Decatur Democrat, Volume 39, Number 29, Decatur, Adams County, 4 October 1895 — Page 6

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CHAPTER I—(Continued.) “Now,” he said in a hoarse whisper that was terrible in its intensity. “I know you love me, Nousie, but I must know the very truth. Tell me all.” Her face seemed to be of stone, and to have grown angular and strange. “You were running away from someone,” he said in a low, deep, judicial tone. “Yes,” she said below her breath. “Someone who came here knowing I was out.” “Yes,” in the same faint whisper. “Who was it?” There was a pause, a silence as of death. “Who was it?” he cried, now fiercely. “He said he would shoot you if I told you.” . „ “Perhaps I may shoot him first. “Ah!" *" v ~, The wild look passed from the girl s face, and the drawn, pinched aspect from her features, as she clung to her husband and, quivering with suppressed passion she cried eagerly: “Yes, you shall kill him first. He came again and again, and to-day I was nt work there, singing to little Aube, when he stole in to me, and as I started up he caught me in his arms.” “Ah!” cried Dulau, as a light flashed m upon his brain; “I know. You shall not tell me. It was Saintone." Nousie was beautiful still as she drew herself up, and gazed in her husband’s face; but there was the savage hate, born of the dash of African blood, now in every feature, and her grasp tightened upon his hands, as she literally hissed out: “Yes; Saintone. You shall kill him first." “Yes,” said Dulau, after he had heard her fiercely told story, and had bent down over the sleeping babe whose tender body Bad been the shield of his wife’s honor. “I know now, Nousie, which side to take.” There was another pause and then, as George Dulau stood upright in that darkened room with his wife clinging proudly to his arm, he said with a bitter laugh: “You do not tell me now that I must not fight.” “No,” she whispered, fiercely. “Kill him—he shall not live.” Dulau looked half wonderingly at the fierce woman before him, reading the intensity of her nature and the strong will and determination that were there. Then his mind wandered off to the coming rising at Port au Prince, the city close at hand —the struggle between the two parties and his inclination to side with one

CHAPTER 11. Volcanic as her soil, the Haytians need but little exciting to rise in revolt. At times these risings and overflowings of their lava-like nature have been against their rulers for the time being— 1 heir Spanish or Gallic masters. These ousted from their tenure bf the island, the revolutions have been among themselves. No wonder, when the incongruous nature of the elements was taken into consideration. For, broadly speaking, white holds black in dislike and contempt; and black cordially hates white. As if these antagonisms were not sufficient, there is a far greater element of dissension in the land. The mulatto, or colored race, with Jts many variations or degrees of black blood in their veins—a people who hate the white and scorn the black—come between and prevent fairly cordial relations which might exist, and consequently for a long series of years Eden-like Hayti has been desolated by petty internecine wars, in which black, colored and white leaders have had their day, now carrying all before them with the highest of high hands, now hurled from the seat of power, compelled to flee, or become a victim to the assassin’s hand. The social eruption George Dulau had

dreaded came next day—sudden as an earthquake; and fierce and desperate were the encounters. For a couple of years a black had been at the head of affairs, and, allowing for his ignorance, blundering and inordinate vanity, he had shown plenty of enterprise, and a desire to improve the land. But several of his mandates had given terrible cause of offense to the yellow race, which only waited its opportunity to regain the rule wrested from them by the blacks. The opportunity had come, and the energetic mulatto leader had succeeded easily in enlisting the whites who still remained on the island after the French rulers were expelled, to embrace their cause. Dulau had hesitated. His instinct naturally led him to join his fellow-country-men and to resent the black rule, but he had grown to respect the black head of the Government, for he saw that he was honest, and that he was always fighting to improve and pacify the country. It was while he was hanging in the balance that his so-called friend and colleague in the politicians’ council turned the scale, and Dulau, rhfeing with bitterness, threw himself at once into the service of the black party, with whom for the next fortnight he fought. The encounters were fierce and savage; the successes varying from day to day, and the town and port were the scenes of endless bloody frays, in which prisoners were shot down or otherwise butchered in cold blood, and the winning party for the time being gave themselves over to riot and rapine. ■ Happily sos NonsTe and her child, the tide of the petty war never came nearer the beautiful little home in the plantation at the forest edge; but she suffered agonies of suspense as she heard the distant firing, and watched by night for the fires that were constantly lighting up the dark tropic sky. Now it wu the home of some planter

