Pike County Democrat, Volume 31, Number 12, Petersburg, Pike County, 27 July 1900 — Page 7

§?ibe (ffotmttj fanattai M* M«C- •TOOPS, Editor and Ptopriatm PETERSBURG, j INDIANA. T OHN, I’m sure 1 beard some one downstairs.” “Nonsense,. Mary! You heard the wind blowing the Tines against the house.” “It sounded like breaking glass.' I wish you’d go down, John.” “Oh, pshaw!” “It may be burglars.” “Well, let them help themselvesj I’m too sleepy to raise objections.” Mrs. Arrftdd listened intently for a moment, then, believing herself to have been mistaken, she, too, * dropped asleep. “Early the next morning the worthy couple were awakened by a vigorous pounding on their door. “Mr. Arnold!” called the servant. “Mr. Arnold, come down, quick! Something dreadful has happened.” Mrs. Arnold was on her feet in a moment. “What is it?” she called through the door. “Robbery! and everything ip.the library turned upside down." It was a strange sight that met the eyes of the family as they entered the little library, which was usually so tidy. Chairs were overturned, books and papers scattered about in wild confusion. and a large plate glass window was smashed into fragments. Mr. Arnold’s desk was opened, the contents of the various drawers were scattered about the floor, and the box containing his private papers was missing. “1 told him. so!” said Mrs. Arnold. - They were the first words that had been spoken since the worthy couple entered the room. “I wish I had heeded you,” said Mr. Arnold, ruefully. “1 don’t.” said his daughter Ruth. “You might have been shot.” “1 would have risked a great deal,” replied Mr. Arnold, “rather than have lost the papers which that box con

Taint'd. “Your deeds and insurance papers, were they not??” asked his wife. “The deeds are properly registered, and the insurance papers can be readHy duplicated. There is no great loss—” “But that was not all,” interrupted Mr. Arnold. “I had sent $4,000 to Williams, in New York, to invest in government bonds, and last night while you and lluth were out calling, I received a package from him containing the bonds. 1 placed them in that box for safekeeping. I don’t see why I could not have thought of them, last night, when you awakened me!” “Father,” said Ruth—the only one in the family who had retained her presence of mind—“the police must be notified at once. Leave everything’yust as it is, and I’ll telephone to the station.” In a short time the chief of police and his lieutenant were carefully investigating the scene of the robbery. “You know no reason for the robbery?” questioned the officer, “except the value of the papers taken?” “None, whatever,” replied Mr. Arnold. “The robbers evidently took it heir time. It is strahge none of you heard them come through the window.” “My wife did hear—” “But they did not come through the window,” interrupted Ruth. “That was used only for an exit after the robbery had been committed. * The officer) looked in astonishment at the pretty girl before him. “Miss Arnold,” he said, smiling, “the detective field is before you! May I ask you your reasons for believing that the persons who entered this1 room last night did not come in through the window?” “The window was broken from the inside, sir. The glass is on the porch, not in the room.” The officer looked at fne window, gave a low whistle, and then smiled. “You are right, Miss Arnold,” he said, then, turning to Mr. Arnold, asked: “What about your servants?” “We have only tw>o, and they have

ocen wiin us ior years. i cannot think of their being connected with this crime.” ‘‘But the person who committed the robbery was evidently let into the house by some one.” “Then why did not that some one also let them out?” asked Ruth. “Another good point,” said the officer. “They evidently did not enter by the doors or windows on the lower floor,” said Ruth; “I believe they came in through the skylight. It is not a difficult matter to reach the roof by way of the back porch and the eavespipe. I’ve seen brother do it often when he was home.” “But why did not our burglar leave the house in the same way he entered?” asked the officer, smilingly. “Because, in shutting the door after he had entered the room, the catch was sprung, locking him in. When he got ready to leave he broke the window my means of that chair and made his escape.” “You speak as if there were but one.” “I believe, upon thinking of it, that there was but one,” replied Ruth. “Had there been two, they would have consulted together, fthen they found the door had fastened, and would have seen that a little patient work would have enabled them to unlock it without danger of detection. There must ham been but one and he was no

