for brain
and books. Caleb wanted it, and he
offered his daughter Achsah as a prize
to any one who would capture tiiat
city. It was a strange thing for Caleb
to do; and yet the man that could take
the city would have, at any rate, two
elements of manhood—bravery and
patriotism. With Caleb's daughter as
a prize to fight for, Gen. Othnlel rode
into the battle. The gates of Debir
were thundered Into the dust, and the
city of books lay at the feet of the
conquerors. The work done, Othnlel
comes back to claim his bride. Hav
ing conquered the city, It is no great
Job for him to conquer the girl's heart;
for however faint-hearted a woman
herself may be, she always loves cour
age In a man. I never saw an excep
tion to that. The wedding festivity
having gone by Othnlel and Achsah
are about to go to their new home.
However loudly the cymbals may clash
and the laughter ring, parents are al
ways sad when a fondly cherished
daughter goes off to stay; and Achsah,
the daughter of Caleb, knows that now
is the time to ask almost anything she
wants of her father. It seems that
Caleb, the good old man, had given as
a wedding present to his daughter a
piece it luml that was mountainous,
and sloping southward toward the des
erts of Arabia, swept with some very
hot winds. It was called "a south
land." But Achsah wants an addition
of property; she wants a piece of land
that is well watered and fertile. Now
it Is no wonder that Caleb, standing
amid the bridal party, his eyes so
full of tears because she was going
away that he could hardly see her at
all, gives her more than she asks.
She said to him. "Thou hast given
me a south land; give me also springs
of water.” And he gave her the upper
springs and the nether springs.
AVbat a suggestive passage! The
fact Is. that as Caleb, the father, gave
Achsah, the daughter, a south land, so
God gives to us his world. I am very
thankful he has given it to us. But I
am like Achsah in the fact that I want
a larger portion. Trees and flowers
and grass and blue skies are very well
in their places; but he who has noth
ing but this world for a portion has
no portion at all. It is a mountainous
land, sloping off toward the desert of
sorrow, swept Dy uery siroccoe, n
“a south land," a poor portion for
any man that tries to put his trust in
It. What has been your experience?
What has been the experience of every
man, of every woman that has tried
this world for a portion? Queen Eliza
beth, amidst the surroundings of pomp,
is unhappy because the painter
sketches too minutely the wrinkles on
her face, and she Indignantly cries
out: "You must strike ofT my like
ness without any shadows!” Hogarth,
at the very height of hi3 artistic tri
umph, is stung almost to death with
chagrin because the painting he had
dedicated to the king does not seem to
be acceptable, for George II. cried out:
"Who Is this, Hogarth? Take his
trumpery out of my presence!” Brins
ley Sheridan thrilled the earth with
his eloquence, but had for his last
words, “I am absolutely undone.”
Walter Scott, fumbling around the Ink
stand, trying to write, says to his
daughter: "Oh, take me back to my
room; there is no rest for Sir Walter
| but In the grave.” Stephen Girard,
| the wealthiest man in his day, or, at
any rate, only second In wealth, says:
"I live the life of a galley slave: when
1 rise In the morning my one effort is
to work so bard that I can sleep when
I it gets to be night." Charles Lamb,
applauded of all the world, in the very
midst of his literary triumph says:
| "Do you remember, Bridget, when we
used to laugh from the shilling gal
lery at the play? There are now no
good plays to laugh at from the
! boxes.” But why go so far as that?
Pick me out ten successful world
lings—without any religion, and you
know what I mean by successful
worldlings—pick me out ten successful
worldlings, and you cannot And more
1 than one that looks happy. Care
drags him across the bridge; care
j drags him back. Take your stand at
2 o'clock at the corner of Nassau and
Wall at reels, or at the corner of Canal
street and Broadway, and see the ago
nized physiognomies Your bankers,
your insurance men, your Importers,
your wholesalers, and your retailers,
as a class- a* a class, are they happy?
No. Care dugs their steps; and, niak
’ Ing no appeal to God for help or com
fort, they are tossed every whither.
II iw has It been with you my hearer?
Are you more contented in the house
of fourteen rooms than you* were In
the two room* you had In a house when
you started? Have you no: had more
rare end worrimrnt sln< r you won that
If.Oooo than you did before? Home of
the poorest men I have ever known
have liewn those of great fortune \
man of small mean* may be put In
great business atratts. but the ghast
i Ileal of all emtsarrassmenta la that of
the man who ha* large estate* Th*
men who cumml In berau** of
monetary losses are thus# who rannot
hear the burden of nny more. because
they have only n hundred thousand
left
On Bonding Green New f ork the a
It n house where Talley rand used to
go lie was a favored inau Ail th*
world ha*w him sad h* hat wealth
almoai unlimited yet at the close of
j ht* BN he any* "Behold, eighty
I three years have paaeed without auy
practical result, save fatigue of body j
and fatigue of mind, great discourage
ment for the future and great disgust
for the past.” Oh, my friends, this is
"a south land,” and it slopes off toward
deserts of sorrows; and the prayer
which Achsah made to her father
Caleb we make this day to our Father
God: ”Thou hast given me a south
land; give me also springs of water.
