Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 9, Decatur, Adams County, 17 May 1894 — Page 8

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CHATTER Vl—Continued. At Marchbrook everything went pleasantly enough for the plighted lovers. Lord Clanyarde had filled the house with company, and his youngest daughter had very little time for reflection or regret upon the subject of her approach ing marriage. Every body congratulated her upon her conquest, and praised Gilbert Sinclair with such a show of enthusiasm that she began to think he must be worthier of a warmer regard than she was yet able to feel for him. She told herself that in common gratitude she was bound to return his affection, and she tried her utmost to please him by a ready submission to all his wishes; bjt the long drives and rides, in which they were always side by side, were very wearisome to her, nor could his gayest talk of the future, the houses, the yacht, the carriages and horses that were to be hers, inspire her with any expectation of happiness. They rode over to Davenant with Lord Clanyarde one morning, and explored the old house, Gilbert looking at everything in a business-like spirit, which jarred a little upon Constance, remembering that luckless exile who had loved the place so well. Her lover consulted her about the disposition of the rooms, the colors of new draperies, and the style of the furniture. “We'll get rid of the gloomy old tapestries and have everything modern and bright,” he said; but Loi;d Clanyarde pleaded hard for the preservation of the tapestry cn the principal floor, which was very fine and in excellent condition. * “Oh, very well,” answered Gilbert, carelessly. “In that case we'll keep the tapestry. I suppose the best plan will be to get some first-class London man to furnish the hoite. Those fellows always have gocd taste. But of course he must defer to you in all matters, Constance.” “You are very gocd,” she returned, listlessly. "But I don’t think there will be any necessity for my interference. ” “Don't say that, Constance. That looks as if you were not interested in the subject.” Gilbert said, with rather a discontented air. The listlessness of manner which his betrothed so often displayed was by no means pleasing to him. There was a disagreeable suspicion growing in his mind that Miss Clanyarde’s heart had not quite gone with her acceptance of his offer, that family influence had something to do with her consent to become his wife. He was not the less resolved on this account to hold her to her promise; but his selfish, tyrannical nature resented her coldness, and he was determined that the balance should be adjusted between them in the future. “Perhaps you don’t like this place, Constance,” he said, presently, after wat.hing her thoughtful face for some minutes in silence. “Oh, yes, Gilbert, I am very fond of Davenant. I have known it all my life, you know.” , “Then I wish you would look a little more cheerful about myintended purchase. I thought it would please you to have a country-house so near your own family.” “And it does please her very much, I am sure, Sinclair," said Lord Clanyarde, with a stealthy frown at his daughter. "She can t fail to appreciate the kindness and delicacy of your choice. ” “Papa is quite right, Gilbert,” added Constance. “I should be very ungrateful if I were not pleased with your kindness.” After this she tried her utmost to sustain an appearance of interest in the discussion of furniture and decorations; but every now and then she found her mind wandering away to the banished owner of those rooms, and she wished that Gilbert Sinclair had chosen any other habitation upon this earth for her future home. October came, and with it the inevitable day which was to witness one more perjury from the lips of a bride. The wedding took place at the little village church neat Marchbrook, and was altogether a very brilliant affair, attended by all the relatives of the Clanyarde family, who were numerous, and by a great many acquaintances of bride and bridegroom. Notable among the friends of the latter was James Wyatt, the solicitor who had been employed- in the drawing up of the marriage settlement, which was a most liberal one, and highly satisfactory to 7 Viscount Clanyarde. Mr. Wyatt made himself excessively agreeable at the breakfast, and was amazingly popular among the bridesmaids. He did not long avail himself of the Marchbrook hospitalities, but went quietly back to town by rail almost immediate’y after the departure of the newly married couple on their honeymoon trip to the , south of France. He had an engage- ; ment in Half-Moon street that evening . at eight o’clock. . | The neighboring clocks were striking the hour as he knocked at the door. Mrs. Walsingham was quite alone in the drawing-room, and looked unusu- , ally pale in the light of the lamps, t The solicitor shook his head reproachfully as he pressed her hand. “This is very sad,” he murmured, in • a semi-paternal manner. “You have i been worrying yourself all day long, I know. You* are as pale as a ghost. ’ ■/.M am a little tired, that is all A . “You have been out to-day? You

