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BE CHEERFUL.
An
Optimistic DtooonrM By Bar.
T. De Witt Talma?e.
Christiana SheaM Wear CUd Counte
nance A Cheerfal View of the Fatar
of Nations Bright Days Coating
Christina BaalJght.
The Sunday after returning from bis
Western tour Ben T. DeWitt Talmage
preached at Brooklyn. N. Y., fait subject
being "The Sunrise," and his text "The
day is at band. Roman xiiL 12. He said:
Bac'c from the mountains and the sea
side, and the springs, and the farmhouse,
your cheek bronzed and your spirits
lighted, I hail yea home again with the
words of Gehazi to the Shunamite: MI it
well with theer is it well, with thy hus
band is it well with thy child" On
some f ices I see the mark of recant grief,
but all along the track of tears I s?e the
story of resurrection and reunion when all
tears are done; the deep nlowingof the
keel, followed by the flash tf the phosphor
esence. Now that I hare asked you in regard to
your welfare, yon naturally ask how I
am. Very welC thank you. Whether it
was the bracing air of the Colorado
mountains 12,00 feet abore the level of
the sea, or the tonic atmosphere of the
Pacific coast; or a bath in the surf of
Long Island beach, or whether it is the
joy of standing in this great group of
warm-hearted friends, or whether it is a
new appreciation of the goodness of God,
I can not telL 1 simply know I am grand
ly and gloriously and inexpressibly happy.
It is said that John Ifoffatt the great
Methodist preacher, occasionally got fast
in his sermon, and to extricate himself
would cry "Hallelujah 1" I am in no such
predicament to-day, but I am full of the
same rhapsodic ejaculation. Starting out
this morning on a new ecclesiastical year,
I want to give yon the key note of my
next twelve months' ministry. I want to
set it to the tune of Antioch. Ariel and
Coronation, Some time ago we had a
new stop pat in this organ a new
trumpet stop and I want to put a new
trumpet stop into my sermons.
In all of our Christian work yon and I
vent more of the element of gladness.
That man has ae right to say that Christ
never laughed. Deyou suppose that He
was glum at the wedding la Canaof Gali
lee? Do you suppose Christ was unre
sponsive when the children clambered
over His knee and shoulder at His own in
vitation? Doyoa tappose that the evan
gelist meant nothing when he said of
Christ: "He rejoiced in spirit?" Do you
believe that the divine Christ who pours
all the water over the rocks at Vernal
falls: Yosemite, does not believe in the
sparkle and gallop and tumultuous joy
and rushing raptures of human life? I
believe not only that the morning laugh,
and that the mountains laugh, and that
ihe seas laugh, and the cascades laugh,
but that Christ laughed. Moreover, take
a laugh and a tear into an alembic and
assay them and test them and analyze
them and you will often find as much of
the pure gold of religion in a laugh as in
a tear. Deep spiritual joy always shows
itself in facial illumination. John Wesley
.said he was sure of a good religious im
pression being produced because of what
he calls the great laughter he saw among
the people. Godless merriment is blas
phemy anywhere, but expression of
Christian joy is appropriate everywhere.
Moreover, the outlook of the world
ought to stir us to gladness. Astrcnomers
recently disturbed many people by telling
-them that there was danger of stellar
-collision. We have been told through the
-papers by these astronomers that there
are worlds coming very near together,
and that we shall hava plagues and wars
and tumults and perhaps the world's de
struction. Do not be scared. If yon have
ever stood at a railway center where ten
or twenty or thirty rail tracks cross each
other, and seen by the movement of the
switch one or two inches the train shoots
this way and tha without colliding, then
you may understand how fifty worlds may
come within an inch of disaster, and that
inch be as good at a million miles. If a
human switchtender can shoot the trains
this way and that without harm, can not
the Hand that for thousands of years has
upheld the universe keep our little world
out of barm's way?
Christian geologists tell ns that this
world was millions of years in building.
Well, now, I do not think God would take
millions of years to build a house which
was to last only six thousand year.
There is nothing in the world or outside
the world, terrestrial or astronomical, to
excite dismay. I wish that acme stout
Gospel breeze might scatter all the ma
laria of human foreboding. The sun rose
this morning about half past five, and I
think that is just about the hour in the
world's history. MThe day is at hand."
