Decatur Democrat, Volume 38, Number 37, Decatur, Adams County, 30 November 1894 — Page 8

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'•' CHAPTER VI. THE PIECE OF WHITE HEATHER. “For whom should I make? But her who joys the gift to take, And boasts the wears it for my sake? But Jerry, as before, found nothing amiss. ~ She went to bed that night with the foolish whisner tingling in hoi ears and buzzing through her little head. She mentally resolved tojseethat piece of heliotrope —it was sure to be lying somewhere about Bellenden's room in the morning—and keep it forever for Bis sake. She sat and gazed into tne aepths of the quaint old mirror, now at last appreciated, the while she twisted up the golden curls and hung tnem this way and that way about her fair forehead; by many a device she sought to catch glimpses here and there of nose and chin and mouth,wondering and seeking to civine of what account they were, those all unknown, unexplored possessions of hers in his eyes? Did he think her pretty? Would he have liked her to be prettier or taller? Would he have thought more of her had she been as tall as Ethel or Alicia’ Would he have said to them the same pleasant things he was forever saying to her? And the vain little heart counted over one by one her treasures as she yet lenged for more, and the little white-roed figure grew cold and chilly as she sat there, a small spot in the great, dim bedroom, thinking and thinking, and never a bit the wiser for it. She had softly got out of the bed and relit her candle after the maid had left, and it was long ere the faint light it shed was finally extinguished; but at length the show was over, and in she crept again beneath the silken coverlet, courting sleep, to find that he had taken to himself wings and fled, only to return by fits and starts to her poor little hot, feverish pillow. The following morning Cecil and his i friend were to he off to the moor at break, or nearly at break of day, and Jerry had been told that her “Goodnight” to them might stand for her “Good-morning'’ also, since they would be. miles away among the heather, ere her eyes had unclosed next day. But could she sleep? While all the stir was going on, while dogs were harking and keepers shouting, and the breakfast bustling along the passages, the whole place, as it were, agog without and within? Was it likely? It would bo excuse enough in her grandmother's mind that she had been aroused bv all the noise, and commn--uuu'tuo wn lu Keep Her own counsel beforehand—ahd accordingly, ; when daylight began to spread across the heavens, and long, long before she had been thinking about it, up she rose, stealthily bathed her burning cheeks, on tiptoe performed her hasty toilet, and hi shed even her gentlest movements if a step went by, less per- : chance they should betray her. It' would havb been terrible to have beer found out with her purpose unachieved. The breaklast was to be on the table at 6:3oo'clock, and by 6 Jerry was fully dressed and all impatience, so that a weary half hour had to be dragged through by her poor little fasting frame and tumultuous spirit first. She sat down to wait by the open i window. It was a heavenly morning, warm ev.en at that early hour, and breath-1 Jessly still. Not a ripple stirred the glassy waters of the loch beneath, nor moved the few white fleecy cloudlets which were scarcely visible, hung high in the blue expanse overhead. The tide was at its lowest, and flocks of sea-birds crowded the sandy bays and head-lands, wading, feeding, aud chattering. A herring “scow” was hanging out its brown sail to dry close to the shore, yet not so close but that its long, straight shadow lay upon .the motionless water beneath. A wreath of blue smoke arising from the deck, was also mirrored in the water, showing that others were astir as well as the inmates of the castle hard by, and presently the little watcher from_ r iher turret could perceive the fishermen themselves upon the deck, busy in preparations for the day 's work. How she wished that she and Bellenden and Cecil had been going aboard the little vessel, going to sail away and away on the blue water, when the inflowing tide should raise breeze enough to waft her on her course, and when they could hang over the side, by-and-1-by, drawing in the shy cod, or the silvery whiting, or whatevei' came first. Cecil had promised that she should go with them the very first night he took his friend out, but it could not be that night, she knew; and now that the shooting had begun in ! real earnest—and there had been a great deal of talking about it the evening before, and arrrngements for shooting this ground and that ground, which betoken every day beingfillect up, even though Capt. Bellenden had uiyifcL’ .pressure extended the proposed ; length of his stay from two to four or five days—now that all thpi was in store, wjmi could say when a spare night would be found for the whiting bank?The fine,weather had evidently set iih.w hen Cecil would certainly prefer shooting to sea-fishing, and shooting meant being out very late, and returning home very tired, and quite disincl.ned to stir a foot outside again. For ' a great deal of the Inchmarew moor lay at a distance from the castle, and moreover, like most Argyllshire moors,'

