Pike County Democrat, Volume 26, Number 26, Petersburg, Pike County, 8 November 1895 — Page 3

JL MoO. BT00P6, Editor and Proprietor. PETERSBURG. - . • INDIANA. THE FLIGHT OF THE BIRDS. Since the din white light of the midnight moon Rose up st the call of the city's clocks. 1 hare bruised my feet on the stonv streets For mile utter mite of silent blocks: .And now when the first faint roso of daws Has touched the world with Its old delight. I stand on the bridge, o'er the, broad black stream. / That has moaned for mi soul the livelong • night. The moon grows pale In the dome above And ft'des and fades, like a wreath of snow On April banks, as a ghost that melts , In air when the cock begins to crow. And the troth is green on the sullen wave. And under the bridge a dead man goes. With sea weed clinched In his rigid hand. And pinned to his coat a wet. white rose. How the pitiless glare of dny reveals My threadbare coat with its shiny seams! Oh. where Is the gold I meant to win. And where the gravo of my rainbow dreams. The halls of pleasure, the praise of men. The warmth and the wine of woman’s lips? Twere best to follow the dead man's rose By the low. dark wharves and the rocking ships! ' 41 i Above my head la a whirr of wings And a wavering line in the blue-bright dome; Their pinions tipped with the morning's gold. The birds of the air are flying home * prom the alien fields that are touohed with frost To the troploal gardens, slumberous, sweeet Where the myrtle leans to the rose’s kiss, And the lilies swoon In the windless beak Oh. birds that fly In the mist of dawn Over the city, did you see , A farmhouse old in a purple vale. Where a fair little maiden praya for me? Would she take me clo»e to her warm, white breast If I knocked to-day at her ivied door. With my haggard face and my shabby coat. And the ghosts of the hopes that are no more? The birds drift over the azure rim Of the furthest horizon, one by one; But sweet the message, they brought to me. For I turned my face to the rising sun. Away from the lamps that mock tho day With their sickly glare, and the river's foam. To the autumn woods, and the little maid, And the gray-haired mother. I. too, go home! . —Mlnule Irving. In 1* Y. Independent. FOR HIS SISTER’S SAKE.

1 I. “Hush! Listen! Don’t you hear the ’breaking; of a twig?” As the words were whispered the -speaker spread out his arms to arrest the progress of his three companions. Under a stunted tree they crouched, listening for the faintest sound. They were poaching, Jim Hawel and -three others, thrown out of work by the closing of the pits, and poaching ■cm the most dangerous estate that they •could possibly have chosen for their •operations. For Ilopsley Grange belonged to Col. Traite, a sportsman extremely jealous of his preserves and notorious as the very sternest J. P., in the county. But times were bad and for food for themselves and theirs men will', dare -anything. “You’re mistaken, Jim. There’s nobody about. It’s only a fox or something stirring in the underwood.” The three men moved out into the epen again, and Jim followed them uneasily. Truth to tell, he didn’t half like the job, although it had conjured a rabbit into each of his capacious side pockets. It was his first experience in poaching, and horribly nervous he felt ever ■since he set out on the expedition. “Jim, you’ll never take to this night work like the others, will you?” his mister Bess had pleaded. “True, we art' hard up for food; but though you say I’m weak ami ill, I cau share with you -till the pits open again. It can’t be long, and we’d better starve than get j’ou sent to prison.” Of course Jim had promised that he would do nothing of the sort. But when he remembered his sister’s pale face and noticed how, day by day, her ■cheeks got thinner, the sight of the rabbits and pheasants that played, even in the country roads about which he -and his mates wandered all day long to while away the wear}’ hours, was too much Jfor him; and that night, after Bess had gone to bed, Jim stole noiselessly from the cottage and joined the •others at the gate of Hopsley Coppice. And now the others, well satisfied with their night’s work, were stealthily making their way back again. A bright moon floated in a clear sky above, but in the woods a silvery mist arose amid the dark shadows of the •trees and shrubs, rendering all objects hazy and indistinct. . ‘ Crossing a broad patch of light, Jim .Hawel, still haunted by this strange junrest, glanced back at the woods behind; and as he did so his heart gave a thump as some half a dozen figures throwing black shadows on the moonlit ground dashed from the cover of

