Pike County Democrat, Volume 28, Number 31, Petersburg, Pike County, 10 December 1897 — Page 3

m»f 3Pikr County £|rmof rat "M. UoC. 8TOOP8, editor and Proprietor. *»ETERSBUttG. • * INDIANA. Wi'tWi'iVWiViV«m *miMiVrm*MMMMfc OLEANDER.s BY SOPHIE SWETT.

WHEN Marth* Abby Stark went out of the Haycock Hill school for the last time she shut the door behind 'her with a bang. (Marth’ Abby swept and dusted the rooms for a small stipend, and she was always the last one to leave. She was to do the same at the high school, the work being given to the poorest girl.) “Now they see what we can do. Moms and 1," she said to herself. For Moses mraa to go to the high school, too. He eras Marth’ Abby’s twin brother, but <he£ said Haycock I i .. :: at if Mom-* ever got anywhere it would be by Marth* Abby’s pushin’ ami steerin’. No one on the hill believed that Moses was “smart"—no one but Marth* Abby, .Marth’ Abby was the best scholar in ihe Haycock Hill school, especially in mathematics. She had made up an arithmetical puzzle which had been published in the Foppleton Times, and Ilnycock Hill was proud of Marth’ Abby Stark; that is, as proud as it.could be of anyone or anything. In truth, they were discouraged people up there on the hill: the Center called them shift-' Jess. They were farmers and the soil was poor; their courage seemed to give out before the rucks did. Marth’ Abby said it was easy to put •on airs when you never had to tussle with rocks. These were her I’ncle Alonzo’s folks at the Center. Uncle Alonzo was the richest man in Poppleton, and his son Leandcr went by Moses and her with hi# bead in the air. And it was ©nit because Grandfather Stark had seen fit to leave his land at the Center to Uncle Alonzo, and only the sterile farm ojv Haycock Hill to Llewellyn, Mar»h’ Abbv’s father.

‘•Now they’ll see what Haycock Hillers ran do.” said Marth’ Abby, with a MVfllir? heart, when she g»,i>.1 the ■very highest per rent, of correct at:ewers of anyone at the examination for ttdtnission to the high sehoul. Moses did better than anyone expected that he Would. Sarah Begg*. one of Marth’ A bin 's f: ’••• h. i tie e?C;.n; . url, papers of the year In fore, and Marth’ «Abby had drilled and coached Moses ■ upon them, thinking this year's paper* might l>e similar- as then were. There were six younger ones than the twins • lit the ’ poverty-stricken; '‘shiftless” house on lla\eock Hill, in d Marth’Abb) knew that she must “keep school” out in the back settlement, an even poorer place than Haycock Hill, just as toon as she c uld; but she longed to. have M ises "have, a chance to be somebody." That meant to Marth* Aid y’s mind, to go to college. It worried Martin Abb) almost as much as the poverty aril the “shiftlessncss" that Moses showed t > ambition in that direction. In fact, Moses showed no particular ambition in any direction; he would "tussle with rocks’’ and dig potatoes, day after day, without ev«r owning that his back ached, and he liked to go it to the woods In the winter w lib the men w ho cut logs, ■ and he always knew what was r* it gon at his uncle's lumber mills, where Marth* Ablw never liked n have him «f*». People said that they were the queerest pair of {w ins Marthy Ably as thin as a rail, snapping-eyrd and eager; and Moses stocky anti stolid anti slew. It was generally thought that "it was a pity Marth) Abby hadn’t been a boy." In her heart Marth’ Abby wished that Mosc-s Were .he laaoder, Uncle Alonso’s son. at least in being fond of backs. The finest scholar os the I*, ppleton high school was l.< a; tier Stark (He wis*. the one who "belt 1.1s '.end in the air" whet. Mart!'.’ Aid*) and Nb - s |M».s-etl him in the street.) She didn’t ■wish Mi's#s to be "a sissy," as Haycock Hill scornfully called 'beamier, with an eyeglass. ami perfumery on his handkerchief, and a flower in his buttonhole; but to be the first in his class and go to college, fs beamier w as going, to write Latin verses which the minister praised while he was only in his eeeond year in the high school— if Most* were like that, Marth* Abby said to herself that she wouldn’t mind if she never had any good times. Moreover, she wanted Moses to get ebove beamier; she wanted to see the time when she and Moses could go bystander with their heads in the air. 3 am sorry to tell this; 1 fear it will be "difficult to make you admire my heroine—for Marth* Abby ia my heroine, now that you know it; but please remember that she had always been shut out of good times, that she jwirtirularly disliked to be looked down upon (like «o many of us!). and that she had heard. «s long as she could remember, that all her father’s poverty was due to Uncle Alonzo. 1 may as well tell all the worst of Marth’ Abby at once, and have it over with! She was almost glad that Leander was delicate, so he could not study all the time as he wished to do; snd she was downright glad that be had bright red hair, which caused mischievous urchins to shout "House •-fire!” after him; and Tilly Dobbins (who didn't like a "sissy”) to nickname him "Oleander.’’ The first morning when they went to the high school Leander stood on the Steps and stared at them through his eyeglasses. The color flashed into Marth’ Abby’s dark, bony little face. 6he had picked berries and bought herself a new bright plaid dress, and she had crimped her hair for the first time, wearing it braided in tight little tails \J)hat made her head ache for three daya; fh&d aha bad brushed and darned and