there was a considerable area to be traversed if anything like good sport were to be obtained. Young Raymond was often so weary at the close of the day as to be fit for nothing but his bed after supper. Supper would bo somewhere between 9 and 10 o'clock, and was not called or thought of as a dinner, as at some places. Airs. Campbell, if alone, would have had her dinner at its usual time, and Cecil would s ip by himself when he came in, but if he had others with him, the old lady would join the party for the sake of sociability, and turn the whole into a merry meal, though she would not allow a succession of courses at that hour, and still adhered to the old-fashioned, homely name in word as well as in deed. Now by half-past 9 o'clock Jerry ought to be safe an 1 sound tucked up within her little bed: her hour for leaving the Jdrawing-room was 9, and she was allowed half an hour for undressing—and never but on that one ■ occasion ot the billiard match had the ' evening summons been allowed to pass ! unheeded., Something in her grandI mother’s look had sent the little girl quietly off the night before. Jerry, ; we have said, was a child of quick per- ! ceptions, and w.thout a word having : been said, she understood perfectly i that granny was not entirely pleased 1 about something or other, and that it would be wiser not to risk any advances just then. Her conscience was just’ shaky enough to give rise to an unwonted timidity with both granny and Cecil, and she was inclined to be | conciliatory and deferential, and every- j i thing that she could wish, in the hope i I of being kept in favor. 1 But ohl this supper. She had heard the order given, and the hour named, and ever since what tortures of anxiety had been hers! To say anything about the matter beforehand would be most i certainly to spoil all, since on some . points her grandmother could make I a stand even against herself, ana jerry's bed-time had been one of those points on which the old lady had, with the single exceptions above narrated, been inflexible. Jerry had weakly, as she now considered, given in about it I at the first-the truth being that she j had not cared about the matter, since evenings alone with granny had not been amusing enough to excite an effort, and neither had Cecil’s friends, when they had been present, done much towards public environment. They had usually remained in the dinor gone off to the smokingroom, even if they had' returned tolerably early from the moor-and on other days she had not seen them at all. Then granny's visitors hal been wont to sit solemnly round,-and yawn, or play the piano, and talk in whispers, j There had been no games, no fun, no I anything. Even granny herself who I was a bit toojold for these, had owned I she got on better with young folks than with her own contemporaries. ■ It was not then to be supposed that thev could be of any sort of value tb the 14 or 15-year-old httle girl, and she had never experienced either hopes or fears connected with them. Captain Bellenflen was, oh! how different. He had talked to her, told her stories, asked her all about herself and her likings ana dislikings. and confided allQilt. hinwJf nn<l " ner stables, and kennels, her home i farm and dairy, and several of her favorite haunts. He had seemed to care to see' them all, and to hear about them all. He had seemed to like everything about Inchmarew, and presently he had produced a little sketch which he had taken of. the castle turret from . a point high up on the Kincraig moor, ' and which he had thought it would please its little mistress to possess. Her surprise and gratitude had touched him, and, in present’ng it, he hal allowed himself to say another of those pretty sayings which he would ! only have ventured on with such a child. Here, we may just remark, for the ’ enlightenment of ourcreaders. that Bellenden was not a flirting man, and, j curiously enough, had never been in love in his life. Perhaps the world nad opened its arms too Wide to him — 1 it does sometimes. But here was a pleasant little play-' : thing, with whom he might be as pleasant as he chose in return, and he had had no fears, and’meant no harm. He had, moreover, found Jerry's compaiyorship so preferable to that of the Kincraig party, none of whom were ofc his set, or Knew his haunts, or coula talk his talk, that he had been ready to make still more of her than he might have done otherwise, and had, in consequence, wrought infinitely more damage. She was now full of him, cared only for his notice, burned only to be in his presence. Well, she had secured the breakfast time anyway and more, had secured it for herself. Granny absent, Bellenden I would have no one to claim his attention but herself (for he did not greatly favor Cecil when others were