told me you should not stir from the house.” “I changed my mind at the last noment. Anything was better than staying at homo keeping the day like a black fast. Besides, I wanted to see how Gilbert and his bride would look at the altar.” “You have been down to Kent? “Yes; I was behind the curtains of the organ-loft. The business was easily managed by means of a sovereign to the clerk. 1 wore my plainest dress and a thick veil, so there was very little risk of detection. ” “What folly!" exclaimed Wyatt. “Yes. it was graut folly, no doubt; but it is the nature of women to be foolish. And now tell me all about the wedding. Did Gilbert look very “He looked like a man who has got his own way, and who cares very little what price ho has paid, or may have to pay, for the getting it. ” “And do you think he will be happy? "Not if his happiness depends on the love of his wife/' “Then you don't think she loves him?" “I am sure she does not. I made a study of her face during the ceremony and afterward; and if ever a woman sold herself, or was sold by her people, this woman is guilty of such a bargain.” “Perhapsyou say this to please me," said Clara, doubtfully*. “I do not, Mrs. Walsingham. lam convinced that this affair has been brought about by Lord Clanyarde’s necessities, and not the young lady’s choice. But I doubt whether this will make much difference to Gilbert in the long run. He is not a man of fine feelings, you know, and I think he will be satisfied with the fact of having won the woman he wanted to marry. I should think matters would go smoothly enough with him so long as he has no cause for jealousy. He would be rather an ugly customer if he took it into his head to ba jealous.” “And you think his life will go smoothly," said Clara, “and that he i will go on to the end unpunished for j his perfidy to me?” “What good would his punishment be to you?” “It would be all the world to me.” “And if I could bring about the retribution you desire, if it were in my power to avenge your wrongs, what reward would you give me?” She hesitated for a moment, knowing there was only one reward he was likely to claim from her. “If you were a poor man, I would , offer you two-thirds of my fortune/’ i she said. “But you know that I am not a poor ; man. If I can come to you some day, and tell you that Gilbert Sinclair and his wife are parted forever, will you ‘ accept me for your husband?” “Yes,” she answered suddenly; “break the knot between those two; j let me be assured that he has lost the woman for whose sake he jilted me, | and I will refuse jp^u-aothing." “Consider it done. There is nothing | in the world I would not achieve to ■ win you for my wife.” CHAPTER VII. “OBSBN-KYBD jbau»ust.’’ It was not till early spring that Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair returned to England. They had spent the winter in Rome, where Gilbert had found some congenial friends, and where their time j had been occupied in one perpetual round of gayety and dissipation. Constance had shown a great taste for : pleasure since her marriage. She! seen ed to know no wearine s of visit-j ing and being visited, and people who remembered her in her girlish days were surprised to find what a thorough woman of the world she bad become. Nor was Gilbert displeased that it was eo. He liked to see his wife occupy a prominent position in society, and having no taste him e f for the pleasures of the domestic hearth, he was neither ■ surprised nor vexed by Constance's: indifference to her home. Os courts it would be a 1 different at Davenant Park: there would be plenty of home life there—a little too much, perhaps, Gilbert thought, with a yawn. They had been married nearly four months, and there had not been the shadow of a disagreement between them. Ccnstance’s manner to her husband was amiability itself. She treat-1 ed him a little de baut en bas it is true, made her own plans for the most past without reference to him, and graciously informed him of her arrangements after they were completed. But then, on the other hand, she never objected to his disposal of his time, was never exacting, < r jealous, or capricious, as Clara Walsingham had been. She was always agreeable to his friends, and ivas eminently popular with all of them; so Gebert Sinclair was, upon