patched Motes, and put a stiffly starched collar Upon him, which he declared was sawing his ears off; and then to be stared at like that, as if they were only Haycock Hillers—as if they were the dirt under his feet! “Oleander!” said Marth’ Abby, in a simall, mimicking voiqe. Then it was Leandens turn to color wvathfully, but he moved quietly away. “You had no businessvto say that, you know," said Moses. ' “He didn’t sarce you, and he isn’t a fallow w ho can tight.” >

"He looked sarcy, and ne s got to flna out that we’re as good as he is!” maintained Marth* Abby, stoutly. Hut in her heart she wished that she had only switched by him with a toss of her head; she thought that would have been more dignified. She wished she hadn’t such a quick temper to interfere with her dignity; she feared that the air of Haycock Hill developed tempers, but it seems sometimes as if the air were favorable to them everywhere; there needs to be a good crop of common sense and conscience to keep them down, in other places as well as Haycock Hill. Things went pretty well with Marth' Abby and Moses in tin high school. At first there were some girls and beys — I regret to say especially girls—who didn’t think much of Haycock Hillers, who took care of the schoolrooms and wore very queer clothes; but scholarships counted in the long run. and it began to be discovered that the snap-ping-eyed girl with the sharp tongue and the sharp elbows, always in the rainbow plaid dress, could help one to crack a hard mathematical nut or post one in historical dates in the most convenient and obliging way.- Then the atmosphere grew more genial, and it was pleasant to see Marth’ Abby’s sharp face grow rounder and her snapping eyes softer. Hut she never looked softly upon her cousin Leander, and he, for his part. m ow led sharply w henever she came

t •TVE SPOILED YOI R PROBLEMS." rear. As fi r Moses,, lie dug at Latin roots iu silent persistence as he had dug at potatoes, and he did so well at mathematics that the master was astonished, not Knowing that Marth’ Abby kept him out of his bed at night to drill him, and had covered the barn door and their own skating pond with geometrical figures to elucidate problems, until pot r Moses had a dizzy feeling that life was all geometry, and the boy who could not grapple w ith it was lost. In the middle ol the school year Marth" Abby was promoted to the first class in mathematics with the boys and giris who had been three years iu the school, and Must s w as promoted to the second class. The latter promotion seemed the greater triumph to Marth’ Abby indeed, she had worked for it far harder than for her own; while poor Moses, in spite of an occasional holiday in the logging camp in the woods, and the recreation Of stealing' down to the .mills sometimes, just to see how things were going, had grown >.> thin tliat his jackets hung upou him almost as his father's coat hung upon .1: •• scarecrow in the eoruia id. Whether it was because people talked ab nit these promotions or not 1 cani‘.. t say, but about, this tjme old Col. Arad Meeker offered a prize to whomever, in the second class in mathematics, should solve most of a set of geometrical problems w hich he had prepared. The colonel had been professor of mathematics in a military school; to solve 1 all those problems was well worth a prize. Marth’ \bby was determined that Moses should win that prize, even before I'ucle A bed ne go, their mother’s brother, came up from the Port and promised to send him to college if he did. After that—well, only one who knew Marth’ Abby could imagine how she felt. L'ncle A bed ue go was a bachelor and well to do. but as close as the bark of a tree—so his relatives were in the habit of say ing. Cnele Abednego had heard, away down at the Port, abuut the cleverness that had developed on Haycock Hill and .about those prizes. He said if Moses had braius enough to win that prize, he should feel as if it would pay to give him a lift. Marth’ Abby made Moses work; she helped him and she coaxed him. for by this time Moses was pretty tired of geometry; but she was honorable—she didn't tell him how to solve a single one of those dreadful problems, which Moses thought must have been invented for the torture of boy-brains. He thought they must come easy to girls, like crochet or knitting—at least they did to Marth’ Abby. Hut Moses dug with grim persistency and "tussled” at he "tussled” with the rocks, and the day before the examination he had them ail done—all but oue. That was a dreadful one; Marth’ Abby wasn’t altogether sure about the answer herself; she didn’t believe anyone in that school, even the master, could solve it. She thought Moses would get the prize if he had all correct but that one. ^ Nevertheless the was anxious. She sent Moses home, and would not let him

