Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 7, Decatur, Adams County, 3 May 1895 — Page 6

'MS™ ilVAvm '% w W&AI b- 'JlHkv'AjW 'a II ’iPiAW/ / rW ? /Wr W' I'/ 1 wBwOMv I /?<' ‘ffljw \#W 1 T •/n W® Wwl W f 1 W S■IWSv ? 7 W» A7 U\i® iMww

CHAPTER 111.—Continued. “How pretty your cousin, Miss L’Estrange, looks to-night,” said Mrs. Ruthven, as soon as she took breath, when they paused after the first two or three turns. “Why has she such a fancy for that cold, hard, gigantic Mr. Winton?” “A fancy for Winton!” said Marsden, turning sharply to look at Nora, who was standing nearly opposite, her arm through her partner’s, but her head half turned and raised in a pretty attitude to speak to Winton, who stood behind. There was an indescribable expression of pleasure and liking in her pose, which somewhat justified Mrs. Ruthven’s remark. “Oh, no,” continued Marsden, “she has better taste than to care for such a piece of petrifaction! Besides, he is an old flame of the step-mother’s, and is, I fancy, paying court in that quarter. No matter, these refrigerated machines are not in our line; you and I are children of the sun, though chance has made us English. Are you rested? Let us have another turn.” When next they stopped Marsden bent over her and said, with an air of tender interest: “I am afraid you are fatigued, you tremble! Come, there is a charming retreat at the end of the conservatory, where you can rest and be quiet; you look pale. The waltz will not be over just yet, and I can bring you an ice there.” Drawing her hand through his arm, Marsden led her out for* the cool conservatory. Mrs. Ruthven was unusually disturbed. Her prominent thought was: “He has made this opportunity to propose for me. i To-morrow 1 shall be the mistress of Evesleigh Manor,” so, leaning slightly ; toward her host, as if needing his support, she willingly accepted his guidance. The dance finished, Nora, escorted by ; her partner, an officer of the reghpent I quartered kt Oldbridge, mingled with.the anS'wKHe talking together over ices and lemon squash with Mrs. L Estrange and Winton, she noticed Marsden breakIng away from a prosy master of fox hounds, who had buttonholed him. “I really cannot stay,” he said, loudly 1 and impatiently. “I want to take an ice : to Mrs. Rutjiven, who is feeling faint.” ! He went on to the buffet, and spoke* to ] one of the waiters. “No, I will take it myself,” he replied to something the man said. Nora thought he looked really anxious ■ and disturbed. “Is Mrs. Ruthven feeling unwell?” she , asked, as Marsden passed. He shook his head, with a smiling glance toward the bore from whom he had just escaped, as if to intimate it was an excuse for leaving his guest, and went on quickly into the next room. Winton looked after him. “The rooms are not hot enough for fainting,” he said. “You have not seen the tent yet, Mrs. L’Estrange; come and inspect it.” He offered her his arm, Nora and Lord Alfred Harcourt following. As soon as they entered the morning room they saw a group of men around the door leading ■into the conservatory. Next to it stood Marsden, a look of puzzled surprise on his face. “The lock must have shut of itself,” Captain Lethbridge was saying, as Mrs. L’Estrange and Winton drew near. “It is unaccountable.” “What is the matter?” asked the latter. “The door is mysteriously locked, though I passed through it only now,” said Marsden, shaking it violently. “It looks as if the fair widow did not want you back,” cried Lord Alfred with a foolish laugh. Marsden gave him an angry look. “See if the key is in the door.” “Break it open.” “Cut out a pane,” were some of the suggestions rapidly offered. “Is there not some other way into the conservatory?” asked Winton. “Yes, of course; through the east corridor,” cried Marsden. He rushed away. In another moment they saw him pass the door and disappear, only to return more rapidly, and burst into the room, exclaiming: “Where is Lady Dorrington? Mrs. L’Estrange, come, for God’s sake! The key is gone, and Mrs. Ruthven is lying insensible! Call her maid! Look for Lady Dorrington,” he cried to the servants who were about. “Bring some water. Come, Mrs. L’Estrange,” and in evident agitation he led the way, through a part of the house not thrown open to the general company, through the conservatory to the