Nebraska Newspapers

    _
: m . ' : : : :
r
r / '
I I Oun ' , . 0 0 S Up - G . c
i'4 ' Lr13i ' 0h
rl ! ) l1
ry ' J
-
-
-
-
-
CHAPTER N.II
,
(7'4
IIIOGIYE ; S throat
healed slowly , but
she would have no
physician to attend
to it. She was
snspic1ous of doctors -
tors silo said. They
hnade a living by
the deaths of other
people. But she
made her injury
an excuse for keep-
fug her room.
: thout a week after the affair with
the dog , Ralph was lyiri ; one night
atvaltc in his chamber , the door of
which he had left a little ajar for air.
For sonic reason he coul(1 : ot sleep.
At last he ! heard a 51g ! lt rustling SOt'hl(1
in the pasEage , and dircetly he thought
he heard the belt of the ha'l ' door with-
drawii. tic sprang up instantly , and ,
putting on ttls boots--fcr he had aot
undressed-went rolcie. ! sly 'lows
stairs , and out of the door. which , as
he had c needed , ice found unfastened.
The night was obscure , tlhe faintt new
I
moon hidden in clouds. But the low
murmur of voices drew him on , and
just at the foot of the garien he saw
distinctly two figures , standing close
together. He crept up near them , awl
had no difficulty in recpgnizing his
wife-and he was nearly sure that the
other was the mysteriobs stranger with
whom he had once before discovered
her.
her.The
The man turned his face toward the t
: hoop , and there was light enough to
show Ralph that his comnlexIon was
dark , his features iircgular , and his
chin heavily bearded. : ind as he lifted
np his right hand to enforce something
lie was saying , the keen ohserver also
saw that the third and fourth fingers
were missing.
"It is of no use to beat about the
bush , firs. Trenhone : , " the man was
saying ; "no use , whatever. I have told
you my requirements-
Huslr" she said , fearfully , looking
around her. "I am watched continu-
ally. ZVe cannot talk here. "
" 1Vell , then we will row out to the
Rover's Reef. It will he pleasanter on
the water and I have a great deal to say .
to you. But you must kiss me before we
start. "
Imogene drew back with a gesture of
contempt , but the man put a strong arm
around herr and held her to his side.
She looked at him a moment , then
lightly touched his cheek with her lips 1
and said hoarsely :
"Let us go. I am in the mood to been
on the water. It is just dark and gloomy
enough. "
He led her down the rocky path to a
little cove where a strange boat , probably -
ably the one in which he had reached
the Rock , lay moored. She stepped in I
without hesitation , and he pushed off.
Some terrible purpose had flashed into -
to life in the brain of Ralph Trenholme.
He dashed down the rocks after them ,
unloosened his own boat and , by a circuitous -
cuitous route , made off to the Rover's
Reef. The low line of rocks which bore I
this name formed at ebb tide a barren I
island , about two miles from the shore ,
but at high water the waves swept it
completely.
Ralph bent every energy to the work 1
before hIm , and reached the reef some
fifteen minutes before those for whom
he waited. They came on shore , and the
man made fast the boat. They sat down
i
just a little In the shadow of some rag-
rocks lying between them and the t
little indenture in the rock where they t
had moored their boat , and began to
converse together in low , earnest tones. ,
But Ralph did not care to listen. He had
not come to pryy into secrets. He had I
come for revenge. This woman whom f
he had married had dishonored himi
that was enough. All mercy for her died
out in his heart. He unloosed his own I
boat and took the other in tow , and allowed - -
lowed himself to drift with the tide ,
which was just beginning to set land-
ward. The moment he was out of hearing -
ing of those on the Reef lie bent to the
oars and in a little while the boats were
beached and he was climbing the steep
path to the house.
And in an hour the Rover's Reef
would be ten feet under water.
