Pike County Democrat, Volume 26, Number 22, Petersburg, Pike County, 11 October 1895 — Page 3

€\u gifee Counlg fjmomt V. XoO. STOOPS, Editor tad Proprietor. PETERSBURG. - - - INDIANA FIGHT WITH BUSHRANGERS.

N THE thirtieth annirersary of my i birthday, April 27, I 1854, 1 said good-by F to my three mates at Wallaby Creek, colony of Victoria, and started across country for Mel

^bourne, proposing to reach that mgpl the Tillage (then called “township*’) ot Coleraine, supposed to be about thirty-three miles from our camp. 1 had discarded the blue flannel .jumper, moleskin trousers, hobnailed boots and rowdy hat, then always worn by Australian' diggers, and had provided myself with a complete outfit of •civilized clothing, in which I looked like a, digger who had made his pile ami might, consequently, have some wealth about his person. Just as I was leaving my chums, one of them gave me a valuable doublebarreled gun. a genuine Joe Manton, which had been changed from flint to percussion locks; the original Joe MaDton, as oldtime sportsmen know, utterly refusing to adopt the percus■sion lock—a fact which ruined his business. I mention this gun thus particularly because it bore an important part in the adventure hereinafter described. A day or two before leaving Wallaby, I had rather rashly sold my revolver, but had prudently deposited my gold with the local government commission, for transmission to Melbourne, keeping only a few sovereigns in ray pocket, so that if I should be “stuck up” on tlteroad I could lose but a trifle. 1 did not intend to be stuck up, however. In that part of Australia, April is called the second month of autumn and is» generally very wet, but on this day ho rain fell until the afternoon; then it came down in good earnest, so greatly retarding my progress that, when night fell, 1 had made, as 1 afterward found, no more than twentyfour miles.

I had been steering by compass all day, bjjt just at dark came to a small stream, now swollen to a raging torrent, which I knew ran through the hamlet whither I was bound. Striking into a cart track on its bank, l followed this creek for a mile or two, "when 1 came to a log hut which I sup posed to be that of an outlying shepherd, as there was a faint light shining through the chinks of its windowless 'wall. Unceremoniously pushing open the door, I stepped into the single room, and next moment devoutly wished I hadn't For, at a roughly hewn table, playing some kind of a game with a pack of filthy cards, sat two villainous looking “old lags” (escaped convicts) of the regular Bill Sykes pattern. On the greasy board, lighted by a tallow candle, stuck in a bottle, lay an enormous, fiint-lock horse-pistol, a rusty dirk-knife and a heavy iron wood bludgeon; while before the smoldering tire was outstretched a huge brindled bulldog, furtively regarding me through half-closed eyes, and little less hideous in appearance than his two-legged companions. With the quickness of perception ,born of imminent danger, I saw all these details at a glance, and as the two convicts looked up at my entrance, ' 1 read murder in their bleary eyes as plainly as if written in handbill type. But it was too iate to retreat. My lack of caution had once again led me into a scrape, and 1 must get out of it as best 1 could. So far. I was master of the situation, for, at first glimpse of the men, I had -dropped the gun, loaded with heavy shot, into the hollow of my*ieft arm, where, with my right hand resting on the stock; thumb on the hammers and front finger on the triggers, it was ready for instant use, a fact duly noted by the desperadoes, who doubtless realized that a hostile move on their part would be their own death signal. Each of the ruffians had at his elbow a tin pannikin of steaming hot grog, -and now the scowl on their crimestained faces changed to what they intended for hospitable grins, as, feigning utter unconcern, I coolly said: “Good-evening, mates. Can you tell me how far it is to Coleraine?” “A bad fceven mile,” replied one of the fellows, “but thee’11 nev^t mak it the noight, i’ this storm. Better •bide wi’ us an’ gang on i’ the Jfi _