away from town. Now the ruddy glow increasing in intensity came from the port as some vessel was fired at its moorings. Then from the direction of the flames she knew it was the town which had been fired, this happening again and again from the torches of the unsuccessful party seeking to make the place un 4 tenable for those who were driving them OUt. . , . , . Dulau had parted from her on the night after he had heard her words, and during the next ten days he had seen her and the child only twice, and for a few minutes, during which he had tried to cheer her by his accounts of their successes and other hopeful wotds. But now four more days had passed, and _ the black. girl, Cherubine, the servant, who had stayed when the plantation hands had either fled or followed their master to the fight, had been acting as messenger for her, and again and again gone toward the town, but only to bring back the most depressing news. Evening once more —a glorious evening, with the first soft, moist breathings of the night breeze approaching after a long scorching day. There had been no news save that the mulatto party held Port au Prince, and the blacks had been driven off. There had not been a sound to indicate the troubles that overhung the place; and Dulau’s cottage, with its broad verandah and wealth of flowers, seemed glorified in the light of the sinking sun, as Nousie stood outside, sheltering her eyes with her hand, and gazing wildly down the road for the face that never came. She started nervously and sprang round, for there was a step behind. “Ah, it’s you, Cherub,” she said, with a sigh of relief, as she laid her hand on her side. Then sharply: “Where is my child?” “Sleep, missus—quite sound ’sleep.” “Don’t leave her, Cherubine,” cried Nousie, excitedly. “Look here. I can’t bear this. lam going to town to try and find your master.” /“No good, missus,” said the black girl, Shaking her head. “He’s gone. Far away." “No, no; he must be hiding somewhere, and I must try and find him. Stop by the child. Don’t leave her a moment. I . will soon be back. ’' “Missus can’t go and leave little pretty one,” Baid the girl, re-tying the gay red kerchief she wore about her woolly head. “Massa come back and find missus gone, what massa say ?” Nousie uttered a cry of misery, threw . herself into a lirht dead—he is dead!” “Na, missus. Massa George not dead. Too fight well. Only gone up de mountain, and all de peoples. Come back soon and fight all a yaller folk and drive ’em away.” “No, no, he is dead—he is dead. What’s that?” She sprang to her feet and stood bending low, her eyes glittering and her ears twitching as she listened intently. “No hear anything,’.’said the black girl. “Yes, there it is ag-aiht” said Nousie in a hoarse whisper. “They are coming through the trees. Don*t you hear?" The girl’s eyes rolled, and her thick Ups parted, as she too listened intently; and then she nodded her head, and caught hold of the light muslin gown her mistress wore. “Hush!” whispered Nousie, and wresting her arm from the black hand, she darted into the cottage, and reappeared directly with her sleeping child in her arms. Her lips formed the word “Come!” and she stole away* closely followed by the girl, in amongst the broad leaves of a plantation of bananas, where they crouched together watching and listening. They were not long kept in suspense, for the rustling continued, increased in loudness, and a few minutes later a man passed the low growth at the edge of the forest, and stepped-out to stand with his back toward them, listening as one listens who is being hunted and driven for his life.

He was torn and ragged, and as he turned his face to look about him sharply, it was cut and bleeding, as were the hands, one of which grasped a musket and the other rearranged the sword hanging from his belt, and the pistols which were in it, they having been evidently dragged here and there as their wearer forced his way through the thick forest. He was panting and exhausted, and his white suntanned skin besmirched with powder; but changed as he was, easily recognizable by the watchers, who sprang out quickly, making the fugitive spring round, lift his musket, and present it at his wife’s breast. “Ah, darling,” he cried, as he caught her to his heart. “But quick! Where is the child? I haven’t a moment. The devils are after me, and they may come here. Quick! Brandy. We must take to the woods. Who’s that? Ahl You, Cherub. My little one.” He had started wildly at the sound made by the black, and uttered a sigh of relief and took a step to meet her and kiss the child, while Nousie went in and returned with the bottle of spirits, from which he drank with avidity. “Hah!” ejaculated Dulau, half to himself, "that puts life into me." He drank again. “Nearly spent, darling. We are beaten. Come along. Take the child. Cherub, my lass, good-by. God bless you! You will not say which way we’ve gone?” “ ’Course she won’t,” said the’girl sulkily. “How Cherub tell when she 'long o’ massa an’missus?” “No, no, girl; run up to your people. We are going to hide in the woods.” “Cherub coming too—carry lit pretty one,” said the girl, stubbornly. “Massa!”