the whole, perfectly satisfied with the result of his marriage, and had no fear of evil days in the future. What James Wyatt had said of him was perfectly true. He was not gifted with very fine feelings, and that sense ' of something wanting in such a union, which w uld have disturbed the mind i of a nobljr man, did not trouble him. They returned to England early in ’ February, and went at once to Daven ■ ant, which had t een furnished in th modern mediaeval style by a West End ■ upholsterer. The staff of seiwants had ■ been provided by Lady Clanyarde. who , had bestowed much pains and labor > upon the task of t election, bitterly be- > wailing the degeneracy of the race she i had to deal with during the performance of this difficult service. All was ; ready when Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair ar- ; rived. A pompous housekeeper simi pered and courtesied in the hall; an accomplished cook hovered tenderly over the roasts and the stew-pans in i the great kitchen; house-maids in smart caps flittc d about the passages and poked the fires in bed-rooms and dressing-room 3, bath-rooms and morn-ing-room, eager to get an early look at their new lady; a butler of the usual clerical appearance ushered the way to the lamp-lit drawing-room, while two ponderous footmen conveyed the rugs and newspapers and mOrocco bags from the .carriage, leaving all the heavier luggage to the care of unknown underlings attached to the stable department. Mr. and Mrs, Sinclair dined alone upon thia first evening of their return, under the inspec--1 tion of the .clerical butler and the two ) tJ ■

ponderous footmen. They talked chiefly about the house, which rooms were most successful in their new arrangement, and so on; a little about what they had been doing in Home; and a little about their plans for the next month, what guests were to be invited, and what rooms they were to occupy. It was all the most matter of-fact conventional talk, but the three men re-tired-with the impression that Gilbert Sinclair and his wife were a very nappy couple, and reported to that effect in the house-keeper’s room and the servants’ hall. Before the week hrd ended the great house was full of company. That feverish desire for gayety and change which had seem :d a part of Constance’s nature since her maniage in no way subsided on her arrival at Davenant. She appeared tq exist for pleasure, and pleasure only, and her guests declared her the most charming hoste s that ever reigned over a country house. Lavish as he was, Mr. Sinclair opened his eyes to their widest extent whenhe perceived his wife’s capacity for spending money. “It's rather lucky for you that you didn’t marry a poor man, Constance,” he said, with a boastful laugh. She looked at him for a moment with a strange expression, and then turned very pale. “I should not have been afraid to face poverty," she said, “if it had been my fate to do so. ” “If you could have faced it with the man you liked, eh, Constance? That’s about what you mean, isn't it?” “Is this intended for a complaint, Gilbert?” his wife asked in her coldest tones. “Have I bean spending too much money?” “No, no; I didn’t mean that I was only congratulating you upon your fitness for the position of a rich man’s wife.” This was the first little outbreak of jealousy of which Gilbert Sinclair had been guilty. He knew that his wife did not love him, that his conquest had been achieved through the influence of her family, and he was almost angry with himself for being so fond of her. He could not forget those vague hints that had been dropped about Sir Cyprian Davenant, ana was tormented-with the idea that James Wyatt knew a great deal more than he had revealed on this point This hidden jealousy had baen at the bottom of the purchase of the Davenant estate. He took a savage delight in reigning over the the little kingdom from which his rival had been deposed. Among the visitors from London appeared Mr. Wyatt always unobtrusive, and always useful. He contrived to ingratiate himself very rapidly in Mrs. Sinclair’s favor, and established himself as a kind of adjutant in her household corps, always ready with advice upon every social subject, from the costumes in a tableau vivant to the composition of the menu for a dinnerparty. Constance did not particularly like him; but she lived in a world in which it is not necessary to have a very sincere regard for one’s acquaintance, and she considered him an agreeable person, much to be preferred to the geneia'ity of her husbands chosen companions, who were men without a thought beyond the hunting field and race-course. Mr. Wyatt, on his part, was a Tittle surprised to see the manner in which Lord Clanyarde’s daughter filled