' 1 w W Hi iw F lf I TOOK UP THE TIN CUP. snornin’. We’ll gie thee a bite o’ sup'per, an’ here’s a swiper o’ drink to liven thee oop a bit.” '' And the dirty scamp shoved one of Vue pannikins toward me, while bis ^Mtl added: * “Aye, mate, we’ll gie thee a shakedown by t’ fire, an’ thee’H be all the ■chirker for a good sleep.” Well knowing that such a sleep, whether “good” or not, would be an -eternal one. and yet not wishing to

precipitate matters, I quietly set both hammers of my gun on full cock, transferred the weapon wholly to my right hand, holding it pistol-wise, and, stretching out my left, took up the tin cup and pretended to sip of its contents. But, over the vessel's edge, my eyes never far the fraction of a second ceased to meet those of iny ruffianly hosts, straight at whose bodies the gun was poi^i ted, and neither one dared to movi a hand toward his own weapon. Then, setting the pannikin dowa, 1 said: "Thanks, mates, but 1 must get to Coleraine before I sleep. Good night.” And I backed out of the open door, while the disappointed villains sought to hide their chagrin under a forced laugh. When well clear of the hut. I walked on as fast as my fearful fatigue and the muddy road would permit, feeling quite certain that I should be followed, or, perhaps, headed off, as the creek here described a great semicircle, and the bushrangers might know of some short cut. f The bank of the stream was covered by a dense growth of scrub, in which I might easily have hidden from the men, but 1 knew that the dog, doubtless well trained, would quickly ferret me out. Hence I staggered on, scarcely able, notwithstanding my peril, to keep awake. The rain had ceased now, and the clouds were rolling away, so that I could see surrounding objects with some degree of distinctness. I had got past the bend, perhaps four miles from the hut, when, directly in my path, and only a few rods ahead, 1 saw the two convicts and their dog standing motionless under a spreading acacia, evidently waiting for me to come along. They had taken a short cut, just as I had feared, of course expecting to catch me unawares. But I, tod, was in deep shade at the moment, and knew that none of the trio had yet seen me. Neither could the dog scent me, as what little breeze there was blew from him to me. Slipping noiselessly behind a great ironbark tree, I removed the caps from the nipples of my gun, quietly detached the barrels from the stdck. took hold of the muzzles, and thus had a convenient and deadly weapon, the double breeeh being quite heavy and admirably adapted to my purposed mode of defense.

The two scoundrels appeared to be half drunk; and, not hearing me coming, were indulging in a string of impatient, blood-curdling oaths, while the dog, I could see, was held by a piece of rope. For fully twenty minutes my propinquity was not suspected, and by this time the waiting highwaymen had, in their horrible jargon, over and over again consigned my heart, - liver and eyes to double-dyed, everlasting perdition, a proceeding which amused them, and didn’t hurt me. They’had even begun to debate as to the expediency of turning back to meet me, when, all of a sudden, the light wind shifted around and bore ray scent to the dog. The secret was out—the critical moment come. Instantly on catching the scent the savage Wute began to strain furiously on his leash, and whine with bloodthirsty eagerness as he dragged his keeper straight toward my hidingplace. Full well I knew, as the murderous pair came on, that in a few short seconds I might be lying prone beneath the pitiless stars, a stripped and mangled corpse, my fate, like that of so many other gold-seeking wandprors, forever unknown to the loved ones waiting and watching year after year in their far-away homes for tidings that never in this world would come. Yet, being at that time young, strong and active, and having, moreover, the advantage in position, I did not despair of coming off victorious in the impending struggle. Now, it is obvious that by simply keeping my gun intact, I could, placed as 1 was, have easily shot down both men and afterward brained the dog, with very little risk to myself. But, besides a natural repugnance to taking human life, slich a course would, I thought, expose me, a stranger, to very great inconvenience and even, perhaps, to grave suspicion, though had 1 known who the footpads really were 1 might have dismissed such fears. % On came man and dog, the first filthily cursing, as the less ignoble brute almost jerked him off his feet, and the latter raging like a maddened tiger as he vainly tried to hurry his not nearly so eager master, around whose left hand was twined the rope, while his right brandished the ugly club I had seen on the table in the hut. Meanwhile, the second villain slouched behind, apparently waiting for the first assailant to draw my fire, neither man, of course, having any idea that I had voluntarily deprived myself of the means of shooting for the present. Struggling and fuming, sometimes on all fours, sometimes erect on his hind feet, the dog at last thrust his head beyond the bole of my tree, and the next instant, by a single blow of my heavy weapon, was crushed like an eggshell, and the too-faithful creature dropped dead without so much as a moan. Perceiving now that I was not in a condition to fire, the man sprang forward and aimed a vicious stroke at my head, but, midway in its descent, I caught the bludgeon on the gun-bar-rels, and, almost in the same motion, brought the latter down upon the miscreant’s skull, felling him to the earth, senseless as a log. Thus far all had gone well, but my deadliest peril was yet to come, for now the remaining ruffian, finding that I could not shoot, rushed boldly up within ten feet and fired at me point blank. His great, clumsy pistol was, however, so badly overloaded, or so unskillfully aimed, that its bullet flew too high, merely plowing a slight furrow in my scalp—the scar of which remains to this day. Then, while I was half blinded by the flash and partially stunned hr the