The first ray of dawn I see in the grad
ual substitution af diplomatic skill for
human butchery. Within the last twenty
five years there have been international
differences which would have brought a
shock of arms in any other day, but which
were peacefully adjusted, the pea taking
the place of the sword.
That Alabama question in any other age
of the world would have caused war be
tween the United States and Eagland.
How was it settled? By men-of-war off
the Narrows or off the Mersey? By the
Gulf stream of the ocean crossed by a gulf
atream of hnmaa blood? By the pathway
of nations incaraadiaed? No. A few
wise men go into a quiet room at Genera,
talk the matter over and telegraph to
Washington and London: "All settled."
Peace. Peace. England pays the United
States the amouat awarded pays really
more than she ought to have paid. But
still, all that Alabama broil is settled
settled forever. Arbitration instead of
battle.
So the quarrel eight or nine years ago
about the Canadian fisheries in any other
age would have caused war betweea the
United States and England. Eaeland
said: "Pay me for the invasion or my
Canadian fisheries." The United States
said: "I will not pay any thing." Well,
the two nations say: "I guess we had
better leave the whole matter to a com
mission." The commission is appointed,
and the commission examines the affair,
and the commission reports, and pay we
ought, pay we mast, pay we da Not a
pound of powder burned, not a cartridge
bitten onV.no one hurt so much as by the
scratch of a pin. Arbitration instead of
battle.
So the Samoan controversy la any other
age would have brought Germany and the
United States into bloody collision. But
all is settled. Arbitration instead of bat
tle. France will never again. I think,
through peccadillaof ambassador. bring on
a battle witb other nations. She ssea that
God, In punishment of Solan, blotted oat
the French empire, and the only aspirant
.for that throne who had any right of ex
3
pectation dies In a war that has not even
the dignity of being respectable. What is
that bluh on the cheek of England to
day? What is the leaf that Eagland
would like to tear out of her history? The
Zalu war. Down with the sword and up
with the treaty.
We in this country might better have
settled our sectional difficulties by arbitra
tion than by the thrust of the sword.
Philanthropy said to the North: "Pay
down a certain amount of money for the
purchase of fie slaves and let all those
born after a certain time be born free."
Philanthropy at the same time said to
the South: "Yon sell the slaves and get
lid of this great national contest and
trouble." The North replied: "J. won't
pay a cent" Ihe South replied: "I won't
selL" War! War! A million dadmen
and a national debt which might have
ground this Nation to powder.
Why did we not let William H. Seward,
of New York, and Alexander H. Stephens,
of Georgia, go out and spen 1 a few days
under the trees on the banks of the
Potomac and talk the matter over and
settle it, as settle it they could, rather
than the North pay in cost of war four
billion seven hundred and fifty million
dollars and the South pay four billion
seven hundred millioi dollars, the de
stroying angel leaving the first born dead
in so many homes all the way from the
Penobscot to the Alabama. Ye aged men.
wfcoie sons fell in the strife, do you not
think that would have been better? Oh,
yes I we hard come to believe, I think, in
this country, that aibitratioa is better
than battle.
I may be mistaken, but I hope that the
last war between Christian nations is
ended. Barbarians mar mix their war
paint, and Afghan and Zulu hurl poisoned
arrows, but I think Christian nations have
gradually learned that war is disaster to
victor as well as to vanquished, and tbat
almost any thing bought with blood is
bought at too dear a price. I wish to God
this Nation might be a model of willing
ness for arbitration. No need of killing
another Indian. No need of sacrificing
any more brave General Custers. 8top
exaspsrating the red man, and there will
be no more arrows shot out from' the
reservations.
A General of the United States army, in
high repute throughout this land, and
who, perhaps, has been la more Indian
wars thsn any other officer, and who has
been wounded again and again in behalf
of our Government in battle against the
Indians, told me that all the wars that
had ever occurred betweea Indians and
white men bad been provoked by white
men, and tbat there was no exception to
the rule. While we are arbitrating with
Christian Nations, let us toward ba:biri
ans carry ourselves in n manner unpro
vocative of contest. I inherit a large es
tate and the waters are rich with fish and
the woods are songful with birds and my
cornfields are silken and golden. Here is
my sister's grave. Out yonder, under the
large tree, my father lies. An invader
comes and proposes to drive me off and
take possession of my property. He
crowds me back, he crowds me on and
crowds me into a closer coiner until after
awhile I say: "Stand back, don't crowd
me any more, or I'll strike. What right
have you to come here and drive me off
my premises? I got this farm from my
father, and he got it from his father.