•the bushes. “Loof^ out, mates! The keepers!” The others gave one look round, then "broke into a run. On the hard ground the footfalls of their pursuers sounded plainly in the ears of the startled poachers. Then came a voice: “Stop or we’ll •fire! ” And as the four still tore blindly on the report of a gun sounded out, •echoing in the woods around, and, with a cry of pain, the rearmost man •dropped to the ground with a charge of small shot lodged in his legs. ^ Ilow it happened Jim could hardly say, but a second after he and the ■dthers were fighting hand to hand with the keepers, exchanging murderous blows with fist, stick and gun. They were but three and a wounded man to aix, and in a few minutes the fight was over. A blow on thsP head stretched Jim Hawel senseless on the ground, his mates were speedily overcome, and, .adtiition&l aid having been summoned, the captives were taken away through the wood* and lodged in the stortq lockun.

n. “And you, James Hawel; want have you to say for yourself?" Jim Hawel, standing before the mag* Istrate with his three fellows, didn't know what to say. The other judges, taking into consideration the fact that the men were out of work and that great distress prevailed in the district, were evidently inclined to adopt a somewhat lenient view of the case, especially as the men swore ,hat the keepers fired upon them before being in any way threatened; but Col. Traite, displaying his usual ieverity, and easily swaying his less strong-minded colleagues, promptly frowned upon the slightest suggestion that any mercy should be shown to the delinquents. “James Hawel, have you anything to say?" he asked, sternly. .Tim shuffled his feet, trying to find words for the thoughts that come readily enough to his slow brain. The eyes of all present were upon him; but he saw only the face of his sister, who, lying ill in the little cottage, he knew was waiting with feverish eagerness for the result of the trial. ‘Td like to say a lot, colonel, your honor,” stammered Jim, “but I ain’t no good at talking. I was there right enough on your land and the rabbits was yours. But, colonel, p’r’aps you’ve never been starving and seen food running about wild, and yet you mustn’t i touch it. ’Twasn’t for myself I stole it. I’m a man. and short commons for a hit don’t frighten me; but”—and here his voice faltered—“I’ve got a sister at home, and dry bread and a little of It don’t lengthen the lives of folks as is | HI.”

“Hunger does not justify theft,” retorted Col. Traite, harshly. “And what about the brutal attack on nay keepers? I shall pass upon all of you the severest sentence it is in my power to inflict.” C\ol. Traite looked round at the other magistrates, and no one ventured to oppose him; but, as the men were being led away, Jim Hawel stepped back and in desperation played his last cord. “Colonel,” said he, “may I soy another word? “Your honor, my sister is very ill. When she hears of this the shock may kill her. You yourself have a daughter about her age. Think—” “Take him away,” said the colonel, coldly. Then, as they hustled from the court, Jim Hawel, his face white and set, turned his head again, and through the hall the fierce words rang out: “I’m going. Col. Traill; but so sure as 1 live to get my liberty again, I’ll be even with you!” And for that speech he got an extra week. hi. Jim Hawel liveji to regain his liberty, and, when again he was free, a dark hatred rankled in his heart. Sister Bess had a bad time of it; but buoyed up by the hope of seeing Jim again she struggled bravely with her illness, and, though she had to give up .the cottage, managed to live on somehow through the charity of her lowly neighbors till the happy .day came when Jim was “out.” The pits were working again, and Jim easily found work, and to Bess the trouble seemed to be over. The doctor, too, said that with plenty of nourishment she might possibly in time get quite well again. Had she known the desperate scheme that ^had been hatched in the brains of her brother and his three companions, her recovery would have been even slower. lor, brooding over their wrongs, these four men, their hatred of Col. Traite burning in their hearts, had vowed upon revenge. And the man who had been shot had suggested a means of which all approved. Hopslev Grange was to be set on fire. “The house is an old one,” said he, gleefully. “Once fairly started nothing can stop the flames. I’ve done odd jobs about the place, and there is a stable chock full of hay and strawclose to the new- wing that will, when the Wind blows from the west, burn the house to the ground with the striking of a single match.” For a week or bo the conspirators made no move, but when they could do so with safety one or another of them was continually spying around the Grange, observing the surroundings of the house, so that in the darkness no mistake might be made. Then one evening, as the crowd of men came trudging home from the pit, four of them exchanged meaning glances, for a strong wind was blowing and the weathercock on the roof of the town hall showed that it came from the west. At nine o’clock, under a tree in a lonely lane, the same four met, and a surprise was in store for three of them. “Mates,” said Jim Hawel, hoarsely, “you know I’m no coward. The white feather ain’t much in my line, but, I tell