doubt new to the work. As for breaking the window with that chair—you will notice that the lege are badly scratched; they were not so yesterday.** Before returning to headquarters to give instructions to his men, the officer said to Ruth, with great earnestness: “Miss Arnold, ours is an honorable profession, in spite of all that may be said to the contrary, and should you ever desire to make use of the ability which j’ou possess. I shall be only too glad to assist you.” “My daughter a detective!” exclaimed Mr. Arnold, indignantly. “I guess not!” “Never mind, father, there isn’t much danger of my becoming a feminine representative of Sherlock Holmes. But I somehow seem to feel' that i cannot only discover your papers, but the person who took them,*’ as well. Let hie do what I can, and if I am successful^—well, you may be obliged th get me a new hat. or something else .very nice!” That the'robbery, when told in the daily press, created a sensation in the quiet little city in which it occurred, was a foregone conclusion. It was nothing, however, compared to the interest aroused by the various vivid recitals of “Our Lady Pinkerton.” most of which were, as a matter of course, more imaginative than true. The officer. impressed with Miss Arnold's ability. had madei a few unguarded remarks which had been quietly worked up into a good story for local publication. and as a result she soon found herself the center of considerable notoriety It was exceedingly distasteful to her, as well as to her family and friends, for the Arnolds belonged to tjie more aristocratic circles of society. “Well,” said Ruth, philosophically, '“‘wlkit can't be cured must be endured/ and I’m going on with this work, anyhow. Mr. Dixon will be here this mornMig, and I wish you to be present at our interview, please papa.” Mr. Dixon, one of the best detectives in the country, was ushered into the library. He had arrived in the city on the day following the robbery, and had since been investigating the various clews. “Y6u understand, he said, with characteristic abruptness, “that secrecy is one of the first lessons the detective must learn.”

“You have nothing to fear so far as father and I are concerned,’’ replied Ruth. ~ ! , “Had I not the very highest idea of yourreticence.I assure you I should not be here to-day. May I ask,” he continued, as they seated themselves around 'the library table, “your opinion as to who is the thief?” “We have not gone as far as that,” replied Mr. Arnold. “Then I am one ahead; I have located my man.” - “It was not a man, Mr, Dixon, who committed that crime,” said Ruth; “instead, it was a tall woman with black curly hair.” , “Miss Arnold, you surprise me!” “You notice this small stand.” continued Ruth, ‘With my father’s reading lamp upon it? Well, the chandelier above it is so low that even I cannot pass under it without touching my head. My father had it fixed that way so as to bring the light down as closely as possible, and as we have always kept this stand beneath it, nobody has ever interfered with it. This stand was overturned by our midnight visitor, who, by the way, called at 17 minutes past 12, and. after trying the door, she ran across the room, coming in contact with the chandelier. Now, if you examine closely you will see a long, black, curly hair hanging on the chandelier. ■ It has been there since the night of the robbery.” “Seventeen minutes past 12,” mused Mr. Dixon. “How did you arrive at that?” “The little Swiss clock on my father’s desk was overturned, and stopped at that hour. It is so constructed that it will noT run unless in an upright position. Before the woman came downstairs she entered the large room over this one, took one of the wax candles from the sconce on the wall and lighted it. She descended the stairs without either shoes or stockings, and placed the candle in that bronze candlestick on the .mantel.”