help her to sweep and dust; In truth« Moses needed to get into the fresh air and remember that he was a boy, after all, and could whoop and shout away the effects of the strain and struggle. Marth’ Abbv said to herself that that was why sire made him go, but she knew better. I do not for a moment pretend that she did not know better. She was filling the inkstands—little glass wells inserted in the desks. When she came to Leander’s desk she sat down. Leander had not been at school that day; it was reported that he had been working so hard for the prize that it had made him ill.

sne tinea tne ua oi tne uesK. xnere were the problems In his exercise book, all set down neatly and with painstaking in Leander's fine, cramped, girlish hand. There was a pink pressed in the exercise book, and the whole desk smelled of perfumery. Marth’ Abby turocd up her nose. But the nose came down, and her face grew pale under its yellow freckles— the Haycock Hill freckles, that never came otT; for the problems were all there! Why, of course, that was the answer to the dreadful one—simple .enough when once you saw through it. The prize would be Leander's: everything was his, not only the money of which her father had been robbed, but the brains. Nature had been kind to him rather than to poor plodding Moses. Marth* Abby drew a long, throbbing breath, and, all alone in the schoolroom, her white face blushed red. She returned Leander's exercise book to the corner of the desk—the very corner from which she had taken it, directly under the ink well, and then she resumed her occupation of filling the ink wells. A little piece was broken out of the glass rim of Leander's ink well. (It was when she had caught sight of this that her face had grown red.) One had to take care in filling the well or the iuk would run into the desk'. “Hverybody knows 1 am near-sight-ed," said Marth* Abby to herself, and she poured the ink carelessly, poured and .poured, until there was a little trickle of iuk through the desk to the floor. Marth' Abby got a cloth and wiped [the floor carefully: then she lifted the desk lid furtively, as if there were eyes in the walls. Leander's exercise book was soaked with ink; not a word, not a figure in it could possibly be legible. *>he finished lu r work w ith treus Wing hands; it was a wonder that more ink was not spilled. As she walked homeward Marth’ Abby was happy-—triumphant. All the town would know to-morrow lhat the brightest boy in Poppleton Uvea in Hay coek Hill. Moses’ “chance to be somebody" was assured.