tent. Winton, Nora and one or two of the others followed to see if they could be of any use. Mrs. Ruthven lay apparently lifeless, stretched on the divan, one arm hanging down inertly, her deadly pallor contrasting with her splendid dress and gay surroundings. “Is she dead? Oh, is she dead?” whispered Nora, in awe and terror. “No, no,” returned Mrs. L’Estrenge,. taking the hand tWiich hung so helplessly “she is not cold—she breathes—give me your fan—she must have air—do not come too close—send for Dr. Weldon; I * saw him just now.” “I will go for him,” said Winton, “but look, Marsden, her jewels are gope.” “What can have happened ?” cried Marsden. “Has she been robbed ? Good God! and perhaps injured? Call Weldon.” Turning toward the door, he met Lady Dorrington coming in, and with her the chief doctor of Oldbridge, one of the guests. “Well, well, what’s the matter? Hot rooms; too much dancing?” exclaimed Dr. Weldon, a short, stout, authoritative man. “Pooh, pooh! don’t look frightened,” to Nora, as he took Mrs. L’Estrange’s place. “That’s right; all she wants is air,” he laid his .hand on her side. “Heart beats; it’s just a swoon; keep fanning, please — can you get Ker clotEes loosened? —all fasten at the back ?—urn—irrational! You had better get out, gentlemen. Are you her maid?” to a smart little Frenchwoman, who canie in followed by the butler

'• ibfe?

h carrying a caraffe of water and a goblet. “Oh, tton Dieu! I never saw madame so bad before,” cried the maid. “Then is she subject to these attacks?” “Yes, sare—a leetle —not often.” “Try and loosen her dress. Here, give me the water! Stand back, Mr. Marsden.” “I cannot leave till I see her revive,” cried Marsden. “There is something mysterious in this seizure. She may be hurt. As her host, I feel responsible for her.” “Ha! she is coming to,” said the doctor, as a deep sigh parted the lips they watched so anxiously “Get some brandy —don’t let any one coute in here, there are too many already.” “Let us go, then,” whispered Mrs. L’Estrange to Nora, adding to Lady Dorrington: “I shall be in the conservatory should you want me.” Another long shivering sigh broke from Mrs. Ruthven; she slowly opened her eyes.which met those of Lady Dorrington, who was bending over her. For a minute or two she did not seem to recognize any one, then an expression of piteous alarm clime into her face, as she feebly stretched out her arms and exclaimed, in gasps: “Save me! don’t leave me!” “Dear Mrs. Ruthven, you are perfectly safes* no harm shall come to you,” said Marsden, coming forward. “There —there; don’t agitate her. You drink this, my dear madame,” cried the doctor, offering her some brandy and water. “You are all right now.” “Oh! no, no,” cried Mrs. Ruthven, raising herself with an effort and throwing herself into Lady Dorrington's arms; “that dreadful man will kill me.” She burst into a violent fit of crying. “That’s right,” said the doctor, complacently; “that will do her good.” “I wish we could get her to her own room,” exclaimed Lady Dorrington. “But \ what has become of her necklace —her jewels? Did Mrs. L’Estrange take it off ' to relieve her?” “No, it was gone when we came in,” returned Marsden. Hearing the words Mrs. Ruthven felt her neck Ind arms. . “VluTo spared your life, dear?” asked « Lady Dorrington. i “Now, don’t ask any questions. Get t rer to bed,” urged the docto'r. j “Look here, Marsden,” said Mark Win- g ton, who had been examining the floor g md sides of the tent. “Here is a long , rent in the hangings, and the canvas,” j putting his head through, “is cut away on ] the outside also.” “Some one must have got through here,” ( said Marsden, going over to examine the j opening. “Yes,” faltered Mrs. Ruthven, who was , now fast recovering, though her voicewas ■ broken by hysterical sobs. “He came from that side. I was putting my hair right when I thought I heard a rustle; I turned and found a dreadful figure in a cloak, a large hat and a mask close to me. Before I could draw a breath or scream, he seized me and smothered my face with something. I tried to push him away, for I felt I was losing my senses, as if I should die; then, I knew no more till I saw dear Lady Dorrington. Oh! I shall never feel safe again.” “Great heavens! while we were hesitating about that locked door, the scoundrel made his