“Miss Arnold, to speak mildly, you astonish me! I do not fay, that I am convinced, but—well, I should like your reasons for the remarkable statements you have just made. The candle—the bare feet, etc.” “I have opportunities for making investigations,” said Ruth, modestly, “that are not given a stranger. There is nothing remarkable about it. I found the wax candle on. the porch in front of the window, and knew it to be similar to the remaining taper in the sconce in the room just overhead. We use these tapers only in that room, and of course she must have gone there to get it, and, since it is missing, she must have been the one who took it. Neither of the tapers had ever been lighted on the night preceding the robbery. The one I found was partially burned. It could no^have been thrown down, because there is no window in that room over the porch, and so it must have been brought down. A ^burned match was on the stand beneath the sconce, and so I knew the candle had been lighted in the room. We have no carpets on that floor, which is of hard wood. The rugs had been taken up on the day preceding the robbery, that the floor might be oiled, and by looking closely, one can detect the marks of a bare foot. These footprints are very illegible, br pause the floor was almost dry, but in the proper light they can be seen. That bronze candlestick has not been used to hold a candle since we purchased it. If you will Examine it now, you will find

wax clinging to it. which serves to convince me that the woman had put the candle in that candlestick while she went about her work.” “You are exceedingly observing,” said Mr. Dixon, “and it looks as if you were right in your conclusions.” “We have never thought Ruth particularly observing,” said Mr, Arnold; “but there is a new hat and a sealskin jacket at stake, which may account for her acuteness at this time.,# “Oh,” said Ruth, lightly, “do not fear that I mean to rob you of any of the laurels of your profession. I am anxious, in this case, because father’s money is at stake, but I hardly think I should want to make detective work my profession.” “It would not trouble me iiyou did,” said Mr. Dixon, “for I believe this tc be my last case. For that reason I am particularly anxious to succeed. I have formed a law partnership, and my whole time, from this on, must be given to my chosen profession.” Day after day. Ruth and Mr. Dixon worked upon their various clues, each trying to excel the other in obtaining desirable information, and both enjoyed the work more than they realized. The days lengthened into weeks, and soon an entire month "was gone. Early one morning Ruth startled her parents by rushing into the library, her face all aglow with excitement. “I’ve found it!” she exclaimed. “Here'it is, the box—the papers—everything:” “Where—where?” began Mr„ Arnold, who was too excited to form an intelligible sentence. “Out in the summer house, on that . little shelf, which is oniy a trifle ; higher than my head—why, we might! have seen it at any time, had we only ! thought to look there!” Mr. Arnold opened the box. 'The papers were found to be undisturbed. When Mr. Dixon called, that morning, Ruth met him with a smiling, triumphant face, and led the way to the library. “Mr. Detective,” she said, pointing to the box, "confess yourself outwitted.” “Have you also discovered that the tall woman with the black hair was possessed of blue eyes?” said Mr. Dixon, jesting^. “Oh. you .may make fun of me all you like,” retorted Ruth. “It is your only resource, but l can afford to

overlook it.” , “Well.” said Mr. Dixon, “I am glad the papers are safe, but the case is not concluded until the thief is found.” “So long as we' have the papers, we do not want the thief,” replied Ruth; “we shouldn’t know how to entertain her properly, if we had her.” And then, uke an excited child, she told him liow she had found the papers. “The recovery of the property does not end the obligations of the law,” said Mr. Dixon; and I am more de* termined now than ever to find the guilty party. I have one more clew, but it will take me away from here unless—” “Away from here! You are going —away?” “I must.” “I am very sorry.” It was all she said, but a woman’s voice is often her surest betrayer. “Would you like our case, to last a little longer?” he asked, coming closer to her. “I confess that I should.” ", What she replied does not concern us. it is enough for us to know that, before the interview ended, Ruth and Mr. Dixon had decided to enter into a life partnership at no distant day. “And now.” said Mr. Dixon—was it an hour later, or two hours?—“I must see your father.” “Going to ask him for me?” asked Ruth, laughing. “What a funny idea, isn’t it!” “Yes,” said Mr. Dixon, “when we consider the fact that I should take you anyhow! But it’s better to go through the customary proceedings in such matters, isn’t it? Besides, there is my clew—” “Oh, John, you must tell me about that! Remember. I am more your partner, now, than ever! Have you found the guilty one?’ 1 “I think so.” ‘