I nat was a pretty bait night; you would have guessed it if you had seen Marth’ Abby going down the hill an I hour before school time the next morning in her old everyday dress and with- ! out warning Moses about a clean, stiff collar, although it was the morning of ; the fatal examination day, She walked directly to lT‘nele Alonzo's tine house and asked to see beamier. Leander was surprised and colored and scowled at her fiercely. “I came to tell you that I've spoiled your problems - soaked them with ink, so you couldn't get the prize away from Moses," she said, in a harsh, strained voice. "I wanted lain to get it so much,, so that Uncle A bed n ego would send him ! to college, that 1 didn’t feel how shameful and wicked it was, and—and you can never take things back, you know!" The boy's scowling face softened and lightened into a girlish beauty. "You needn’t mind—not at’all! 1 have them all at home here—copied,” he said, Marth' Abby’s face brightened wonderfully. She was glad—yes, honestly glad! "Hut- but I'm not going to hand them in." beamier looked as if it were something to be ashamed of. "A fellow likes to see what he can do, you know, but l—I wanted Moses to get the prize. I like him, and he v worked hard—when he doesn't like it, as you and 1 do, you know, tie likes business. He knows a great deal about the mills the men have told me. l’\e spoken to my father, lie would like to give him a chance. He would be sure to do well, he's so clever! There are different kinds of cleverness, you know—" "You would help him—-now, now, after what I've done?” cried Marth* Abby, her strong Little face beginning to work piteously. She turned away to hide it. "You—you're a beautiful boy l” she called, chokingly, from the gate; "and I wish't I'd put *ny head in the ash hole" (for ail her learning and ambition, Marth’ Abby used the vernacular of Haycock Hill) “before ever I called you Oleander!” After all, it was a little tow-headed boy, the youngest in the class, and whom no one thought of,who had solved all the problems and won the prize. Marth* Abby attempted to comfort Moses on the way home, but Moses waa suspiciously lighthearted. He went so far as to say boldly that many a fellow had been somebody without going to college. Marthy Abby told him about beander and the business opening, and then she found out what Moses really wanted. He almost made a girl of himself for joy. Uncle Abednego eame up to, Haycock Ilill the next week. He said he had been talking with the other uncle (Uncle Alonzo), and he seemed to mean to do so much for the boys of the family that there was nothing for him to do but to send Marth’ Abby to college, and he waa going to do it. They thought down at the uncle's that she was the one who ought to go. Marth' Abby had never even thought of that. Haycock Hill had scarcely heard about “the higher education of women." She did manage to say “Thank you!” to Uncle Abednego. Her eyes, instead of snapping, shone, and then a great rush of tears eame into them. “I don’t deserve it; it’s Leander,” aba said.—Leslie'* Monthly.

DR. TALMAGE’S SERMON. A. Practical Discourse on a Practical Subject. 8om« Absurdities In Church ltulldtng and M»u»K«iu«ut-Mor» Practical Wisdom deeded In Christian Kudeavor and la Church Work.

Discoursing upon the text (Luke xvi., 8): “The children of this world are in their generation wiser than the children of light,” Dr. Talmage, in a recent sermon, assailed some of the absurdities iu church architecture and management, and advocated more practical methods in efforts to do good, lie said: That is another way of saying that Christians are not so skillful in the manipulation of spiritual affairs as worldlings are skillful in the management of temporalities. I see all around me people who are alert, earnest, concentrated aud skillful in monetary matters, who tu the affairs of the soul are laggards, inane, inert. The great waut of the world is more common sense iu matters of religion. If onehalf of the skill and forcefuluess employed in financial affairs was employed iu disseminating the truths of Christ, and trying to make the world better, within ten years the Juggernaut would fall, the last throne of oppression upset, the last iniquity tumble, and the anthem that was chanted over liethlchem on Christmas night would be echoed and re-echoed from all nations and kin Ired aud people: “Glory to God in the highest, aud ou earth peace, good will to men.” Some years ago, ou a train goiug toward the southwest, as the porter of the sleeping ear was makiug up the berths at the evening-tide, I saw a man kueel dowu aud pray. Worldly people looked on as much as to say: “What does this mean?” I suppose the most of people in the car thought that the man was either insane or that he was a fanatic; hut he disturbed iio one when he knelt, and he disturbed no one when he arose. Iu after eonversatiou with him 1 found out that he was a member of a church iu a northern city; that ho was a seafaring man, aud that he was on his way to Mew Orleans to take _ command of a vessel. 1 thought then, as 1 think now that ten such men—men with such courage for God as that mau had—teu such men would bring the w hole city to Christ; a thousand such meu would bring the whole earth luto the kingdom of Jesus. That he was successful in worldly affairs, 1 found out. That he was skillful iu spiritual affairs, you are we!’ persua.ied. If meu had the courage, ihe pluck, the alertness, the acumen, the iudustry, the common sense iu matters of the soul that they have in matters of the world, this would be a very different kiud of earth in which to live.