What right have yon to come here
and molest me?" You blind
ly say: "O, I know more than
yon da I belong to a higher civilisation. I
cut my hair shorter than yon da I could
put this grcund to a great deal better use
than yon da" And you keep crowding
me back, and crowding me on into a
closer corner and closer corner, until one
day I look around upon my suffering
family, and, fired by their hardships, I
hew you in twain. Forthwith all the
world comes to your funeral to pronounce
eulogium, comes to my execution to
anathematize me. You are the hero. I am
the culprit Behold the United 8tates
Government and the North American In
dian. The red man has stood more wrongs
than I would, or you. We would have
struck sooner, deeper. That which is
right in defense of a Brooklyn home or a
New York home is right in defense of a
borne on top of the Rocky mountains. Be
fore this dwindling red race dies com
pletely out, I wish tbat this generation
might by common just ice atone for the in
humanity of its predecessors. In the day
of God's judgment I would rather be a
blood-smeared Modoc than a swindling
United States offloron an Indian reser
vation. Oae man was a barbarian and a
savage and never pretended to be any
thing but a barbarian and a savage. The
other min pretended to be a representa
tive ot a Christian Nation.
I find another ray of the dawn in the
compression cf the world's distances.
What a slow, snail-like, almost impossible
thing would have been the world's recti
fication with fourteen hundred millions of
population and no facile means of commu
nication? But now. through telegraphy
for the eye and telephonic intimacy for
the ear, and through steamboatiag and
railroading, the 25,000 miles ot the world's
circumference are shriveling up lato in
significant brevity. Hong Kong is nearer
to New York than a few years ago New
Haven was; Bombay, Moscow. Madras,
Melbourne within speaking distance.
Purchase a telegraphic chart; and by the
blue lines see the telegraphs of the land,
and by the red lines the cables under the
ccsan. You see what opportunity this is
going to give for the final movements of
Christianity. A fortress may be months
or years la building, but after it is con
structed it may do all its work in twenty
minutes. Christianity has been planting
its batteries for nineteen centuriss, and
may go on in the work through other cen
turies; but when those batteries are
thoroughly planted, those fortresses
are fully bnilt, they ' may do
their work la twenty-four hours.
ae eeeeea
I tell yon all these thing to show you it
is not among the impossibilities, or even
improbalities, tbat Christ will conquer the
whole earth, and do it Instaater when the
time comes. There are foretokeniaes In
the air. Something great is going to hap
pen. I do not think that Jupiter is goiag
to run ns down or that the axle of the
world is going to break; but I mean some
thing great for the world's blessing and
not for the world's damage is going to
hsppea. I think the world has had it bard
enough. Enough, the London plagues.
Enough, the Asiatic cholera, Enough,
tbe wars. Enough,' the shipwrecks.
Enough, the conflagrations. I think oar
world could stand right well a procession
ot prosperities and triumphs. Better be
on the lookout. Better have your obser
vatories open toward the heavens, and
the leases of your most powerful tele
scopes well polished. Better have all
your Leydea jars ready for some new
pulsation of mighty iaflaence. Better
have sobm new fonts of type in your
printing offices to set np some astonishing
good news. Better have some new banner
that has never been carried, ready for
sadden processions. Better have the bells
in your church towers well bung and rope
within reach that yon may ring oat the
marriage of the King's Soa. Cleanse nil
your court houses, for the Judge of all the
earth may appear. Let all your legislative
halls be gilded, for the treat Lawgiver
may be abut to come. Drive oC the
thrones of despotism all tbe occupants,
for ths King of Heaven aad earth may be
about to reign. The darkness of tbe n Ight
Is blooming aad whitening into the lilies
of morning clouds, aad the lilies redden
.ing into the roses of stronger day fit
garlands, whether white or red, for Him
on whose head are many crowns. '"The
day is at band"
One more ray of t'-e dawn I see in facts
chronological and mathematical. Come
now, do not let us do another stroke of
work until we have settled oae matter.
What is going to be the final issue ot this
great contest between sin and righteous
ness? Which is going to prove himself
tbe stronger, God or Dialogs? Is this
world goiag to be all garden or all desert?