“What? Quick!” “Massa come 'long with Cherub. Vandoux hide urn. Cherub know where. “No, no," cried Dulau. “You are a good girl, but save yourself. Ah!” he half yelled, “top late!" He thrust his wife and child back into the house, the girl darting after them, and-followed himself, banging to, locking and barricading the door, as he caught sight of figures creeping silently toward them under the shelter of the plantation growth; and only just in time, for the pursuing party, headed by Saintone, had credited him with making for his home, and had stolen up to surprise »“»• There was a yell as they sprang up, and a scattered volley, the bullets patting and hissing on the light bamboo of the hut and among the trees. “Curse you! Don’t fire!” roared baintone. Then quietly to his followers, as they hurried: “Mind, and don’t hurt the woman. I’ll shoot the man who does. As he spoke a second party came running up, and at a word they surrounded the cottage, within which all was as still as death. x , “Hahl” said Saintone. “Caught at last. Now, then, Dulau,” he shouted aloud, “surrender. You are my prisoner." There was no reply from the cottage, which was already in the shade, for the last rays of the sun were fading from tne top of the highest trees, and a faint pai® spark of light in the north told of the breaking forth of the stars. “Very well," said Saintone, shnrply. i have no time to waste. Half-a-dozen of you. Fire!” Dulau heard every word, but there were no reports from the many loaded pieces as he drew his breath between his teeth with a sharp hiss and listened. He knew what was coming and he beat down and kissed Nousie passionately, and then his child, before softly and silently unfastening the bolts of the door. “Nousie,” he whispered; “you know what they are going to do?" “Yes," she answered; “but you are here, and you will fight and kill them.” He smiled bitterly in the darknest where they stood. “Don’t think of me,” he said. Holt my darling tightly and run for the wood I’ll clear away for you.” “But, George.” „ “Hush! Save my darling child, h< whispered imperiously, “you are my wife

° She kissed him in silence as she tried to stifle her sobs. ’ “Help your mistress. Go with her and hide," whispered Dulau to the girl as light flashed in through the window—a light which rapidly increased as bunch after bunch of oily wood was lit. Then there was a sharp order given, the tramping of feet, and the torches were applied in a dozen places to the light dry thatch of verandah and roof. , - - , Dulau knew too well that the place would be one mass of roaring fire in a few moments, and with a final word to his wife he threw open the door, clubbed his musket, and drove his enemies back, and to right and left. Vain effort. He fought like a giant, nerved as he ! was by despair and the spirit of which he had partaken, but in less than a minute he was overcome, beaten down, bound hand and foot, while Nousie and the black girl were prisoners too. “Don’t hurt the girl,” said Saintone ’ sharply, as he advanced toward where Dulau lay panting and bleeding, the vivid ’ light of the rapidly burning cottage makahasMMsamßMi.'&i day in a. L “Quick!” said Saintosxe. ‘‘Stand against that fence. A dozen of you form . up.” He was obeyed with something like i military precision and Nousie, wild with horror, stood struggling with her captors; i but in vain, while the black girl held the child. “You coward!” criew Dulau, who knew i his fate. But he did not struggle. It was useless, and he stood up bravely where he was placed, full in the light of his burning home, while across the intervening space between him and that fate the shadows of a dozen men were sharply and i blackly thrown. * Saintone’s shadow was thrown, too, toward the bound man as he stood on one i side, and with military precision gave his short orders. “Make ready!” There was a faint rattle of the men’s pieces, and then, amid the hushed silence, as the rest .stood around—a wild, weird picture in the light of the flickering flames —a wild shriek rang out on the night air, and Nousie struggled to get to her husband’s side. “My darling—the child—Paris—goodby!” Clearly spoken and without a trejnor from the prisoner. (To bo continued.)