xu iuv uisi puur, m\ nicuus, we want more couunou sense iu the building ami conduct of churches. The idea of adaptiveness is always paramount in any other kind of structure. If bankers meet together, and they resolve upon putting up a bauk, the bank is especially adapted to buuking purposes; if a manufacturing compauy puts up a building, it is to be adapted to manufacturing purposes; but adaptiveness is not always the question in the rearing of churches. In uiauy of our churches we waut more light, more room, more ventiiatiou, more comfort. Vast sums of money are expended on ecclesiastical structures, and men sit down iu them, and you ask a man how he likes the church; he says; “1 like it very well, i but l can’t hear.” As though a shawl ' factory were good for everything but, making shawls. The voice of the**) preacher dashes against the pillars. ; Men sit down under the shadows of ' the Gothic arches and shiver, and feel they must be getting religion, or something else, they feel so uncomfortable. 0, my friends! we want more common sense in the rearing of churches. There is no excuse for lack of light when the heavens are full of it, no excuse for lack of fresh air when the world swims iu it. It ought to be au j expression, not ouly of our spiritual ; happiness, but of our physical comfort, ! when we say: "llow amiable are thy j tabernacles. O, Lord God of Hosts! A day in thy courts is better thau a j thousand." Agaiu I remark: We want more1 common dense in the obtaining of religious hope. All men understand that iu order to succeed in worldy directions they must coneeutrate. They think on that one object, on that oue subject,until their minds take tire with the velocity of their own thoughts. All their acuiuen, all their strategy, all their wisdom, all their cotnmou sense they put iu that oue direction, and they succeed. Hut how seldom it is true iu the matter of seeking after God! While no man expects to accomplish anything for this world without concentration and enthusiasm, how many there, are expecting after awhile to get into the Kiugdom of God without use ofauy such meaus. A mdler in California, many years ago, picked up a sparkle of gold from the bed of a stream which turned hia mill. He held up that sparkle of gold 1 until it bewitched nations. Tens of thousands of people left their homes. They look tneir blankets, and their pickaxes, and their pistols, and went to the wilds of California. Cities sprang up suddenly on the Pacific coast. Mercnants put aside their elegant apparel, and put on the miner's garb. All the land was full of the talk about gold. Gold in the eyes, gold in the ears, gold in the wake of ships, gold in tbe streets—gold, gold, gold! Word comes to us that the mountain of God’s love is fall of gold; that men have been digging there, and have brought up gold, and amethyst, and carbuncle, and jasper, and sardonyx, and chryaoprasoa, and all the Drecious stoues out of which the walls of heaven were builded. Word coves of a man who, digging in that mine for one hour, has brought up treasures worth more than aU the stars that keep vigil

over our sick and dying world. Is it a bogus company that is formed? Is it undeveloped territory? Oh. no; the story is true. There are hundreds and thousands of people who would be willing to rise and testify that they have discovered that gold and have it in their possession. Notwithstanding all this what is the circumstance? One would suppose that the announcement would send people in great excitement up and down our streets; that at midnight men would knock at j’our door, asking how they may get those treasures. Instead of that many of us put our hands behind our back and walk up and down in front of the mine of eternal riches, and say: “Well, if I am to be saved. I will be saved; and if I am to be lost. I will be lost, and there is nothing to do about it.”

Why. my brother, do you not do that way in business matters? Why do you not to-morrow go to your store and sit down and fold your arms and say: “If these goods are to be sold, they will be sold; aud if they are not to be sold, they will not be sold; there is nothing for me to do about it?” No; you dispatch your ageuts; you priut your advertisements; you adorn your showwindows; you push those goods; you use the instrumentality. Oh, that men were as wise in the matter of the soul as they are wise in the matter of dollars and ceuts! - This doctrine of God’s sovereignty, how it is misquoted and spokeu of as though it wfcre an irou chain which bound us hand aud foot for time and for eternity, wheu.so far from that, in every fiber of your body, in every faculty of your mind, iu every passion of your soul, you are a free man—a free man-and it will no more to-mor-row be a matter of choice whether you shall go to business through Pennsylvania avenue or some other street; it will be uo more a matter of choice with you to-morrow whether you shall go to Philadelphia or New York, or stay at home, than it is this hour a matter of free choice whether you will accept Christ or reject him. lu all the army of banners there is not one conscript. Men are not to be dragooned into heaven. Among.all the tens of thousands of the Lord's soldiery there is not one man but will tell yon. “1 chose Christ: 1 wanted him; 1 desire to be iu his service; 1 am not a eouserlpt—T am a volunteer.” Oh, that meu had the same common sense iu the matters of religion that they have in the matters of the world |—tiie same concentration, the same 1 push, the same enthusiasm! lu the one ease, a secular enthusiasm; iu the ! other, a eouseerated enthusiasm. Again. 1 remark; We want more common sense iu the building up aud eulargiug of our Christian character. There are meu w ho have for 40 years been running the Christian" race, and they have not run a quarter of a mile! No business man would be willing to have his investments uuaeeumulauve. If you invest a dollar you expect that dollar to come home, briugiug another