And he gave them the upper spriugs
and the nether springs.”
Blessed be God! We have more ad
vantage given us than we can really
appreciate. We have spiritual bless
ings offered to us in this world which
1 shall call the nether springs, and
glories In the world to come which I
shall call the upper springs.
Where shall 1 find words enough
■threaded with light to set forth the
pleasure of religion? David, unable
to describe it in words, played it on a
harp. Mrs. Hemane, not finding
enough power In prose, sings that
praise In canto. Christopher Wren,
unable to describe it in language,
sprung it Into the arches of St. Paul's.
John Bunyan, unable to present It in
ordinary phraseology, takes all the
fascination of allegory. Handel, with
ordinary music unable to reach the
height of the theme, rounds It up In an
oratorio. Oh, there Is no life on earth
so happy as a really Christian life. I
do not mean a sham Christian life,
but a real Christian life. Where there
Is a thorn there Is a whole garland of
roses. Where there Is one groan there
are three doxologies. Where there Is
one day of cloud (here Is a whole sea
son of sunshine. Take the humblest
Christian man that you know—anRels
of God canopy hint with their white
wings; the lightnings of heaven an
his nrrned allies; the Lord Is his Shap
hprd, picking out for him green pas
tures by still waters; if he walk forth,
heaven Is his bodyguard; If he sit down
to food, his plain table blooms into
the king's banquet. Men say: “Look
at that old fellow with the worn-out
coat.” The angels of God cry: “Lift
up your heads, ye everlasting gates,
and let him come In!” Fastidious
people cry: “Get off my front steps;
the doorkeepers of heaven cry: “Come,
you blessed of my Father, Inherit the
kingdom!” When He comes to die,
though he may be carried out in a
pine box to the potter’s field, to that
potter’s field the chariots of Christ will
come down and the cavalcade will
crowd all the boulevards of heaven.
I bless Christ for the present satis
faction of religion. It makes a man
all right with reference to the past; It
makes man all right with reference to
the future. Oh, these nether springs
of comfort! They are perennial. The
foundation of Ood standeth sure hav
ing this seal, “The Lord knoweth them
that are His." “The mountains shall
depart and the hills he removed, but
My kindness shall not depart from
thee; neither shall the covenant of my
peace be removed, saith the Lord, who
hath mercy upon them." Oh. cluster
of diamonds set in burnished gold!
Oh. nether springs of comfort bursting
through all the valleys of trial and
tribulation! When you see, you of the
world, what satisfaction there Is on
earth in religion, do you not thirst
after it as the daughter of Caleb
thirsted after the water springs? It
is no stagnant pond, scummed over
with malaria, but springs of water
leaping from the Rock of Ages! Take
up one cup of that spring water, and
across the top of the chalice will float
the delicate shadows of the heavenly
wall, the yellow Jasper, the green of
emerald, the blue of sardonyx, the Are
of jacinth.
I wish I could make you understand
the Joy religion Is to some of us. It
makes a man happy while he lives,
and glad when he dies. With two feet
upon a chair and bursting with drop
sies, I heard an old man In the poor
house cry out: “Bless the Lord, oh,
my soul!” I looked around and said:
“What has this man got to thank God
for?” It makes the lame man leap
like the hart, the dumb sing. They
say that the old Puritan religion Is a
juiceless and Joyless religion; but I
remember reading Dr. Goodwin, the
celebrated Puritan, who In his last mo
ments said: “Is this dying? Why,
my bow abides in strength! I am
swallowed up in God." "Her ways of
pleasantness, and all her paths are
peace.' Oh, you who have been trying
to satisfy yourselves with the "south
land” of this world, ilo you not feel
that you would, this morning, like to
have access to the nether springs of
spiritual comfort? Would you not like
to have Jesus Christ bend over your
cradle ard bless your table and heal
your wounds, and strew flowers of
consolation all up and down the graves
of your dead?
'Tie religion that ran give
Sweetest pleasures while we live;
’Tis religion can supply
Sweetest comfort when we die.
But I have something better to tell
| you. suggested by my test It seems
that old Father Caleb on the wedding
! day of his daughter wanted to make
her Just a* happy as possible. Though
Oihnlel was taking her away, and his
i heart was almost broken because she
i was going, yet he gives her a “south
land"; not only that, but the upper
i spring*. O God. my Father, I thank
Thee that Thou hast given me a "south
land In thl* world, and the nether
spring of spiritual comfort In this
world; hut. more than nil, I thank
thee for the upper spring* in heaven
It I* very fortunate we cannot eee
, heaven until we get into It Oh. Chris
| tian man. If you could see what a
I place it la. we would hever get >o»
hack again to the oAuw or store or
shop, and the duties you ought to per
form would go neglected I am glad
I shall hot see that world until I enter
I It Suppose we were al>o **d to go on
' an sat-uraton Into that g *M land with
the Idea tf returning When we g »i
: there tn I h-ar-.l the * >ag and looked
i at iheir raptured faces, and msngleJ
in the supernal society, we would cry
out: “Let us stay! We are coining
here anyhow. Why take the troubla
of going back again to that old world?