glancing bullet, the ball-necked seoandrel, howling like a wild beast, suddenly closed with me. The moment his brawny arm encircled me I knew that in weight and brute strength he was far more than my match; but, thanks to my college training, 1 was a fairly skillful wrestler. Twisting and turning, heaving, thg* ging, straining with all the desperation of one whose life is at stake, I ma naged to foil the fiend's evident inteh'ion of fastening his huge yellow teeth in my cheek or chin; and by and by, when his face was distorted by demoniacal fary and the rabid froth from his lips spattered my clothing, I succeeded m gaining the hold 1 had so long straggled for, when I threw him with tremendous force over my shoulder and came down with both knees on his chest. * If now he had instantly whirled over, he might have thrown me off.Tbeing so muon the lighter; but he wastedone precious moment trying to draw the dirk-knife, which lay partly under him. Had he succeeded, this story would never have been written. Perceiving his deadly Intent, I also dropped my hand toward the dirk, when my groping fingers came in contact with the fallen pistol, and 1 knew that 1 was saved, j This ancient weapon, of the kind carried by British dragoons a hundred and more years ago, was fifteen inches long in the barrel, had a rude flint lock and an obtusely bent stock, termin ating in a butt piece capped by solid brass. Whatever may have been its shooting qualities, it was certainly admirably designed for battering pur? poses. Seizing it by the barrel, I twice brought down the butt upon my

HE FIRED AT ME POINT BLANK.