escape! Why, I could scarcely haVe been ten minutes away. Can you ever forgive me for leaving you?” cried Marsden ■with emotion. “Can you wait, or shall we carry you upstairs'?” asked the doctor. “I would rather walk,” replied Mrs. Ruthven, who was still shivering and trembling. “Get a shawl or something to wrap round her, Clifford,” said his sister, Marsden went quickly to the cloak room and returned with a wrap. Mrs. Ruthven gave him a look of tender recognition, and Lady Dorrington passing her arm round her, the doctor assisting at the other side, she managed to reach her own room, murmuring entreaties that she should not be left alone as she went. CHAPTER IV. During this disturbance, of which few were aware, Captain Shirley was neither in the dancing or the refreshment room; but soon after, strolling through the hall, he encountered Lord Dorrington. “Well,” said that genial peer, “I hope Mrs. Ruthven is all right again.” He took it for granted that Shirley, her particular friend, knew of her indisposition, and had no idea himself that it had been anything more than an attack of faintness, due to heat and, possibly, tightlacing. “Has Mrs. Ruthven been ill?” exclaimed Shirley. “I was not aware. Where is she?” “Oh, very likely in the ball room by this time. LadyJDorrington was sent for, and I was told to say nothing about it” “This is most extraordinary,” said Shirley, who was apparently much, even painfully, surprised. His small, black eyes glittered eagerly, and he pressed his white teeth on his lower lip. “I have been outside at the door smoking a cigarette; the rooms are overpoweringly hot. I must ascertain how she is. I never saw her look better than this evening.” “Here is Marsden,” returned Lord Dorrington. “He will tell us all about her. How is Mrs. Ruthven? Here is Captain Shirley anxious for tidings.” “A little better, calmer, I hope,” said Marsden, who looked pale and anxious himself. “Lady Dorrington and the doctor are with her,” then, loweringjiis voice, he added,. “It has been a fearful affair altogether. , Come Yfito the library. I don’t want a row made about it now.” As soon as they had closed the door of the library, where Winton awaited them, Marsden rapidly related the extraordinary robbery which had taken place, to the surprise and dismay of his listeners. “By George!” cried Lord Dorrington, “I never heard of such daring villainy! What’s to be done?” “Her jewels all gone!” cried Shirley. “Why, they must be worth sixty or seventy thousand, at least. This is a deeplaid scheme; she has been dogged by some of the swell mob.” “But how did they know of her jewels?” asked Winton. “She had them looked at or valued for

I some reason when she was in Paris sn het I way home,” said Shirley; “very foolish of her, but she told me so.”» “Ha| I thought’ you might give us some hint from your more intimate acquaintance with Mrs. Ruthven; any a» sistance you can give- ” “Is entirely at your service," returned Shirley, drawing a long breath. Here Dr. Weldon entered, and without I speaking sat down to the writing table, and proceeded to write rapidly. Winton, in a low tone, described the position of the opening cut in the side of the tent. “Will you dispatch one of your grooms with this prescription to my assistant, I Mr. Marsden?” said the doctor, without looking up. “Mrs. Ruthven will hardly get any sleep without a composing draught. “Certainly, doctor. I have already or-

dered a horse to be saddled, as I shal send a report of this extraordinary occur rence to the head of the police at Old bridge. The local men must have th managing of the matter in the first in stance. I will write a brief message, am then we will examine the terrace am grounds.” “Where, I fear, we’ll find but little,’ said Winton. “Given a quarter of an hour's start and it will be almost impossible to catcl the ruffian,” observed Shirley. “The only chance is that some accomplice may split. A thundering big reward is the thing,” said Lord Dorrington. “On such a night, with numbers of people going about, any stranger would pass unnoticed,” returned Shirley. The entrance of the butler interrupted. “The man and horse are ready, sir.” “Wait,” said Marsden. “There is my note,” said Dr. Weldon. “Tell your messenger to keep ringing the night bell till some one comes. He knows my