her new position, the unfailing vivacity which she displayed in the performance of her duties as a hostess, and the excellent terms upon which she appeared to live with her husband. Be was accustomed, however, to look below the surface of things, and by the the time he had been a fortnight at Davenant he had discovered that all this brightness and gayety on the part of the wife indicated an artificial state of being, which was very far from real happiness, and that there was a growing sense of disappointment on the part of the husband; He was not in the habit of standing upon much ceremony in his intercourse with Gilbert Sinclair, and on the first convenient occasion questioned him with blunt directness upon the subject of his marriage. “I hope the alliance has brought you all the happiness you anticipated?” he Eaid. “Oh, yes, Jim,” Mr. Sinclair answered, rather moodily, “my wife suits me pretty well. We get on very well together. She s a little too fond of playing the woman of fashion; but she’ll be tired of that in time, I date say. I m fond of society myse’f, you know, couldn t lead a solitary life for any woman in Christendom; but I should like a wife who seemed to care a little more for my company, and was i not always occupied with other peo- | pie. I don’t think we have dined alone three times since we were married.” |TO BE CONTINU«D.( ' Called Lord Salisbury a Crank. Although Lord and Lady Salisbury make a point of spending the major part of every winter and spring at their chateau of Beaulieu, which is close to Monte Carlo, yet both of them carefully avoid ever setting foot on the property controlled by the managers of the Casino. This is due to the treatment to which they were subjected a few years ago. Walking up ths steps of the Casino with his wife, Lord Salisbury was directed, as is always the case with strangers, to apply at the office for a ticket of admission. Lord Salisbury is exceedingly careless in his attire while the marchioness is equally dowdy-looking in her dress. The consequence was that when, in reply to the usual request to state his occupation, Lord Salisbury replied .that he was prime minister of England —which he was at the time—he was greeted with a shout of laughter and an invitation to “get out,” on the ground that “cranks and wags and people like you” were not admitted. Thrifty Norwegian Immigrants. No country contributes so many immigrants to the United States in proportion to population as Norway, ft is chiefly the rural Ncn-e that come to America, and the immigrants are for the most part under 30 years of age. The Norse are good farmers and thrifty citizens. They, as well as their neighbors, the Swedes, have a strong desire to n ake homes for themselves and to have land and the conveniences of life. They frequently return to visit their native country, but they become parmanent citizens of the United States. Most of thesa that come are of marked pea ant typo. Football players are not allowed to., •moke cigarettes while in training.

TALMAGE’S SERMON. HIS THEME LAST SUNDAY WAS ••A CHEERFUL CHURCH.” He Bay. HI. Theology Hm AU Gon. Into Five Letter.—The (■lodnea. of the Chrlltl»n Religion—A Few Word, of Ferewell—Hl. Few Month.’ Aboonoo. The Tabernacle Pulpit. Rev. Dr. Talmage took for his theme last Sunday, "A Cheerful Church,” and the text was selected from Solomon’s song Iv, 1, “Behold, thou art fair, my love." “Higher criticism” says that this book of Solomon’s Song is a love scene, a forlorn maiden sighing for her beau. If so, it is an unclean and debauched utterance inserted in the pure word of God and is not fit for common reading. My opinion is that it is an inspired ode setting forth the feeling of Christ toward the church and of the church toward Christ. Christ is the brideK»m, and the church is the bride. e same words we can utter to-day truthfully whether in regard to the church of God in general or this church in particular, “Behold, thou art fair, my love.” The past week has been one of prolonged congratulation for that we have for twenty-five years been permitted to associate with each other in the relation of pastor and people. When I came to Brooklyn, I found a small band of Christian declpies who from various causes had become less and less until they stood upon the very verge of extinction as a church, and the question was being agitated from time to time whether it would be possible to maintain a church life longer. Indeed had not those men and women been consecrated and earnest they would have surrendered to the adverse circumstances. They marshaled a congregational meeting, and gathering up all the forces possible they. < ast nineteen votes for a pastor, all of which 1 am happy to have received.