you thiuk of u uiau who should iuyest S10,00u in a monetary institution, tueu go off for five years, make no iuquiry in regard to the iuvestmeut. then eamb back, step up to the cashier of the institution and say.' •’Have you kept that 310,OUJ safely that 1 left with you?" but askiug uo question ubout interest or dividend. Why, you say: 'That is uot common sense." Neither is it; but that is the way we act iu matters of the soul. We make a far more important investment tuau 310.000. We invest oursoiri. Is it accumulative? Are we growiug iu grace? Are we getting belter? Are we gettiug worse? God declares many dividends, but we do uot collect them; we do uot ask about I them; we do not want them. Oh, that | in this matter of accumulation we ! were us wise iu the matters of the j soul as we are iu the matters of the j world! > How little common seuse in the reading of the Scriptures! We get auy otner booh, aud we open it, and we say; “Now what does this book meau to teach me? It is u boou on astrouomy; it wut teach m'e astronomy. It is a book on political economy; it will teach me poatieai economy.” Taking up tins Bible, do we ask ourselves j wnat it menus to teach? It means to do just one thing—get the world converted and get us ad to Heaven. That is what it proposes to do. ■ But iuslead of that we go into the Bible as botauists to pick dowers, or we go us pugilists to get something to tight other Christians with, or we go as logic.ans trying losnarpeu our moulai laculties tor a better argument, aud we do uot like this about the Bible, and we do uot like that, and we do not like the other thiug. What would you thiuk of u man lost on the mouutams; night has come down; he can not had his way home i^ud he sees a’ light in a mountain cabin; he goes to it, he knocks at the door; the mountaineer comes out aud duds the traveler, and says: “Well, here 1 have a lantern; you cau take it, and it will guide you ou the way home;” aud suppose that traveler should say, “ldouTiike that lantern: 1 don't like the haudle of it; there are 10 or l.% things about it 1 don't like; if you can't give me a better lantern than that 1 won't hare any.” Now, God says this Bible is to be a lamp to our feet aud a lantern to our path, to guide us through the midnight of this world to the gates of the celestial city. W'e stop aud say we do not like this about it, aud we do not like that, and we do not like the other thing. Oh, how much wiser we would be if by its holy light we found our way to our everlasting home! Then, we do not read the Bible as we read other booics. We read it perhaps for four or bve minutes just before we retire at night. We are weary and sleepy—so somnolent we hardly know which end of the book is up. We drop our eye perhaps ou the story of Sauisou aud the foxes, or upon some geueological table, important in its place, but stirring no more leligions emotion than the announcement that somebody beget

somebody else, and he begat somebody else, instead of opening the book and saying: “Now I must read for my immortal life; my eternity is involved in this book.” How little we use common sense in prayer 1 >Ve say. “Oh, Lord, give me that,” and “Oh, Lord, give me something else,” and we do not expect to get it, or, getting it, we do not know we have it. We have no anxiety about it We do not watch and wait for its coming. As a merchant you telegraph or you write to some other city for a -bill of gpods. You say, “Send me by such express, or by such a steamer, or by such a rail train.” The day arrives. You send your