enemy’s forehead. No third blow was needed. The truculent savage straightened quiveringly out like a dying frog, and I rose from the fierce enoounter breathless, but, save from the previous bullet wound, quite uninjured. Then, with all possible haste, lest they might too quickly revive, I placed the two senseless wretches back to back, and, by the aid %of the dog’s rope, their belts and my own, bound the wrists and ankles of one to those of the ! other in such a way that release, ex- j cept through outside help, would be , impossible. Pretty thoroughly awake now, and i forgetting my fatigue, 1 put the gun J together again and recappe d it, picked > up the pistol, dirk and bludgeon and hurried on to Coleraine, arriving short- j l.v after midnight. Going straight to the principal inn (a mighty good old j English inn it was), I found some of its j people still up, and learned, to my great relief, that a squad of the horse police was at that moment quartered there. Ten minutes after my story was told and my trophies shown, the troopers were in their saddles and had started | toward the battleground, taking a spring cart along for conveyance of j the prisoners—the distance up the creek being less than two miles. Meantime I was made mueii of at the | inn; my trifling wound was carefully dressed, and after as good a bath as a ! big tub of rainwater could afford I J was set down to such a supper as I hud not seen in many a long day—or • night. About two o’clock the lieutenant i and his men returned with their cap* < tives, both of whom, now fully conscious, were securely ironed. But, ohl the torrent of blasphemous imprecation which rolled off their unfettered tongues on seeing me! The officer, however, had another j story to tell. Addressing me, he jovially said: “You’ve made a pretty fair night’s work of it, my man. These rascally dogs are the two last remaining members of the famous ‘Murton gang’ of cutthroats. We’ve been hunting them for months, and there’s an outstanding reward of one hundred pounds each for their capture, dead or alive!” In those early times, when the country was overrun by escaped convicts from Van Diemen’s Land (now Tasmania, and long since unused as a penal settlement), Australia^ law was sure and swift in its operations—as it had need to be—and in ten days after my luckily ending adventure the two bushrangers were hanged at Melbourne, nothing more than their identification being required at the time of trial, as the life of any escaped convict, committing fresh crimes, was in those days forfeited by law. The two hundred pounds reward was’ duly paid me, but I could not bear to keep what seemed like blood money; so, as a token of gratitude for my escape, I handed the whole sum over to the trustees of the Dublin hospital, then lately built Should I live a hundred years, I can never, while understanding remains, forget the gaze of malignant ferocity fixed upon me by those two unhappy wretches, as they stood in the prisoners’ dock and I in the‘“witness box. If looks, in which were concentrated the hates of demons and the venom of the archfiend himself, eould kill, I should have died then and there.—N. Y. srer. s ' ' * „ Hr

TALMAGE’S SERMON. A “Point Blank Question" Propounded by the Doctor. “Is Thine Heart Ulght?"—The Various Qualities Necessary to a Thoroughly “Right** Condition of the Human Heart. Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage in hjs sermon prepared for publication this, week, speaks directly to those who have not yet accepted the free offer of salvation. The subject: “A Point Blank Question,” is based on the test: Is thine heart right.— II Kings x.. 15. • With mettled horses at full speed, for he was celebrated for fast driving, Jehu, the warrior and king, returns from battle. But seeing Jehonadab, | an acquaintance, by the wayside, he j Shouts: “Whoa! whoa!” to the lath- j ?red span. Then leaning over to Jehonadab, Jehu salutes him in the words of the text—words not more appropriate for that hour and that place, than for this hour and"place: “Is thine heart right?” 1 should-like to hear of your physical health. Well myself, I like to have everybody else well; and so might ask, is your eyesight right, your hearing right, your nerves right, your lungs j right, your entire body' right? But I am busy to-day taking diagnosis ofj the more important spiritual conditions. I should like to hear of your financial welfare. I want everybody to have plenty of money, ample apparel, large storehouse, and j comfortable residence; and I might ask, is your business right, your income right, your worldly surroundings right? But what are these financial questions compared with the inquiry as to whether you have been able to pay your debts to God; as to whether you are insured for eternity; as to whether you are ruining youself by the long-credit system of the soul? I have known men to have no more than one loaf of bread at a time, and yet to own a government bond of Heaven worth more than the whole material universe. The question I ask you to-day is not in regard to your habits. I make no inquiry about your integrity, or your chastity, or your sobriety. I do not mean to stand on the outside of the gate and riug the bell; but coming up the steps, I open the door and come to the private apartment of the soul; and with the earnestness of a man that must give an account for this day’s work, I cry out: Oh, man. Oh, woman immortal, is thine heart right?