He threw off his hat and sat down on
the piazza. The air blew in from the I
sea , fresh and cold. He heard the rush
of the incoming tide. Something in the
sound made him shiver. He put his
band to his heart as if the motion might t
stiD its wild throbbhngs. And in doing t
so , tie felt the little tress of hair-the h
blood-stained , golden tress that he had -
cut from the head of Marina , the night j i h
they had buried her. The simple touch 1 r
thrilled him with a new sensation. It a
brought before him the sweet , pitiful d
blue eyes that were closed under the i t
summer daisies and the winter snows. c
Good heavens ! what was he better than t
a murderer ? He sprang up in wild k
baste , and dashed down the cliffs to the c ]
b oats. With asl.il1ful hand he.launched s
bthe
the Sea Foam , and though the tide beat h
him backalmost as fast as his strength c
pushed fbrwara , he did not hesitate. It r
4
w t .
was better to pa , iddlt on the rocks striving -
ing to save the Ides he had put In jeopardy -
ardy than it was to live-a murderer !
The rush of the tide was fierce and
strong , but Ralph Trenholme was des-
perate. He knew well the fearful risk
he ran , but he did not flinch from facing -
ing the danger. He bent every muscle
and sinew to the work. The boat labored -
bored on over the billows , the surf
breaking over her at almost every
I ; arch. Ralph was drenched to the skin.
Rover's Reef had never seemed half so
I far away. Ages had elapsed , it ap-
peare'l to him , since he left the harbor.
At last he neared the spot. He heard
the swilling roar of the waves over
the sunken rocks-saw before him the
foam-white breakers , as they dashed
: wild ; ) ' upward-saw , and heard with a
blank and terrible' despair at heart-
for the Reef was entirely under water !
"Great God ! " he cried , aloud ; "I have
murdered them ! " And dropping the
oars he fell upon his face in the bottom
of the boat , and drifted at the mercy of
the tide.
It bore him rapidly down the shore ,
but he did not notice whither lie was
going-the terrible weight of the thing
he had done crushed hint utterly. A
sudden shock aroused him. The boat
had stranded on a sandy shore. lie
crept from the debris and gazed around.
He recognized the place at once. It was
near Highpoint , a place of consider-
ahe : shipping interest , about twenty
miles from Portlea. The line of East
indfamen terminated here , and even
then at the wharf a ship was
lying bound for the distant -
tant islands of the East. A strong
temptation came over Ralph to flee his
country-to leave behind him everything -
thing he feared ; to go away and let the
fearful events of the past night remain
to hint a fearful doubt. His boat would
be found , and his friends would believe
hint thorned , and no living being could
ever know how guilty lie had been !
I-low guilty ! Had he been guilty ? He
thought it over calmly. It had not been
premeditated. He had never for a mo-
mcnt indulged in the thought of taking
this kind of revenge , until just as he
saw the-pair push off in their boat. He
had been math then ! Nothing short of
insanityy could have prompted ) him to
the fearful act. And after all , what
had he done ? Nothing overt. He had
simply removed a boat from the Rov-
er's Reef to the shore. True , but he
knew when lie did it that for the want
of that boat two fellow-creatures must
go down into the cruel depths of the sea ,
for nothing could save them ! Yes , he
was guilty ; fearfully so-this man who
had dared to take God's vengeance out
of his a1-wise hands , who had cast
off his onlyy sister because she
tried to save the life of
Lynde Graham-he , even lie , was , in
the eye of the law , a murderer !
There wan one thing that he wanted to
do , but something stronger than even
his will held him back. He wanted to
go before a magistrate and confess the
whole and then let them do with him
as they saw fit. But anything like this
would involve the dishonor and name
of his wife-if ! a part was told , it must
all be told , and he could not bear the
terrible scandal ! It would be more
dreadful than even the recognition of
his own guilt.
He turned toward the outward bound
vessel. His decision was nearly taken.
A feather would have turned the scales
either way. And it was turned sudden-
y.
"Hello , Trenholme ! " called a rough
voice , which he recognized as that of
.
Iohn Cooper , an old man who lived. a
ittle way from the Rock. "It's a nice
morning , ain't it ? Going back today ?