‘"Tell me! Tell mei Tea me, this minute!” and Kuth got much closer to him than was really necessary, considering that the couch was long enough to hold three persons. “Was I right in any of my conclusions?” “The robbery was certainly committed by a tall, dark-haired woman; she has brown eyes, by the way, and her hair is curly only when she makes it so. I have reason to believe she went into the room overhead, as you said, and oescended the stairs'in her bare feet-; but I must differ from you, Miss Detective, regarding her entrance into the house. She did not come in through the roof. She was a member of the household.” “Excuse me, Mr. Detective, but I do not believe it! The cook iis short, and her hair is light. And Jane, our only other servant, is not only short, but has very red hair.” “There is nothing in detective work so bewildering as th% unexpected. This robber, after securing1 the box, placed it in the summer house; then, unlike most law-breakers, she retraced her steps, reentered the library, unfastened the door, but failed to spring the catch, and again entered the hall. From there this exceedingly bold robber returned to her room and went to sleep. I nave been consulting people who have known her all their lives, and have been told that she was given to walking in hei sleep—” “John, you dare not say it was I!” “My dear, I am obliged to make the humiliating confession that the robbery was committed by nay promised wife-**

k MISSION OF CHRIST Dr. Talmage Discourses on the Great Surgeon. EClracjr of the Divine Power la Seal* ln8 the World** Wounds and Deformities—Relations of Snr®ery and Theology. [Copyright. 190ft. by Louis Klopsch.] Washington. July 22. In this discourse Dr. Talmage (who is now travel'jg in Europe) puts in an unusual light the mission of Christ and shows how Divine power will jet make the illnesses of the world fall back; text, Matthew xi. 5: ‘‘The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear.” “Doctor,” I said to a distinguished surgeon, “do1 you not get worn out with constantly seeing 'so many wounds and broken bones and distortions of the human body?” “Oh, no,” he answered; ‘‘all that is overcome by my joy in curing them.” A sublimer and more merciful art never came down from Heaven than that of surgery. Catastrophe and disease entered the earth so early that one of the first wants of the world was a doctor. Our crippled, and agonized human race called for surgeon and family physician*’ for many years before they came. The first surgeons v\Jho answered this call were ministers of religion—-namely, the Egyptian priests. And what a grand'thing if all the clergymen were also doctors, all D. D.’s were M. D.'s, for there ’are so many cases where body and soul need treatment at the same time, consolation and medicine, theology and therapeutics. As the first surgeons of the world were also ministers of religion, may these two professions always be in full sympathy! But under what disadvantages the early surgeons worked, from the fact that the dissection of the human body was forbidden, first by the pagans .and then by the early Christians! Apes, being the brutes most like the human race, were dissected, but no human body might be unfolded for physiological and anatomical exploration, and . the surgeons had to guess what was in

side the temple by looking at the outside of it. If they failed in any surgical operation, they were persecuted and driven out of the city, as was Archagathus because of his bold but unsuccessful attempt to save a patient. \ But the world from the very beginning kept calling for surgeons, and their first skill is spoken of in Genesis, where they employed their art for the incisions of a sacred rite, God making surgery the predecessor of baptism, and we see it again in II. Kings, where Ahaziah, the monarch, stepped on some cracked latticework in the palace, and it broke, ahd he fen from^ the upper to the lower floor, and he was so hurt that he sent to the villrige of Ekron for aid, and Aesculapius, who wrought such wonders of surgery that he was deified and temples were built for his worship at Pergamos; and Epidaurus and Bodelirius introduced for the relief of the world phlebotomy, and Damocedes cured the dislocated ankle, of King Darius and the cancer - of his queen, and Hippocrates put successful hand on fractures and introduced amputation, and Praxagoras removed obstructions, and Herophilus began dissection, and Erasistratus removed tumors. and Celsus. the Roman surgeon, removed cataract from the eye and used the Spanish fly; and Heliodorus arrested disease of the throat, and Alexander of Tralles treated the eye, and Rhazas cauterized ior the prevention of hydrophobia, and Percival Pott came to combat diseases of the spine, and in our own century we have had, among others, a Roux and a Larrav in France, an Astley Cooper and an Abernethy in Great Britain and o Valentine Mott and Willard Parker and Samuel D. Gross in America and a galaxy of living surgeons as brilliant as their predecessors. What mighty progress in the baffling of dis