house?” “Oh, yes, sir.” Then Marsden rose and gave full directions as to giving his missive into ths hands of the inspector at Oldbridge. “Who are you sending?” “Tom HarriS, sir, on Brown Robin." “Good. Tell him to ride like the devil; then bring me a lantern in the conservatory. Quick. We will see if thebe are any tracks.” “It is almost incredible that in such a place, with crowds, of people at hand, such in outrage could have been committed,” said Shirley, who seemed dazed by his i istonishment and concern. “It is done, however, and very effectuilly. lam utterly confounded! It seems i sort of personal disgrace that such an >utra£e should have beeff pernetrntad - vqrl'ingtMl,' said hi# host, pausing T wiJh you would take Lady Blankford uto supper and keep the people going. If he truth is known there will be such an nfernal row. Every one will be panictruck, and I want them to get their tapper in peace. Tell the marchioness vhat you like. Say I am looking after firs. Ruthven. Tell Mrs. L’Estrange and S’ora not to talk about the theft.” “Very well,” said Lord Dorrington, ibediently, and hurried away to do his arother-in-law's bidding. Winton’s cool head and practiced intelligence made him the natural guide in such in investigation. The gravel on the terrace without was

fiard and dry, and, save two faint, scarcely perceptible impressions which might be footprints, there was no sign that th« robber had lain in wait there. Near the spot where Winton and hii host stood was a short flight of stepi leading to the pleasure ground beneath, which here ended in a thick growth oi evergreens, through which a walk led to a gate opening on the high road to Oldbridge. This gate was usually locked, but was a favorite means of egress to pedestrians going to and from the town. “Let us have a look along here,” said Winton. “Hold the lantern lower.” Seeking carefully as they went, they examined every inch of ground at eithei side of the path, and had proceeded about a hundred yards when Winton uttered an exclamation, and snatched the lantern from the bewildered butler. “What’s this?” he cried, stooping to drag a dark bundle from under the lowgrowing branches of some thick laurela Marsden eagerly assisted, and they quickly unrolled a short, wide, foreign looking blacf cloak, from which fell a mask and a long knife, something like a bowie knife. “The scoundrel cast his skin here!” said Marsden, “making sure there would bo no pursuit till the conservatory door waa opened and his victim recovered. Good God! that poor woman had'a narrow escape- If fright and chloroform together had not made her insensible, he would have murdered her!” “Professional thieves in Europe seldom shed blood, I believe,” returned Winton. “Let us break a couple of branches to mark the spot where we made the find.” (To be continued.) “The Great Terror.” During the long days of June and July there raged again a carnival oi blood, known to history as the “Great Terror.” In less than seven weeks upward of 1,200 victims were immolated. The unbridled license of the guillotine broadened as it ran. First the aristocrats had fallen, then royalty, then their sympathizers, then the hated rich, then the merely well-to-do, and lastly anybody not cringing to existing power. The reaction against Robespierre was one of universal fear; but dictator as he had wished to be, he was formed of other stuff, for when the reckoning came his brutal violence was cowed. On July 27 (9 Thermldor) the convention turned on him in rebellion. Extreme radicals and moderate conservatives combined for the effort. Terrible scenes were enacted. The sections of Paris were divided, some for the convention, some for Robespierre. The artillerymen who were ordered by the latter to batter down the part of the Tuileries where his enemies were sitting, hesitated and disobeyed; at once all resistance to the decrees of the convention died out The dictator would have' been his own executioner, but his faltering terrors stopped him midway in his design. He and his brother, with their friends, were seized, and behead* ed on the morrow. With the downfall of Robespierre went the last vestige of social or political authority; for the convention was no longer trusted by th« nation—the only organized power-wlth popular support which was left wai the army.—Century.