If you be , I'll take you right up in the
Sally Ann. "
Fate had'decided. He was to go back.
It would be useless to leave the coun-
ry now , for honest John would tell all'
he neighbors near and far , that he had
spoken to Squire Trenholme at High-
port. So he replied , quietly enough :
"Yes , I am going back. Thank you.
'II be glad of a chance in the Sally Ann
or my boat has got stove , and if not ,
is a long row to Portlea.
So an hour after he stood on the t
deck of the fishing schooner , the Sally
fan , and they were away for Portlea.
y
CHAPTER ] III.
n
, .
a
t
n o P
/h
.
i
UST as Ralph
I i sprang from the
wharf he heard a
C
great shout , and
U glancing up the a
road he saw a pair
? of frantic horses
attached to a light
carriage dashing
wildly down toward
the sea. The coach1
man still clung to
he box , but lie had lost all control over
lie animals , and had much ado to keep S
imself from being thrown over. With o
Ralph , to think was to act. He flung o
imself before the mad brutes , and seiz- a
ng the near horse by the bit , was borne
long with them. With one hand he
row his knife from his pocket , opened t
with his teeth , and reachingover , lie a
ut the harness from the off horse' and ii
lucking him with the point of his b
nkfethe beast gave a mad snort and b
eared himself from the carriage. His e
trength soon sufficed to stop the other a
erse , and delivering him up to the c
are of half a dozen men who had a
ushed out from their houses upon the
.Zn
_ - - _
;
-
-T
scene , he opened the door of the car-
riage. But at sight of what it contained -
tained he grew pale as marble and
leaned against the vehicle for support.
No wonder the was agitated , for lying
white and still upon the velvet cushions ,
her long golden locks streaming over
her shoulders , was the exact , counterpart -
part of his lost Marina. The features
the same repose of the face , the scarlet
lips , the soft hair , even the delicate ,
shell-like ears were the same.
"Good Heaven ! " lie cried , "am I
awake or dreaming ? Marina , Marina ,
speak to me ! "
"Is she safe ? Is' Genevieve safe ? "
cried a strange gentleman , hastening
up. "Tell me , sir. if she is injured ? "
Ralph turned toward him. The
sound of a voice recalled him to him-
self.
self."I
"I do not think she is hurt. She
must have fainted.
"Thank Heaven ! " cried the stranger , .
as he lifted the lady out in his arms.
"She breathes ! Ali , she opens her eyes.
Genie , my darling , are you hurt"
She lifted her great violet eyes to his
anxious countenance and smiled. The
smile made her so much like Marina i
that Ralph could hardly j ersuade himself -
self that the dead had not come back
to life.
"No , Guy , I am not injured , I think.
But fright made me do a very foolish
thing , you gentlemen will think. Indeed -
deed , I am not in the habit of swoon-
ing. "
"You certainly had sufficient cause , "
Ralph said , bowing ; then to the gentleman -
man , "Will you not allow me to offer
you the hospitality of my house to your
wife , until you can get a conveyance ?
Trent tolme is very near , just behind the ,
trees , and I presume you came from the
village ? "
"We did , sir. We are stopping at the
I
Reef House. I thank you for your courtesy -
tesy , but at present we will not accept
it. That is , if Genevieve feels able to
walk the half-mile between us and the
hotel. Do you , clear' ? "
"Certainly. I would not be a true
Englishwoman if I could not , " she answered -
swered , with a bewitching smile.
The gentleman explained. '
"We are English. We arrived at
Portlea two days ago in the Clifton. )
My name is Guy St. Cyril , and this is
my sister , Genevieve. " 1I I 1
Trenholme removed his hat.
"I am happy to make your acquaint.
ante , " he said , "but allow me to tell
i
you that I am Ralph Trenholme , of the
old house yonder on the rocks. "
St. Cyril bowed.
"Will .you walk with us to the hotel ?