ease since tne crippled and sick oi ancient cities were laid along the streets, that people who had ever been i hurt or disordered in the same way might suggest what had better be done for the patients, and the priests of olden time, who were constantly suffering from colds received in walking barefoot over the temple pavements, had to prescribe for themselves, and fractures were considered so far beyond all human cure that instead .of calling in the surgeon the people only invoked the gods! I notice this Surgeon had a fondness for chronic diseases. Many a surgeon, when he has had' a patient brought to him. has said: “'Why was not this attended to five years agd? You bring him to me after all power of recuperation is gone. You have waited until there is. a complete contraction of the muscles, and false ligatures are formed, and ossification has taken place. It ought to have been attended to long ago.” But Christ the Surgeon seemed to prefer inveterate cases. One was a hemorrhage of 12 years, and he stopped it. Another was a curvature of 18 years, and He straightened it. Another was a cripple of 38 years, and he walked out well. The 18-year patient was a woman bent almost double. If you call a convention of all the surgeons of the centuries, theft* combined skill could not cure that body so drawn out of shape. Perhaps they might stop it from getting any worse, perhaps they might contrive braces by whijsh she might be made more comfortable, but it is. humbly speaking, incurable. Yet this Divine Surgeon put both His hands on her. and from that doubled up posture she began to rise, and the room pled face began take on a

healthier hue, and the muscles began to relax their rigidity, and the spinal column began to adjust itself, and the cords of the neck began to be more supple, and the eyes that could see only the ground before, now looked into the face of Christ with gratitude and up toward Heaven in transport. Straight! After 18 weary and exhausting years, straight! The poise, the gracefulness, the beauty of healthy womanhood reinstated. The 38 years’ case was a man who lay on a mattress near the mineral baths at Jerusalem. There were five’apartments where lame people were brought, so that they could get the advantage of these mineral baths. The stone basin of the bath is still i visible, although the waters have disappeared, probably through some convulsion of nature. The bath, 120 feet. long, 40 feet wide and eight feet deep, j Ah, poor man. if you had been lame and helpless 38 years, the mineral bath cannot restore you. ' Why, 38 years is more than the average of human life. Nothing but the grave will cure you. But Christ the Surgeon walks along these baths and I have no doubt passes by some patients who have been only six months disordered, or a year or, five years and comes to the mattress of the man who had been nearly four decades helpless, and to this 38 years’ invalid: said: “Wilt thou be made whole?" The question asked not because the surgeon did not understand the protractedness. the desperateness. of the case, but to evoke the man’s pathetic narrative. “Wilt thou be made whole?’’; “Would you like to get well?” “Oh? yes,” says the mam “That is what £* came to these mineral baths for. ! have tried everything. All the sur geons have faHed, and all the pre scriptions have proved valueless. an< I got worse and" worse, and I ear neither move hand nor foot nor head; Oh, if I could only be free from thi pain of 38 years!” Christ and surged could not stand that. Bending ove the man on the mattress, and in voice tender with all sympathy, bu strong with all omnipotence, he says wRise!” And the invalid instantly scrambles, to his knees and then put! out his right foot, then his left, foo and then stood upright as though h i had never been prostrated. While b : stands looking at the doctor,, with .< joy too much to hold, the doctor sayi: “Shoulder this mattress. for you ai e.