SEEKING SALVATION. OR. TALMAGE PREACHESAN ELI OQUENT GOSPEL SERMON. Isaiah** Full Length Portrait of Chriat —How to Seek the Lord—Necessity for Seeking Him Now-The Sinner Who Waa Too Late. Help tor All. Rev. Dr. Talmage last Sunday again preached to a great audience in tho New York Academy of Music. As usual, many were turned away for lack of seats. The sermon was on “Salvation,” the text selected being Isaiah lv., 6, “Seek ye the Lord while he may be found."

*. I Isaiah stands head and shoulders above . the other Old Testament authors in vivid i I descriptiveness of Christ. Other prophets , I give an outline of our Saviour's features, i I Some of them present, as it were, the side I 9 hrist > °tbers a bust of Christ, but Isaiah gives us the full length portrait of , Christ. Other Scripture writers excel in some things—Ezekiel more weird, David I more pathetic, Solomon more epigram- * tnatic, Habakkuk more sublime—but when you want to see Christ coming out from the gates of prophecy in all his grandeur and glory you involuntarily turn to Isaiah, so that if the -prophecies' in regard to Christ might be called the “Oratorio of the Messiah” the writing of Isaiah is the “Hallelujah Chorus,” where all the batons wave and all the trumpets come in. Isaiah was not a man picked up out of insignificance by inspiration. He was known and honored. Josephus and Philo and Sirach extolled him in their writings. What Paul was among the apostles Isaiah was among the prophets. I My text finds him standing on a mountain of inspiration, looking out into the future, beholding Christ advancing and I anxious that all men might know him. His voice rings down the ages, “Seek ye the Lord while he may be found.” “Oh,” says some one, “that was for olden times.” No, my hearer. If you have traveled in I other lands, you have taken a circular letI ter of credit from some banking house in New York, and in St. Petersburg or Venice or Rome or Melbourne or Calcutta you presented that letter and got financial help immediately. And I want you to understand that the text, instead of being appropriate for one age or for one land, is a circular letter for all ages and for all lands, and wherever it is presented for help the help comes. “Seek the Lord while he may be foupd.” I gent call to personal religion. The gospel of Christ is a powerful medicine; it either kills or cures. There are those who say: “I would like to become a Christian. I have been waiting a good while for the right kind of influence to come,” and still you are waiting. You are wiser in worldly things than you are in religious things. If you want to get to Albany, you go to the Grand Central depot or to the steamboat wharf, and having got your ticket you do not sit down on the wharf or sit in the depot; you get aboard the boat or train. And yet there are men who say they are waiting to get to heaven, waiting, waiting, but not with intelligent wait-

Ing, or they would get on board the line of Christian influences that would bear them into the kingdom of God. Persistent Seekers. Now, you know very well that to seek a thing is to search for it with earnest endeavor. If you want to see a certain man in this city, and there is a matter of SIO,OOO connected with your seeing him, and you cannot at first find him, you do not give up the search. You look in the directory, but cannot find the name; you go in circles where you think perhaps he may mingle, and having found the part of the city W’here he lives, but perhaps not knowing the street, you go through street after street, and from block to block, and you keep on searching for weeks and for months. You say, “It is a matter of SIO,OOO whether I see him or not.” Oh, that men were as persistent in seeking for Christ! Had you one-half that persistence you would long ago have found him who is the Joy of the forgiven spirit We may pay our debts, we may attend church, we may relieve the poor, we may be public benefactors and yet all our life disobey the text, never seek God, never gain heaven. Oh, that the Spirit of God would help me while I try to show you, in carrying out the idea of my text, first how to seek the Lord, and in the next place when to seek him. I remark, in the first place, you are to seek the Lord through earnest and believing prayer. God is not an autocrat or a despot seated on a throne with his arms resting on brazen lions, and a sentinel pacing up and down at the foot of the throne. God- is a father seated in a tower, 'waiting for his children to come and climb on his knee and get his kiss and his benediction. Prayer is the cup with which we go to the “fountain of living water” and dip up refreshment for our thirsty soul. Grace does not come to the heart as we set a cask at the corner of. the house to catch the rain in the shower. It is a pulley fastened to the throne of God, which we pull, bringing the blessing. Value of Prayer. I do not care so much what