you, I can’t do this job.” “What?” they gasped, in chorus. “I can’t do it,” repeated Jim. “I’ll tell you why. You know my sister Bess? I’ve got but her in the world to care for, and if I come to grief it’ll finish her. The poaching business she’s only just managing to get over, and I tell you, for. her sake, I can’t risk this. Alone I’d fire the colonel’s place and tell him as it was me did it, but with her alive it ain’t no good. B’lieve me or b’lieve me not, the hate of Col. Traite sticks as deep in me as ever it did, and,as I swore, I’ll be even with him yet, but just now my hand ain’t free and I must wait.” The three men, muttering to themselves, stared at him. The man who had been shot shook angrily a pint tin of paraffin that he carried and rattled a box of matches. “A nice bit o’ backing out this is, Jim Hawel,” growled he. “P’h’aps it is,” said Jim. “But my mind’s made up. If anything like this happens I’ll be the first to suffer after having threatened him, and I don't want no revenge that ^falls hard on Bess. And there’s another thing,” he continued, bravely. “The colonel’s

daughter is there. Her bedroom ie right on top of the building. P’h’apa she’!) be killed in the fire. Won’t you give up the whole business and wait till we can go for the colonel alone, with no chance of damaging otter people?” The man who had been injured turned on his heel. “Come along, mates,” said he, “tain*t no good jawing.with him. We three w’il a range a little do on our own account for another night. And you, Jim Hawel, you go back and ait by the fire, along o’ Bess.” rr. The bell in the steeple of the church had just struck eleven,when,in the darkness of night, a flickering, uncertain light sprang up on a hill a mile outside the town. Soon after the electric bell in the fire station, connected by wire with Col. Traite’s house, rang out the alarm, and a few seconds afterward the little town was exchanged for a noisy hubbub, as the shout went around: “Hopsley Grange is on fire!” For, undetected by dog or mam, the three plotters had entered the grounds.gai ned the stable, carefully removed a shutter and silently poured the oil they carried over the straw that was packed within up to the very windows. The man who carried the marches struck a whole handful on the box and hurled them upon the saturated straw. Instantly a blaze sprung to the roof, and by the time the three hadf gained the road outside the grounds the stable was alight from end to end. Col. Traite, in bed and asleep when the lire reached the house, had been almost suffocated before he was discovered and, being carried out in an unconscious condition, was just now re

vjvingv The Are escapes, slower than the engine, had not arrived when, turning to the crowd of frightened, half-clothed servants, the chief of the firemen asked: “Are you all here? Is anyone left in | the building?” Col. Traite, returning to his senses, heard the words. “My daughter!” he gasped. “Is she out?” At that moment a window high above the flames was thrown violently open and, with a scream for help, a whiterobed figure leaned far out, its arms extended toward the crowd below. “Amyl” screamed the father as he saw her, running toward the window as if to catch her if she fell. “Don’t jump!” shouted the fireman above the roaring of the flames. **Do you see the escape ooming yet?" he asked. Far down the road, at the bottom of j the hall, that was illuminated by the light of the fire, the tall red ladder was to be observed approaching slowly. The firemen glanced up at the window, where stood the figure of the girl, behind which a dull, murky light had now began to glow. “It will be too late,” said he. “And by the staircase it is impossible to reach her.” Then Col. Traite turned in his despair to the crowd behind him, and in a loud voice he cried: “A hundred pounds to the—” He stopped suddenly. Some one had seized his arm. “Look!” they cried. And a tremendous shout burst from the excited crowd, as at that topmost window the figure of a man appeared, find a blanket was thrown around the form of the girl whose doom seemed sealed. A moment this man looked down, as if meditating what to do, and then, catching the girl in his arms, he disappeared.