Now let us have that matter settled. If
we believe Isairh and Ezikiel and Ho-tea.
and Micab and Malachi, and John aad
Peter, and Paul and Christ, we believe
tbat it is going to be all garden. But let
us have it settled. Let ns know whether
we are working on toward a dead failure.
If there is a child in your house sick and
you are sure he is going to get well yon
sympathize with present pains, but all the
foreboding is gone. If you are in a
cyclone off the Florida coast and tbe cap
tain assures you the vessel is staunch
and the winds are changing for a b tor
quarter, and he is sure he will bring yon
safe into the harbor, you patiently submit
to present distress witb tbe thought of
safe arrival. Now I want to know whether
we are coming on toward dismay, dark
ness and defeat, or on toward light and
bleisedness. You and I believe the lat
ter, and if sa every year we spend is one
year subtracted from tbe world's woe,
and every event that passes, whether
bright or dark, brings us one event nearer
a happy consummation, and by all that is
inexorable in chronology and mathemat
ics I commend you to good cheer aad
courage. If there is any thing in arith
metic, if you subtract two from five and
leave three, then by every rolling sun we
are coming on toward a magnificent ter
minus. Then every winter passed is One
severity less for our poor world. Then
every summer passed by brings us nearer
unfading arborescence. Put your algebra
down on tbe top of your Bible and rejoice.
It it is nearer morning at three o'clock
than it is at two, if it is neater morning at !
tour o'ciock taaa it is at three, then we
are nearer the world's deliverance. God's
clock seems to gojvery slowly, but the
pendulum swings and the hands move,
and it will yet strike noon. The sun and
tbe moon stood still once; they will never
stand still again until they stop forever.
If you believe arithmetic as well as your
Bible, you must believe we are nearer the
dawn. "The day Is at band."
There is a class ot phenomena which
makes me think tbat tbe spiritual and tbe
heavenly world may, after awhile, make
a demonstration in this world which will
bring all moral and spiritual things to a
climax. Now, I am no spiritualist, bat
every intelligent man has noticed that
there are strange and mysterious things
which indicate to him that perhaps the
spiritual world is not so far off as some
times we conjecture, and tbat after
awhile, from the spiritual and heavenly
world there may be a demonstration upon
our world for its betterment We call it
magnetism, or we call it mesmerism, or
we call it electricity because we want
some term to cover up our ignorance. I
do not know what that is. I never heard
an audible voice from the other world. I
am persuaded ot this, however, tbat the
vail between this aad the next is getting
thinner and thinner, and tbat perhaps
after awhile at tbe call of God not at the
call of the Davenport brothers or Andrew
Jackson Davis some of the old scriptural
warriors, some of tbe spirits of other days
mighty for God a Joshua, or a Caleb, or
a David, or a Paul may come down aad
help us in this battle against unrighteous
ness. O, how I wonld like to have them
here him of the Red sea, him of tbe val
ley of Ajalon, bim of Mars bilL History
says that Robert Clayton, of the English
cavalry, at the close of tbe war, bought ap
all tbe old cavalry horses lest they be
turned out to drudgery and bard work,
and bought a piece, of ground at Navers
mire heath and turned these old war horses
into the thickest and richest pasture to
p9nd tbe rest of tbeir days for what tbey
bad done in other days. One day a
thunder storm came up, and these
war horses mistook the thunder of the
skies for tbe thunder of battle, and tbey
wheeled into line no riders on their backs
they wheeled into line ready for the
fray. And 1 doubt me whether, when the
last thunder of this battle for God aad
truth goes booming through the heavens,
tbe old scriptural warriors can keep their
places on the thrones. Methinks they will
spring into the fight and exchange crown
for helmet and palm branches for weapons,
and come down out of tbe King's gallery
into the arena, crying. "Make room! I
must fight in this great Armageddon."
My beloved people, I preach this sermon
because I want yon to toil with the sun
light in your face.- I want you old men to
understand before you die tbat all the
work yon did for God while yet your ear
was alert aad your foot fleet is going to be
counted up in tbe final victories. I want
all these younger people to undent md
that when they toil for God they always
wia tbe day; tbat all prayers are an
swered and all Christian work is in some
way effectual, and that all Heaven is on
our side saintly, cherubic, saraphia
arch-angelic, omnipotent' chariot and
throne, doxology aad process icn, princi
palities aad dominion, He who bath the
moon under His feet and all the armies of
Heaven on white horses.
