Decatur Democrat, Volume 35, Number 48, Decatur, Adams County, 19 February 1892 — Page 6

' iRz 1 n/i ■l'! BiKvSl ! ■B il i®M MM&sfifMZ. |IB |ifcim \ A |IWZ/Wz ifiH I I 1 bKV \ I -

KM

CHAPTER ll.— (Continued).'” There was a window in the side wait of the interior room which Paxton examined 1 , discovering that it was not secured, although it was provided with Interior fastenings of an approved kind. He pushed up the sash and found that the heavy outside with which it was guarded were not fastened —that the hooks had been broken. He saw, moreover 1 ; that the window opened upon a narrow passage between that and the next building The police sergeant kept close to the detective as though he feared he would mate some discovery which might escape his own unguided observation, and he noted all Paxton saw. It was Mr Paxton’s method never to ask any questions until he had thorough--ly examined the scene of a crime, and thus in the first instance his mind was unbiased by what might bo told him. Now having concluded his investigation for the present, he addressed several questions to Mardon and Judith Kredge. “Miss did you hear the report of a pistol or any unusual sound before you discovered your father?” he asked. “No, sir, I heard nothing, although I have not slept tonight,” answered Marion. “And did you hear nothing?” continued Paxton, turning to Judith Kredge, “Nothing, sir," she replied. “When you came to the office, I think you told the policeman that you found the door unlocked?” Paxton went on, now addressing Marion “Yes./sir, it was unlocked.” “And the street door?” Marion turned to Judith. “That was also unlocked and unbolted, as I found when I went to open it,” the woman said. “Was there any one besides you and this woman in your apartments to-night, Miss Oakburn?” Marion hesitated for a moment, and then she said: “Mr. Stuart Harland, a clerk employed by Mr. Garrison, occupied our front room directly over the office. ” ’ “But he is not there now, sir. I ran ( up to his room as soon as we discovered ( that Mr. Oakburn was murdered. lam sure I don’t know what can have be- ; come of him. for he went to his room as , usual qujte late, and as I sleep in a room j adjoining his I heard him moving about . a few moments before Miss Marion j rapped at my door and asked me to go down and look for her father. I noticed when I ooked into his room that j his traveling-bag was gone, ” said u udith j Kredge, Marion’s face assumed an expression , of absolute agony, and she gave Judith ’ Kredge a glance full of aversion and ' fear. Mr. Paxton and the police sergeant ex- : changed significant glances. , “Excuse me a moment, ” said the de- • tective, and he slipped out of the office. , He returned very quickly, for he had j only run up to Stuart Harland’s apartment and hastily searched it He dis- | covered nothing except that the bed had not been opened that night. i A short consultation between the de- ; tective and the police sergeant ensued, and the latter said: “You are right, sir; Mr. Garrison should be sent for at once. ” Acting upon this decision, he dispatched one of his men to the broker’s residence with a hastily written note containing information of the tragedy which had been enacted at his office Marion, seemingly exhausted by grief and excitement, had seated herself beside her dead father, and with her face buried in her hands, she remained silent and motionless, while Judith Kredge stood by a window and listened eagerly to a conversation which was carried on In low tones between the police sergeant and one of his men. Judith Kredge did not possess a good face; rather it was one to awaken distrust in the mind of the observer. She ! had a low, retreating forehead, large coarse features, thin bloodless lips, and small yellow eyes set clo-e together un- '““ tier ucetn nq brOwS - Hc-i agc was about = fifty. Her life had not been cast in pleasant places, and she had grown to hate those who were happy because she was not so. S-he was envious of all persons who were in the possession of the advantages of life of which fate had deprived her. In disposition she was vindictive and cruel. She was cunning, un crupulous and daring to a certain degree, and avarice dominated every oth r passion in he • heart Just at this moment there were strange thoughts in Judith Kredge’s mind. She was plotting seemingly to turn certain secrets of this dreadful night of murder to her own profit. Mr. Jason Garrison, the broker, arrived in less than thirty minutes, and he i was pale and agitated. Suspense and anxiety were written upon his features as he burst into the office, an 1 as though oblivious to the presence of anyone rushed to John Oakbujp’s desk and began to examineU tile of raeques which he took from a drawer. His hands trembled the while so that he could scarcely hold the papers, and he experienced the keen agony of a gamester to whom the turning of a card or the cal ing out of a number is almost a matter of life or death, as he ran over the file of cho ues. “He is searching for something of vital' importance to his interest,” said Paxton, sotto voce. “Not here! There is one chance left!” * ■ ‘exclaimed .Jason Garrison, totally unconscious that he spoke, and turning to a small memorandum book lie .hurriedly looked over its pages. The next moment the bdok foil from his nerve css grasp, and he sank forward as though prostrated by a nervous shock. “I am a ruined man!” he exclaimed. Paxton i.ulckly sprang to his side. “You have sustained a serious loss by this robbery, sir?” he asked. Jason Garrison raised his pale,, haggard face, and,bringing his clenched fist down upon the desk with force, cried, fiercely: “I tell you, ®an,J am ruiijod. Hopelessly ruined!” “Then there was a large sqm of money in the safe?” asked Paxton. “Yes sir." ■-■■■ . ' “I am .a detective, and lam sure, my dear sir, thatlt will be to your nterest to conceal nothing from me.” “1 have nothing to conceal!” cried Garrison, in away thatin the detective's judgment be led his words. “J wi<l ex : plain, Mr," ho continued. “Yesterday afternoon I gave my unfortun.no cashier, John Oakburn ache que for •78,000, add instructed him to cash tuft fttlu KftOPuVCr Dlf uw