“It’s Jimmy Hawell exclaimed some one. Into the hall of the burning building the firemen crowded; mounting the stairs as far as the conflagration would allow. There was a crash, a burst of flames and smoke, and a whole flight above collapsed, hurling Jim llawel and his burden into the bottom landing; Her hair singed, the blanket that enfolded her already smoldering, Amy Traite scrambled readily to her feet, but her rescuer did not rise. Quickly they carried him out to the fresh air and tore off his burning clothing. Into a wagonette that was handy he was trundled. Col. Traite seized the reins, and, with Amy, wrapped in many coats, sitting beside him, raced back to the town. Into a bedroom in the best hotel Jim was carried, and medical aid immediately summoned. Sister Bess was also fetched to tend her hero brother. N^xt morning the patient was so far recovered as to be able, while lying in bed, to hold an informal receptkm, and, wheeled to the window, to bow his head in response to the cheering of the people assembled outside. And when all the others had gone and only Bess remained, a gray-haired man entered the room, and threw himself on his knees by the bedside. And as. he pressed to hislipsthehandof the injured man, he gasped, in his emotion; t “Jim Hawel, you have kept your word. You are even with me now!*— Tit-Bits. An Old Gambler*! Advice. George Parker, an old gambler who died the other day in Washington, once gave some good advice to a young man who was drinking and gambling in his establishment. Said he: “I knew your father and your grandfather, boy. They were cool-headed men, who never would have turned a hair if they knew lightning was going to strike them. They were good drinkers, because they never took a drop until dinner, and, never kept it up after one o’clock. They were good gamblers, because they never tried to buck against bad luck. You are like neither of them. Take an old gambler’s advice; stop playing and stop drinking, for as sure as you sit «n that chair you’ll be a thief if you stick to cards, and^a bum if you stfek to liquor.”—N. 0. Picayuna.

TALMAGfi’S SERMON. The Preacher’s Second Epistle to the Washingtonians, Words of Kocowmfonwat to th* Hambtor Toller* la Ut«*s Vineyard—Tb* Croat Anar of tko Weak, Worn and Unappreciated. a Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage’s second sermon to his new congregation at the national capital was on the subject; “The Disabled,” being based on the text: As Mis part is that goeth down to the battle, to shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.— t Samuel,xxx.. St If you have never seen an army change quarters, you have no idea of the amount of baggage-twenty loads, filly loads, a hundred loads of bag* gage. David and his army were about to start on a double-quick march for the recovery of their captured families from the Amalekites. So they left by the Brook Besor their blankets, their knapsacks, their baggage, and their carriages. Who shall be detailed to watch this stuff? There are sick soldiers, and wounded soldiers, and aged soldiers who are not able to go on swift military expedition, but who are able to do some work, and so they are detailed to watch the baggage. There is many a soldier who is not strong enough to march thirty miles in a day and then plunge into a ten hours* fight, who is able with drawn sword lif ed against his shoulder to pace up and down as a sentinel to keep off an enemy who might put the torch to the bajfgajre* There are two hundred of those crippled and aged and wounded soldiers detailed to watch the baggage. Some of them. I suppose, had bandages across the brow, and some of them had their arm in a sling, and some of them walked on crutches. They were not cowards-shirking duty. They had fought in many a fierce battle for their country and their God. They are now part of the time in hospital, and part of the time on garrison duty. They almost cry because they can not go with the other troops to the front. While these sentinels watch the baggage, the Lord watches the sentinels.