by,) besides which, Cecil would te sure to be ' pretty-fully occupied with the business ' in hand, the calls on him made by one ; and another, the bustle of preparation, and the start. She knew how it would j be with him. For once and again ere ' now she had got upto this early shooting breakfast, on the hot August days, when it was a novelty, and had let her loose to run about for a while before j the sun was too high—and she meant ; to make the most of those occasions i now, should a remark be passed on her appearing. None was—of an adverse nature. Bellenden indeed looked surprises, but it was mere genuine astonishment quite untinged with reproach. “You are a gool girl'” hs exclaimed ; heartily. “Are you always up with the lark like this? By Jove, you ought j to be com ng with us How you would ! enjoy it! I wish we had thought of that be "ore - but perhaps it is not too late now. What do you say? Will you come?” _ “Oh-h-h!” Jerry drew in a breath, and could say no more, “I’ll take care of you if your cousin sees no objection,” proceeded he. “I daresay there is a hill pony somewhere that could be pressed into your service, and if you grew tired by the ! . middle of the day, you could be sent |

home with a keeper. W hat do you think?” “Think! Whv, of course 4 could have a oony, and of course I could go, if only granny and Cecil will let me,” almost sobbed Geraldine, tremb'ing with excitement and anxiety.. “Oh, if they only will! But lam afraid they never, never will. Granny has a perfect horror of ‘shooting ladies,’ as she cal s them.” \ “But one day on t\e moor could hardly turn you into a shooting lady,’ i or else I don't think I shouldUsk for it myself,” quoth Bellenden. “I think your grandmamma might allow it just for once,” and, as apart from his desire to please her, ho experienced a feol-. : Ing that her company would be an i agreeable addition to that of the young ' Oxonian, he spoke withan earnestness ; which showed he meant to betaken at i his word. ( “What is it you are in doubt about, I Bellenden?” said Cecil, enteringatthe moment; “anything J can get you? ’ “Why, yes; get permission tor this little lady to ride alongside of us on the moor. Don't you think she might? She would bo in no one's way: and I dare say she is quite as good for a long day among the grouse as the best of us.” “Impossible!” said Cecil, with a look [of > amazement. “My grandmother would never hoar of such a thing! Why, Jerry, surely you did not propose it? Was that why you got up?” “No, indeed,” cried Jerry, almost in tears; “indeed I never thought of it, Cecil. Really and truthfully 1 didjnot. I only got up to see you off. You know,” she added, coloring and hesitating ever so little, “you know ido o.ten see you of.” “Notvery often. But—well?” “And Capt. Bellenden thought that —that perhaps I might go tqo, if granny and you did not mind.” “My grandmother would most ceri ta'nly object. She would never hear of it,” said Cecil to him. “But, really, would she not? Ladies do go out, you know: and -and ■” “Oh, yes; some ladies do, certainly. , Not those of our family,” said Cecil, with all the stiffness of the Raymonds ; dead and alive on the subject; “it is the last thing we should ever wish them to do.” “She is such a child,” murmured Bellenden, apart to him, “and different from other children, top. ,She must i have but few pleasures ih t\iji lonely place; why deny one on the mere score of propriety?” “You own it would be improper?” “Not at all, for a little girl like her. It would be different if she were a few yea i s older At present it could surely do no harm. ” “Oh, no ‘harm,’ I dare say. However, it is not for me to say either ‘yes,’ or ‘no.’ I do not think my grandmother at all likely to consent; but, of, course, Jerry can ask her ” “And may I say you will take care of ■ me?” Jerry was on the wing instan- ’ taneously. “No- scy I will,” cried Bellenden ; laughing. And somehow Cecil thought ' of the heliotrope as he looked at him, and from blip to Geraldine. It prove! that he knew his grandmother best. She was shocked, almost incredulous, could, hardly believe that a man who knew the world as Capt. Bellenden did, could have made such a proposition, and assured his messenger with many an ominous shake of the head, that it was no compliment to her at her age to be considered too young to be at all in the iber, j-rro-c- imsiu, anti ndw would she like that? She little knew how uncomfortable it would make her ieel. Young women who respected themselves should always be a restraint after a fashion upon young men, and Jerry was really growing to be a young woman now, and ought to feel as one. She took it very ill of Capt Bellenden, the old lady ftrther proceeded, to have mooted such an idea, an idea that but for him would never have entered Jerry's head-and, indeed, sne had meant to tell Jerry to boa little more careful, and not to run on quite i so fast with her tonguev w-hen Bellenden was by, in case he t»<sk it into his mind that she was wilder and more untamed than she really .was; this suggestion of his showed that her caution would have been a wise one—and so on, until the poor little girl, ashamed, aggrieved, and bitterly repentant, all at once broke out into an agony of sobs and tears, and rushed (from the room, seeking only to be unseen and unspoken to any more. Go down again? (jtfot for worlds. Her own chamber, andjbehind a fastlocked door was the orite place for her now! *■ ’ [TO BE Early Infantry Equipment. Among the arms paw obsolete, which formed a large wit of the infantry equipment ifi tJSe days when the army was started, was the pike, which was in the form of a spear, with a flat and pointed head, mounted on a staff from thirteen to eighteen feet long. The firearm in general use at the time was the j matchlock. would a Sergeant Major of i the present day, with his men armed I with a magazine rifle, think of such 1 a weapon as this: “Attached to the I lock ot this musket was a pan, also ; a cock, the hammer of which was i somewhat in the form of a bird’s, serpent’s or dog’s head; “this head was split, and a screw compressed or eased the slits. The piece being loaded i first with powder and then with ball, ' some powder was poured into the pan; the pan was then shut to keep this •priming’ from dropping out, and to keep it dry. When the soldier wished to fire, he fastened his burning match into the slit of the cock, opened the pan, looked to his priming, presented, and pulled the trigger; the match falling into the pan, i fired it. , I “Between the pan and the breach of the barrel communication was established by means of a small hole; when the piece was being loaded, the grains of powder were naturally rammed and shaken down close to this hole, and when priming, the soldier took care to perfect the communication of the powder in the pan with that in the barrel; thus the explosion In the pan caused the ignition of the charge.’’—'All the Year Round.

TALMAGE’S SERMON. I .y,- - -— - - - - FIRST OF THE PREACHER’S ROUND THE WORLD SERIES. A Vivid Story of the Fumoni Siege at Lucknow, India—chrl*tlai\ Character In Time of Dlatroaa and 'banger—Havelock’s Devotion i»nd Courage. I*ucknow*a Martyn. Rev. Dr. Tnlmage Sunday began a his series of run nd the world sermons ' through the press, the first subject selected being Ducknow, India The text chosen was Deuteronomy xx., 19, “When thou shnlt besiege a cjty a long timo In making war against It to take it, thou shnlt not destroy the trees thereof by forcing an ax against them.” The awfulest thing in war is besiegement, for to the work of deadly weapons it adds hunger and starvation and plague. Besiegement is sometimes necessary, but my text commands mercy oven in that. The fruit trees must be spared because they afford food for loan. “Thou shalt not destroy the trees thereof by forcing an ax against them.” But iu my recent journey round the world I found at Lucknow, India, the remains of the most merciless besiegement of the ages, and I proceed to tell you that story for four great reasons—to show you what a horrid thing war is and to make you all advocates for peace, to show you what genuine Christian character is under bombardment, to put a coronation on Christian courage, ahd to show yoh how splendidly good people die. In the early part of 1857 all over India the natives were ready to break out in rebellion against all foreigners and especially against the civil and military representatives of the English Government. A half dozen causes are mentioned for the feeling of discontent and insurrection that was evidenced throughout India. The simple fact was that the natives of India were a conquered race, and the English were; the conquerors. For 100 years the British scepter had been waved over India, and the Indians wanted to break that scepter. There never had been any love or sympathy between the natives of India and the Europeans. There is nine now. Ifcwas evident in Lucknow that the natives were about to rise and put to death all the Europeans they could lay their hands on, and into the residency the Christian population of Lucknow hastened for defense from the tigers in human form which were growling for their victims. The occupants of the residency, or fort, were —military and noncombatauts, men, women, and children—in number about 1,692. I suggest in one sentence some of the chief woes to which they were subjected when I say that these people were in the residency five months without a single change of clothing, some of the time the heat at 120 and 130 degrees; the place black with flies and all a-squirm with vermin; firing of the enemy upon them ceasing neither day nor night; the hospital crowded with the dying; smallpox, scurvy, cholera adding their work to that of shot and shell; women brought up in all comfort and never having known want crowded and sacrificed in a cellar where nine children were bom; less and less food; no water except that which was brought from a well under the enftmy’s fire, so that the water oh taxied ' sickness and death to 9f6 men, women and