here la our safes, as we wore to have an urgent demand for it early in the morning. The sergeant's note informed mo that there was no money In the safe, id I find the cheque missing from the file of small cheques where 1 saw John Oakburn place it. More, in this book I found my cashier's memorandum, which dashed to the ground my one hope that the money was not lost. ” ■ Mr. Garrison picked up the book which he had dropped on the floor, and turning the leaves he read the following in John Oakburn’s handwriting: “Dec. 83, cashed cheque for $78,000 today.” “Seventy-eight thousand dollars. A large cheque But hero in the great money center of the country among you brokers, I suppose the amount is not surprising. However, it has been stolen by John Oakburn’s murderer. Seventyeight thousand dollars is quite a haul for a thief, but let us hope that we will recover the stolen money, ” said Paxton. “We already have a clow to the assassin,” the police sergeant said. “Whom do you suspect?” asked the broker. “Let me give you a synopsis of the case and you can draw your own deductions. The office door was found unlocked. Nothing to be noted in that, since it was probably so left by the cashier when he entered. The street door was also unlocked, and the bolts, which were on the inside, Wero drawn The safe was opened by means of John Oakburn’s key. A window in the rear office is unfastened. Now. it is clear to my mind that the assassin was an inmate of this house—one who knew the combination of the safe and that there was money in it He surprised John Oakburn, shot him, took the key from his pocket, opened the safe, secured the money and then unbarred the street door and fled. But our assassin and robber was cunning. He thought he would leave a loophole of doubt in the theory whic i would be formed of the crime, and so he opened the window in the rear office, pried off the fastening of the shutters, and left them so as to give the impres ion that the assassin might have broken into the office by that route. - Now, sir, who among your clerks knew the combination of your safe iocx? Who among them knew that $78,000 was to be left in the safe over night?” Thu- spoke the police sergeant. Jle hadiakenapo ition in the center of the room, and spoke and gesticulated in a pompous manner, like some politi cal stump orator It was clearly evident that he fancied he had the entire case under his thumb. “Only one person except John Oak burn knew the combination of the safe and that the stolen money was to be kept In it over night, and that person is above Suspicion, sir," answered Mr. Garrison. “His name, if you jjlease?" •Stuart Harland,” answered the broker, and then as the name passed his lips he started, for he suddenly remembered that the young clerk occupied an apartment in the building, so he quickly' added: “But Mr. Har and rooms here and he should have been called. ’ “He was called, sir.but he-failed ,to respond, because ho had fled, and I may as well tell you plainly, sir, though I would spare your feelings, that 1 entertain a grave suspicion which I am sure is shared by Mr. I axton.” “What do you mean?” demanded the broker. “That circumstances seem to indicate that Stuart Harland is ! ohn Oakburn’s murderer!" replied the police sergeant. CHAPTER in. At last the direct accusation which Marion Oakburn dreaded, and to prevent which she had besought Judith Kredge to preserve silence regarding the unexplained departure of Stuart Harland, was macle The police sergeant was responsible for formulating the dreadful arraignment into words, but in the minds of the others present it could scarcely be doubted that the same suspicion had found a lodgment It is an age of distrust No man’s past is regarded as a bond for his future. Men whose reputations were spotless yesterday are buried in the mire to day. The temptation of goid 1 outweighs the honor and honesty of men who until the denouement comes are regarded as above suspicion But Jason Garrison would have staked his life upon the innocence and honor of the man to whom he meant to intrust the future happiness of his only child As the police ergeant pronounced the name of Stuart Harland the broker leaped to his feet. “Never, sir! Never! Do not dare to couple Stuart Harland’s name with a crime in my presence,” he cried. “Stuart liar and is as innocent as I am. I know it, 1 feel it. He is not capa ble of a d shonorabledeed,” Said Marion, earnestly seeking to exculpate the suspected one. “Yo i see, sir, even the daughter of the vict m of this tragedy is assured of the inno ence of the man you accuse,” said Garrison “And p rmit me to say that you are entire:) wrong in thinking t at I share your suspicion Os Stuart Harland,” said Paxton, the detective, smiling blandly. “Indeed, under the circi instances, lam convinced of his innocence,” he added The pol ce sergeant seemed amazed. “The circumstances . are all against him; it cannot be any one else,” he said, defiantly.. J “Good, keep on thinking so and work :on that line. The way will be clear to enab.e me to secure the real assassin,” said 1 a'ton pleasantly. “We shall see 1 have placed a shrewd man on Harland s track and he will be arrested befo e morning *’ “I wish you .oy of your capture, I am sure,” retorte l l axton. Jason arrison t .med his back upon , the detect! e. - ; an i the police sergeant : with an expressive gesture, and strode to the-ide of the dead man. . .1 Long and .earnestly he gazed upon the . I face of the. dead and the man of the i