Brother! brother! all I am afraid of is,
not tbat Christ will lose the battle, bat
that yon and I will not get into it quick
enough to do something worthy of our
blood-bought immortality. O, Christ I
how shall I meet Thee, Thou of the scarred
brow, and the scarred back, and the
scarred hand, aad the scarred foot, and
the scarred breast; if I have no scars or
no wounds gotten in Thy service? It shall
not be sa I step out to-day in froat ot
the battle. Come on, yon foss of
God. I dare yon to the combat
Come on, with pens dipped in malig
nancy. Come on, with tongues forked
and viperiae aad adderont, Come on,
with types soaked la the scum of tbe eter
nal pit I defy you! Come oal I bare
my brow, I unecver my heart Strike!
I can not see my Lord until I have been
hurt for Christ If we do not suffer with
Him on earth we cannot glorify with Him
in Heaven. Take good heart Oa! On!
Oa! 8ee! the skies have brightened I
See! the hour is about to come! Pick out
all the cheeriest of the'aathems. Let the
orchestra string their best instruments, j
The night is far spent; the day is at,
hand."
sis
Sullivan, ths pugilist, expresses hlauslf
as desirous of eateriag Congress.
BUErs VISION.
Bow Jack Turner Got His Thnmb
on to Enemy.
ACK TURNER was
the story-teller of our
company, and wo
always loved to listen
to his well-epun
yarns equal in the
incredible to any old
tar's reminiscence
"before the mast"
Some people are
born story-tellers,
and some, by dint of
hard struggling, get
up to that enviable
level; but Jack be
gan to reveal his penchant for the voluble
so early in childood tbat he was adept in
the art long before he reached his majority.
So, of course, in our humdrum camp-life
he was really an indispensable necessity.
And at no other time was he more so than
when we were in winter quarters at Dan
ville, Ky., in '61
The war-cloud seemed afar off tons some
how, laying around 1a the horizon, coming
up sometimes like dry weather shoivers,
only to elude us until we felt that we were
actually "spoiling for a fight."
In the few days' stop at Lexington, before
reaching our winter quarters, Jack had
time to brush up tbe old yarns and even
manufacture some new ones if necessary.
And we imagined he did, for during the
monotonous melancholy which settled down
on us from about the middle of November
like a nightmare until we left Danville.
there was no break in our routine like the
sound of Turner's musical voice.
But there came a time when even Jack
grew disgusted with trying to kill the ennui
of nothing to do, and his hair-breadth es
capes and bloodcurdling incidents grev. to
be few and far between.
There was no chance of fighting, and tbe
Northern mettle was getting rusty and
"cranky" because of no orders to march to
the front The boys grumbled and growled
and found fault, and some of them began to
discuss the matter as to whether there was
realty any war or not
So things waggea on in the Danville
quarters until one day the whole regiment
was thrown into excitement by the receipt
of a dispatch from Louisville. It was sup
posed to have been sent by tbe commander
in post, General Thomas, who was com
mander of the whole western division,
and it said we were to march to Crab Or
chard and intercept Rebel General Brake's
men, who wanted to get by or through Dan
ville on tbeir way to Louisville.
We must start at once and head them off
and hold position at tbe Orchard, and force
them to retreat if possible.
Whoop! Hurrah! Here was a splendid
chance to thrust that miserable enemy
through and through, and the boys in
tended to make the best of the opportu
nity. Willirg feet and nimble fingers busied
themselves making preparations for to
morrow's march. It seemed more like
getting ready for a picnic than any thing
else.
Jack Turner put away his story-telling
propensity willingly and let his volubility
branch out in boasting of what to-morrow
would bring forth, as it, of course, should
fairly smother in well-earned laurels.
"We'll surprise them completely," he
chuckled, "and put our loyal thumbs down
on them, so to speak; then we'll brag over
Bragg. Om-m!"
Tbe next morning by four o'clock we
were all ready and in line of march. Oh,
such effervescence of loyal vim! We fair
ly grew nervous with the excitement and
champed our bits in expectation; a jollier,
more eager set of blue-coats never kept
step on the classic grounds of "Ole Kain
tuck" than our regiment aa we left Dan
ville, sleepy Danville, behind us on that
winter's morning before daybreak.
Jack Turner fairly stood on his head in
the ranks, figuratively speaking, so elated
was he over the prospect of shaking bayo
nets over the long silent chasm and of put
ting his thumb on the Crab Orchard "rebs."