Fighting with Cheese. The most remarkable ammunition ever heard of was used by the celebrated Commodore Coe, of the Montevidian navy, who, In an engagement with Admiral Brown, of the Buenos Ayrean service, fired every shot from his lockers. “What shall we do, sir?” asked his first lieutenant ’P It looked as if Coe would have to strike his colors, when it occurred to his first lieutenant to use Dutch cheese as cannon balls. There happened to be a large quantity of these on feoard, and In a few minutes the fire of the old Santa Maria (Coe’s ship), which had ceased entirely, was reopened, and Admiral Brown found more shot flying over his head. Directly one of them struck his main-mast, and as it did so, shattered and flew in every direction. “What the dickens is the enemy firing?” asked Brown. But nobody could tell. Directly another came in through a port and killed two men who were near him, and then, striking the opposite bulwarks, burst into pieces. Brown believed it to be some new fangled paixhan or other, and as four ' or five more of them came slap through his sails, he gave orders to fill away, and actually backed out of the fight* receiving a parting broadside of Dutch cheeses.-*Plttsburg Dispatch. — The camel’s foot is a soft cushion peculiarly well adapted to the stones and gravel over which it Is constantly walking. During a single Journey through the Sahara horses have worn out three sets of shoes, while the camel’s feet are > ?ot even tors. . . I

TALMAGE’S SERMON. A TALK ON GIDEON’S ARMY AND GOD’S WAY. Lawfulness of Christian StratagemUseless Lumber in Lebanon Mountains—Gideon’s Depleted Army end the Lesson of Hie Wonderful Victory. A Strange Battle. / In hie sermon last Sunday Rev. Dr* Talmage discussed a subject which is yr special interest to Sunday school and scholars at the present time, beihg Gideon’s battle with the Midlanites near Mount Gilboa. The text chosen was Judges vii., 20, 21: “And the three companies blew the trumpets, and brake the pitchers, and held the lamps in their left hands and the trumpets in their right hands to blow withal. And they stood every man in his place round about the camp, and all the host ran aud cried and fled.” That is the strangest battle ever fought God had told Gideon to go down and thrash the Midianites, but his army is too large; for the glory must be given to God aud not to man. And so proclamation is made that all those of the troops who are cowardly and want to go home may go, and 22,000 of them scampered away, leaving only 10,000 men. But God says the army is too large yet, and so he orders these 10,000 remaining to march down through a stream and commands Gideon to notice in what manner these men drink of the water as they pass through it. If they get down on all fours and drink, then they are to be pronounced lazy and incompetent for the campaign, but if, in passing through the stream, they scoop up the water in the palm of their hand and drink and pass on, they are to be tne men selected for tho battle. Well, the 10,000 men marched down in the stream, and the most of them come down on all fours and plunge their mouths, like a horse or an ox, into the water and drink, but there are 800 men who, instead of stooping, just dip the palm of their hands in the water and bring it to their lips, “lapping it as a dog lappeth.” Those 300 brisk, rapid, enthusiastic men are chosen for the campaign. They are each to take a trumpet in the right hand and a pitcher in the left hand and a lamp inside the pitcher, and then at a given signal they are to blow the trumpets and throw down the pitchers and hold up the lamps. So it was done.

The Rout of the Midianites. It is night. I see a great host of Midianites sound asleep 'fa the valley of Jezreel. Gideon comes up with his 300 picked men, and when everything is ready the signal is given, and they blow the trumpets, and they throw down the pitchers and hold up the lamps, and the great host of Midianites, waking out of a sound sleep, take the crash of the crockery and the glare of the lamps for the coming on of an overwhelming foe, and they run and cut themselves to pieces and horribly perish. The lessons of this subject are very spirited and impressive. This seemingly valueless lump of quartz has the pure gold in it. The smallest dewdrop on the meadow at night has a star sleeping in its bosom, and the most insignificant passage of Scripture has in it a shining truth. God’s mint coins no small change. I learn in the first place, from this subject, the lawfulness of Christian stratagem. You know very well that the greatest victories ever gained by Washington they tvefe ndt exbectM-^n^fiffi^ 1 Aft? ing back to draw out the foe, sometimes breaking out from ambush, sometimes crossing a river on unheard of rafts; all the time keeping the opposing forces in wonderment as to what would be done next. You all know what strategy is in military affairs. Now I think it is high time we had this art sanctified and spiritualized. In the church, when we are about to make a Christian assault, we send word to the opposing force when we expect to come, how many troops we have and how many rounds of shot, and whetherer we will come with artillery, infantry or cavalry, and of course we are defeated. There are thousands of men who might be surprised into the kingdom of God, We need more tact and ingenuity in Christian work. It is in spiritual affairs as in military,' that success depends in attacking that part of the castle which is not armed and intrenched.