world was dee y mo ed as he thought thtft this po man, who had served hi i with surprising : fidelity for long years, had perhaps met his fate in defense of , his property. “Poor ■ bhn, poor John!" he said. “He ■ was one of the f w men who are honest l from principle alone He was honored , by all. and he leaves behind him a reputation of which any man might well be ■ proud.” * , Then, turning to Marion, be added: r “Mis< (Jakburri, the memory of your father'wUl be resnec pd by r.l 1 who knew him. He died as lie had lived-—faith fn] ' to his duty and an honest man.” t . The* dead cashier’s daughter was Strangely agitated, but her fan? became I' transformed with a' look of- heroic roil solve a-she said: . ! : --“My father so lived that When he was t dead men might speak of him as you s have done His soul would have, revoltted at,any other destiny. His memory t shall be revered." t . Tjhjre was something fierce and

startling In the intensity of the girl’s voice, and her manner was that of one In a strangely excited mental state. But her hearers, with perhaps one exception, attributed her excitement and her strange manner to emotions occasioned by the discovery of her father’s murder alone. Paxton was the only one present not of this opinion, and he covertly watched the cashier'd daughter with a sudden augmentation of interest The detective possessed many serviceable qualifications for the vocation he had adopted, not the least valuable of which was the i faculty of discerning the cause of human . emotions, and he felt that Marlon Oaki burn was now actuated by some powerful feeling which the others did not susi pect But even his acumen could not doter- ' mine what the secret feeling was. “If I am any judge of character, this • young woman possesses rare strength of will and tenacity of purpose. . When she declared that her father's memory should be revered she spoke as though there was a danger that ft might be reviled —as though she felt called upon to protect his memory from odium. Ah, if you hold a secret, Marion Oakburn, you will , know how to preserve it inviolate," reflected Paxton. There was nothing more to be done now, and the police sergeant stated that his men would guard the office until morning, and that nothing should be disturbed until the inquest, which would be held the following day. Mr. Garrison assured Marion of his friendship and that she might rely on him for any needed assistance. At such a time as this, of sorrow and affliction, the most kind and sympathetic words seem hollow and meaningless, and Marion was in such a state of doubt and trouble that she scarcely heard the broker's kindly remarks. The office was left in charge of two police officers, who were to watch beside the dead until the dawn, and Marion crept, cold and shivering, to her room, whi e Judith Kredge sought her own apartment But there was no sleep for the cashier’s daughter that night She sank wearily upon her couch, and there remained thinking a thousand troubled thoughts, experiencing a thousand doubts and the torture of one great dread. Lay was at hand, and the light of the lamp was turning pale, while the morning mists began to disappear, and the sun ight fell upon the window panes, when at last Marion started up. She knelt as if in prayer, and while her back was turned to the door, it opened noiselessly and the evil face of Judith Kredge peered in upon her for a moment. When Marion arose she said in selfcommunion: “I will not turn back now; I do not wish to do so Cheerfully will I make any sacrifice that may be demanded, and I am sustained by the thought that in all I have done, I have been actuated by a noble purpo e. “But circumstances have arisen of which I had no thought. Oh, what adverse fate directed Stuart Harland to leave the house this night of all others, in the way that he has done? I can only hope that he will explain his conduct so as to exonerate himself from all suspicion. But what if circumstantial evidence should prove powerful enough to endanger his life ” Marion paused abruptly, and a shudder traversed* her frame from head to foot “I trust—l pray It may not come to such a crisis as that,” she added, presently. At that moment Marion heard a faint sound outside her chamber door, and, suspecting that some one was listening there, she glided to the door and suddenly threw it open. She came face to face with Judith Kredge, who was crouching at the keyhole. Marion’s face flushed, and her dark eyes fia hed, as she cried imperatively: “So you are eavesdropping What do you mean by such conduct? Begone, instantly! I shall not retain you in my service after the present week. ” For a moment Judith Kredge shrank away with a guilty look on her repulsive features, but suddenly she turned upon Marion fiercely and clutched her arm. “Look at me, girl!” she hissed. “Oh, yes, they killed your father. I know the truth. You are in my power; in my power, my proud beauty! Ha! Ha! Now discharge me if you dare!” Judith Kredge flung Marion from her, and crossing the ball entered her own room. — Marion reeled back with a frightful expression on her face, and she muttered: “What shall I do, what shall Ido! This is worse than all the rest." Meanwhile, when Jason Garrison left his office in company with the police sergeant and Detective Paxton at the conelusion of the investigation, at the scene of the crime, he repaired at once 4szx kio rvrxrr) ViAmn xarVi aFA Hifl Hfl.llght'.AT* Edna, who had been informed of the murder when her father left the house, anxiously awaited his return. Jason Garrison was a widower, and all his affection centered on his only child—his daughter Edna, who returned his love with a wealth of filial devotion. The broker admitted himself to his residence by means of a latch-key, but in the hall he staggered like a drunken man as the thought came back to his