I have a fancy for becoming better acquainted -
quainted with you. "
Ralph willingly acquiesced , for he
wanted to gain time , and he hoped cour
age , before lie should again face the I
wondering family at the Rock. For by
this time theyy must have missed Imo- i
gene and himself , as well as the Sea
Foam. I
In spite of all the dread lie felt within -
in , Ralph Trenholme could not keep his
eyes from the beautiful face of Miss St.
Cyril Her brother noticed the absorbing -
ing gaze.
"Does my sister remind you of anyy
one you have met ? " lie asked , a little
curiously.
Ralph started , conscious of , and
ashamed of his rudeness.
"Pardon me , sir , I have been unpardonably -
donably rude. But I think Miss St. Cy-
r ! ] will forgive me when I tell her that
she is the exact image of the young girl
I was once engaged to marry , and who
was snatched from me on the day that
was to have made her mine. "
Miss St. Cyril's face sympathized with ,
his unwonted emotion.
"Did she die ? " she asked softly.
"Yes , she did. She was murdered. "
The girl shuddered and grew pale.
"It is a sad story , " said Ralph , hearses
ly. "I seldom speak of it , but I think
I would like to tell it to you. You are f
. " I :
so like her. .
C
tTO Its CONTINPEU.t
I
WHOLE WHEAT BREAD.
s
.1 Recipe That Ilan Been Tried and h
Found Good. J I
A tested recipe for whole wheat , b
bread which we are glad to note is becoming - n
coming a part of the diet of every well-
nourished family , consists of one pint n
of boiling water poured into a pint of , s
nilk. Cool the liquid and when Luken
warn add one cake of compressed yeast g
dissolved in half a cupful of warm h
water. Add a teaspoonful of salt and d
enough whole wheat to make to batter . c
that will drop easily from a spoon. ti
!
Beat thoroughly five minutes , cover , U
an(1 stand in a place that is moderately
varm for three hours. Enough whole
cheat to make a dough should then be P
added - . When stiff knead
graduallyWhen , on r
our board until the mass is soft and b ]
elastic , but not sticky. Make the dough P
nto loaves , put in greased bread-pans , ' Pc
and after covering stand aside one '
o
hour. The time for baking will depend ' o
the size of the loaves. If long
1o
iren h loaves bake thirty minutes in
a
quick oven. If large square loaves , o f
bake one hour at a moderate heat.
Vhen crustyy bread is liked the dough
si
may be made in sticks and baked in
Lb
pans made for that special purpose.
s
Another tested recipe that requires less
b
handling and that is used by Miss
Johnson is made in the following way. : a
Scald one cupful of milk , add a tea- .
poonful of butter , the same quantityy g
f salt tablespoonful of a :
, a sugar , and
ne cupful of witter. When lukewarm
( Id one-half a yeast cake and enough tl
, heat flour to make a thin batter.
Tktis should be done in the morning , as
he bread rises quickly. After making t
smooth batter let it rise until very B
ght. Add whole wheat gradually and h
eating continuously until as much has n
een added as you can stir conveniti
ntly. If the flour is not added gradu-
Ily and well mixed the bread will be Si
oarse-grained. Turn into greased tins , G
nd when light bake one hour on a , o
moderate oven. - I t o
e
. - . . ;
,
-
x
. . - , . - -
tTES S T IL L 1JL S.
I A THRILLING SERMON BY REV.
DR. TALMAGE.
1
Golden Tc t for Last Sunday : " [ Into
Bin Shalt the Gatl + erih of the I'eo-
plo lie"-Gen. , xlix , 10-Gett4 + g Sear
i the Christian Stnndnrd.