1 The Power of Christian Stratagem. ’ For instance, here is a man all armed t on the doctrine <f < lection, all his troops r of argument and prejudice are at that particular gate. You may batter away - at that side of the castle for fifty years, and you will not take it, but just wheel r your troops to the side gate of the heart’s affections, and in five minutes you capture him. I nbver knew a man to be saved through a brilliant argument. Yon cannot hook men into the kingdom of God by tins horns of a dilemma. Therein 1 no grace in syllogisms. Here is a man armed on the subject of perseverance of i the saints. He does not believe in it. Attack him at that point, and he will . persevere to the very last In not believing it. Here is a man armed on the subject of baptism. He believes in sprin- ’ kling or immersion. All your discussion of ecclesiastical hydropathy will not change him. I remember when I was a boy that with other boys I went Into the river on a summer day to bathe, and we used to dash water on each other, but uever got any result except that otir eyes were blinded, and all this splashing of water between Baptists and Pedobaptists never results in anything but the blurring Os the spiritual eyesight. In other words, you can never capture a man’s soul at .he point at which he is especially intrenched. But there is in every man’s heart a bolt that can be easily shoved. A little child 4 years old may touch that bolt, and it will spring back, and the door ■ w’ll swing open, and Christ will come in. | I think that the finest of all the fine arts is the art of doing good, and yet this art is the least cultured. We have in the kingdom of God to-day enough troops to conquer the whole earth for Christ if we only had skillful maneuvering. ' L would rather have the 300 lamps and pitchers of Christian stratagem than 100,000 drawn swords of literary and ecclesiastical combat. I learn from this subject, also, that a small part of the army of God will have to do all the hard fighting; Gideon’s army was originally composed of 32,000 men, but they went off until there were only 10,000 left, and that was subtracted from until there were only 300. It is the same in all ages of the Christian church; a few men have to do the hard fighting. Take a membership of 1,000, and you I -enerally find that fifty people do the ,workt Take a membership of WO, and

you generally find that ten people «o the work. There are scores of churches where two or three people do the work.

Useleae Cowards and Dronea. We mourn that there is so much useless lumber in the mountains of Lebanon. I think, of the 10,000,000 membership of tho Christian church to-day, if 5,000,000 of the names were off tho books the church would be stronger. You know that the more cowards and drones there are #n any army tho weaker it is. 1 would kather have the 300 picked men of Gidton than the 82,000 unsifted host. How -many Christians there are standing in the way of all progress! I think it is the duty of the church of God to ride over them, and the quicker it does it the quicker it does its duty. Do not worry, O Christian, if you have to do more than your share of the work. You had better thank God that he has called you to be one of the picked men rather than to belong to the host of stragglers. Would not you rather be one of the 800 that fight than the 22,000 that run? I suppose those cowardly Gideonites who went off congratulated themselves. They said: “We got rid of all that fighting, did we not? How lucky we have been. That battle costs us nothing at all.” But they got-none of the spoils of the victory. After the battle the 300 men went down and took the wealth of the Midianites, and out of the cups and platters of their enemies they feasted. And the time will come, my dear brethren, when the hosts of darkness will be routed and Christ will say to his troops: “Well done, my brave men. Go up and take the spoils. Be more than conquerors forever!” And in that day all deserters will be shot. Again, I learn from this subject that God’s way is different from man's, but is always the best way. If we had the planning of that battle, we would have taken those 32,000 men that originally belonged to the army, and we would have drilled them and marched them up and down by the day gnd webk and month, and we would have had them equipped with swords or spears, according to the way of arming in those times, and then we would ha've marched them down in solid column upon the foe. But that is not the way. God depletes the army, and takes away all their weapons, and gives them a lamp, and a pitcher, and a trumpet, and tells them to go down and drive out the Midianites. I suppose some wiseacres were there.who said: “That is pot military tactics. The idea of 300 men, unarmed, conquering such a great host of Midianites!” It was the best way. What sword, spear or cannon ever accomplished such a vietviy ns the lamp, pitcher and trumpet? God's Way the Best.