There is quite a different scene being enacted in the* distance. The Amalekites, having1 ravaged and ransacked and robbed whole countries, are celebrating their success in a roaring carousal. Some of them are dancing on the lawn with wonderful gyration of heel and toe, and some of them are examining the spoils of victory —the linger rings and earrings, the necklaces, the wristlets, the head-bands, diamond starred, and the coffers with coronets, and carnelians, and pearls, and sapphires, and emeralds, and all the wealth of plate, and jewels, and decanters, and the silver and the gold banked up on the earth in pribcely profusion, and the embroideries, and the robes, and the turbans, and the cloaks of an imperial wardrobe. The banquet has gone on until the banqueters are maudlin and weak and stupid and iudeoeni and loathsomely drunk. 'Vhat a time it is now for David and his men to swoop on them So the English los»t the battle of Bannockburn, because the night before they were in wassail aud bibulous celebration; while the Scotch were in prayer. So the Syrians were overthrown in their carousal by the Israelites. So Chedorloamer and liis army were overthrown by Abraham and his men. So, in our civil war, more than once the battle was lost because one of the generals was drunk. Now is the time for David and his men to swoop upon these carousing Apialekites. Some of the Amalekites are hacked to pieces oh the spot, some of them arejust able togo staggering and hiccoughing off the field, some of them crawl on camels and speed off in the distance. David and his men gather together the wardrobes, the jewels, and put them upon the back of camels, and into wagons, and they gather together the sheep and cattle that had been stolen and start back toward the garrison. Yonder they come, yonder they come. The limping men of the garrison come out to greet them with wild huzza. The Bible says David saluted them. That is, he asked them how they all were. “How is youu broken arm?” “How is your fractured jaw?” “Has the stiffened limb been unlimbered?” “Have you had another chill?” “Are you getting better?” He saluted them. But now came a very difficult thing, the distribution of the spoils of victory. Drive up those laden camels now. Who shall have the spoils? Well, some selfish soul suggests that these treasures ought all to belong to those who had been out in active service. “We did all the fighting

while these men stayed at Home m the garrison, and we ought to have all the treasures." But David looked into the worn faces of these veterans who had stayed in the garrison, and he looked around and saw how cleanly everything had been kept, and he saw that the baggage was all safe, and he knew that these wounded and crippled men would gladly enough have been at the front if they had been able, and the little General looks up from under his helmet and says: “No, no; let us have fair play;” and he rushes up to one cf these men and he says: “Hold your hands together," and the hands are held together, and he fills them with silver. And he rushes up to another man who was sitting away back and had no idea of getting any of the spoils, and throws a Babylonish garment over him and fills his hand? with gold. And he rushes up to another man who had lost all his property in serving God and his country years before, and he drives up some of the cattle and some of the sheep that they had brought back from the Amalekites, ana he gives two or three of the cattle and three or four of the sheep to this poor man, so he shall always be fed and dothed. He sees a m«.n go emaciated and worn out and

sick he needs stimulants, and he gives him a little of the wine that he brought from the Amalekites. Yonder is a man who has no appetite for the rough rations of the army, and he gives him a rare morsel from the Amalekitish banquet, and the two hundred crippled and maimed and aged soldiers who tarried on garrison duty get just as much of the spoils of battle as any of the two hundred men that went to the front “As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff* The impression abroad that the Christian rewards are for those who do conspicuous service in distinguished places—great patriots, great preachers, great philanthropists. But my text sets forth the idea that there is just as much regard for a man that stays at home and minds his own business, and who, crippled and unable to go forth and lead in great movements and in the high places of the earth, does his whole duty just where he is. Garrison duty is as important and as remunerative as service at the front “As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.” The earl of Kintore said to me in an English railway carriage: “Mr. Talmage. when you get back to America I want you to preach a sermon on the discharge of ordinary duty in ordinary places, and then send me a copy of it” Afterward an English clergyman coming to this land brought from the earl of Kintore the same message! Alas! that before I got ready to do< what be asked me to do, the good earl of Kintore had departed this life. But that man, surrounded by all palatial surroundings, and in a distinguished sphere, felt sympathetic with those who had ordinary duties to perform in ordinary places and in ordinary ways. A great many people are discouraged when they hear the story of Moses,and of Joshua, ami of David, and of Luther, and of John Knox, and of Deborah, and of Florence Nightingale. They say: “Oh, that was all good and right for them, but 1 shall never be called to receive the law on Mount Sinai. I shall never be called to command the sun and the moon to stand still, I shall never be called to slay a giant. I shall never preach on Mars’ hill, I shall never defy the diet of Worms, I shall never be called to make

