Greenfield Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 18 January 1894 — Page 4

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Iu«li»najtolis.lv. Irvington \3umberland Pniladelphia Greenfield Clevel nd Charlotisville

Urbana Columbus ar,

••jKSirf-9

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AX THE

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Schedule ot Passenger Trains-Central Time

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Meals. Flag Stop.

6, 8 and 20 connect at Columbus for

Pittsburgh and the East, and at Richmond for Dayton, Xenia and Springfield, and No. 1 for Cincinnati.

Trains leave Cambridge City at. t7.00 a. m. and t3.30 p. m. for Rusliville, Shelbyville, CoIambus and intermediate stations. Arrive Cambridge Cityfl.45andt6.45P.m. JOSEPH WOOD, E. A. KORD, tiutnl Manager, (taunt hangar Agent. {-0-91-R PlTTSBDBOH, PENN'A. .-•rftor time cards, rates or fare, through tickets, #$pBaSgage checks and farther information rethe running of trains apply to any ypntofthe Pennsylvania Lines

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Dr. Humphrey*' Specifics are scientifically end carefully prepared Remedies, used for years in private practice and for over thirty years by the people with entire success. Every single Bpeclflo special core for the disease named.

Tbey cure without drugging, purring or reducing me system and are ta fact and deed the Sovereign gbH^iedles of the-World. m, CUKM. HUOML

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Constipation. .23

11—Sapvressedi or Paiafkl Period*... .25 1'i-WhitBii Too Profuse Periods .25 II—Cron'p, Iaryneltli, Hoarseness .25 14—(Salt wheam, Erysipelas,Eruptions.. .25 15—Sheaaiatisni, Rheumatic Pains .25 H-Mslsrlsi Chills, Fever and Ague .25 19-Cstarrh^ Influenza, Cold in the Head. .25 20—Whooping Cough *25 27—Kidney Diseases 98-Norroas Debility-•••• JO—Urinary Weakness, Wetting Bed.. .25 BtJHPHRETS' WITCH HAZEL OIL, "The File Ointment."—Trial Size. 25 Cts. ggU by Irn*el«t«. or «rut poM-pald en reeeipt of prlea SB. HrarHBKr*' Mahvai. (M4p**e«()mailso mm. gawMMii' —n.ca.1 mm wan— at., iw Wtt

PEOTFI OS.

"WHERE'S MOTHER?"

Aii Emotional Discourse By Dr.

Talmage.

§8

Tribute to Old Fashioned Mothgrn Who Wait at Heaven's I'alace Windows for Their Loved Ones.

Rev. Dr. Talmag-o preached at the Brooklyn Tabernacle last Sunday. Text: judges, v. 28---••'•The mother of Sisera, looked out. a window." He said:

Spiked to the ground of Jael'stent lay the dead commander-in-chief of the Canaanitish host, Hen. Sisera, not fur from the r'n*er Kishon, which \vas only a dry bed pebbles when in 1880, in Palestine, we crossed it, but the gullies and ravines which ran into it. indicated the possibility of great freshets 'il:e the ne at the Time of the text. Gen. Sisera had gone out with 000 iron chariots, but he was defeated, and chariot wheels 'nterlooked with the wheels of other chariots, he could not. retreat fast enough, and so he leaped to the ground and ran till, exhausted, he went, into Jael's tent for safety. She had just been churning, and when he asked for water she gave him buttermilk. which in the east is considered a most refreshing drink.

safe, he went- to sleep upon the floor, but Jael. who had resolved upon his death, took a tent pin. long and round and sharp, in one hand and a hammer in her other hand, and putting the sharp end of the tent pin to the forehead of Sisera with her other hand she lifted the hammer and brought it down on the head of the pin with a stout stroke, when Sisera struggled to rise, and she struck him again, and he struggled to rise, and the third time she struck him, and the commander-in-chief of the Canaanitish host lay dead.

Meanwhile in the distance Sisera's mother sits amid surroundings of wealth and pomp and scenes palatial waiting for his return. Every mother expects her son to be victorious, and this mother looked out of the window expecting to see him drive up in his chariot, followed by wagons loaded with embroideries and also by regiments of men vanquished and enslaved. I see her now sitting by the window in high expectation. She watches the farthest turn of the road. She looks for the flying dust of the swift hoofs. The first fia^h ^f the bit of the horse's bridle she wi I catch.

The ladies of the court are standing around, and she tells them of what they shall have when her son comes up—chains of gold and earcaiiets of beauty, and dresses of such wondrous fabric and splendor as the Bible only hints at. but leaves us to imagine. "He ought to be here by this time," says his mother. "That, battle is surely over. I hope that freshet of the river Kishon has not impeded him. I hope those strange appearances we saw last night in the sky were not ominous when the stars seemed to fight in their courses. No, no! He is so brave in battle I know he has won the day. He will soon be here."