posture you take in prayer, nor how large an amount of voice you use. You might get down on your face befpro God, if you did not pray tight inwardly there would be no response. Vou might cry at the top of your voice, and unless you had a believing spirit within your cry would not go farther up than the shout of a plowboy to his oxen. Prayer must be believing, earnest, loving. You are in your house some summer day, and a shower comes up, and a bird, affrighted, darts into the window and wheels about the room. You seize it You smooth its ruffled plumage. You feel its fluttering heart. You say, “Poor thing, poor thingl” Now, prayer goes out of the storm of this world into the window of God’s mercy, and he catches it, and he feels its fluttering pulse, and he puts it in his own bosom of affection and safety. Prayer is a warm, ardent, pulsating exercise. It is an electric battery which, touched, thrills to the throne of God! It is the diving bell in which we go down into the depths of God’s mercy and bring up “pearls of great price.” There was an instance where prayer made the w’aves of the Gennesaret solid as stone pavement. Oh, how many wonderful things prayer has accomplished! Have you ever tried it? In the days when the Scotch Covenanters were persecuted, and the enemies were after them, one of the head men among the Covenanters prayed: “O Lord, we be as dead men unless thou shaft help u_s! O Lord, throw the lap of thy' cloak over these poor .things!” And instantly a Scotch mist enveloped and hid the persecuted from their persecutors—the promise literally fulfilled, “W’ ”» they are yet speaking I will hear." * ' ~ —~~—

Have you ever tried the power of prayer? God says, “He is loving and faithful and patient.” Do you believe that? You are told that Christ camo to save sinners. Do you believe that? You are told that all you have to do to get tho pardon of the gospel is to ask for it. Do you believe that? Then come to him and say: “0 Lord, I know thou canst not lie. Thou hast told me to come for pardon and I could get it. I come, Lord. Keep thy promise and liberate my captive soul." Oh, that you might have an altar in the parlor, in the kitchen, in the store, in the barn, for Christ will be willing to come again to the munger to hear prayer, He would come to your place of business, as he confronted Matthew, the tax commissioner. If a measure should come before Congress that you thought would ruin the nation, how you would send in petitions and remonstrances! And yet there has been enough sin in your heart to ruin it forever, and you have never remonstrated

or petitioned against it. If your physical health failed, and you had the means, you would go and spend the summer in Germany and the winter in Italy, and you would think it a very cheap outlay if you had to go all round the earth and get back your physical health. Have you made any effort, any expenditure, any exertion, for your immortal and spiritual health? Oh, that you might now begin to seek after God with earnest prayer. Some of you have been working for years and years for the support of your families. Have you given one-half day to the working out of your salvation with fear and trembling? You came here with an earnest purpose, I take it, as I have come hither with an earnest purpose, and we meet face to face, and I tell you, first of all, if you want to find the Lord you must pray and pray and pray. Bible Study. I remark again you must seek the Lord through Bible study. The Bible is the newest book in the world. “Oh,’’-you say, “it was made hundreds of years ago, and the learned men of King James translated it hundreds of years ago.” I confute that idea by telling you it is not five minutes old, when God, by his blessed spirit, retranslates it into the heart. If you will, in the seeking of the way of life through Scripture study, implore God’s light to fall upon the page, you will find that these promises are not one second old, and that they drop straight from the throne of God into your heart There are many people to Whom the Bible does not amount to much. If they merely look at the outside beauty, why, it will no more lead them to Christ than S'ffKV fer ■ looked at the doors, which are the most wonderfully constructed I ever saw, a*d I could have staid there for a whole week, but I had only a little time; so, having glanced at the wonderful carving on the doors, I passed in and looked at the radiant altars and the sculptured dome. Alas, that so many stop at the outside door of God’s holy word, looking at the rhetorical beauties, instead of going in and looking at the altars of sacrifice and the dome of God’s .mercy and salvation that hovers over penitent and believing souls! Oh, my friends, if you merely want to study the laws of language, do not go to the Bible. It was not made for that. Take “Howe’s Elements of Criticism;” it will be better than the Bible for that If you want to study