fp , ,
. ,
t
HROUGH a supernatural -
natural lens , or
what I might call
a prophescope , dying -
ing Jacob looks
down through the
corridors of the
centuries until he
, sees Christ the center -
ter of all popular
attraction and the
greatest being in
the world , so everywhere acknowl- i
edged. It was not always so. The 1
world tried hard to put him down and
to put him out. In the year 1200 , while
excavating for antiquities fifty-three
i
miles northeast of Rome , a copperplate - I
plate tablet was found containing t1 to
d Gatti-warrant of the Lord Jesus Christ , I
reading in this wise :
"In the year li of the empire of Ti-
berius Caesarand on the 25th of March ,
I , Pontius Pilate , governor of the Prae-
tore , condemn Jesus of Nazareth to die
between two thieves , Quintius Corne- +
IIus to lead him forth to the place of
execution , "
t
The death-warrant was signed by
several names. First , by Daniel , rabbi
Pharisee ; secondly , by Johannes , rabbi ; i
thirdly , by Raphael ; fourthly , by Capet , I
a private citizen. This capital punish- I
meat was executed according to law. i
The name of the thief crucified on the
right-hand side of Christ was DIsmas ;
the name of the thief crucified on the ,
left hand side of Christ was Gestus.l
Pontius Pilate describing the tragedy
says the whole world lighted candles I
from noon until night. Thirty-three I
years of maltreatment. They ascribe i
his birth to bastardy and his death to
excruciation. A wall of the city , built ;
about those time and recently exposed -
posed by archaeologists , shows a caricature -
cature of Jesus Christ evidencing the
l
contempt in which he was held by
many in his day-that caricature on the
wall representing a cross and a donkey -
key nailed o ' t , and under it the inscription -
scription : "This is the Christ whom
the people worship , " But I rejoice that
that dayy is gone by. Our Christ is coining -
ing out from under the world's abuse.
The most popular name on earth today
is the name of Christ. Where he had
one , friend Christ has a thousand
friends. The scoffers have become wor-
shipers. Of the twenty most celebrated
infidels in Great Britain in . our day. , i
sixteen have come back to Christ. trying -
ing to undo the blatant mischief of their
out of the twenty. Every
man who writes a letter or signs a doe-
ument , wittingly or unwittingly , lion-
ors Jesus Christ. We date everything
as B. C. , or A. D.-B. C. , before Christ : t
A D. , Anne Domini , in the year of our
Lord. All the age. , of history on the i
pivot of the upright beam of the Cross
of the Son of God , B. C. , A. D. I do not I
care what you call him-whether Conqueror -
queror , or Icing , or Morning Star , or. i
Sun of Righteousness , or Balm of Gil-
ead , or Lebanon Cedar , or Brother , or i
Friend , or take the name used in the
verse from which I take my text , and
call him Shiloh , which means his Son ,
or the Tranquilator , or the Peacemaker , I
Shiloh. I only want to tell you that
'unto ) him shall the gathering of the
people be. "
In the first place , the people are gathering - P
ering around Christ for pardon. No t
ensible man or healthfully ambitious s
man is satisfied with his past lift. A
aol may think he is all right. A sons- t
le man knows lie is not. I do not I
are who the thoughtful man is , the
review of his lifetime behavior before S
God and man gives to him no especial
atisfaction. "Oh , " he says , "there
ave been so many things I have done
ought n of to have done , there have I e
een so many things I have said I ought r
ever to have said , there have been so , n
things I have h
many written I ought
ever to have written , there have been h'
o many things I have thought I ought s
ever to have thought , I must somehow , a
et things readjusted , I must somehow i
Ib
ave the past reconstructed : flexes are I .
ays anti months and years which cry I i
ut against me in horrible vocifera- I g
on. Ah , my brother , Christ adjusts r t
past by obliterating it. He does cr
of erase the record of our misdoing ' s
with. a dash of ink from a register's b
I , '
: : n , but lifting his right hand , crushed , c'
ed at the palm , he puts it against his
e
ceding brow , and then against his v
ierced side , and with the crimson ac-
w
umulation of all those wounds he rubs fl
it the accusatoryy .
chapter. He blots fi
it our iniquities. Oh ! never be anx0
us about the future ; better be anxious .
n.
