Hope Republican, Volume 1, Number 25, Hope, Bartholomew County, 13 October 1892 — Page 6

CHRISTIAN ACTIVITY. Tho Ministry Needs Brave, Earnest, Honest, Hardy Men. ■Do >’ot Hug the Shore, bnfc Sail Out Coldly Into the Houndlos* Sea of God’s Word, Dr. Talmage preached at Brooklyn f last Sunday. Text, Luke v, 4. “Launch out into tho deep.” He ;said: Christ, starting on the campaign ■of the world’s conquest, was selecting his staff officers. There were plenty of students with high foreheads, and white bands, and intellectual faces, and refined tastes in Rome and Jerusalem. Christ might have called into the apostleship twelve bookworms, or twelve rhetoricians, or twelve artists. Instead he takes a group of men who had never made a speech; never taken a lesson in belles-lettres; never been sick enough to make them look delicate—their hands broad, clumsy and hard knuckled. He chose fishermen, among other -reasons, I think, because they were physically hardy. Rowing makes strong arms and stout chests. Much climbing of knotlines makes one’s head steady. A Galilee tempest wrestled men into gymnasts. The opening work of the church was rough work. Christ did not want twelve invalids hanging about him, complaining all the time how badly they felt. He leaves tho delicate students at Jerusalem and Romo for their mothers and aunts to take care of, and goes down to tho seashore and out of the toughest material makes an apostleship. The ministry need more corporeal vigor than any other class, Fine minds and good intentions are important, but there must be physical force to back them. The intellectual mill wheel may be well built and the grist good, but there must be enough blood in the mill race to turn the one and to grind the other. My text finds Jesus on shipboard with one of these bronzed men— Simon by name. This fisherman had been sweeping his net in shoal water. “Push out,” says Christ ‘‘What is the use of hugging the shore in this boat? Here is a lake twelve miles long and six wide, aid it is all populated—just waiting for i the sweep of your net. Launch out J into the deep.” The advice that my Lord gave to Simon is as appropriate for us all in a spiritual sense. The fact is that most of us are just paddling along the shore. We are afraid to venture out into the great deeps of God and Christian experience. This divine counsel comes first to all those who are paddling in the margin of Bible research. There is no book in the world that demands so much of our attention as the Bible. Yet nine-tenths of our Christian men get no more than ankle deep. The farther you go from shore the the better, if you have the right kind of ship. If you have mere worldly philosophy for the hulk and ]pride for a sail and self conceit for the helm, tho first squall will destroy ■you. But if you take tho Bible for your craft tho farther you go the better, and after you haye gone ten thousand furlongs Christ will still • command. “Launch out into tho deep.” Ask some such question as, "Who is God?” and go on for ten years asking it. Ask it at the gate ■of every parable; amid the excitement of every miracle; by the solitariness of every patriarchal thrashing floor; amid the white faces of Sennacherib’s slain turned up into the moonlight; amid the flying chariots of the Golden City. Walk up and down this Bible domain. Try every path. Plunge in at the prophecies and come out at the epistles. Go with the patriarchs until you meet with the evangelists. Rummage and ransack, as children who are not satisfied when they come to a new house until they know what is in every room and into what every door opens. Open every jewel casket. Examine the skylights. Forevera.sk questions. The sea of God’s Word is not like Gennesaret, twelve miles by six, but boundless, and in one direction you •can sail on forever. Why then confine yourself to a short psalm or a few verses of the epistles? The largest fish are uot near the shore. Hoist all sail to the winds of heaven. Take hold of both oars and pull Be like some of the whalers that went out from New Bedford or Portsmouth to be gone for two or three years. Yea. calculate on a lifetime voyage. You do not want to land until you land in heaven. Sail away, O ye mariners, for eternity! Launch out into the deep. The text is appropriate to all ■Christians of shallow experience. Doubts and fears have in our day •been almost elected to the parliament of Christian graces. Some •consider it a bad sign not to have any doubts. Doubts and fears are not signs of health, but festers and carbuncles. You have a valuable house or farm. It is suggested that the title is not good. You employ counsel. You have the deeds ex-