i wui nut insult you oy an argument to prove that we are by nature all wrong1. If there be a factory explosion, and the smokestack be upset and the wheels be broken in two, and tl\e engine unjointed, and the ponderous bars be twisted, and a man should look in and say nothing was the matter, you would pronounce him a fool. Well, it needs no acumen to discover that our nature is all atwist and askew and unjointed. The thing doesn’t work right. The biggest trouble we have in the world is with our souls. Men sometimes say that, though their lives may not be just right, their heart is all right. Impossible. A farmer never puts the poorest apples on top of the barrel: nor does the merchant place the meanest goods in his show - window. The best part of us is outward life. I do not stop to discuss whether we all fell in Adam, for we have been our owr Adam, and have all eaten of the forbidden fruit, and have been turned out of the paradise of holiness and peace; and though the flaming sword that stood at the gate to keep us out has changed position and comes behind to drive us in, we will not go. The Bible account of us 5s not exaggerated when it says that we are poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, and naked. Poor: the *fretch that stands shivering on our doorstep on a cold day is not so nmch in need, of bread as we are of spiritual help. Blind: why, the man whose eyes perished in the powder blast, and who for these ten years has gone feeling his way from street to street, is not in such utter darkness as we. Naked: why, there is not one rag of holiness left to hide the shame of our sin. Sick: why, the leprosy has eateh into the head, and the heart, and the hands, and the feet; and the marasmus of an everlasting wasting away has already seized on some of us. But the meanest thing for a man to do is to discourse about an evil without pointing *» way to have it remedied. I speak of the thirst of your hot tongue, only that I may show you the living stream that drops crystalline and sparkling from the Rock of Ages, and pours a river of gladness at your feet. If I show you the rents in your coat, it is only because the door of God’s wardrobe now swings open, and here is a robe, white with the fleece of the Lamb of God, and of a cut and make that an angel would not be ashamed to wear. If I snatch from you the black and moldy bread that you are munching, it is only to give you the bread <rtade out of the finest wheat that grows on the celestial hills, and baked- in the fires of the Cross; and one crumb of which would be enough to make all Heaven a banquet. Hear it, one and all, and tell it to your friends when you go home, that the Lord Jesus Christ can make the heart right. First we need a repenting heart. If for the last ten, twenty or forty years of life, we have been going on in the wrong way, it is time that we turned around and started in the opposite direction. If we offend our friends we are glad to apologize. God is our best friend and yet how many of us have never apologized for the wrongs we have done Him! There is nothing that we so much, need to get rid of as sin. It is a horrible, black monster. It polluted Eden. It killed Christ. It has blasted the world. Men keep dogs in kennels, and rabbits in a warren, and cattle in a pen. What a man that would be who would shut them up in his parlor? But

--- this foul dog of sin, and these herds of transgression, we hare entertained for many a long year in onr heart, which shonld be the cleanest, brightest room in all onr nature. Oat with the rile herd! Begone, ye be* foolers of an immortal nature! Turn out the beasts and let Christ come in! A heathen came to an early Christian, who had the reputation of curing diseases. The Christian said: “You must hare all your idols destroyed.” The heathen gave to the Christian the key to his house, that he might go in and destroy the idols. He battered to pieces ail he saw. but still the man did not get well. The Christian said to him: “There must be some idol in your house not yet destroyed.” The heathen confessed that there was one idol of beaten gold that he could not bear to give up. After Awhile, when that was destroyed, in answer to Jtlie prayer of the Christian, the sick man got welt Many a man has awakened in his dying hour to find his sins all about him. They clambered up on the right side of the bed; and on the left side, and over the headboardf and over the footboard, and horribly devoured the soul. Repent' the voice celestial cries. Nor longer dare delay: The wretch that scorns the mandate dies And meets a fiery day. Again, we need a believing heart A good many years ago a, weary one went up one of the hills of Asia Minor, and with two logs on His back cried i out to all the world, offering to carry ! their sins and sorrows. They pursued Him. They slapped Him in the face. They mocked Him. When He groaned they groaned. They shook their fists at Him. They spat on Him. They hounded Him as though He were a wild beast. His healing of the sick. His sight-giving to the blind. His mercy to the outcast, silenced not the revenge of the world. His prayers and benedictions were lost in that whirlwind of execration: “Away with Him! Away with Him;” Ah! it was not merely the two pieces of wood that He carried; it was the transgressions of the race, the anguish of the ages, the wratlTof God, the sorrows of hell, the stupendous interests of an unending eternity. No wonder His back bent. No wonder the blood started from every pore. No wonder that He crouched under a torture that made the sun faint, and the everlasting hills tremble, and the dead rush up in their winding sheets as He cried: “If it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” But the cup did not pass. None to comfort