children. A Visit to the Residency. “Call me early,” I said, “to-morrow morning and let us be at the residency before the sup becomes too hot.” At 7 o’clock in the mornlug we left our hotel in Lucknow, and I said to our obliging, gentlemanly escort, “Please take uS along the road by which Havelock and Outram came to the relief of the residency.” That was the way we went. There was a solemn stillness as we approached the gate of the residency. Battered and torn is the masonry of the entrance, signature of shot and punctuation of cannon ball all up and down everywhere. “Here to' the left,” said our escort, “are the remains of a building the first floor of which in other days had been used as a banqueting hall, but then was used as a hospital. At this part the amputations took place, and all such patients died. The heat was so great and the food so insufficient that the poor fellows could not recover ffom the loss of blood. They all diAl. Amputations weje performed without chlorofojnp. All the anaesthetics were exhausted. ' A fracture that in other climates ahd under other circumstances would Save come to easy convalescence here proved fatal. “Yonder was Dr. Fayrer’s house, who wa's the surgeop. of the place and is now Queen Victoria’s doctor. This upper room was the officers’ room, and there Sir Henry Lawrence, bur dear commander, was wounded. While he sat there a shell struck the room, and some one suggested that he had better leave the room, but he smiled and said, ‘Lightning never strikes twice in the same place.’ Hardly had he said this when another shell tore off his thigh, and he was carried dying into Dr. Fayrer’s house on the other side of the road. Sir Henry Lawrence had been in poor health for a long time before the mutiny. He had been in the Indian service for years, and he had started for England to recover his health, but getting as far as Bombay the English Government requested him to remain at least awhile, for he could not be spared in such dangerous times. He came here to Lucknow nnd foreseeing the siege of this residency had filled many of the rooms with grain, without which the residency would have been obliged to surrender. There were also taken by him into this residency rice and sugar and charcoal ahd fodder the oxen and hay for the horses. But now, at the time when all the people were looking to him for wisdom and courage, Sir Hfenry is dying.” Our escort described the scene—unique, tender, beautiful, aiid overpowering—and while I.stood on the very spot where the sighs and groans of the besieged and lacerated and broken-hearted met the whiz of bullets, and the demoniac hiss of bursting shells, and the roar of batteries, my escort gave me the particulars. - A Glory to Christendom. "As soon as Sir Henry was told that he had not many hours to live he asked the chaplain to administer to him the holy communion. He felt particularly anxious for the safety of the. women in the residency, who at any moment migkt be tub*

jected to the savages who howled around I the residency, their breaking in only a i matter of time unless re-enforcements should come. He would frequently say ; to those who surrounded his death couch: ‘Save the ladies. God help the poor women and children!* “Ho gave directions for the desperate defense of the place. He asked forgiveness of all those whom he might unintentionally have neglected or offended. He left a message for all his friends. Ho forgot not to give directions for the care of his favorite horse. He charged the officers, saying: ‘By no means surrender. Make no treaty or compromise with the desperadoes. Die fighting.* He took charge of the asylum he had established for the children of soldiers. He gave directions for his burial, saying: ‘No nonsense, no fuss. Let me be buried with the men,’ He dictated his own epitaph, which I read above his tomb: ‘Hero lies Henry Lawrence, who tried to do his duty. May the Lord have mercy on his soul.’ “He said, ‘I would like to have a passage of Scripture added to the words on my grave, such as, “To the Lord onr God belong mercies and forgiveness, though we have rebelled against him.” Isn’t it from Daniel?* So as brave a man as England or India ever saw expired. The soldiers lifted the cover from his face and kissed him before they carried him out. The chaplain offered a prayer. Then they removed the great hero amid the rattling hail of the guns and put him down among other soldiers buried at the same time.” All of which I state for the benefit of those who would have us believe that the Christian religion is fit only for women in the eighties and children under seven. There was glory enough in that departure to halo Christendom. “There,” said our escort, “Bob the Nailer did the work.” “Who was Bob the Nailer?” “Oh, he was the African who sat at that point, and when any one of our men ventured across the road he would drop him with a rifle ball. Bob was a sure marksman. The only why to get across > the road for water from the well was to wait until his gun flashed and then in- > stantly