not only well enough to waLk, but we I enough to work, and start out fro]a these mineral baths. Take up thy btd and walk!” Oh. what a surgeon U r chronic cases then and. for chron. c cases now^ This is not. applicable so much o those who are only a little hurt of s n and only for a short time, but to thc>e prostrated of sin 12 years, IS yea s, 38 years, Here is a surgeon able ,o give immortal health. “Oh,” you si y, “I am so completely overthrown a a] trampled down of sin that I cam ot rise.” Are you flatter down tha,n if.is patient at the mineral baths? N o. Then rise. In the name of Jesus oi Nazareth, the surgeon who offers y ou His right hand ofTielp, I bidithee r *e. Not cases of acute sin, but of chrc ii« sin—those who have not prayed lor3S years, those who have not been to church for 38 years, those who h ,ve been gamblers, or libertines, or thie' e«;, or outlaws, or blasphemers, or infidels;, or atheists, and all these together, for 38 years, A Christ for exigencies’! A Christ for a deadlift! A surgeon-a ho never loses a case! In speaking of Christ as a surgeon I must consider him as an oculisj or eye doctor, and an aurist or ear doctor. Was there ever such another : c- jlist? That he was particularly s. rry for the blind folks I take from the fact that the most of His works were vrth the diseased optic nerves. I have not time'to dount up the m>mber of Hind people mentioned who got His t are. Two blind men in one house; also o ne who was born blind; so that it was not removal of a visual obstruc Itn. but the creation of the cornea and. ciliary muscle and crystalline lens and retina, and optic nerve and tear gi atid, also the blind man of Bethsaida, c ared by the saliva which the Surgeon ook from the tip of His own tongue and put upon the eyelids; also two 1 lind men who sat by the wayside.

In our civilized lands we have I Jiidness enough, the ratio fearfully increasing, according to the state: i;nt of European and American ocuiirts, because of the reading of morning und evening newspapers-on the jolting cars by the multitudes who live out oi :he city and come in to business. Bui in the lands where the Divine surgeon operated the cases of blindness were multiplied beyond everything by the. particles of sand floating in the air, and*the night dews falling on th<: eyelids of those who slept on the t-pp of their houses, and in some of these ia ids it is estimated that 20 out of 101. people are totally blind. Amid all that crowd of visionless people, what work for an oculist! 1 And I do not bflieve that more than one out of a hu : <ired of that surgeon’s cures were rep: r ted; That is the oculist we all need. Till he touches, our eyes we are tlind. Yea, we were born blind. By nature we see things wrong, if we see them at all. Our best eternal interests are put before us, and we canno: see them. The glories of a loving and pardoning Christ are projected, and we do not behold them. Or we have a defective sight which makea the things of this world larger than the things of the future, time bigger than eternity. Or, we are color blind and cannot see the difference between the blackness of darkness forever arc! the roseate morning of an everlasting day.' But Christ the Surgeon ;omes. in, and though we shrink back, liraid to have Him touch us. yet'H. pu’s His fingers on the closed eye. cs of the soul and midnight become;, midnoon, and we understand something of the joy of the young man of the Bible who, though be had never before been able to see his hand before his I (

—-*________ ft .«, now by the toach of Christ had ty/o headlights kindled under kit b ')ir, cried out in language that conic j tided the Jeering crowd who were d .riding the Christ that had effected tin cure and wanted to maxe Him out bud man, “Whether He be a sinner c r rot, I know not. One thing 1 know, t«i*at whereas I was blind, now I sef.** | lot this surgeon was just as won* < erful as an aurist. Very few people |ave two good ears. Nine out of ten *.->«!ople are particular to get on this ;>r that side of you when they sit or ' va.lk or ride with you. because they lave one disabled ear. Many have <oth ears damaged, and what with the i onstant racket of our great cities and lie catarrhal troubles that sweep hirough the land, it is remarkable :hat there are any good ears at all. Most wonderful instrument is the human ear. It is harp and drum and telegraph and telephone and whispering gallery all in one. So delicate mad wondrous is its construction that tlie most difficult of all things to reconstruct is the auditory apparatus. The mightiest scientists have put their skill to its retuning, and sometimes they stop the progress of ita decadence or remove temporary obstructions. but not more than one really deaf ear out of lOO.GQb is ever cured. It took a Cod to make the ear, and it takes a God to mend it. That makes me curious to see bow Christ the Surgeon succeeds as an aurist. ' We are told -of only two cases He operated on as an ear surgeon. Hia friend Peter, naturally high tempered, saw Christ insulted by a man by the name of Malchus. and Peter let his sword fly. aiming at the. man’s head, but the sword slipped and hewed otf the outside' ear, and our Surgeon touched the laceration arid another ear bloomed in the place of the one that had been slashed away. Rut it is not the outside ear that hears. That is only a funnel forgathering sound and pouring it into the hidden and more elaborate ear. On the beach of Lake Galilee our Surgeon found a man deaf'and dumb. The patient dwelt in perpetual silence and was speechless. He could not hear a note of music or a clap of thundeT. j He could not call father or mother or