metaphysics, better than the Bible will be the writings of William Hamilton. But if you want to know how to have sin pardoned and at last to gain the blessedness of heaven search tho Scriptures, “for in them ye have eternal life.” When people are anxious about their souls, there are those who recommend good books. That is all right. But I want to tell you that the Bible is the best book under such circumstances. Baxter wrote “A Call to the Unconverted," but the Bible is the best call to the unconverted. Philip Doddridge wrote “The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul,” but the Bible is the best rise and progress. John Angell James wrote “Advice to the Anxious Inquirer,” but the Bible is the best advice to the anxious Inquirer. Oh, the Bible is the very book you need, anxious and inquiring soul! A dying soldier said to his mate, "Comrade, give me a drop!” The comrade shook up the canteen and said, “There isn’t a drop of water in the canteen.” “Oh,” said the dying soldier, “that’s not what I want; feel in my knapsack for my Bible,” and his comrade found the Bible and read him a few of the gracious promises, and the dying soldier said: “Ah, that’s what I want. There isn’t anything like the Bible for a dying soldier, is there, my comrade?” Oh, blessed book, 'while we live! Blessed book when we die! Church Ordinances. I remark again we must seek God through church ordinances. “What,” say you, “can’t a man be saved without going to church?" I reply, there are men, I suppose, in glory who have never seen a church, but the church is the ordained means by which we are to be brought to God, and if truth affects us when we are alone it affects us more mightily when we are in the assembly, the feelings of others emphasizing our own feelings. The great law of sympathy comes into play, and a truth that would take hold only with the grasp of a sick man beats mightily against the soul with a thousand heart throbs. When you come into the religious circle, come only with one notion and only for one purpose—to find the way to Christ. When I see people critical about sermons, and critical about tones of voice, and critical about sermonic delivery, they make me think of a man in prison. He is condemned to death, but an officer of the Government brings a pardon and puts it through the wicket of the prison and says: “Here is your pardon. Come and get it.” “What! Do you expect me to take that pardon offered with such a voice as you have, with such an awkward manner as you have? I would rather die than so compromise my rhetorical notions!” Ah, the man does not say that; he takes it! It is his life. He does not care how it is handed to him. And if to-day that pardon from the throne of God is offered to our souls should we not seize it, regardless of all non-essentials? The Accepted Time. But I come now to the last part of my text. It tells us when we are to seek the Lord, “while he may be found.” When is that? Old age? You may not see old age. To-morrow? You may not see tomorrow. To-night? You may not see to-night Now! Oh, if I could only write on every heart in three capitaldetters that word N-O-W—now! - - Sin is an awful disease. I hear people say with a toss of the head and with a trivial manner, “Oh, yes, I’m a sinner.” Sin is an awful disease. It is leprosy. It is. dropsy. It is consumption. It is all moral disorders in one. Now, you know there is a crisis in ■ disease. Perhaps?ou

• have had some Illustration of It In youg I family. Sometimes the physician has i called, and he has looked at the patient, and said: “That case was simple enough, : but the crisis has passed. If you had call- ' ed me yesterday or this morning, I could have cured the patient. It is too late now; the crisis has passed.” Just so it is iq the spiritual treatment of the soul—then is a crisis. There are some here who can remembei instances in life when, if they had bough! a certain property they would have be-’ come very rich. A few acres that would have cost them almost nothing were offered them. They refused them. Afterward a large village or city sprung up on those acres of ground, and they see what a mistake they made in not buying the property. There was an opportunity of getting it. It never came back again. And so it is in regard to a man’s spiritual and eternal fortune. There is a chance; if you let that go, perhaps it never comes back. Certainly that one never comes back. A gentleman told me that at the battle of Gettysburg he stood upon a height looking off upon the conflicting armies. He said it was the most exciting moment of his life, now ope army seeming to triumph and now the other. After awhile the host wheeled in such away that he knew in five minutes the whole question would be decided. He said the emotion was almost unbearable. There is just such a time to-day with you—the forces of light on one side, the' forces of death on the other side, and in a few