a queen tremble tor her crimes, i shall never preside over a hospital.” There are women who say: “If I had as brilliant a sphere as those people had I should be as brave and as grand; but my business is to get children off to school, and hunt up things when they are lost, and to see that dinner is ready, “and to keep account of the household expenses, and to hinder the children from being strangulated by the whooping cough, and go through all the annoyances and vexations of housekeeping. Oh, my sphere is so infinitesimal, and* so insignificant, I am clear discouraged.” Woman, God places you on garrison duty, and your reward will be just as great as that of Florence Nightingale, who, moving so often night by night with a light in her hand through the hospitals, was called by the wounded the “lady of the lamp.” Your reward will be just as great as that of Mrs. Hertzog, who built and endowed theological seminary buildings. Your reward will be just as great as that of Hannah More, who by her excellent books won for her admirers Garrick and Edmund llurke and Joshua Reynolds. Rewards are not to be given according to the amount of noise you make in the world, nor even according to the amount of good you do, but according to whether you work to your full .capacity, according to whether or not you do your full duty in the sphere where God has’ placed you. Once for thirty-six hours we expected every moment to go to the bottom of the ocean. The wave§ struck through the skylights, and they rushed down into the hold of the ship and hissed against the boilers. It was an awful time; but by the blessing of God and the faithfulness of the men in charge, we came out of the cyclone and we arrived at home. Each one before leaving the ship thanked Capt Andrews. I do not think there was a man or woman that went off that ship without thanking Capt. Andrews, and when, years after, I heard of his death, I was compelled to write a letter of condolence to his family in Liverpool. Everybody recognized the goodness, the courage, the kindness of Capt Andrews; but it occurs to me now that we never thanked the engineer. He stood away down in the darkness, amid the hissing furnaces, doing his whole duty. Nobody thanked the engineer, but God recognized his heroism and his continuance and his fidelity, and there will be just as high reward for the engineer who worked out of sight as the captain who stood on the bridge of the ship in the midst of the howling tempest “As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.”

Clear baolc in the oountry there is a boy who wants to go to oollege and pet au education. They eall him, a bookworm. Wherever they find him— in the barn or in the house—he is reading: a book. “What a pity it is,” they say, “that Ed can not. pet an education.” His father, work as hard as he will, can no more than support the family by the product of the farm. One night Ed has retired to his room and there is a family conference about him. The sisters says: “Father, I wish you would send Ed to college; if you will, we will work harder than we ever did, and we will make our old dresses ila” The mother says: “Yes, 1 will get along without any hired help.” The fatner says: "Well, I think by husking corn nights I can get along without any assistance.” Sugar is banished from the table, butter is banished from the plate. That family is put down on rigid, yea, suffering economy, that the boy may go to college. Time passes on. Commencement day has come. Think | not that 1 mention an imaginary case.