| amined. You search the records for mortgages, judgments and liens. You are not satisfied until you have a certificate, signed by the great seal of state, assuring you that the title is good. Yet how many leave their title to heaven an undecided matter! Why do you not go to the records and find out? Give yourself no rest, day or night, until you can read your title clear to mansions in the skies. One-half of you Christians are simply stuck in the mud. Why not cut loose from everything hut God ? Give not to him that formal petition made up of “O’s"O Lord” this and “O Lord ” that. When people are cold and have nothing to saj’ to God they strew their prayers with “O’s!’ and “Forever and ever. Amen, ” and things to fill up. Tell God what you want with the feeling that he is ready to give it, and believe that you will receive, and you shall have it. Shed that old prayer you have been making these ten years. It is high time that you outgrew it. Throw it aside with your old ledgers, and your old hats, and your old shoes. Take a review of your present wants, of your present sins, and of your present blessings. With a sharp blade cut away your past half and half Christian life, and with new determination, and new plans, and new expectations launch out into the deep. The text is appropriate to all who are engaged in Christian work. The church of God has been fishing along the shore. We set our net in a good, calm place, and in sight of a fine chapel, and we go down every Sunday to see if the fish have been wise enough to como into our net. We might learn something from that boy with his hook and line. He throws his line from tho bridge—no fish. He sits down on a log—no fish. He stands in the sunlight and casts the line, but no fish. He goes up by the mill dam and stands behind the bank, where the fish can uot see him, and he has hardly dropped the hook before tho cork goes under. Tho fish come to him as fast as he can throw them ashore. In other words, in our Christian work, why do we not go where the fish are? It is not so easy to catch souls in church, for the} - know that wo are trying to take them. If you can throw your lines out into the world where they are not expecting you. they will be captured. Is it fair to take men by such stratagem? Yes. 1 would like to cheat five thousand souls into the kingdom. The whole policy of the church of God is to be changed. Instead of chiefiy looking after the few who have become Christians our chief efforts will bo for those outside. If after a man is converted he cannot take care j of himself I am not going to take | care of him. If he thinks that I am \ going to stand and pat him on the '■ back, and feed him out of an elegant i spoon, and watch him so that he docs j not get into a draft of worldliness, he is much mistaken. W r e have in our churches a great mass of helpless, inane professors, who are doing nothing for themselves or for others, who want us to stop and nurse them. They are so troubled with doubt as to whether the}’ are Christians or uot. The doubt is settled. They arc not Christians. The best we can do with these fish is to throw them back into the stream and go after them again with the Gospel net. “Go into tho world and preach the Gospel,” says Christ —into tho factory, the engine house.the clubroom; into the houses of the sick; into the dark lane; into the damp cellar; into the cold garret; into the dismal prison. Let every man, woman and child know that Jesus died, and that the gate of heaven is wide open. With the Bible in one pocket, and a loaf of bread under your arm launch out into the great deep of this world's wretchedness. The Bible promises join hands, and the circle they make will com - pass all your sins, and all your temtations, and all your sorrows. Tho round table of King of Arthur and his knights had only room for thirteen banqueters, but the round table of God's supply is large enough for all the present inhabitants of earth and heaven to sit at, and for the still mightier populations that are yet to be. Do not sail coastwise along your old habits and old sins. Keep clear of the shore. Go out where the wat1 er is deepest, c Oh, forfthe mid sea of God's mercy! “Be it known unto you, men and brethren, that though this man is preached unto you forgivnessofsius.” I preach it with as much confidence to the eighty-year-old transgressor as to the maiden. Though your sins were blood red they shall be snow white. The more ragged the prodigal, the more compassionate the father. Do you say that you are too bad? The high water mark of God s pardon is higher than all your transgressions. “The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." Do you say that your heart is hard? Suppose it were ten times harder. Do you say that your iniquit}’ is long continued? Suppose it were ten times longer. Do you that your crimes are black? Suppose they