"I've got the notion that they aren't look
ing for aloto' frisky 'Yanks' at midnight
to-night down there," said he, "and some
a' them will go beyond this dark and bloody
jround."
Away we went, never dreaming what a
"fool's errand" we were in for, or that we
should return on the morrow to our quar
ters akin to the proverbial fisherman, only
a great deal more disgusted.
Night found us several miles from the
lupposed battle ground ; but we pressed on
determined as ever to tingle somebody's
sars before next day if possible. At about
sleven o'clock at night we halted at Crab
Orchard and cast about for those Bragg fel
lows: What did it mean; this stillness of the
midnight watches hanging over this empty
'ZZ. -VV-ft
"thbt ahzs't xooxnro roHAioro'
TASXS."
sad outlandish place! Where were those
Johnnies, any way!
I That there had been some egregious mis
take somewhere began to dawn on us
plainly, for there was not a rebel soldier in
I the vicinity, nor no signs of recent camp
as we could see.
A groan of dlsappoiatsseat aad exasper
ated ambition ran over the regiment, and
tbe soldiers began to indulge in some very
warm portions of the English vocabulary
pretty freely. That they were "mad" would
be putting it mild, for some at least
"Crab Orchard" the dispatch had said;
there was no mistake about that, aad H
came trora Thomas, toa Well, this was the
place, surely ; but who was able to go fur
ther and clear up the mystery aad answer,
the dosens of irate and vexed questions!
Turner's face grew two shades blacker
than the night, aad elongated dreadfully.
"ThedevUl" exclaimed he. "This is war,
now, isn't itl A dosen French duels sim
mered down 'till there Isn't even the coffee
left amouats to more than this."
"I'd like to bayonet the dumbed idiot that
has foaled aa. To my nriad General Thesna
hada'ta thing to do with that dispatch.
Same dod-gasted butternut has dipped hj
and given ns this goat's milk business."
Bat fuauag, of course, did no good ; there
wssaothisg to d but Tenuis where wt
vsmw ill w --
iLSsl LHnceB8- "
were for tbe rest of the night, and Ion
down to sleep aad forget our disappoint
ment or anathematise the wee ins1 hours
just as we chose.
The next morning Bart Ferris, the wit of
our company, noticing the glum, silent
Turner looking daggers at the innocent
"Orchard," said: "Jack, I had n vision last
night"
The dickens yon did," returnee oar
storyteller; "what d'ye seel"
"I dreamed," said Ferris, looking around
to see how many of the boys were listen
ing, that I was sitting on that old tree
trunk yonder and picking off Bragg's sharp
shooters over there. And. just aa I was
going to drop a tall, lank Southerner, I no
ticed a dark, formidable object la the say
being lowered directly over the rebel troops.
" What's taatl' I asked, and a voice from
Heaven answered : 'Put up your gun 1 That
deadly thiag descending yonder over
Bragg's army is sufficient for them; it's
Jack Tumor's thumb 1' "
la the general laugh which followed yon
could see Turner's wild gesticulations, and
when the merriment subsided he blurted
out, threateningly : "Ferris, if yon love your
existence, your friends aad your country,
don't dare to ever have another vision at
y expense!"
He might have said more, perhaps, but
the boys all joined in such hearty merri
ment that he touched his cap and turned
on bis heeL
Well, we went back to Danville, feeling
that we were the victims of a practical joke
or some strategicperformaace perpetrated
by some unknown party.
But how easily it was explained when we
struck Danville! And when once made
OKTTIXO HIS THUMB OX BHAGO.
plain weren't we mad again Toe Yankee
risibilities camo to the seething surface aad
every body ground his molars and wished
to get even.
Jack Turner forgot Burt's vision long
enough to swear in fourdltfereatlanguages
as fluently as if each had been his mother
tongue, and vow that "if the Lord would
just give him the opportunity he'd lick the
whole Bragg army with his ramrod."
You see, this was the way we were
fooled. Rebel General Bragg had been at
Crab Orchard, and wanting to pass his
troops through Danville in order to strike
Louisville, knew that he could not without
trouble while we remained there. It was
the custom of the General to carry tele
graphic instruments witb him wherever he
went, and thinking of a ruse to quietly get
us out of Danville for n season, he stopped
on the road and telegraphed to us, in Gen
eral Thomas' name, the aforesaid dispatch.