mind with renewed force that he was ruined—that even his home, which sheltered his beloved child, he could not •call his own. Crushed and broken, he groped his way to the library, but Edna, listening at her door, heard his familiar steps and came down to meet him. The eyes of love are prematurely sharp, and Edna saw at a glance that some great misfortune had befallen her father. He sank into a chair and Edna knelt beside him and sought to induce him to tell her all. Reluctantly then he told the story of the murder and the robbery, but he did not mention the terrible suspeeion which hail fallen upon Stuart Harland, for he wished to spare his daughter the cruel intelligence as long_as possible. “And so I am ruined," said the broker bitterly in conclusion. “Surely it is not so serious as that. Your sreditors will grant you time?” Edna asked. “No, no. You do not know them. My : pressing creditors are Pratt and Weeks. They will be merciless. I had hoped the sale of my Colorado property would i enable me to realise more than sufficient ; to tide over this financial crisis, for as I have told you gold has been discovered In many parts of Gilpin County, where my land is situated. I had counted on receiving the money for the property, i eighty thousand dollars—the price 81- ; most agreed upon with a Denver firm — [ this very week. In a letter which came to hand on Thursday last, my agent Ini formed me that he expected to close the sale and remit me a draft by the twentythird, that is to-day. But this evening ■ I received another communication from my agent stating that the proposed sale could not be consummated, for prospectors, who had secretly explored my claim, reported that there was no trace of gold on it. This disappointment means more than you can dream. I. 8 m in a situation of peril which I dare not confess, even to you, my child," said the broker. Vainly Edna tried to induoe her lather to confide in her. He would say no moro - , “I remember how that■Prattj

looked at mo with his bold, Impudent eyes, when I looked at him. His glance made me shiver," she said. “Coward that I was. He demanded an introduction, and while I knew he was not fit to make your acquaintance, fear made mo weak enough to present him to you," answered tho broker. “And I am in this villain’s power. Pratt and Vfeoks have deceived me; set traps for mo and involved mo in speculations which were swindles concocted with the cunning of arch-fiends to evade all legal consequences. These men find their victims among the oldest operators on the street, and my experience did not save me," he added. “But the stolen money may be recovered. You have not told me. Does not suspicion rest on anybody?” asked Edna. Her father hesitated. “Speak, father. Why do you seem so agitated?” she said, “I would spare you pain and anxiety. The worst for you, my child, Is yet to come.” “I do not comprehend; what do you mean?” In a few words he told of the suspicion which tho police sergeant had declared against Stuart Harland. Edna was justly indignant and she treated tho accusation with scorn. “Stuart will explain the cause of his midnight departure. When he is heard, a shadow of suspicion will not remain upon him," she said, xvitli a loving woman’s sublime faith. “I should tell you also that Paxton, the detective, did not agree with the police sergeant. In the face of all tho circumstances which caused the sergeant to suspect Stuart, he declared his belief in the young man’s innocence. Paxton is a wonderful man, and I am sure he has formed some theory which he believes will overthrow the hypothesis of the police sergeant. In that thought I find a hope for Stuart’s salvation, even though circumstances should further combine to tighten the coil of suspicion about him," tiie broker said. Father and daughter were parted for the night, but like Marion Oakbum, Jason Garrison was sleepless. He paced his room until dawn and once he muttered: “I have taken an awful risk and yet profited nothing. I was mad.' The risk of discovery remains suspended over my head like a sword hung by a thread." He struck his breast and paused abruptly in his rapid walk as he said, “Can Stuart have suspected me?" At that moment the young man of whom he spoke was in the custody of detectives who had arrested him on a railway train. Circumstances were combining and developments were transpiring which were destined to make the secret of John Oakbum’s murder one of the most remarkable, mysterious, and interesting of modern detective cases. Ito be continued.] THEY SHOOT TOO FAST. Disadvantages of the German Repeating Rifles. In the recent maneuvers of the German and Austrian armies it was found that the troops exhausted their stock of ammunition within the first ten minutes after going into action—this, too, notwithstanding the fact that they now carry almost double their former number of cartrides. They were practically placed hors de combat and rendered defenseless at the commencement of the battle, and had the warefare been re£t instead of sham, they would have exposed themselves to annihilation by the cavalry. In all the recent wars experience has shown that one of the chief difficulties of the officers is to prevent their men from wasting their ammunition. This is especially the case where the troops are young and unseasoned. In the excitement of the battle they lose their heads, and not only fire far to quickly and too recklessly, but frequently also without taking time to put the gun to their shoulder for the purpose of taking aim. This evil is increased ten-fold by the adoption of the new repeating rifle, which permit a man to fire at least ten times faster than with the old weapons. Nor is there any remedy available for this state of affairs so long as the system of short-term service in use in the armies of the old world involves their being