But alas for the disappointed mother! She will not see the flittering headgear of the horses at full [railop bringing her son home from victorious battle. As a solitary messenger arriving in hot haste rides to the window at which the mother of Sisera sits he cries, "Your armies I .re defeated and your son is dead!" There is a scene of anguish and horror from which we turn away.

Now you see the full meaning of my short text, "The mother of Sissera looked out at a window." WTell, my friends, we are all out in the battle of. life. It is raging now, and the most of us have a mother waiting and watching for news of our victory 1 or defeat. If she be not sitting at the window of earth, she is sitting at a window of heaven, and she is going to hear all about it. "Where's mother?" is the question most freauentlv asked in many households. It is asked by the husband as well as the child coming in at nightfall. "Where's mother?" It is asked bv the little ones when they get hurt and come in crying with pain. "Where's mother?" It is asked by those who have seen some grand sight or heard some good news or received some beautiful gift. "Where's mother?"

book

She sometimes feels wearied by the question, for they all ask it and keep asking it all the time. She is not only the first to hear every case of perplexity, but she is the judge in every court of domestic appeal. That is what putathe premature wrinkles on so many maternal foreheads. You of my self-sacrifice and moral bravsee it is a question that keeps on for ery and struggle to do right?" No! all the vears of childhood. It comes Heaven and earth are in cloose comfrom the nursery, and from the evening stand where the boys and girls are learning their school lessons, and from the starting out in the morning, when the tippet, or hat or slate or

or overshoe is lost, until at

night, all

out

sters come in and shout until you can hear them from cellar to garret and from front door to the back fence of the back yard, "Where's mother?"

If that question were put to most of us this morning, we would have to say,

if we spoke truthfully, like

God forever, and she is pulling back the rich folds of the king's upholstery to look.down at

their third sight—as they lived long enough on earth to get their second sight—and they do not have to pant for breath after going up the emerald stairs of the eternal palace, at whose window they now sit waiting for the news from the battle.

But if any one keeps on asking the question, "Where's mother?" answer, she is in your present character. The probability is that your physical r'e-tnres suggest her. If there be seven children in a household at least six of them look like their mother, and the older you get the more you will look like her. But I speak now especially of your charI acter and not of your looks. This is easily explained. During the first ten years of ycur life you were most all the time with her, and your I father you saw only mornings and nights. There arc no years in my life so important for impression as the first ten. Then and there is the impression made for virtue or vice, for truth or falsehood, i'or bravery or cowardice, for religion or skepticism.

Before one decade has passed you can decide whether that boy shall be a Shyl'ock or a George Peabody. Boys and girls are generally echoes of fathers and mothers. "YY hat an incoherent thing for a mother out of temper to punish a child for getting mad, or for a father who smokes to shut his boy up in a dark closet because he has found him with an old

Very tired and supposing he was stump of a cigar in his mouth, or for that mother to rebuke her daughter for staring at herself too much in the looking glass when the mother has her own mirrors so arranged as to repeat her from all sides. The great English poet's loose moral character was decided before he left the nursery, and his schoolmaster in the school room overheard this conversation: "Byron, your mother is a fool,"'and he answered, "I know it."

The most impressive thing at the inauguration of James A. Garfield as President of the United States was that after he had taken the oath of office he turned round, and in the presence of the Supreme Court and the Senate of the United States kissed his old mother. If I had time to take statistics out of this audience and I could ask what proportion of you who are Christians owe your salvation under God to maternal fidelity, I think about three-fourths of you would spring to your l'eet. "Ha! ha!" said the soldiers of the regiment to Charlie, one of their comrades. 'What has marie the change in you? You used to like sin as well as any of us." Pulling from his pocket his mother's letter, in which, after telling of some comforts she had sent him, she concluded, "We are praying for you, Charlie, that you may be a Christian," he said. "Boys, "that's the sentence."

The trouble with Sisera's mother was that while sitting at the window of my text watching for news of her son from the battlefield she had the two bad qualities of being dissolute and being too fond of personal adoz*nment. The bible account says: "Her wise ladies answered her yea. She returned answer to herself: 'Have they not sped? Have they not divided the prey—to every man a damsel or two, to Sisera a prev of divers colors of needlewoatf, of divers colors of needlework on both sides?'"

And I am not surprised to find that Sisera fought on the wrong side, when his mother at the window of my text, in that awful exigency, had her chief thought on dry goods achievement and social display. God only knows how many homes have been made shipwreck on the wardrobe. And that mother who sits at the window watching for vain glorious triumph of millinery and fine colors and domestic pageantry will after awhile hear as bad news from her children out in the battle of life as Sisera's mother heard from the struggle at Esdraelon.

But if you still press the question, "Where's mother?" I will tel! you where she is not, though once she was there. Some of you started with her likeness in your face and her principles in your soul. But you have cast her oat. That was an awful thing to do, but von have done it. That hard, grinding, dissipated look you never got from her. If you had see anyone strike her, you would have struck him down without much care whether the blow was just sufficient or fatal but, my boy, you have struck her down- struck her innocence from your face and struck her principles from your soul. '.'But," says some one, "are you not mistaken about my glorified mother hearing of my evildoings since she went away Says some one else, "Are you not mistaken about my glorified mother hearing

munication. ning every

breath, the young

Sis

era's mother, she is at the palace window. She has become a queen unto

us.