God’s way is different from man’s way, but it is always best! Take, for instance, the composition of the Bible. If we had had the writing of the Bible, we would have said: “Let one man write it. If you have twenty or thirty men to write a poem, or make -a statue, or write a history, or make an argument, there will be flaws and contradictions.” But God says, “Let not one man do it, but forty men shall do it." And they did, differing enough to show there had been uo.collusion between them, but not contradicting each other on any important point, while they all wrote from their own standpoint and temperament So that the matter of fact man has his Moses; the romantic nature his Ezekiel; the epigrammatic his Solomon; the warrior his Joshua; the sailor his Jonah; the loving his John; the logician his Paul. Instead of this Bible, which now I can lift in my hand —instead of the Bible the child can carry to Sunday school, instead of

left to men to writg, it would have been a thousand volumes, judging from the amount of ecclesiastical controversy which has arisen. God’s way is different from man’s, but it is best, infinitely best. So it is in regard to the Christian’s life. If we had had the planning of a Christian’s life, we would have said: “Let him have eighty years of sunshine, a fine house to live in. Let his surroundings all be agreeable. Let him have sound health. Let no chill shiver through his limbs, no pain ache his brow or trouble shadow his soul.” I enjoy the prosperity of others so much I would let every man have as miWh money as he wants and roses for his children’s cheeks and fountains of gladness glancing in their large round eyes. But that is not God’s way. It seems as if man must be cut and hit and pounded just in proportion as he is useful. His child falls from a third story window and has its life dashed out. His most confident investment tumbles him into bankruptcy. His friends, on whom he depended, aid the natural force of gravitation in taking him down. His life is a Bull''Run defeat. Instead of 32,000 advantages, he has only 1,000. Aye, only 300 —aye, none at all. How many good people there are at their wits’ end about their livelihood, about their reputation. But they will find out it is the best way after awhile. God will show them that he depletes their advantages just for the same reason he depleted the army of Gideon—that they may be induced to throw themselves on his mercy.

The Grapevine and the Gardener. A grapevine says in the early spring: “How glad I am to get through the winter! I shall have no more trouble now! Summer weather will come, and the garden will be very beautiful!” But the gardener comes and cuts the vine here and there with his knife. The twigs begin to fall, and the grapevine cries out; “Murder! What are you cutting me'for?” says the gardener, “I don’t mean to kill you. If I did not do this, you would be the laughing stock of all the other vines before the season is over." Months go on, and one day the gardener comes under the trellis, where great clusters of grapes hang, and the grapevine says: “Thank you, sir. You could not have done anything so kind as to have cut me with that knife.” “Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.” No pruning, no grapes; no grinding mill, no flour; no battle, no victory; no cross, no crown! So God’s way, in the redemption of the world, is different from ours. If we had our way, we would have had Jesus stand in the door of heaven and beckon the nations up to light, or we yould have had angels flying around the earth proclaiming the unsearchable riches of Christ. Why is it that the cause goes on so slowly? Why is it that the chains stay on when God could knock them off? Why do thrones of despotism stand when God could so easily demolish them? It is his way tn order that aTT gen Motions tmty co-operate, and that all men may know they cannot do the work themselves. Just in proportion as these pyramids of sin go up in height will they come down in ghastliness of ruin. O thou father of al! iniquity! If thou caast bear my voice above the crackling of the flames, drive on thy projects, dispatch the emissaries, build thy temples

and forge thy chains, but know that thy fall from heaven was not greater ths thy final overthrow shall be when tho .halt be driven disarmed ‘VramSs den, and for every lie thou hast upon earth thou shalt have an additional hell of fury poured into thine anguish by the vengeanerf of our God, and au heaven shall shout at the overthrow as from tho ransomed enrth the song breaws through the skies: “Hallelujah! for he Lord God Omnipotent reignethl Hallelujah! for tho kingdoms of this woric have become the kingdoms of our Lord Jesus Christi” God’s way In the composition of tho Bible, God’s way in the Christian life, God’s way in the redemption of the world, God’s way in everything—different from man’s way, but the best