bout the past. I put it not at the end si
my' sermon ; I put it at the front : ti
Iercy and pardon through Shiloh , the fa
n-pardoning Christ. "Unto him shall h o
e gathering of thepeoplc be. " "Oh ! " fi
ays some man , "I have for forty years or
een as bad as I could be , and is there st
ny mercy for me. Mercyy for you. ( R
Oh ! " says some one here , "I have a I k
rand ancestry , the holiest of fathers p
d the tenderest of mothers , and for b
my perfidy there is no excuse. Do you h
pink there is any mercy for me ? " ; o
Iercy for you. "But , says another c
man , "I fear I have committed what a
hey call the unpardonable sin , and the th
ible says if a man commit that sin a
e is neitherr to be forgiven in this th
orld norr the world to come. Do you of h
ink there is any mercy for me ? " sp
t
The grace of God ! Let us take the i P-
rveyor's chain and try to measure or
ed's mercy through Jesus Christ. Let i w
n e surveyor take that chain and go to :
the north. and another surveyor take C
1
- . .
that chain amigo to the south , ana
I another surveyor take that chain and
go to the east , and another surveyor
t take that chain and go to the west , and
then make a report of the square milee
of that vast kingdom of God's mercy.
Ah ! you will have to wait to all eternity
I for the report of that measurement. It
cannot be measured. ' Paul tried to
climb the height of it , and he went
height over height , altitude above altitude -
tude , mountain above mountain , then
sank down in discouragement and
gave it up , for he saw Sierra Nevadus
beyond and Matterhorns beyond , and
waving his hands back to us in the
plains , he says , "Past finding out ; un-
searchable , that in all things lie might
have the pre-eminence. " You notice
' that nearly all the sinners mentioned
as pardoned in the Bible were great
sinners-David a great sinner , Paul a
great sinner. Magdalen a great sinner ,
the Prodigal Son a great sinner. The
world easily understood how Christ
could pardon a half-and-half sinner ,
but what the world wants to be persuaded -
ed of is that Christ will forgive the
worst sinner , the hardest sinner , the
oldest sinner , the most Inexcusable sin-
ner. To the sin-pardoning Shiloh let
all the gathering of the people be.
But , I remark again , the people will
gather round Christ as a sympathizer.
Oh ! we all want sympathy. I hear people -
ple talk as though they were independent -
ent of it. None of us could live without
sympathy. When parts of our family
are away , how lonely the house seems
until they all get home ! But alas ! for
those who never come home. Sometimes -
times it seems as if it must be Impos-
sible. What , will their feet never again
come over the threshold ? Will they
never again sit with us at the table ?
Will they never again kneel with us at
family prayer ? Shall we never again
look into their sunny faces ? Shall we
never again on earth take counsel with
them for our work ? Alas ! me , who can
stand under these griefs ? Oh ! Christ ,
thou canst do more for a bereft soul'
than any ' one else. It is he who stands
beside us to tell of the resurrection. It ;
is he that came to bid peace. It is he
that comes to us and breathes into us
the spirit of submission until we can
look up from the wreck and ruin of
our brightest expectations and say :
"Father , clot my will , but thine be
done. " Oh , ye who are bereft , ye an-
guish-bitten , come into this refuge. The
roll of those who came for relief to
Christ is larger and larger. Unto this
Sliiloh of omnipotent sympathy the
gathering of the people shall be. Oh ,
that Chr kt would stand by all these
empty cradles , and all these desolated
homesteads and all these broken hearts ,
and persuade us it is well.
The world cannot offer you any help
at such a time. Suppose the world
comes and offers you money. You would
rather live on a crust in a cellar and
have your departed loved ones with
you , than live in palatial surroundings
and they away. Suppose the world offers -
fers you its honors to console you.
What is the presidency to Abraham
Lincoln when little Willie lies dead in
the White House ? Perhaps the world
comes and says : "Time will cure it
all. " .Ah , there are griefs that have
raged on for thirty years and are rag-
ng yet. And yet hundreds have been
comforted , thousands have been comforted -
forted , millions have been comforted ,
znd Christ had done the work. Oh ,
what you want is syntpathy. The
I
world's heart of sympathy beats very
rregularly. Plenty of sympathy when
wo do not want it , and often when we
are fn appalling aced of it no sy m-
patty. There are multitudes of peso _ I
le dying for sympathy-sympathy in t
heir work , sympathy in their fatigues ,
ympathy in their bereavements , sympathy -
pathy in their financial losses , sympa-
by in their physical ailments , sympa-
hy in the time of declining yearss
wide , deep , high , everlasting , almightyy i
ympathy. We must have it , and Christ
gives it. That is the chord with which
he is going to draw all nations to him.