rtgum, co nave a rigni neari it dium be a forgiving heart. An old writer says: “To return good for evil is Godlike; good for good is man-like; evil for good devil-like.” Which of these natures have we? Christ will have nothing to do with us as long as we keep any old grudge. We have all been cheated and lied about. There are people who dislike us so much that if we should come down to poverty and disgrace, they would say: “Good for him! Didn't I tell you so?” They do not understand us. Uusanctified human nature says: “Wait till jtou get a good crack at him, and when at last you find him in a tight place, .give it to him. Flay him alive. Noquarter. Leave not a rag of reputation. Jump on him with both feet. Pay him in his own coin—sarcasm for sarcasm, scorn for scorn, abuse for abuse.” Hut, m3’ friends, that is not the right kind of heart. No man ever did so mean a thing toward us as we have done toward God. And if we can not forgive others, how can we expect God to forgive us? Thousands of men have been kept out of Heaven by an unforgiving heart s. Here is some one who*says: “I will forgive that man the wronb he did me about that house and lot; I will forgive that man who overreached me in a bargain; I will forgive that man who sold me a shoddy overcoat; I forgive them—all but one. That man I can . not forgive. The villian, I can hardly kCep my hands off him. If my going to Heaven depends on my forgiving him, then I will stay out.” Wrong feeling. If a man lie to me once, I am not called to trust him again. If a man | betray’ me once I am not called to put confidence in him again. But I would have no rest if I could not offer a sincere prayer for the immortal and ever- j lasting welfare of altmen, whatever : meanness and outrage they have inflicted upon me. If you want to get your heart right, strike a match and burn up all your old grudges, and blow the ashes away. “If you forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Heavenly Father forgive you your trespasses.” a. Again, a right heart is an expectant heart. It is a poor business to be building castles in the air. Enjoy what you have now. Don’t spoil your comfort in the small house because you expect a larger one. Don’t fret about your income when it is three or four dollars per day because you expect to have, after awhile, ten dollars i per day; or ten thousand dollars a year; because ypu expect it to be twenty thousand dollars a year. But about heavenly things, the more we think the better. Those castles are not in the air. but on the hills, and we have a deed to them in our possession. 1 like to see a man all full of Heaven. He talks Heaven. He sings Heaven. He prays Heaven. He dreads Heaven. Some of us in our sleep have had the good place open to us. We saw the pinnacles in the sky. We heard the click of the hoofs of the white horses on which victors rode, and the clapping of the cymbals of eternal triumph. And, while in our sleep we were glad that I all our sorrows were over and burdens done with, the throne of God grew whiter and whiter and whiter, till we opened our eyes and saw that it was only the sun of earthly morning shining on our pillow. To have a right heart, you need tp be filled with this expectancy. It vyould make your privations and annoyances more bearable. In the midst ofclhft city of Paris stands a statue of tbPgood but bro-ken-hearted Josephine. I never imagined that marble could be smitten into such tenderness. It seems not life