The Tabernacle Defined. It was not through any spirit of personal courage or reckless adventure that I was led from one of the warmest and most congenial pastorates in Philadelphia that a man ever enjoyea to this then most uninviting field, but it was the feeling that God had called me to the work, and I was sure He would see me through. I have thought that it might be profitable to us to state briefly what' kind of a church we have been trying to establish. In the first place, I remark that we have been trying to build here a Christian church, distinctively such—in other words, a church where we should preach the Lord Jesus Christ and Him crucified. My theology is all gone into five letters—Jesus. Jesus, the pardon of all offenses. Jesus, the foundation for all structures, Jesus, the balm for all wounds. Jesus, tne eye salve for all blindness. Jesus, the guide for all perplexities. Jesus, the hope for all discouragements. Jesus, the reform for all wrongs. I have faith to believe that there is more power in one drop of the blood of Jesus Christ to cure the woes ot the world than in an ocean full of human quackery. Jesus is the grandest note in any minstrelsy. He is the brightest gem in any crown. Height overtopping all height. The center of every circumference. The circumference to every center. The pacifier of all turbulence. The umpire of all disputes. Jesus! Jesus! At His table all nations are to. sit. Around His throne all worlds are to revolve. He is to be the irradiation of the universe. Jesus! Jesus! It is that truth that we have tried to preach in this Tabernacle. A Broack Creed. Do you ask more minutely what we believe? I can tell you. We have no dry, withered, juiceless theology. W e believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and the deliver of the distressed, the home for the homeless, the friend for the friendless. We believe in Jesus Christ, able to save to the uttermost, pardoning the guilty, imputing His righteousness to the believer. We believe in the Holy Ghost, the comforter, the sanctifier, cheering up the heart’s ills and kindling bright lights in every dark landing place. We believe that the whole race is so sunken in sin that nothing but the omnipotent arm of God can ever lift it out. We believe in grace—free grace, sovereign grace, triumphant grace, eternal grace, we believe in a Bible, authentic in its statements, immaculate in its teachings, glorious in its promises. We believe in Heaven, the abode of the righteous, and in hell, the residence of those who are soul suicides, of their own free choice refusing the divine mercy. We believe in the salvation of all men who accept Christ by faith, be they sprinkled or immersed, worship they in cathedral or log cabin, believe they in Presbyterianism or Episcopacy, .dwell they under Italian skies or in Siberian snowstorms, be they Ethiopian or American. .All one in Christ. One Lord, one faith, one baptism, on the way to one Heaven. We built this Tabernacle for the purpose of setting forth these great theories of the gospel of the Son of God. Would that we had been more faithful in the pulpit! Would that we had been more faithful in the pew! I remark, further, that we have tried here to build a church distinctively unconventional. Instead of asking, as some people are disposed to do, how other people ao it, we have asked the question how people do not do it Imperious custom has decided that churches shall be angular, cheerless, gloomy, unsympathetic, forgetting that what men call a pious gloom is impious, and that that church has the best architecture where the people are the most comfortable, and that that is the most efficient Christian service where the people are made most sick of sin and most anxious after Christ and Heaven. And so we called the architects together for our first church building and said, “Give us an amphitheater’’—that is,a large family circle, gathered around afl replace. For many years we had felt that an amphitheater was *he only proper shape for an audience room. The prominent architects of the country said: “it cannot be done. You need a churchly building.” And so we had plan after plan of churchly buildings presented, but ni due time God sent a man who grasped our idea and executed it. So far from being a failure, it satisfied our want, and all our three churches were built on the amphitheatrical plan, and scores of churches all over the country have adopted the same plan. -

A Democratic Church. And, mv brethren and sisters, we fail in our work just in proportion as we try to be like other churches. We believe that God intended every church, like every man. to be individual, gathering up ull its peculiarities and idiosyncrasies, and hurling them all toward somg good and grana object. In other, words, no two churches ought ever to be just alike. Here is a church, for instance, whose object it is to prepare philosophers ana artists and critics for Heaven. God speed them in the difficult work. Here is a church, on the other hand, that proposes to bring only the poor into the kingdom of Jesus Christ, looking not after the rich. God speed such a church in its undertaking. But there is a larger idea that a church may take—bringing in the rich and the poor, the wise and the ignorant, the high and the low, so that kneeling beside each other shall be the man fariqg sumptuously every day and the man who could not get nis breakfast God speed such a church! Oh, my friends, we need to break away from slavery to ecclesiastical custom. We dare not sing if anybody hears us. We dare not preach unless we have rounded off our sentences to suit the criticism of the world. We dare not dress for church until we have examined the fashion plates and would rather stay at home than appear with a coat or a bat not sanctioned by custom. When will the day of deliverance come to the church of God when, instead of a dead religion, laid out in state on a catefalque of pomp and insincerity, we shall have a living, bounding, sympathetic, glowing Christianity? A Joyful Religion. I remark, further, that we have tried here to build and to conduct a cheerful church. While, as you know, we have not held back the terrors of the law and the sterner doctrines of the gospel we have tried in this house to present to this people the idea that the gladdest, brightest, happiest thing in all the universe is the Christian religion. There is so much trouble in the world. Business men have so many anxieties, toiling men have so many fatigues, orphans have so many desolations —for .God’s sake, if there be any bright place on earth, show it to them. Let the church of Jesus Christ be the most cheerful spot on earth. Let me say that Ido not want anybody to come whining around me alxiut the Christian religion. I have no faith in a religion made up of equal parts of wormwooa, vinegar, and red pepper. If the religion that is presented to us be a depression, we will get along better without it. If it be a Toy, let it shine out from your face and from your conversation. If a man comes to my house to talk of religion with lugubrious countenance and manner full of sniffle and dolorousness, I feel like saving to my wife, “You had better lock up the silver before he steals something.” I have found it an invariable rule that men who profess faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, priding themselves at the same time on their sanctimoniousness, always turn out badly—l never knew an exception—while those who are most consistent, the most useful and the most consecrated have perfume in their conversion and heaven in their face.