So, of course, when we obeyed orders it
left the way completely clear for the John
nies to pass without molestation. While we
were plodding along toward Crab Orchard
tbe rebel General and his raea lay on the
mountain above laughing in their sleeves U
see the victims of their strategy so obedi
ent Of course, nothing was easier, when the
way was thus clear, than to come down and
march through Danville and go on their
way rejoicing.
Ever after that when anything disap
pointed, or some plan prove abortive, we
christened it "another Crab Orchard light"
But Burt's vision had come to stay; aad
in time, when Turner's wounded pride had
healed, he laughed as heartily as any oae
over getting his "thumb on the enemy."
Manda L. Crocks.
WON AT LAST.
A Brtot Bat Thrilling-
ofWast.
raUb.
They stood by the crest of tbe hill over
looking the silent, ceaseless flow of the mag
nificent stream beneath whose placid breast
the bones of noble De Soto for centuries
have rested. "She bad cheeks like cher
ries red. He was taller 'most a head.
The threatening clouds of afternoon had si
lently stolen away, shepherded by the low
unwilling winds. Fleecy vaporous abysms
of beauty, like coquettish hands, were
raised, waved before the face of the silvery
moon, then dropped or brushed aside like
dew before a rising sun. He stood silent
and forbidding of aspect, while she shrunir
from him as a frightened dove in th?
presence of a bowling storm. Presently he
spoice:
"Wilhehuina,we have been ia America
for seven years. Like Jacob of old. I have
toiled and spun for you and you alone. 1
left the Fatherland with your promise ef
love and faithfulness imprinted upon my
lips. Your father, your mother, aad the
whole village witnessed our plighted troth
upon the green. Yon bade me good-bye,
an d wept upon ray bosom. No one was Ig
norant of our love. You have learned the
lauguage aad the customs of the new
world. You have labored and saved. I
have accumulated wealth. We ought to
have been married when I met you at Cas
tle Garden, hut yon refused to be a dower
less bride. Why do you longer say me nay,
and refuse to nameadayforourweddlBg!
Tell me to-night, or yonder river shall en
tomb me forever."
lake the sough of the whiter wiads
through tbe leafless boughs of theeatraaced
trees her sobs rended the twilight air. Her
breast heaved like the billowy crests of
ocean. She gasped:
"DarlingFriu, mine own Fritx! There is a
yawning chasm between us which yon can
not see. Think of me as oae uaworthvef
your love. Forget me after this night and
write my name among the dead. We shall
never more meet Give me one last, long,
lingering kiss, as we used to kiss ia the
beautiful Binges on the Rhiae; aad then
we must part, never to meet again. lean
not speak. My lips are sealed. The cause
will be buried with me. We shall aever
wed. Kiss me, Fritz, and Idas me good
bye." His quivering lips give token of the grief
he'd fain conceal, but lato his outstretched
arms she falls and lies weeping upon hie
Dreasias ae presses ner to hie heart and
slings lovingly, bat with awe, upon her eyes,
cheeks, mouthaad neck. He rains down kJss
eeaafromsGatnaggua. They smother, be
wilder, enthral her. She forgets her sor
rows aad tbe woeful fate upon her. All is
over. She is his, and he is hers. The spell
is broken, as maay a spell has beast broken
before, by osculation. The Chicago draHoner
who gave herthe glass diamonds Is lathe
aonsomaM. His cke is dough. She did
aot elope with Adolphua. He had esav
sentedto that last meeting between WU
heaaiaaaad Fritz, the baker; aad he less.
Frsu ; trhuanhed. Tisane are worth a
royal flush ef premised sir castles every
Happy Frits. Pisspngiataa I lolahne.
JIM-JAM VALLEY.
The BeaaarkaM Mchts Alleged te
la That Keg-tea.
"In the secluded Jim-Jam Valley of
the San Bernardino Mountains." re
marked Joe Joachinson, the pioneer of
San Bernardino, the other day to a re
porter at the Palace Hotel, "there are
the most marvelous mirages known in
the world. The wonderful mirages of
the Mojave Desert have been talked
about a good deal, and they are entitled
to all the prominence they have had.