composed of young and unseasoned soldiers. Another disadvantage of the new rifles appear to have been found in the heating of the barrels caused by rapid firing. Even with the old Chassepot, in the war of 1870, the French troops were frequently forced to suspend their Are in the middle of an action in order to alloxV time for f.hoir barrels tn cool off. _ . . ' It is difficult to conceive how the European governments will solve the difficulty with which they have now been brought face to face. That they should abandon their new and quickflring rifles on which they have spent such vast sums of money, ground out of the tax-burdened people, seems to be beyond the bounds of possibility; and equally improbable is it that they will prolong the term of military service in order to ifllow time for the troops to become seasoned. Tbe question is a vital one and demands a prompt solution. Brazilian Immigration. Some interesting information as to the elements that are going to make up the future citizen of the new Brazilian republic—interesting in the way of comparison with our own stock—is afforded by the immigration returns of the port of Rio Janeiro. In the first eight months of last year 115,160 immigrants arrived at Rio. Os these 58,478 were Italians, 22,036 Portuguese, 12,806 Spaniards, 10,984 Russians, 2,157 Austrians, 2,351 Germans, 1,789 English, 1,’?02 Swedes, 900 French, 334 Belgians, 264 Poles, 139 Swiss, 30 Americans, 17 Dutch, and 1,100 Asiatics, It might be inferred from the very great difference in the proportion of the nationalities compared with our own immigration that the resulting general type will be widely different from the United States American. Sama Thing. When the late King Charles of Wurtemburg was yet crown prince, and he was ordered to become engaged to the Russian Grand Duchess Olga, he was shown a portrait of her. After regarding it intently, he exclaimed: “How daringly they have flattered her! The hair is too abundant, the eyes are too brilliant, and the complexion too dainty." The courtiers asked, in astonishment: “But does your royal highness Jcnow the grand duchess?" ■’ldpnot;knowher,” was the reply, “but I know the court painters.” i i Avtiaaanaaa a OiiiCciift ohysi-

IDR. TALMAGE’S SERMON. 'TIB ONE SUGGESTED BY THEOLOGICAL DISCUSSION. Ko Mattar How Vnooriam is tho Bsllsf of tho So-called advanced Clergy, Dr. Talmage’s Faith is Secure and Easily Understood by All. Talmage’s Creed. Dr. Talmage’s text was taken from Luke vl, 17, ‘‘And Ho came down with them and stood in the plain." Christ on the mountains is a frequent study. We have seen Him on the Mount of Olives, Mount of Beatitudes, Mount Moriah Mount Calvary, Mount of Ascension, and it is glorious to study Him on these great natural elevations. But how is ft that never before have we noticed Him on tho plain? Amid tho rocks, high up on the mountain, Christ had passed the night, but now, at early dawn. He is coming down with some especial friends, stepinß from shelving to shelving, hero and there a loosened stone rolling down the steep sides ahead of Him, until Begets in a level place, so that He cgn bo approached without climbing from all sides. He Is on the level. My text says, “Ho came down with them and stood in the plain." Now that is what the world wants to-day more than anything else— a Crist on the level, easy to get at, no ascending, no descending, approachable from ail sides—Chrjst on the plain. The question among a ) consecrated people to-day is. \Vbßt is the matter with the ministers? Many of them are engaged in picking holes in the Bible and apologizing for this and apologizing for that. In an age when the whole tendency is to pay too little reverence to the Bible, they are fighting against Blbliolatry, or too much reverence for the Bible. They are building a fence off the wrong side of the road, so that people will not fall up hill, of which there is no danger. There is no moro danger of Blbliolatry, or too much reverence for the Scriptures, than there is that Astrology will take the place of astronomy, or alchemy the place of chemistry, or tbe canal boat the place of tho limited express rail tram. What a theological farce it is. Ministers fighting against too much reverence for the Scriptures; ministers making apology for the Scriptures; ministers pretending to be friends of the Bible, yet doing the Book more damage than all the blatant infidels on all the earth. The trouble is our theologians are up in the mountain in a fight above the clouds about things which they do not uuderstand. Come down on the plain and stand beside Christ, who never preached a technicality or a didacticism. What do you, O wise headed ecclesiastic, know about the decrees of God? Who cares a fig about your sublapsarianism or your supralapsarianism? What a spectacle we have in our denominations to-day; committees trying to patch up an old creed made two or three hundred years ago so that it will fit on the Nineteenth century. Why do not our millinery establishments talto out of the garrets the coal scuttle hits which your great-grandmothers wore and try to fit them on the head of the modern maiden? You cannot fix up a three-hundred-year-old creed so as to fit our time. Princeton will sew on a little piece, and Union Seminary will sew on a little piece, and Alleghany Seminary and Danville Seminary will sew on other pieces, and by the time the creed is done it will be as variegated as Joseph’s coat of many colors. Think of having to change an old creed to make it clear that all infants dying go to Heaven. I am so glad that the committees are going to let the babies in. Thank you. So many of them are - already in that all the hills of Heaven look like a Sundayschool anniversary. Now what is the use of fixing up a creed which left any doubt on the subject? No man ever doubted that all infants dying