The Eternal Gladness. The happiest Christians that I have ever known have been persons from 60 to 80 years of age. By that time people get over the shams and pretenses of society, and h ave no longer any patience with anything like imposture in religion. O Christian, how dare you be gloomy? Is not God your father? Is not Jesus Christ your Saviour? Has .not your path all through life been strewn with mercies? Are you insensible to the fact that there are glories awaiting you in a better land?—doxologies of celestial worship, eternal chorals, tearless eyes, songs that resound under arches of strength, and hosannas that clap their hands at the foot of the throne? Is it nothing to you that ail the hills of heaven are radiant with the faces of those who have gone up before you, and who are waiting for your coming, ready to keep with you eternal holiday? Is there nothing in songs that never cease, in hearts that never ache, in splendors that never die, to make you glad? Then take no more mercy at the hand of thy God! Give back the marriage ring of love that Jesus put on your finger in the day of your espousal! Plant no more of the flowers of heaven where there ought to be nothing but nettles and nightshade! t remark,- further, that we have here tried to build a church abreast of the times. It is all folly for us to try to do things the way they did fifty or 100 years ago. We might as well be plowing with Elijah's crooked stick, or go into battle with Saul’s armor, or prefer a canal boat to an express train, as to cling to old things. What we most need now is a wide awake cnurch. People who are out in the world all the week, jostling against this lightning footed century, come into the church on vhe Sabbath and go right to sleep unless they have a spirited service. Men engaged in literary callings all the week, reaaing pungent, sharp writings, cannot be expected to come and hear our ecclesiastical humdrum. If a man stays at home on Sundays and reads the newspapers, it is because the newspapers are more interesting. We need, my brethren, to rouse up and stop hunting with blank cartridges. The church of God, ought to be the leader, the interpreter, the inspirer of the age. It is all folly for us to be discussing old issues-arraign-ing Nero, hanging Absalom, striking the Philistines with Shamgar’s ox goad—when all around about us are iniquities to be slain. Did I say that the church ought to be abreast ot the times r-as far in advance as the cross of Christ is ahead of all human invention. Paul was 1,000 years ahead of the day in which he lived. The swift footed years that have passed since Luther died have not yet come up to Luther’s grave. Give iniquity 4,000 years the start, and the feet of Christianity are so nimble that if you will but give it full swing it will catch up and pass it in two bounds. The church of Goa ought to be ahead of the times. A Stalwart Religion, j I remark, further, that •we have tried here in the love and fear of God to build a church that would be characterized by conversions. I have heard of very good people who could preach on for fifteen or twenty years and see no conversions, but yet have faith. It takes a very good man to do that. 1 do not know how a man can keep his faith up if souls are not brought to the

Lord Jesus Christ That church that does not bring men %nd woman to the feet of the Saviour Is a failurt. I car® not how fine the building, or how sweet the music, or howoloouentthe preaching, or how elegant the surroundings—it Is a failure. The church of God was made for just one thing—to get men out of the world Into the kingdom of Heaven. The tendency in churches is to spend their time in giving fine touches to Christians already iwlished. We keep our religion too much indoors and under shelter when it ought to be climbing the rocks or hewing in the forests. Then it would be a stalwart religion, a religion able to digest the strong meat of the world instead of being kept on the pap and gruel of spiritual Invalidism. It is high time that we threw off tne Sunday clothes of sickly sentimentality and put on the workday dress ot an earnest, active ChristianityHere is Brooklyn, here is New York, here are the United States, here is the whole world to be converted. It is 1,894 years since Christ came, and Set Europe, Asia, Africa, North and outh America are still unevangelized. More people born every year into the worla than are born into the kingdom o'. God. At that rate I ask any one who can do a simple sum in arithmetic to calculate when this world will be brought to Jesus. At that ratio never, never, never! And yet we know that it is to be brought to Christ But the church will have to change its tack and take a wider sweep with the gospel net than any it has yet taken. I believe that the great masses of the people are now ready to receive the gospel if we give them a chance. A boy goes along the street at night and sees a fine house beautifully lighted up and hears music, and he says, “I wish I was in there, but I have not been invited,” and so he passes on. Here is the church of God, lighted up with festivity and holy mirth, and the world passes along outside, hears the music and sometimes wishes it was inside, hut says that it is not invited. Oh, invite the world to come ini Go out into the highways and hedges. Send a ticket of Invitation, printea in these words, “Come, for all things are ready.”