God thejQreat Ally. ■ I learn from this subject that the over- H throw of God’s enemies will be sudden ■ and terrific. There is the army of the Midianites down in the valley of Jezreel. W I suppose their mighty men are dreaming J of victory. Mount Gilboa never stood || sentinel for so large a host. The spears? || and the shields of the Midianites gleard || in the moonlight and glance on the eye of the Israelites, who hover like a battle of eagles, ready to swoop from the cliff. Sleep on, O army of the Midinnites! With the night to hide them, and the mountain to guard them, and strong arms to defend them, let no slumbering foeman dream of disaster! Peace to the captains and the spearmen! Crash go the pitchers! Up flare the lamps! To the mountains! Fly! Flyt Troop running against troop, thousands trampling upon thousands. Hark to the scream and groan of the routed foe, with the Lord God Almighty after them! How sudden the onset, how wild the consternation, how utter the defeat! Ido not fear so much what is against me if God is not. You want a better sword or carbine than I have ever seen to go out and fight against the Lord Omnipotent. Give me God for my ally, and you may have all thf battlements and battalions. I saw the defrauder in his splendid house. It seemed as if he had conquered God as he stood amid the blaze of chandeliers and pier mirrors. In the diamonds of the wardrobe I saw the tears of the widows whom he had robbed, and in the snowy satin the pallor of the whitecheeked orphans whom he had wronged. The blood of the oppressed glowed in the deep crimson of the irfmrted chair.’ The music trembled withfljmTsorrow ofkunrequited toil. But tw WVc of mirth dash ed higher on reefs’bCriwal ynd pearl. ’/The days and the nights merrily* No sick child dared pull thaKsilver .doorbell. No beggar dared sit on that marble step. No voice of prayer floated amid that-tap-estry. No shadow of a judgment day darkened that fresco. No tear of human sympathy dropped upon that upholstery. Pomp strutted the hall, and dissipation filled her cup, and all seemed safe as the Midianites in the valLe? of Jezreel. But God came. Calamity smote the money market. The partridge left its eggs un- i hatched. Crash went all the porcelain pitchers! Ruin, rout, dismay and woe in the valley of Jezreel! Surrender Ere It Is Too Late. Alas for those who fight against God! Only two sides.' Man immortal, which side are you on? Woman immortal, which side are you on ? Do you belong to the 300 that are going to win the day or to the great host of Midianites asleep in the val-. ley, only to be roused up in consternation and ruin? Suddenly the golden bowl of I life will be broken and the trumpet blown that will startle our soul into eternity- J The day of the Lord cometh as a thief in w ! the night, and as thff God Armed Israel- ' MWb>jirw wh n en th< trumpet which never been J blown shall speak the roll cMI of the dead, and the earth, dashing against a lost meteor, have its mountains scattered to the stars and oceans emptied in the air? Oh, then, what will become of you? What will become of me? If those Midianites had only given up their swords the day before the disaster, all would have been well, and if you will now surrender the sins with which you have been fighting against God, you will be safe. Oh, make peace with him now, through Jesus Christ the Lord! With the clutch of a drowning man seize the cross. Oh, surrender! Surrender! Christ, with his hand on his pierced side, asks you to.

Not Shiftless but Polite. A Boston young man who once took a riding journey of five weeks In South Carolina, speaks with enthusiasm of the politeness of the farmers and other plain people with whom he stopped .from time to time. On one occasion he took dinner at a farm house, and afterward sat upon the front porch talking to his host and thinking to postpone his departure till the cool of the evening. The Southerner kept examining the sky as If apprehensive of a storm, and looked with dismay at his crops scattered oyer the fields, evidently fearing that they would be ruined. ’What a piece of Southern shiftlessness!” the Bostonian said to himself. “This lazy fellow prefers gossiping to working, although the probability Is that his crops will be ruined before nightfall!” After a while, however, the Idea came into the Northerner’s head that perhaps his host felt It Impolite to leave a guest, and so sat asking the news from the North, and telling humorous anecdotes, while longing to get at his crops. No sooner did the traveler arrive at this possible explanation of his host’s conduct than he bade him a cordial but brief farewell, sprang upon his horse, and rode away. Turning In his-,saddle a moment later, be saw his host with a pitchfork in his hand dashing at full speed round the corner of the house to the barn, that he might get out his horse and set to work. A Motto of Frank Josef. A German authoress, who Is collecting autographs for an album for girls, and already has valuable contributions by the Emperors William I. and Frederick, has obtained the following motto from the Emperor Francis Josef, who Is not inown to have given such autographs before. Uls written In a clear, bold hand, and runs thus: “Take your duties seriously, and require the same of others, but be lenient toward the falling of your neighbor—Franz Josef.” The Arlans had their name from . Arius, who died A. D. 336. Their main doctrine was a disbelief In the divine of Jesus Christ