go to Heaven, unless he be a Herod or a Charles Guiteau. I was opposed to overhauling the old creed at all, but now that it has been lifted up and Its imperfections set up in the sight of the world. I say, Overboard with it and make a new creed. There are to-day in our denomination 500 men who could make a better one. I could make a better one myself. As we are now in process of changing tbe creed, and no one knows what we are expected to believe, or will two or three years hence be expected to believe, I coaid not wait, and so I have made a creed of my own which I intend to observe the rest of my life. I wrote It down in my memorandum book some six months ago, and it reads as follows: “My creed: The glorious Lord. To trust Him, love Him and obey Him is all that Is ssqulred. To that creed I Invite all mankind. T. De Witt Talmage.” The reason Christianity has not made more rapid advance is because the people are asked to believe too many things'. There are, I believe, to-day millions of good Christians who have never joined the church and are not counted among the Lord’s friends because they -cannot believe all the things that they are required to believe, . jQne-half the things a man is expected in order to enter the church and reach Heaven have no more to do with his salvation than the question, How many volcanoes are in the moon? or, How far apart from each other are the rings of Saturn? or, How many teeth there were in the jawbone with which Samson smote the Philistines? I believe 10.000 things, but none of them have anything to do. with my salvation, except these two—l am a sinner aud Christ came to save me. Musicians tell us that the octave consists only of five tones and two semitones, and all tbe Handels and Haydns and Mozarts and Wagners and Schumanns of all ages must do their work within the range of those five tones and two semitones. So I have to tell you that all the theology that will be of practical use Id our world is made of the two facts of human sinfulness and divine atonement Within that octave" swing “The Song of Moses and the Lamb," the Christmas chant above Bethlehem and the Hallelujah of all the choirs standing on seas of glass. < Is there not some mode of getting out of the way these nonessentials, these superfluities, these divergencies from the main issue? Is there not some way of bringing the church down out of the mountain of controversy and conventionalism and to put it on the plain where Christ stands? The present attitude of things Is like this: In a famine struck district a ta,bl« has been provided and it is loaded with food enough for all. The odors of the meats fill the air. Everything IS ready. The platters are full. The chalices are full. The baskets -of fruit are full. Why not let the people in? The door isopen. Yes, but there is a cluster of wise men blocking up the ' door, discussing the contents of the ■ castor standing midtable. They are shaking their fists at each other. One says there is too much vinegar in that castor, and one says there is too ( much sweet oil, and another says there is not the proper proportion of red pepper. I say. “Get out of the way and let the hungry people come in.” Now. our ' blessed Lord has provided a great sup- ' par, and the oxen and the fatlings have been killed, and fruits from all the vineyards and orchards of Heaven crown the tabla JThe world has been invited to

millions to this world-wide table, but tho door Is blocked up by controversies and men with whol<) libraries on their bicks are disputing at to what proportion of sweet oil and Cayenne pepper should make up the creed. I cry, “Get out of tho way and lot the hungry world come in.” ’ The Christian church will have to change Its tack, or it will run on the rocks of demolition. Tho world’s population annually Increases 15,000,000. No one pretends that half that number of people are converted to God. There are moro than twice as many Buddhists as Protestants; more than twice as many Buddhists as Roman Catholics. Protestants, 135,000,000; Catholics, 195,000,000; Buddhists, 400,000,000. There are 175,000,000 Mohammedans and 280,000,000 Brahmins. Meanwhile, many of tho churches are only religious clubhouses, whore a few people go on Sunday morning, averaging one person to a pew or one person to a half dozen pews, and' leaving the minister at night to sweat through a sermon with hero and there a lone traveler, unless, by a (Sunday evening sacred concert, he can get out an audience of respectable size. Tho vast majority of the church membership around the world puts forth no direct effort for tho salvatiop of men. Did I say there wduld have to be a change? I correct that and say, There will be a change. If there be 15,000,000 persons added every year to tho world s population, then there will be 30,000,000 added to the church aud 40,000,000 and 50,000,000 and 60,000,00a How will it be done? It will be done when the church will meet Christ on tho plain. Como down out of the mountain of exclusiveness. Come down out of the mountain of pride. Como down out of the mountain of formalism. Come down out of tho mountain of freezing indifference. Astronomeis have been busy measuring worlds, and they have told us how great Is the circumference of this world and how groat is its diameter., Yes, they have kept on until they have weighed our planet and found its weight to bo 6,000,000,000,000,000,000.000 tons. But by no science has the weight of this world’s trouble been weighed. Now, Christ standing on the level of our humanity stands in sympathy with every trouble. There are so many aching heads. His ached under tho thorns. There are so many weary feet. His were worn with the long journey up and down the land that received Him not There are so many persecuted souls. Every hour of His life was under human outrage. The world had no better place to