Those old fashioned mothers—if any persons ever fitted appropriately into a good, easy, comfortable heaven tbey were the folks, and they got there, and they rested. They wear no spectacles, fop .they have

There are trains runfive minutes—trains of

immortals ascending and descending —spirits going from earth to heaven to live there! Spirits descending from heaven to earth to minister and help. They hear from us many times a day. Do they hear good news or bad news from this battle—this Sedan, this Thermopylae, this Austerlitz, in which everyone of us is fighting on the right side or the wrong side?

There is

one

thought that is almost

too tender for utterance.

fear to start it lest

I almost

I nave not

con

trol of my emotion to conclude it. As when we were childreu

we so

often came in from play, or from a hurt, or from

some childish injustice

practiced upon us, and as'soon as the door was opened

awhile, when we get through with the pleasures and hurts of this life, we will, by the pardoning mercy of Christ, enter the heavenly home, and among the first questions, not the first, but among the first, will be the old question that we used to ask, the question that is being asked in thousands of places at this very moment—the question, "Where'smother?" And it will not take very long for us to find her or for her to find us, for she will have been watching at the window for our coming, and with the other children of our household on earth we" will again gather round her and she will say, "Well, how did you get through the battle of life? I have often heard from others about you, but now I want to hear it from your own souls. Tell me all about it, children."

And then we will tell her of all our earthly experience—the holidays, the marriages, the birth hours, the burials, the heartbreaks, the losses, the gains, the victories, the defeats —and she will say: "Never mind. It is all over now. I see each one of you has a crown, which was given you at the gate as you came through. Now cast it at the feet of the Christ who saved you and saved me and saved us ail. Thank God we are never to part, and for all the a-^es of eternity you will never again have to ask, "Where's mother?"

VANCE'S FAVORITE STORY.

What Happened la a Town Where Only One Man Could Read.

Washington Cor. Spvingfleld Republican.

Senator Vance has one favorite story. This is it: Along in the forties Asheville, S. C., was a very small place, out of the path of travel, and the only man who could read was the postmaster, whose name was Brown. The rest of the natives depended upon him for their knowledge of what was going on in the world, and the habitues of the postoffiee at last strouc.k on the brilliant idea of sub sribing to a weekly paper in common. So when the paper came Brown would assemble the members of the pool and read it to them, begining religiously wiLh the announcement of rates at the top of the first column of the first page and going through to the end. On pleasant days the neighbors didn't have a great deal of time to devote to literature, and they got in the habit of coming around i'or their news rat ions only when the weather was too rainy for outdoor work.

At this rate Brown found that he couldn't keep up very well with the procession of events and he adopted a plan of reading the paper in order, formirtra stack, shoving the latest issue underneath and taking them off the top one by one. The sta^k kept growing on him, and to make matters worse the papers increased in size about that time by a couple of colunms on eachpasre. Still the postmaster kept bravely on, although by the time the Mexican war broke out there was a stack of formidable size to attend to. As the village depended altogether for its information on these occasional readings it so happened that nobody heai'd anything about the outbreak of the war until about a year after peace had been declared. Then they reached the war layer of the paper, and as the news bigan to culminate in the readings the excitement grew intense. There, was only one thing for them to do as patriotic American citizens, and they promptly did it. They organized a company including every man of fighting ag1 in the town, and started out bravely for the scene of operations with their old flint locks and badger toils in their hats. They got as far as Salisbury when they found out the real state of things and how badly they had been duped. Then they returned and made Brown leave town. This is what Senator Vance really tells as a true story.

Not Half Dressed.

Challes—Aren't you going out to walk with me? Henwy—I cahn't, go until I dress, can I?

Challes—What's the matter with your present costume? Henwy—1 haven't got my chrysanthemum on.

Only a Short Time. ,'4

Life. Witherby (savagely)—Isn't, it about time to have those windows cleaned?

Mrs. Witherby—Why, they were cleaned only recently. "How recently?" v" "Two girls ago."

Can't.Help Being That Way. Boston Transcript. Verily, there are more people who find more pleasure in standing up and growling in a crowded car than they could ever enjoy by going into the next half-empty coach and taking their choice of seats.

Never Had Any ijuo. .*t All. New York World. It seems that "Shee-kaw-gu," now Chicago, was a trading post in 1691). In those days New Yorkers used to go out there in the most friendly spirit to be butchered bv Injuns.

Only That.

Author—Only one thing kept my last novel from making a sensation. Friend—What

was

VTOUR FAVORITE

that?

Author—No

cried,

"Where's mother?'' and she said, "Here I am,'^ and we buried our peeping faces in her lap. So. after

one read it.

Ctafamrit

•ri* Km Uttilu hllnwi FirfMiU IftfetT VMtinUiimh «itk Diaisf Cm*

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