wife or children by name. \\ hat power can waken that dull tympanum or reach that chain of small bones or revive that auditory nerve or open th® gate between tfie brain and the outside world? The Surgeon put his fingers in the deaf ears and agitated them and kept on agitating them until the vibration gave vital energy to all the dead parts, and they responded. and when our surgeon withdrew His fingers from the ears the two tunnels of sound were clear for all sweet voices of nnisic and friendship. For the first time in his life he heard the dash of the waves of Galilee/ Through the desert of painful silence had been built >a king's highway of resonance and acclamation. But yet he was dumb. T“' No word had ever leaped over his lip. Speech was chained under his tongue. Vocalization and accentua|ion were to him an impossibility. He could express neither love nor indignation nor Worship. _ 4 Our Surgeon, having unbarred His ear. will now unloose the shaefete of Ilis tongue. The Surgeon will use the same liniment or salve that He used on two occasions for the cure of blind people—namely, the moisture of Ilis own mouth. The application is made, and 16. the rigidity of the dumb tongue is relaxed, and between the tongue and teeth was born a whole vocabulary and wordsflewin.toexpresoion. Heflot.only heard, but he talked. One gate of his body swung in to let sound enter, and the othey, gate swung out to let sound depart. Why is it that, while other surgeons used knives and forceps and stethoscopes, this Surgeon used only the ointment of His own Ups? To show that all the curative power we ever feel comes straight from Christ. And If He touehesusnot we.shall be deaf as a nock and dumb as a tomb. Oh. Thou greatest of all artists, compel us to hear and help us to speak! What a grand thing for our poor human race when this Surgeon shall have completed the treatment of the world’s

wounds! The day will come when there will be no more hospitals, for there will be no more sick, and no more eye and ear infirmities, for there will be no more blind or deaf, and no more deserts, for the round earth shall be brought under arboriculture, and no more blizfcardsor sunstrokes, for the atmosphere will be expurgated of scorch and chill, and no more war, for the swords shall come out of the foundry bent into pruning hook?, while in the Heavenly country we shall see the victims of accident or malformation or hereditary ills on earth become - the athletes in Elysian fiejds. Who is 'that man with such brilliant eyes close before the Throne? Why, that is the man who, near Jericho, was blind and our Surgeon cured his ophthalmia! Who is that erect and graceful and queenly- woman before the Throne? That was the one whom our Surgeon found bent almost double and could in nowise lift herself up. and He made her straight. Who is that listening with such rapture to the music of Heaven, solo melting into chorus, cymbal responding to trumpet, and then himself joining in the anthem? Whj’, thatJs the man whom pur Surgeon found deaf and dhmb on the beach of Galilee and by two touches opened ear gate and mouth gate. Who is that around whom the crowds are gathering with admiring looks and thanksgiving and cries of: “Oh. what He did for me! Ob. what He did for my family! Oh, what He did for the world!” That is the Surgeon of all the centuries, the Oculist, the Aurist. the Emancipator, the Saviour. No pay He took on earth. Come.now, let all Heaven pay Himwit h worship that shall never end and a love that shall never die. On His head# be all the crowns, in His hands be all the scepters and at F*’s feet worlds! * . 4