A t the story of punishment a man's
ye flashes and his teeth set and his
lst clinches. and he prepares to do
attic even though it be against the
t
eavens ; yet what heart so hard but it '
Ill succumb to the storyy of compas-
icn ! Even a man's sympathyy is pleas- f
nt and helpful. When we have been
e
n some hour of weakness , to have a
rawny man stand beside us and promfi
se to see us through , what courage it I
ivies to our heart and what strength a
gives to our arm. Still mightier is a
oman's sympathy. Let him tell the e
tort' who , when all his fortunes were
tl
one and all the world was against him ,
s
ime home and found in that home a
fie who could write on the top of the b
mpty flour-barrel , "The e d will
,
; or write on the door of the empty
ardrobe , "Consider the lilies of the rr
old ; if God so clothed the grass of the + tI
old , will he not clothe us and ours ? " I , e
r let that young man tell the story t
ho has gone the whole round of dis-
pation. The shadow of the peniten- di
ary is upon him , and even his tl
ther says , "Be off ! never come
nce again ! " The young man b
ids still' ' his mother's arm ° o
itstretched for him , and how she will y
and at the wicket of the prison to le
hisper consolation , or get flown on her
pees before the governor , begging for i th
arden , hoping on for her wayward
oy after all others are hopeless. Or let er
er tell tht story who , under villain-
us allurement and impatient of par-
ntal restraint , has wondered off front
home of which she was the idol into
e murky and thunderous midnight of p
bandonmert , away from God , and Purer -
.
er away. , until some time she is tossed
the beach of that early home a me
linterr of a wreck. VTo will pity' of
ow ? Who will gather these di - m
ed locks into her lap ? Wlr will
ash off the blood from the asked
r se
ehead ? Who will tell of that ' y o
hrist who came to s _ a r the lost ? I d
- ;
- - - : . - . . . . - - - - - - - ' " : s - , I. '
r , r
Who wiI . s put that weary head on a
the clean white pillow and watch by yp t ,
day and watch by night until the hoarse ,
voice of the sufferer becomes the '
i whi5Per , and the whisper becomes only ;
a faint motion of the lips , and the fain. 1
motion of the lips Is exchanged for a
silent look , and the cut feet are still ,
and the weary eyes are still , and the ,
frenzied heart is still , and all is still ? '
i 1'h o will have compassion on her
' „ .lien no others have compassion ?
Bother , ' Mother'
Oh ! there is , something beautiful in
sympathy-In manly sympathy , wifely -
ly sympathy , motherly sympathy ; yea.
I and neighborly sympathy. Why was .
It that a city was aroused with excite- I
ment when a little child was kidnaped
(
from one of the 'streets ? Why were
whole columns of the newspapers filled
with the story of a little child ? It
was because we are all one in sy'nh- /
pathy , and every parent said : "How
if It had been my Llzzke ? How If it
It had been my Mary ? How if It had
been my Maud ? How If it had been
my child ? How if there had been one r
unoccupied pillow In our trundle-bed
to-night ? How if my * little one-bone ) , i >
of my bone and flesh of my flesh-were '
to-night carried captive into some den
of vagabonds , never to come back to
me ? How If It had been my sorrow
looking out of the window , watching
and waiting-that sorrow worse than "
death ? " Then when they found her
why did we declare the news all
through the households , and everybody l
that knew how to pray said , "Thank ,
God ! " ? Because we are all one , bound
by one golden chain of sympathy. Oh !