But those of the Jim-Jum Valley are
far more wonderful than those. It is
called the Jim-Jam Valley because o(
the strange things seen there, and 1
defy any man. however sound of mind
he may be. to go in there, and not
think he has got 'em before he gets
out The valley is about twenty-nve
miles long by fifteen miles wide. It is
uninhabited. It is bordered by the
main San Bernardino range on the oast
and by a spur of the Sierra Magdnlenas
on the west There is no well-defined
trail through the heart of it The valley
is a desert The surrounding moun
tains are terribly serrated and cut up.
The peaks are jagged. Altogether the
surroundings are very weird and for
bidding. Leaving Fisk's ranch on the
trail at the foot of the Sierra Mag
dalenas, you climb an easy grade to
Dead Man's Pass, the entranco to the
valley. Go on in and pretty soon you
see lakes and running rivers, and green
borders, and flying water fowl. Wil
lows spring up here and there, and in
the distance you see water-lilies. What
you behold contrasts finely with the
rugged mountains, and you are charmed
with it and go on thinking you have
struck an earthly paradise. Indian
camps appear in view, and lithe oars
men propel fantastic crafts upon the
waters. Advancing still farther, you see
dim outlined forms, things whoso out
lines you can hardly express in words.
Somber countenances gleam at you from
the air above. The lakes and rivers
and the pallid faces shift and change
before your eyes. Sometimes a dozen
of the more or less dimly outlined
forms may be seen, and the pantomime
reminds you of a strange hobgoblin
dance. Sometimes a storm brews in
the valley, and then the scene is all the
more terrible. Forked lightning blazes
about, and strange, uncouth animals,
differing from any you have ever read
about, are to be seen there. These
phenomena are seen for a stretch of
about fifteen miles up and down the
middle of the valley principally, and
they have been viewed by a great
many people. They can not under
stand why the forms of the mirage, if
such it may be called, are so much
more strange there than on the Mojavo
desert Every body is in awe of the
valley, and there are mighty few men.
however nervy they maybe ordinarily,
who care to go there much." San
Francisco Examiner.
JOHN BROWN'S IRONS.
Historic Kellea That Oae Served Haecher
far aa Object !.
James N. Atwood, of Liverraore Cen
ter, has in his possession the veritable
leg irons" worn by John Brown dur-
ing his imprisonment previous to being;
hanged at Harper's Ferry.
H. Atwood. Jr.. (Company I, First
Maine Volunteers) was at the jail
shortly after John Brown's death.
The officers in charge of the buildings
vouched for the identity of the irons at
the time and Mr. Atwood was thor
oughly satisfied with the proof. Ho
also formed the acquaintance of the
old negro and his wife who had the
care of the cell where Brown was con
fined. On the day of the execution the old
man. being afraid that he should forget
which pair of irons it was. tore a strip
from tbe quilt on John Brown's cot
and tied it into the key of the shackles,
but the old negress. his wife, said:
"Law! I didn't forgit nuttin, for it
was de only pair o' irons in de whole
jail where de key turn de wrong way.'
(It was a left-handed key.)
Untying the dirty strip of calico
from the key, Mr. Atwood went to
Brown's cell and found the torn place
in the quilt, the figure of the cloth
matching perfectly.
Mr. Atwood tried to buy the shackles
from the authorities, but they good
naturedly told him they "had no right
to sell;" then he made this proposition:
If those irons should disappear and a
sew pair be found hanging in their
place would there be any investiga
tion?" They answered him, "prob
ably not"
He then paid eight dollars for a new
pair and made the transfer on his own
responsibility.
The shackles were sent home to
Mrs. H. Atwood, Jr., but the journey
was interrupted several times. Rev.
Henry Ward Beecher took them upon
the lecture platform one evening- as aa
eloquent object lesson. They were on
exhibition for a week in Portland.
Me.
The Portland Historical Society were
very anxious to get possession of them.
The society's rooms were destroyed
afterward ia the great Portland fire.
For a few years previous to the death
of H. Atwood, Jr., the shackles have
been oa exhibition ia the museum in
connection with the Boothbay Custom
House.
Mr. Atwood, after returning' from
his services in the war, entered the
Free Will Baptist ministry. He was a
brother to James N. Atwood, who bow
has these shackles ia possession. The
present proprietor prizes them very
highly, aad says that they are aot for
eale, being almost the rfri i uvenir he
ha of his departed brother. Auburn
(Me.) Gasette.
- The blacksmith welds iron with
Maliss; whacks. Washington CsplteL
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