receive Him than a cattle pen, and its farewell was a slap on His cheek and a spear in His side. So intensely human was He that there has not been in all our race a grief or infirmity or exhaustion or pang that did not touch Him once and that does not touch Him now. The lepors, the paralytics, tho imbecile, the maniac, the courtesan, the repentant brigand—which one did He turn off, which one did Ho not pity, which one did He not help? The universal trouble of the world is bereavement. One may escape all the other troubles, but that no soul escapes. Out of that bitter cup every one must take a drink. For instance, in order that all might know how He sympathizes with those who have lost a daughter, Christ comes to the house of Jairus. There is such a big crowd around the door He and His disciples have to push their way in. From the throng of people I conclude that this girl must have been yery popular; she was one of those children whom everybody likes. After Christ got in the house there was such a loud weeping that the ordinary tones of voice could not be heard. 1 do not wonder. The dead daughter was 18 years of age. It is about the happiest time in most lives. Only 12 years of age! do fair, so promising, so full of life a few days ago, and now so still! Oh, what it is to have a daughter dead! The room Is full of folks, but yonder is the room where the young Bleeper is. The crowd cannot go in there. Only six friends enter—five besides Christ—three friends, and of course the father and mother. They have the first right to go in. The heaviest part of the grief was theirs. All eyes in that room are on the face of this girl. There lay the beautiful hand, white and finely shapen, but it was not lifted in greeting to any of the group. Christ stepped forward and took hold of that hand and said, with a tone and accentuation charged with tenderness and command, “Damsel, I say unto thee, arise!” And without a moment's delay she arose, her eyes wide open, her cheeks turning from white Illy to red rose, and the parents cry, “She lives! Sffe Ilves!” and in the next room they take up the sound, “She lives! She lives!” and the throng in front of the doorway repeat it, “She lives! She lives!” Will not all those who have lost a daughter feel that such a Christ as that can sympathize? On another occasion he showed how he felt about the loss of a son. »Here are the obsequies. A long procession, a widowed mother following her only son. T know nut how long the nuSbaßa and father bad been gone, but upon this son, who had now come to be a young man, the leadership of that household had fallen. I think he had got to be tho breadwinner. He was proud of his mother, and she should never lack anything as long as he lived. And there is no grander spectacle on earth than a young man standing between want and a widowed mother. But to at young man had fallen'llfeless under accident or disaster, and he was being carried out Only a few hours In that land are allowed to pass between decease and burial. It is the same day or the next And there they move on. Christ meets the procession. His eye picks out the chief mourner. He puts his hand bn the bier, as much as to say to the pallbearers: “Stop! There will be no burial to-day. That broken heart must be healed. That mother must have her home rebuilt” And then looking Into the face of the young man (for in those lands the face is always exposed in Buch a procession,) Christ speaksone sentence, before which Death fell prostrate under the bier,” He sat up, while the overjoyed mother wrapped him in her arms; and well nigh smothered him with her caresses, and the air was rent with congratulations. Can any one who has ever lest a son doubt that Christ sympathises wi.ti such woe? And how many there "are who heed that particular comfort. It was not hollow sentiment when, after Edmund Burke, tbe greatest orator, of his time, had lost his son,and the bereaved father, crossing the pasture field, met the horse that had belonged to that deceased sop, that the orator threw his arms around the horse’s neck and kissed tho dumb brute. It Was not hollow soutiment when David, the psalmist, cried out at< the news of his son’s death, although hehad been a desperately bad boy; “Oh, Absalbm, my son! my son! Would God I had died for thee. Oh, Absolom, my son! my son!” But for such and all other bereavement there is divine condolence. - • - Christ on the plain. I care not from what side you approach Him you can tofich Him and get His help. Is it mental depression you suffer? Remember Him who said, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken Me?” Is it a Struggle for bread? Remember Him who fed thes,ooo with two minnows and five biscuits, neither of the biscuits larger than your fist Is it chronic aliment? Rhmomber the woman wfio for eighteen yearswa. bent ahnost^ double, and Hftea

vour life battling with the tompeeta? Remember Him who flung the tempest ot Genessareth flat on the crystal pavement of the quiet sea. And see how he made an immortal liturgy out of the publican's cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner," a prayer so short that the most overwhelmed offender can utter it, and yet long enough to win celestial dominion. It was well put by a man who had been converted, and who remembered that in his dissolute days he found it hard to got occupation, because he could not present a cartifleate of good character. In commending Christ to the people ho said, “Bless God, I have found out that Jos us will take a man without a character! Christ on a level with suffering humanity. My text says, “He came down with them and stood in tho plain." No climbing up through attributes you cannot understand. No ascending tho heights of beautiful rhetoric of prayer. No straining after elevations you cannot reach. No hunting for a God that you cannot