were ten times blacker. Is there anv lion that this Samson cannot slay? Is there any fortress that this Conqueror cannot take. Is there any sin this Redeemer cannot pardon? It is said that when Charlemagne’s host was overpowered by the three armies of the Saracens in the pass of Roneessvalles, his warrior, Roland, in terrible earnestness, seized a trumpet and blew it with such terrific strength that the opposing army yelled back with terror, but at the third blast of tho trumpet it broke in two. I see your soul fiercely assailed by all the powers cf earth and hell, I put the mightier trumpet of the Gospel to my lips and blow it three times. Blast tho first—“Whosoever will, let him come.” Blast the second —“Seek ye the Lord while he may be found.” “Blast the third—“Now is the accepted time; now is the day of salvation.” Does not the host of your sins fall back? But the trumpet does not, like that of Roland, break in two. As it was handed down to us from the lips of our fathers, wo hand it down to the lips of our children and tell them to sound it when we are dead, that all the generations of men may know that our God is a pardoning God—a sympathetic God —a loving God —and that more to him than the throne on which ho sits; more to him than the anthems of heaven; more to him than are the temples of celestial worship is tho joy of seeing the wanderer putting his hand on the door latch of his father's house. Hear it, all ye nations! Bread for tho worst hunger. Medicine for the worst sickness. Light for the thickest darkness. Harbor for the worst storm. Dr. Prime, in his book of wonderful interest entitled “ Around the World, ” describes a tomb in India of marvelous architecture. Twenty thousand men were twenty-two years in erecting that and the buildings around it. Standing in that tomb, if you speak or sing, after you have ceased, you hear the echo coming from a height of one. hundred and fifty feet. It is not like other echoes. The sound is drawn out in sweet prolongation, as though the angels of God were chant,in" on the wing. How many souls in the tomb of sin will lift up the voice of penitence and prayer ? If now they would cry unto God the ecuo wou.a drop from afar —not struck from the marble cupola of an earthly mausoleum, but sounding back from the warm heart of angels, flying with the news, for there is joy among the angels of God over one sinner that repen telhl Tho Terrible Tcbertessca. yift. The Tchcrkcsses—the term nowmost used in Europe to designate the different Caucasian tribes—are a wild, bellicose. and rapacious nation. The Tchcrkess is a warrior in Ids very soul, sly, cruel, and blood-thirsty. The sufferings of an enemy awaken in him only a sensual smile of enjoyment. He tortures his prisoner, kills him, and mutilates him terribly. How many i loved comrades have I found with their j arms twisted out of joint, and other i parts of their bodies eut off and stuck in their mouths' The Tuherkcss is not a fanatic, but be is a great fatalist: and now lie is in the Russian service Ke attacks with tho same ruthless ardor and ; blood-thirstiness the Mussulman with ! whom thirty years ago he used to light side by side against the Russians. Ho i always seeks to attack his enemy on the sly, but when he does not succeed in surprising him, ho dashes upon him and displays prodigious courage. Tchcrkess boys arc trained from their lenderest years to ride and handle weapons. The Tcherkess horseman will rush at full gallop into a small court-yard, and not turn his horse until he strikes his nose against the wall. | In the same way ho will gallop toward a precipice, and turn his horse only | when his forefeel are over the abyss. All the Tchcrkess games and dances | are of a warlike nature. One of the I most picturesque rights one can im- ! agine is a Tcherkess fete, when those i tall, dark-skinned men, handsome and \ muscular, with their swords and ponI birds diawn, execute their favorite j dance, the ••Lesginka." around a lire, which, with its red glare, lights up their strong features and illumines tho ! surrounding woods and rocks. A ! favorite game Is to leap on horseback ! over tho lire when tho flame is at its | highest All the natives of tho Cau- | casus carry anas up to the present day. : and the Russian government linds it | prudent not to interfere with this i usage. Still it must appear strange to one who travels for tho first time in tho Caucasus to find himself surrounded by I people who are all armed to tho teeth, i Doubtless tho Caucasus is pacified, but ! travelling there is not completely safe. | The Tatares and Kurds in the southern Caucasus, and the Jnngouch«s in the northern districts, often indulge in brigandage. 1 u European warfare the Tchcrkcsses are very useful on outpost duty and as skirmishers. Even in open battle they can make very successful charges. In the last Turkish campaign it happened once that a trench occupied by tho Turks was attacked by a battalion of I infantry, but the deadly fire prevontJ lug them from reaching the intrench- ; inonts, order was given to tho Jau- | gouohe militia to mouut to tho attack, and they simply dashed upon tho ene- ' my like a hurricane, leaped over the 1 defences, and massacred the Turks in1 side.— Hart>*r't Miganne.