yes , but I have to tell you that if you '
will aggregate all neighborly , manly , r r' r'
wifely , motherly sympathy , it will be
found only a poor starving thing compared -
pared with the sympathy of our great
1
Shiloh , who has held in his lap the
sorrows of the ages , and who is ready 1"
to nurse on his holy heart the woes of
all who will come to him. Oh ! vrhai
a God , what a Savior we have ! * * * t +
There are people who think Christ
will cone in person and sit on a throne. +
Perhaps he may. I should like to see
the scarred feet going up the stairs of
a palace in which all the glories of
the Alhambra , and the Taj Maltal , and
the St. Mark's , and the Winter Palace
are gathered. I should like to see the
world pay Christ in love for what it
did to him in maltreatment. I should }
like to be one of the grooms of the (
chargers , holding the stirrup as the
-
King mounts. 0 ! what a glorious
time it would pe on earth if Christ
would break through the heavens , and
right here where he has suffered and
died have this prophecy fulfilled. "Unto
him shall the gathering of the people
I
be. But failing in that I bargain to r
meet you at the ponderotis gate of 1 1
heaven on the day when our Lord
comes back. Garlands of all nations ;
on his brow-of the bronzed nations of
the South and the pallid rations of
the North-Europe . , Asia Africa , North 3
and South America , and the other con- 1
tinerts that may arise meantime from +
the sea , to take the places of their rI
sunken predecessors ; Arch of Trajan , !
Arch of Titus , Arch of Triumph in the ,
Champs Elysees , all too poor to wel- b
r
cone this Icing of kings , and Lord of
Lords , and Conqueror of conquerors in
his august arrival. Turn out all
heaven to meet hIm. Hang all along
the route flags of earthly dominion ,
whether decorated with crescent , or
star , or eagle , or lion , or coronet. Hang
out heaven's brightest banner , with its
one star of Bethlehem and blood-
striped of the cross. I hear the pro-
cession now. Hark ! the tramp of the
feet , the rumbling of the wheels , the
clattering of the hoofs , and the shouts
of the riders. Ten thousand times ten
housand , and thousands of thousands.
Put up in heaven's library , right beside -
side the completed volume of the r
world's ruin , the coin eted volume of
Shiloh's triumph. T1 old profuse
truggling through the ages fulfilled at
+ I
ast : "Unto him shall the gathering
of the people be. "
While everlasting ages roll ,
Eternal love shall feast their soul ,
And scenes of bliss forever new
Rise in succession to their view.
PHILOSOPHY.I 1
The love of move } keeps many men
rem vice.
The locomotive builder is note ; ' for hi
n gine-ulty.
The proper thin „ for a jury Is to be 1
rm , but not fixed.
-
The fetter of , '
propriety should be worn i
s an ornament , not a chain. !
The surest nay to become poor in e
arnest is to try to 1 ep all you bet. ' t
The trouble with cheerful people is
at their cheerfulness Is too hard to t
nub.
;
If you don't want your boy to turn out '
ad , don't bear down too hard on the 1
rindstone.
There ought to be a law passed that n
lilway restaurant keepers shall 'lat.
heir apple pies.
The more worthless a man is when he ,
ayes a town , the greater probability
at he will come back.
We learn that rninisters are . , erfousl ; i ,
sturbed over the inn otiation known as ,
le automatic coupler.
A fish diet is said to be good for thr
rain. Probably this is because the fishl
so often in schoeis.
The moment a man finds out he has , f
een making a fool of himself he has J
arned something valuable.
The stingier a man i s about valuable
ings the more apt he is to give adric' . 3
omparfng your sins with those of oth- ,
people won't make
your sinning any
tfer.
MANNERS OF GREAT MEN.
resence Fox would ' n e h rl stand covered in the
C&lo n was so absent-minded that 1
often forgot he was in company. - d'
Eaneroft was rather reserved than ' {
hernise with most persons whom h. I" . '
t
et ,
burglar ( just acquitted , to his coun-
1)-I will call
shortly and see you at - 1
ur office , sir. 'Very good ; but In the
aytme , please. '
J b
-I-