find, But going right straight to Him and looking Into His face and lak ng His band and asking for His pardon, His comfors, His grace, His Heaven. Christ on the level. When during the siege of Sebastopol an officer had commanded a private soldier to stand on tbe wall exposed to the enemy and receive the ammunition as it was handed up, while he, the officer, stood in a place sheltered from tho enemy s guns, Gen. Gordon leaped upon tho wall to help, and commanded the officer to follow him. and then closed with the words, “Never order a man to do anything that you are afraid to do yourself.” Glory be to God, the Captain of our salvation has Himself gone through all tho exposures in which He commands us to be courageous. He has been through it all, and now offers His sympathy in similar struggles. Oh, join Him in the plain. As long as you stay up In the mountain of your pride you will get no help. That Is the reason so many never find tho salvation of the Gospel. They sit high up in the Mont BUnc of their opluionativeness, and they have their opinion about God, and their opinion about tbe soul, and their opinion about eternity. Have you any Idea that your opinion will have any effect upon two tremendous facts, that you aro a sinner, and that Christ is ready at your earnest prayer to save you? In the final day of accounts how much will your opinion be worth? Your opinion will not be of much Importance before the blast of the archangel’s trumpet When the life of this planet shall be thrashed out with the flail of thunderbolts nobody will ask about your opinions Come down out of the mountain ot oplnionativeness and meet Christ on the plain, where you must meet Him or never meet Him at all, except as you meet Him on the judgment throne. A Christ easy to get at! No armed sentinel to challenge you. No ruthless officer to scrutinize the papers you present. Immediate response. Immediate forgiveness. Immediate solace. Through what struggle people must go to get a pardon from worldly authority! By what petition, by what hindrance, by what nervous strain of anxiety, by what adroitness. A Count of Italy was condemned to death at Milan. The Countess, hearing of the sentence, hastened to Vienna to seek his pardon. The death warrant was already on its way. The Countess, arriving at Vienna in the night, hastened to the palace gates. The attendants forbade her entrance at all, and especially at night, but she overcame them with her entreaties, and the Empress was awakened, and the Countess pleaded before her tor the life of her husband, and the Emperor was awakened to hear the same plea. Commutation of sentence was granted, but how could she overtake the officer who had started with the death warrant, and would she be too late to save the life of her husband? By four relays ot horses and stopping not a moment for food she reached the city of Milan as her husband was on the way to the scaffold. Just in time to save him and not a moment to spare, she came up. You see there were two difficulties in the wav. The one was to get tho pardon signed and the other was to bring it to the right place in time. Glory be to God, we need go through no such exigency. No lohg road to travel. No pitiless beating at a palace gate. Pardon here. Pardon now. Pardon for the asking. Pardon forever. A Saviour easy to get at! A Christ on the plain! Narrow Wagon Whoe a va. Good Roads. J. L. Whitcomb, of Battle Creek, i» an able letter to the Detroit Free Frets, t urges the Legislature to pass an act prohibiting the use, after four or five yearaj of wagon wheels that are less than three and one-half inches in -width. He first shows that farmers have the poorest means of transporting their products to railroad stations df any-industrial class, in spite of the fact that the State imposes a. tax of $2,000,009 per annum for building and repairing highways. The relative importance of their products is, however, so great as to entitle them to equal if not the best facilities for transportation. In the rural districts,for many years to come, the roads must be built of the soil through which they pass. The author is not afraid of contradiction when he states that there is no material but stone for road-building in Michigan that will l withstand the wear of narrow wagon wheels. He is acquainted with high-, ways constructed of the best gravel that have been made complete wrecks by no other cause than the two-inch tires now in use on most farmers’ wagons. The tires soon are worn and become round and almost sharp. Nothing could be better calculated than this to cut the roads, especially when a large number of heavily loaded wagons follow each other in close order, and all in the same rtit. On the contrary, Mr. Whitcomb claims the broad wheel will improve, instead of injuring, the road, whether it be of marl, clay or sand. The rima would act like a succession of rollers, upon soft land, making the roads more compact The reason why farmers do not use their wide-rimmed wagon wheels on the highways is because all will not act in unison. As long as the narrow wheel is used, there will be ruts, and the farmer says he cannot use a wheel with a four-inch rim oh a road rutted with < two-inch rim. The broad-rimmed wagon draws no harder upon a smooth surface than the narrow-rimmed. The manufacturer charges the same for both, and no more weight is recmired in construction. The cost of hauling to or from market would be one-half the present cost if the narrow wagon wheel were supplanted by the wide. The team# “which now come into our towns reeking with sweat, dragging 1,600 or 2,000 pounds, would be seen pleasantly rolling in their 4,000 or 6,000 pounds." Deacon Jones is one of your selfpoised men. While at his evening devotions, a gun was fired beneath his ' window. The deacon jumped to his feet like a jaok-in-a-box. But he recovered hw