We are here now; let us stay.” And It
would take angelic violence to put us
out of that world if we once got there.
But as people who cannot afford to
pay for an erlerrsinnient sometimes
come around it and look through the
door ajar, or through the openings In
the fence, so we come and look
through the crevices in that good land
which God has provided for us. We
can just catch a glimpse of it. We
come near enough to hear the rum
bling of the eternal orchestra, though
not near enough to know who blows
the cornet or who fingers the harp.
My soul spreads out both wings and
claps them In triumph at the thought
of those upper springs. One of them
breaks from beneath the throne; an
other breaks forth from beneath the
altar of the temple; unother at the
door of "the house of many man
sions." Upper springs of gladness!
Upper springs of light! Upper
springs of love! It Is no fancy
of mine. "The i<aml> which Is la the
midst of the throne shall lead them to
living fountains A water." Oh, Savior
divine, roll in vpon our souls on# of
those anticipated rar’-ures! Pour
around the roots of the parched
tongue one drop of that liquid life!
Toss before our vision those fountains
of God, rainbowed with eternal vic
tory. Hear It. They are never sick
there; not so much as a headache or
twinge rheumatic, or thrust neuralgic.
The Inhabitant never says: "I am
sick." They are never tired there.
Flight to farthest world la only the
play of a holiday. They never sin
there. It Is as easy for them to be
holy as It la for us to sin. They never
die there. You might go through all
the outskirts of the great city and find
not one place where the ground was
broken for a grave. The eyesight of
the redeemed Is never blurred with
tears. There Is health In every cheek.
There Is spring In every foot. There
Is majesty on every brow. There la
Joy In every heart. There Is hosanna
on every Up. Mow they must pity us
as they look over and down and see
us, and say: "Poor things, away down
In that world." And when some Chris
tian Is hurled Into a fatal accident,
they cry: "Good! He la coming!’*
And when we stand around the couch
of some loved one (whose strength la
going away) and we shake our heads
forebodingly, they cry; "I am glad he
Is worse; he has been down there long
enough. There, he Is dead! Come
home! Corr.e home!" Oh, If we could
only get our ideas about that future
world untwisted our thought of trans
fer from here to there would be aa
pleasant to us as It was to a little
child that was dying. She said: "Papa,
when will I go home?" And he said:
"To-day, Florence." "To-day? So
Boon? 1 am bo glad:
I wish I could stimulate you with
these thoughts, oh, Christian man, to
the highest possible exhilaration. The
day of your deliverance Is coming, is
coming. It Is rolling on with the
shining wheels of the day and the jet
wheels of the night, Every thump of
the heart is only a hammer stroke
striking off another chain of clay.
Better scour t'ae deck and anil the
rope, the harbor is only six miles
away. Jesus will come down In the
"Narrows” to meet you. Now is your
salvation nearer than when you be
lieved.
Unforglven man, unpardoned man.
will you not mane a choice between
these two portions—between the "south
land” of this world, which slopes to
the desert, and this glorious land
which thy Father offers thee, running
with eternal water courses? Why let
your tongue be consumed with thirst
when there are the nether springs and
the upper springs, comfort here, and
glory hereafter?
Let me tell you, my dear brothe *,
that the silliest and wickedest thing &
man ever does Is to reject Jesus Christ.
The loss of the soul is a mistake that
cannot be corrected. It is a downfall
that knows no alleviation: It Is a ruin
that is remediless; it is a sickness that
has no medicament; It Is a grave Into
which a man goes but never comes
out. Therefore, putting my hand on
your shoulder as a brother puts his
hand on the shoulder of a brother. I
say this day, be manly, and surrender
your heart to Christ. You have been
long enough serving the world; now
begin to serve the Ietrd who bought
you. You have tried long enough to
carry these burdens; let Jesus Christ
put His shoulder under your burden.
Do I hear any one In the audience say,
"I mean to attend to that after awhile;
it 1b not Just the time?" It la the
time, for the simple reason that you
are sure of no other; and God sends
you here this morning, and lie sent
me here to comfort you with this
message; and you must hear now that
Christ died to save your soul, and that
If you want to be saved you may be
saved "Whosoever will, let him come "
You will never And any more convent*
eut season than IhU. Home of you
! have been waiting ten. twenty, thirty.
forty. Afty and slaty years On some
I of you the snow ha* fallen I see U
j on your brow, and yet you have not
attended to those duties which belong
j to the very springtime of life |t |«
Hcpieniber with you now. It U October
with yon |t u liecemher with you I
am no alarmist I simply hno« this
| If a man 4-ai not repent In this world
: he never repent* at nil. and that now
I is the day of natvat: *w Oh, put »S thin
matter n-» longer hi not turn yonr
Im k on Jeauv Christ who <*<uneg to
save you. lest you should I you*
soul.
% ring ground the moon Indo-ntwa
tad weather, which wUt Inst ns mnny
! 4 > * as there am ilin inclosed in the
rtre to.