Buried la Bin. Some years ago 200 men were buried in the Hartly colliery of The Queen of England from her throne telegraphed, “Is there any hope for the men?” After awhile the answer came over the wires: “No hope. They are dead.” Here is a whole race buried in sin and darkness and woe. The question that thrills up to the throne of God to-day is, “Is there any hope for men?” Answering intelligence comes back from the throne of od, thrilling through, the world’s darkness, thrilling through the world's woe; “Yes. Hope for one! Hope for all. Whosoever will, let him come. And the Spirit and Bride say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. We have had conventions all over the country discussing the subject, “How Shall the Great Masses Be Brought to Christ?” They have passed splendid resolutions at the close of the meeting—along list of 8, 10 or 15 have been read, and then the presiding officer has said. “All those in favor of the resolutions for the conversion of the world, purifying the cities and redeeming the masses, and making everything all right, say aye.” “Aye! Aye:” say 1,000 voices. “All opposed no.” “The ayes have it” There, the world is converted! Ab, we do not seem to get along by such a process. If th is world is everto be brought to Goa, it will not be by the handful of ministers we have in this country. It will be by the great masses of Christian men and women discharging their duty. If the private church membership of this country would but put on their armor and go forth, I believe that in fifteen years this whole land would be redeemed for Christ Would God that all the people were prophets! lam never afraid to hear a man say that he is going to preach. .If he cannot preach, people will not go to bear him. If he can, he has a message from the Almighty, and I would have him deliver it Look out how you interfere with him. Closing Words. Since we have been together as pastor and oe iple how many hive been ' promoted to the glories of Heaven? They died sweetly, calmly, as only Christians can die. They have put dowp the staff of their pilgrimage; they have taken up the palm of the victor. The Ix>rd Jesus has swung His arm through this church a good many times. He has been up and down aft these aisles. He has taken the little children—the dear little children. He ' came down into the garden to gather the lilies and the aged as well. One who sat right here, so that when I ' used to preach I could almost put my hand on bis. head, when I came back from my summer vacation was gone. Oh, how the glories of Heaven shone around that old man’s face as be sat here Sabbath after Sabbath! Gone now, happy spirit! Happy with all those* who have passed the flood! One army of the living God — To Hie command we bow. Part of the host have oroaeed the flood, And part are oroßSingjnow. i I thank you for all your kindness, for all your sympathy, for all your prayers 1 for me as pastor. It is a sorrow to me that lam to be absent even for a few months. I have worked to the full ex- ■ tent ot physical, mental, and spiritual endurance for tbis church. Now we start out on our twentysixth year. How many of us will close it here I know not But, living or dying, let us cling to Christ. Oh, that all the people would love Him! I wish thatlcbuld take this audience this morning and wreathe it around the heart of my Lord Jesus Christ. Oh, He is such a dear Saviour! He is such a loving Jesus! He is so precious I He is all the world to me. He is Heaveii to me. He washed'away my sins. He comforted me in days of darkness and trouble. He is mine. O blessed Jesus! Sweetest sound I ever heard or expect to hear is thy namel ' • < ■ My closing prayer this morning la that God will have mercy on the dying population of our great cities, and that the whole earth will put on bridal array for the coming of her Lord. Ride on, King Jesus, ride on! Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting, and let the whole earth be ? filled with His gloryl Amen and amen! ~. _ ■» The people who'do the waiting and watching for you in this World, are waiting and watching for a chance to 1,1,»n.. ■ --