cross before he had time to load. The only way we could get rid of him was by digging a mine under the house where he was the house was blown up Bob the Nailer .went with it.” I said to him, “Had you made up your minds what you and the other sufferers . would do in case the fiends actually broke in?” “Oh, yo«l” said my escort. “We had it all planned,'Tor tho probability was every hour for nearly five mdntho that they would break in. You must remem- ■ ber it was 1,600 against 60,000, and for the latter part of the time it was 900 i against 60,000, and the residency and the i earthworks around it were not put up for ■ such an attack. It was only from the i mercy of God that we were not massacred , soon after the besiegement. We were re- . solved not to allow ourselves to get into the hands of those desperadoes. You must remember that we and all the women had heard of the butchery at Cawnpur, and we knew what defeat meant. If unable ■ to hold out any longer, we would have blown ourselves up, and all gone out life together.” An Awful Prison. i “Show me,” I said, “the rooms where i the women and children staid during i those awful months.” one of the ladies wrote in her diary, speaking of these women: “They lay upon the floor fitting into each other like bits in a puzzle.’’ Wives had obtained from their husbands the promise that the husbands would shoot them rather than let them fall into the hands of these desperadoes. The women within the residency were kept on the smallest allowance that Would maintain life. No oppor-. tunity of privacy. The death angel and the birth angel touched wings as they passed. Flies, mosquitoes, vermin in full possession of the place, and these women in momentary expectation that the enraged savages would rush upon them in a violence of which club and sword and torch and thoat-cutting would be the milder forms. -Our escort told us again and again of the bravery of these women. They did not despair. They encouraged the soldiery. They waited on the wounded and dying in the hospital. They gave up their stockings for holders of the grapeshot. They solaced each other when their children died. When a husband or father fell, such prayers of sympathy were offered as only women can offer. They endured without complaint. They prepared their own children for burial. They were inspiration for the men who stood at their posts fighting till they dropped. Our escort told us that again and again news had come that Havelock and Outram were on the way to fetch these besieged ones out of their wretchedness. They had received a letter from Havelock rolled up in a quill and parried in the mouth of a disguised messenger—a letter telling them he was on the way—but the next news was that* Havelock had been compelled to retreat. It was Constant vacillation between hope and despair. But one day they heard the guns of relief sounding nearer and nearer. Yet all the houses of Lucknow were fortresses filled with armed miscreants, and every step of Havelock and his army was contestedfiring from housetops, firing from windows, firing from doorways. Sentiment and Poetry. I asked our friend if he thought that the world-famous story of a Scotch lass in her delirium hearing the Scotch bagpipes advancing with the Scotch regiment was a true story. He said he did pot know but that it was true. Without this man’s telling me I knew from my own observation that delirium sometimes quickens some of the faculties, and I rather think the Scotch lass in her delirium did hear the slogan. I almost heard it myself as I stood inside the residency while my escort told of the coming on of the Seventyeighth Highland regiment.' “Were you present when Havelock enme in?” I asked, for I could suppress the question no longer. His answer came: “I was not at the moment present, but with some other young fellows I saw soldiers dancing while two Highland pipers played, and I said, ‘What is all this excitement about?’ Then we catne Up and saw that Havelock was in, and Outram was in, and the regiments Wefe pouring in. Here it is—the embrasure through which they came.” we stood there, although the scene was thirty-ssvan years ago, J saw them

| come in—Havelock pale and sick, but ■ triumphant, and Outram, whom all the equestrian statues in Calcutta and Europe cannot too grandly present. The Grave of Havolook. About four miles from Ute residency I visited the grave of Havelock. The scones of hardship aud self-sacrifice through which he had passed wore too much for mortal endurance, and a few days after Havelock left the residency which ho had relieved ho my in a tent dying, while his son, whom I saw in London onTny way here, was reading to tho old hero tho consolatory Scriptures. The telegraph wires had told all nations that Havelock was sick unto death. Ho had received the message of congratulation from Queen Victoria over his triumphs and hafLbwn knighted, and such a reception as England never gave to tiny man since Wellington came back Waterloo awaited his return. But he will never again see his native land. He has led his last army and planned the last battle. Yet he is to gain another victory. He declared it when in his last hours ho said to Gen. Outram: “I die happy and contented. I have for forty years so ruled my life that when death came I might face It without fear. To die is gain.” Sir Henry Havelock, the son in whose arms the father died, when I came through London invited three of the heroes of Lucknow to meet me at his table, and told me concerning his father some most inspiring and Christian things. He said: ’ “My father knew not what fear was. He would say to me in the morning, as he came out of his tent, ‘Harry, have you read the book?’ “ ‘Yes.’ “ ‘Have you said your prayers?’ “ ‘Yes.’ “ ‘Have you had your breakfast?' “ ‘Yes.’ “‘Come, then, and let us mount and go out to Ife shot at ahd die like gentlemen.’ ” The three other heroes at Lucknow at that table told of Gen. Havelock, other things just as stirring. What a speech that was Havelock made to his soldiers as he started for Cawnpur, India! •‘Over 200 of our race are still alive in Cawnpur. With God’s help we will save them from death. I am trying you severely, my men, but I know what you are made of.” The enthusiasm of his men was well suggested by the soldier lying asleep, and, Haveloek riding along, his horse stumbled over the soldier and awoke him, and the soldier, recognizing the General, cried out, cheerily: “Make room for the General! God bless e the General!” Havelock's Immortal Fame. A plain monument marks Havelock’s grave, but the epitaph is as beautiful and comprehensive as anything I have ever seen, and I copied it then and there, and it is as follows: “Here rest the mortal remains of Henry Havelock, Major General in the British army and knight commander of the bath, who died at Dilkoosha, Lucknow, of dysejntery, produced by the hardships of a campaign in wliich he achieved immortal fame, ou the 24th-of November, 1857. He was born on the sth day of April, 1795, at Bishops, Wermouth, county Durham, England; entered the army 1815; came to India 1823 and served there with little interruption till his death. He bore an honorable part in the wars of Burma, Afghanistan, the Mahratta campaign of 1843 and the Sutlej.of pedition of 1857. In the terrible convulsion of that year his genius and character were at length fully developed and known to the world. Saved from shipwreck on the Ceylon coast by that Providence which designed him for greater things, he was nominated to the command of the column destined to relieve the brave garrison of Lucknow. This object, after almost, siqM'riniman exertion, ' he, by the blessing of God, accomplished. But he was not spared to receive on earth the reward so dearly earned. The Divine Master whom Mteerved saw fit to remove him from the sphere of his labor in the moment of his greatest triumphs. He departed to his rest in humble but confident expectation of far greater rewards and honors which a grateful country was anxious to bestow. In him the skill of a commander, the courage and devotion of a soldier, the learning of a scholar, the grace of a highly bred gentleman, and all the social and domestic virtues of a husband, father and friend were blended together and strengthened, harmonized and •adorned by the spirit of a true Christian, the result of the influence of the Holy Spirit on his heart, and of a humble reliance on the merits of a crucified Savior. II Timothy iv, 7,8: ‘I have ftnight a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.’ This monument is erected by his sorrowing widow and family.” Is not that magnificent? But I said, while standing at Havelock’s grave, Why does not England take his dust to herself, and in Westminster Abbey make him a pillow? The Application. In all her history of wars there is. no • name so magnetic, yet she has expressed nothing on this man’s tomb. His widow reared the tombstone. Do you say “Let him sleep in the region where he did his grandest deeds?” The same reason would have burled Wellington in Belgium, and Von Moltke at Versailles, and Grant at Vicksburg, and Stonewall Jackson far away from his beloved Lexington, Va. Take him home, O England! The rescuer of the men, women and children at Lucknow! His ear now dulled could not hear the roll of the organ when it sounds through i the venerable abbey the national anthem I but it would hear the same trumpet that, I brings up from among those sacred walls I tho form of Outram, his fellow hero in I the overthrow of the Indian mutiny. Let I Parliament make appropriation from the I national treasury and some great war- 1 ship under some favorite admiral sail! across Mediterranean aud Arabian Seasl and wait at Bombay harbor for the com-| Ing of this conqueror of'conquerors, and then, saluted by tho shipping of all free nations, let him pass on and pass up and come under the arches of the abbey and along the aisles Where have been carried the mightiest dead of many centuries. The Germany array one hundred and thirty-seven mifllon blank cartridge* a year.