" .f.-. TWO ARABS. nr COLONEL H. O. PR0T7T. There is a land which seems to me : the land of the lotus-eaters with all the grace left out. When 1 try to recall it, there comes up a picture of great, brown, shining plains, dotted with frequent villages of straw huts or thickets of gray accacias. Over these plains steal groups of black or brown men, bareheaded and halfnaked. Sometimes they meet and fight, and leave a score of bodies on the plain for the beasts and the vultures, and their bones gleam in the sunlight for generations. The sun is always shining in a hard and cloudless sky, the air dances with heat, and everywhere is dead silence. That land was the Egyptian Soudan when I knew it; to-day it is the Soudan of the native prince or chief or prophet who can govern it. In my time, which was just before the Mahdi’s revolt began, the country was governed by officers and soldiers sent up from Cairo, and to the Soudanese these were “Turks.” My fat old friend, Said-Bet', a pureblooded Kurd; my yellow friend, Chamiss-EITendi, a fellah Major; that brilliant Circassian, Ismail Pasha Ayoub; Giegler, the German engineer; the hordes of bashi-bazouks from ail the lands of the East, and the casual Yankee who wore the Khedive’s uniform—all these were Turks to the natives, who did not discriminate in the kind or degree of hatred for their rulers. Nevertheless the rule of the Turk was a good deal better than what has followed. It, was cruel and fitful and rapacious, but peace was kept, and the people could make their crops and eat what was left by tho tax collector. Since the Mahdi drove out the Turks there has been little but war and murder and famine, and the people of the capital, Khartoum, have eaten the dead in the streets. But all that is a long story, and would lead us into too deep water. The little tale that I have to tell now is not a study of how to rule barbarians, but the reader who likes morals will not find it hard to draw one for himself. It came to my lot to march an expedition from El Obeid. the capital of Kordofan, to El Fasher. the capital of Darfoor, and I needed about 400 camels for the march. The people did not like to hire their camels to the Government for several reasons. Camels and camel drivers were sure to be abused bj' the several kinds of “Turks” set over them. The abuse might be hunger or thirst, or it might be death of man or beast; but bad treatment of some degree was certain. When the journey for which the camels were hired was ended they were liable to be taken by force for another one, and the poor Arab never knew when he would get home again. Finally, if he lived and his camels lived, and he was allowed to go back to his own country with them, he might or he might not get his pay. He could be pretty sure, however, that some of it would stick to the lingers of the officials who stood between him and the treasury. But. while 1 was sorry for the Arabs I must have camels.and it was the business of Sa d Bey, the Governor of Kordcl'au, to got them for me. Between Kordofan and Darfoor lie great dry steppes, called in the Soudan, atmoors, and these atmoors were the home of a strong tribe of bedouins called the Hamr, or red Arabs. It struck Said Bey that the Hamr were just the fellows to furnish my camels, for our journey would be through a country which they knew more or less well, and where they were not likely to meet enemies. So far Said reasoned well, but ho did not reflect that these vert' facts made it easier for them to run away. Probably he did not think further that the moment these Arabs crossed the frontier of Darfoor they would be in the land of a people whose slaves and camels and cattle they had stolen and whose men they had killed for generations, and that we must go 200 miles into that country. Perhaps Said thought of these things; but it is not the habit of the East to consider bow a thing can be done best, but how it cun be done easiest. A t any rate camels were hard to find, and I took what came and was glad to get them. And so in good time we set out on our march of 450 miles, making a great turn to the north to follow the line of the greatest water supply, which was bad enough at best. Day after day the silent string of soft footed camels, and soldiers in white tunics and red tar booshes. and red bronze Arabs in pretty nearly nothing, swung over the sleepy, brown plains. Night after night they slept under the glittering stars. In the morning there was never a drop of dew on the grass; by afternoon the thermometer stood at 100 degrees in the shade, at night the temperature fell fast and one was glad to sleep in flannels and blankets. It is no part of this story to describe the march. When we got into the country of the Hamr every care was taken , to keep our guides and ! camels. It. is had enough to be se4 afoot in the wilderness anywhere; but