vu vuc ucpub ut vu buv wuaii* The goods do not come. You immediately telegraph: “What is the matter with those goods? We haven’t received them. Send them right away. We want them now, or we don’t want them at all.” And you keep writing, and you keep telegraphing, and keep sendiug your wagou to the depot, or to ^ the express office, or to the wharf, until you get the goods. In matters of religion we are not so wise as that. We ask certain things to be sent from lleaven. We do not know whether they cotue or not. We have not any special anxiety as to whether they come or not. We may get them, and may not get them. Instead of at 7 o’clock in the morning saying, “Have I got that blessing?” at 13 o’clock blessing?” at 7 o'clock in the evening saying: “Have 1 received that blessiug?" and not getting it. pleading, pleading—begging, begging—asking, askiug until you get it. Now, my brethren, is not that common sense? If we ask a thing from God, who has sworn by llis eternal throne that He will do that which we ask, is it not common seuse that we should watch aud wait until we get it? When I was a lad I was one day in a village store, and there was a large group of young men there full of rollicking and fun, and a Christian man came in, a very good Christian man, aud without any introduction of the subject, and while they were in great hilarity, said to one of them: “George what is the tirst step to wisdom?” George looked up and said: “Every man to mind his own business!” Well, it was a very rough answer, but it was provoked. Religion had been hurled in there as though it was a bombshell. We must bo natural in the presentation of religion to the world. Do you suppose that Mary, in her conversations with Christ, lost her simplicity? or that Paul, thundering from Mars Hill, took the pulpit tone? Why is it people can not talk as naturally' in prayer meetings aud on religious subjects as they do in worldly circles? For no one ever succeeds In any kind of Christian work unless he works naturally. We want to imitate the Lord Jesus Christ, who plucked a poem from the grass of the field. We ail want to imitate Him who talked with farmers about the man who weut forth to sow, and I U ! L’ Oil with t lio tivhoomon noonday, as king, “Have I

the drawn net that brought in fish of all sorts, and talked with the vine-dresser about the idler in the vineyard, aud talked with those newly atliauced about the marriage supper, aud talked with the man cramped in mouey matters about the two debtors, an^l talked with the woman about the yeast that leavened the whole lump, and talked with the shepherd about the lost sheep. Suppose iu Ye.uioe there is a Raphael, a faded picture, great in its time, bearing some marks of its greatness. History describes that picture. It is nearly faded away. You say, “Oh, what a pity that so wonderful a picture by Raphael should be uearly defaced!” After awhile a inau comes up, very unskillful iu art, aud he proposes to retouch it. You say: “Staud off! 1 would rather have it just as it is; you will only make it worse. ” After awhile there comes au artist who was the equal of Raphael. He says: “I will retouch that picture aud briug out alt its original power.” You have full confidence iu his ability. He touches it here aud there. Feature after feature comes fortu, and when he is done with the picture it is complete iu all its origiual power. Now, God impresses His images on our race, but that image has been defaced for hundreds aud for thousands ot years, getting faiuter and fainter. Here comes up a divine Raphael—I snail call him a di vine Raphael. He says: “1 can restore that picture.” He has all power iu Heaven and on earth. He is the equal of the one who made the picture, the equal of the one who drew the image of God in our soul. He touches this sin and it is gone, that transgression and it i$ gone, aud ail the defacement disappears, and “where sin abounded grace doth much more abound.” Will you have the defacement, or will you have the restorationt 1 au well persuaded that if 1 could by a touch of heavenly pathos in two minutes put before you what has been done to save your soul, there would be an emotional tide overwhelming. “Mamma,” said a little child to her mother wheu she was being put to bed at night, “mamma, what makes your hand so scarred and twisted and unlike other people’s hands?” “Well,"said the mother, “my child, when you were younger than you are now, years ago, one night after I had put yoa to bed, 1 heard a cry, a shriek upstairs. I came up and found the bed was on fire, and you were on fire, and I took hold of you, and I tore off the burning garments. and while 1 was tearing them off and trying to get you away 1 burned my hand, and it has been scarred and twisted ever since, aud hardly looks any more like a hand, but I got that, my child, in trying to save you.” O man! 0 woman! I wish to-day I could show you the burned hand of Christ—burned in plucking you out of the fire, burned in snatching you away from the flame. Ay, aUo the burned foot, and the burned brow, and the burned heart—burned for yon. “By his stripes ys are healed.**