-----—•— -~- God knows it happened. Commence* men! day has mine, and the professors walk iu on the stage in their long gowns. The interest of the occasion in passing on. and after awhile Ut comes to a climax of interest at the valedictorian is to be Introduced. Ed has studied so hard and worked so well that he has had the honor'conferred upon him. There are round* of applause, sometimes breaking into vociferation. It is a great day for Ed. But away hack hi the galleries are his sisters in their plain hats and their faded shawls and their old-fash ioaed father and mother —dear me, she has not had a new coat for six years—and they get up and look over on the platform, and they, laugh and they cry, and they sit down* and they look pale, and then they are very much flushed. Ed gets the gap* lands, and the old-fashioned group in the gallery have their full share of the triumph. They have made that scene possible, and In the day when God shall more fully reward self-sacrlflceo made for others. He will give grand and glorious recognition. “As Hla part is that gocth down to the battle, so shall His part be that tarrieth by the stuff.” Fret-not, ye aged ones. Just tarry by the stuff and wait for your share of the spoils Yonder they are coming. I hear the bleating of the fat lambs and I sec the jewels glint In the sun. It makes me laugh to think how yon will be surprised when they throw a chain of gold over your neck, and tell you to go In and dine with the King. 1 see yon backing out because you feel unworthy. The shining ones come up on the one side, and the shiriing ones come up on the other side, apd they push you on, and they push you up, and -they say: is an old soldier of Jesus Christ,” and the shining ones will rush out toward you and say: “Yes, that man saved my soul;* or they will rush out and say: \*01j, yes, she was with me in the last sickness.” And then the cry will go round thecircle: “Come in, come in, come in, come; we saw you away down there, old and sick and decrepit and dia

couraged because you could not go to the front, but ‘as his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.” There is high consolation, also, in this for aged ministers. 1 see some of them here to-day. They sit in the pews of our churches. They used to stand in pulpits. Their hair is white with the blossoms of the tree of life. Their names, marked on the roll of the general assembly, or the consociation, “Emeritus.” They sometimes hear a tex announced which brings to mind a sermon they preached fifty years ago on the same subject. They preached more Gospel on four hundred dollars u year than some of their successors preach on four thousand dollars. Some Sunday the old minister is in a church, ? and near by in another pew there is a husband and a wife and a row of children. And after the benediction, the lady comes up and says: “Doctor, you don’t know me, do you?” “Well,” he says, “your face is familiar, but I can not call you by name.” “Why,” she says, “you baptised ’me and you married me and you buried my father and mother and sisters.” “Oh, yes,” he says, “my eyesight isn’t as good as it used to be." They are in all our churches—the heroes of 1820. thq heroes of 1832, the heroes of 1857. By the long grave trench that out through half a century, they have stood sounding the resurrection. They have been in more Balaklavas and have taken more Sebastopols than you ever heard of. Sometimes they get a little fretful because they can not be at the front. They hear the sound of the battle and the old war horse champs his bit. But the sixty thousand ministers of religion, this day standing in the brunt of the fray, shall have no more reward than those retired veterans. “My father, my father, the chariots of Israel and the horsemen thereof.” “As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.” Cheer up, men and women of unappreciated services. You will get your reward, if not here, hereafter. When Charles Wesley comes up to judgment, and the thousands of souls which were wafted into glory through his songs shall be enumerated, we will take his throne. Then John Wesley will come

up to judgment, and after ms name has been mentioned in connection with the salvation of the_ pillions of souls brought to God tbrough the Methodism which he founded, he T7 Yrill take his throne. But between the two thrones of Charles Wesley and John Wesley, there will be a throne higher than either, on which shall sit Susanna Wesley, who with maternal consecration in Epworth rectory, Lincolnshire, started those two souls on their triumphant mission of sermon and song through all following ages. Oh, what a day that will be for many who rocked Christian cradles with weary foot, and who patched worn-out garments and darned socks, and out of a small income made the children comfortable for the winter. What a day that will be for those to whom the world gave the cold shoulder, and called them nobodies, and begrudged them the least recognition, and who, weary and worn and sick, fainted by the BsookJBesor. Oh, that will be a mighty day when the son of David shall distribute among them the garlands, the crowns, the scepters, the chariots, the thrones. And then it shall be found out that all who on earth served God iii inconspicuous spheres, receive just as much reward as those who filled the earth with uproar of achievement. Then they shall understand the height, the depth, the length, .the breadth, the pillared and domed magnificence of my text: “As his part is that goeth down to the battle, so shall his part be that tarrieth by the stuff.'* —Bamboo pens have been used in India for over one thousand years. They are made like the ordinary quill pen, and for a few hours’ writing are sail to be very serviceable.