when the nearest water is two day* off and hard to find at that, to lose your camels and guides is not simply a misfortune, it is a tragedy. It may mean the death of many of your people. If a guide was suspected his weapons were taken away from him, and he had to travel with a rope around his neck, the other end of which was held by a soldier. The officers and men were kept on the alert on the march by frequent inspection of the line. When the camels were sent to graze a strong guard went with them, and that,too, was often visited by a responsible officer. So we crossed the atmoor and came to the wells of Foga without the loss of a man, and only one camel short. That unlucky beast lagged a few rods behind the herd coming in from the pasture just at night, and was caught by lions, Wo thought that one camel out of 400 was not a very heavy tribute to pay to the great wilderness. At the wells of Foga water is abundant and eas}’ to get at. What that means no one knows unless he has traveled iu a thirsty laud. From El’Obeid to Foga, 250 miles, the only water we found was in wells from “two men and a cow’s tail” deep to 100 feet deep. Out of these wells the water was lifted by the rudest leather buckets, hauled up by ropes hand over hand. Even with this feeble outfit most of the wells could be dipped dry in two or three hours, and under such circumstances camels must go dry. Foga, therefore, is a natural place for a caravan to rest going or coming. Here I found Ismail Pasha Ayoub encamped with quite a body of troops. He was on his way to the Nile with the honors of the conquest of Darfour thick upon him. To be sure, most of those honors belonged to another man, but Ismail wore them very gracefully. He was a Governor General of the Soudan, a field marshal, and was decorated with several orders. He was a Circassian, had started as a musician in an infantry regiment, and “made his career.” He really deserved most of the distinction which he had won, for ho was a man of talent and force and pluck. Ismail x-ei-ished the company of the men from the West who could talk with him about the world’s politics and wars, and about geography and astronomy, and a hundred things of which his own kind knew nothing; so when I pitched my camp by his and said that I would spend a week there he kissed me on both cheeks, at least on both sides of my neck, for I dodged my head over his shoulder. We hunted and rode races, and bragged to each other, and dined together two or three days with great enjoyment. My camels browsed peacefully in the fields and thickets, and their flabby humps began to stick up with fat. The red Arabs grew sleek and my soldiers got lazier everyday, which was needless. All this was too good to last. One stifling afternoon wo heard shots in the pasture, and knew that trouble had come. Before the panting sergeant of the herd guard got within ear shot my horse was saddled and I was galloping to meet him. His report was scarcely made when the Pasha came thundering down with a troop of his wild basin- bazouks. This report was that a lot of Arabs had got away, perhaps twenty of them, with seven-ty-five or 100 camels. They took to the forests and scattered like partridges, so that by dark we had cap tured many of the camels but had caught only two of the bedouins. I sent them to the Pasha's camp: he was the Governor-General, and it was for him to punish them. Next morning I heard he proposed to hang them. That was not only cruel but wasteful, and I went at once to protest. I told Ismail that I wanted the men ; that I should have done exactly what they had done,and that while they ought to be punished as an example, still to hang them would show alacif of a proper sense of proportion. At Ins t he consented to let them off, but he would scare them well at any rate. It was agreed that a show of hanging should be made, and that I should intercede tor them. I never saw men in a tight place behave with more pluck and dignity. They stood up and looked death square, in the face like men. They were of the same breed that afterward broke the British square at Abou Klea; perhaps they helped in that job. I went through my part, with good heart, for I respected these brave fellows. Then the Pasha ordered them to be set free,and they came up to kiss his hand and thank him. “No,” he said, “it is Bimbashi who saves you; thank him. ” So they came to kiss my hands, but I stopped them and told them to go to camp and behave themselves, and help me to get to El Fasher and I would take care of them. By Allah and by the prophet they would stay with me as long as I would keep them ; they would go anywhere with me. Their spears were given back to them, and these faithful and grateful men, whom I had saved from a horrible death, strode back to the camp, and I thought I had two Arabs that -1 could tie to. i That night they ran away again!