less. If ike spirit of Josephine be dia> entabernacled. the sonl of the empress has taken possession of this figure. I am not yet satisfied that it is stone. The puff ot the dress on the arm seems to need bat the pressure of the finger to indent it. The figures at the bottom of the robe, the ruffle at the neck, the fur lining on the dress, the embroidery of the satin, the cluster of lily, and leaf, and rose in her hand, the poise of her body as she seems to come sailing - out of the sky, her faee calm, humble, beautiful, bat yet sad— attest the genius of the scull* tor and the beanty of the heroine he celebrates. Looking np through the rifts of the coronet that encircles her brow, I could see the sky beyond, the great heavens where all woman’s wrongs shall1 be righted, and the story of endurance and resignation shall be told to all ages. The rose and the lily in the ''hand of Josephine will never drop their petals.- Jtelieve not the recent slanders upon her memory. The children of God, whether they suffer on earth in palaces or hovels, shall come to that glorious rest Oh, Heaven, sweet Heaven! at thy • gate we set down all our burdens and griefs. The place will be full. Here there are vacant chairs at the hearth and at the tablerbut there are no vacant chairs in Heaven. The crowfis all worn; the thrones all mounted. Some talk of Heaven as though it were a very handsome church, where a few favored spirits would come in and sit dowrf on finelycushioned seats all by ^themselves, and sing psalms to all eU^ity. No, no. “I saw a great multitude that no man conld number standing before the throne. He that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the city, and it was twelve thousand furlongs”—that is, fifteen hundred miles—“in circumference.” Alii Heaven is not a little colony at one corner of God’s dominion, where a man’s entrance depends upon what kind of clothes he has on his back, and hour much money he has in his purse, but a vast empire. God grant that the light of that blessed world may shine upon us in our las* moment. -; The first time I crossed the Atlantia the roughest time we had was at the mouth of Liverpool harbor. We arrived at nightfall, and were obliged to lie there till the morning, waiting for the rising of the tide, before we could go up to the city. How the vessel pitched and writhed in the water! So, sometimes, the last illness of the Christian is a struggle. He is almost through the voyage. The waves of> temptation toss his soul, but he waits for the morning. At last, the light dawns, and the tides of joy rise in his soul, and he sails up and casts anchor within its veil.

4o > u < ii v« *« uaw can compare with tliis in importance? It is a business question. fJD^you not realize that you will sootirhave to go out of that store, that you will soon hare to resign that partnership, that soon among all the millions of dollars’ wdfth of goods that are sold you will not have the handling of a yard of doth, or a pound of sugar, or a pennyworth of anything; that soon, if a conflagration should start at Central park and sweep everything to the Battdrv, it would not disturb you; that soon, if every cashier should abscond, and every in* surance company should fail, it would not affect you? What are the questions that stop this side of the grave compared with the questions that reach beyond it? Are you making losses that are t0» „ be everlasting? Are you making purchases for eternity? Are you jobbing for time when you might b£ wholesaling for eternity? What question of the store is so broad at the base, and so altitudinous, and so overwhelming as the question: “Is thy heart right?” Or is it a domestic question? Is it something about father, or mother, or companion, or son, <or daughter, that you think is comparable with this question in importance? Do you not realize that by universal and inexorable law all these relations will be broken up? Your fathek^vill be gone, your mother will be P^pne, your companion will be gone, your child will be gone, you will be gone, and then this supernal question will begin to harvest its chief gains, or deplore its worst losses, roll up into its mightiest magnitude, or sweep its vast circles. What difference now does it make to Napoleon III. whether he triumphed or surrendered at Sedan? whether he lived at the Tuileries or at Chislehurst, whether he was emperor or exile? They laid him out in his coffin in the dress of a field marshal. Did that give him any better chance for the next world than if he had been laid out in a plain shroud? And soon to us what will be the difference, whether in this world we rode or walked, were bowed to or maltreated, were applauded or hissed at, were welcomed in or kicked out, while laying hold of- every moment of the great future, and burning in all the splendor or grief, and overarching and undergoing all time and all.eternity, is the plain, simple, pratical, thrilling, agonizing, overwhelming question: “Is thjg heart right?” Have you within you a repenting heart, an expectant heart? If not, I must write upon your soul what George Whitefield wrote upon the window-pane with his diamond ring. He tarried in an elegant bouse over night, but found that there was no Grod recognized in that house. Before he left his room in the morning, with his ring he wrote upon the window-pane. “One thing thou lackest.” After the guest was gone, the housewife came and looked at the window, and saw the inscription, and called her husband and her children; and God, through that ministry of the window-glass, brought them all Jesus. Though you may be surrounded by comforts and luxuries, and 'feel that "you have need of nothing. if you are not the children o1 God, with the signetring of Christ’s love let me inscribe upon your souls, “One thing thou lackest!” ' . ,