momenta the matter will be settled for eternity. There is a time which mercy has set for leaving port. If you are on board before that, you will get a passage for heaven. If you are not on board, you miss your passage for heaven. As in law courts a case is sometimes adjourned from term to term and from year to year till the bill of costs eats up the entire estate, so there are men who are adjourning the matter of religion from time to time and from year to year until heavenly bliss is the bill of costs the man will have to pay for it There Must Be No Delay. Why defer this matter, oh, my dear hearer? Have you any idea that sin will wear out; that it will evaporate; that it will relax its grasp; that you may -find — religion as a man accidentally finds a lost pocketbook? Ah, no! No man ever became n Christian by accident or by the relaxing of sin. The embarrassments are all the time .increasing. The hosts of darkness are recruiting, and the longWf* you postpone this matter the steeper the path will become. I ask those men who dience, so far as they may not have found the peace of the gospel, in regard to matter. Your hearts, you are willing frankly to tell me, are becoming harder and harder, and that if you come to Christ it will be more of an undertaking now than it ever would have been before. The throne of judgment will soon be set, and if you have anythingsto do toward your eternal salvation you had better do it now, for the redemption of your soul is precious, and it ceaseth forever. Oh, if men could only catch one glimpse of Christ, I know they would love himl Your heart leaps at the sight of a glorious sunrise or sunset. Can you be without emotion as the Sun of Righteousness rises behind Calvary and sets behind Joseph’s sepulcher? He is a blessed Saviour! Every nation has its type of beauty. There is German beauty, and Swiss beauty, and 1 Italian beauty, and English beauty, but I care not in what land a man first looks at Christ he pronounces him “chief among 10,000 and the one altogether lovely.” The diamond districts of Brazil are carefully guarded, and a man does not get in there except by a pass from the Government, but the love of Christ is a diamond district we may all enter and pick up treasures of eternity. “To-day, if ye will, hear his voice, harden not your heart.” Take the hint of the text that I have no time to dwell upon—the hint that there is a time when he cannot be found. There* was a man in this city 80 years of age who said to a clergyman who came in, “Do you think a man 80 years of age can get pardoned?” “Oh, yes," said the clergyman. The old man said: “I can’t. When I was 20 years of age—l am now 80 years —the Spirit of God came to my soul, and I felt the importance of attending to these things, but I put it off. I rejected God, and since ’then I have had no' feeling.” “Well,” said the minister, “wouldn’t yon; like to have me pray with you?” “Yes,” replied the old man, “but it will do no good. You can pray with me if you like to." The minister knelt down and prayed and commended the man’s soul to God. It seemed to have no effect upon him. After awhile the last hour of the man’s life came, and through his delirium a spark of intelligence seemed to flash, and with his last breath he said, “I shall never be forgiven!” “Oh, seek the Lord while he may be found.” Comhill a Harvest Field. It is next to impossible to think of Cornhill as a clustering harvest field, Yet it was famous for the growth of wheat long before the golden grain was brought ta a market, which had been established upon its gentle slope. Later the hill became the very of tailors—these seem to have migrated to the rival hills of Holbonj. The knights of the goose and shears would bave been supremely happy In their location if it had not been for the intrusive impertinences of the neighboring Franciscans and the insolence of swashbuckler bravos who crossed the hill on their frequent journeys to and from the Tower. The monks, in the intervals of devotion, were in the habit of exacting alms, not always of money, from the complaisant tailors’ wives; while the soldier bullies divided their time between paying court to the tailors’ daughters and abducting their apprentices. One of those apprentice lads, who broke his indentures, proved his valor in after years amid scenes where blood flowed like water; and gray Cornhitl grows green again with the heroic memory of Sir John Hawkwood, as also with that- of its later, not less illustrious, son, the poet-soldier Grey. All things change; knights and ladies no more crowd Cornhill, its former glories have departed, its present wealthier accessories are sober, russet-hued. Where is now its Tun? its Quintain, at which men loved to tilt? The stream that rolls down its conduit is golden. Its standard lias becn'furled forever.— The Gentleman's Magazine. The real and personal property in this country is assessed tt $117,139,903,496. ’