Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1887 — Page 3

TALMAGE'S SERMON.

Five Pictures —The Death of Stephen. Rev. T. DeWitt Talinago delivered Jthe following in the Tabernacle at Brooklyn, taking for bis text Actß, vii, 56-GO: Behold. I see the heavens opened, and the Bon of man standing on the right hand of God. Tnen they cried dot with a loud voice, and stopped their ears, and rim upon him with one accord. And cast him out of the city and stoned him; and the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young man's feet,' whose name was Saul. And they stoned Btephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesu*, receive my spirit And he kneeled down and cried with a loud voice, Lord, lay not this sin on their charge. And when he had said this, he fell asleep. Stephen had been preaching a rousing sermon, and the people could not stand it. They resolved to do as men sometimes would like to do in this day, it they dared, with some plain preacher of righteousness—kill him. The only way to silence this man was to knock the breath out of him. So they rushed Stephen out of the--gates of the city, and with curse, and whoop, and bellow they brought him to the cliff, as was the custom when they wanted to take away lile by stoning. Having brought him to the edge of the cliff they''pushed him off. After he had fallen they came and looked down, and seeing that he was not yet dead, they began to drop stones upon him, stone after stone, stone after stone. Amid this horrible rain of missiles Stephen clambers upon his knees and folds his hands, while the blood drips from his temples to his cheeks, frqin his cheeks to his garments, from his garments to the ground; and them, looking up, he makes two prayers—one for himself and one for his murderers : ■ Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. ' at was for himself. Yerf’ lay not this sin. to their charge. i 3 3 ilyas for his assailants. Then, eousVain and loss of blood, ne con (id away and fell asleep, flangit to show you to-day live picStephen gazing into heaven; iftvgm looking at Christ; Stephen s Ad; Stephen in his dying prayer; ophen asleep. First, look at Stephen gazing into heaven, llefore you take a leap, you want to know where you are going to land. Before you climb a ladder, you want to know to what point the ladder reaches. And it was right that Stephen, within a few moments of heaven, should be gazing into it. We would all do well to be found in the same posture. There is enough in heaven to keep us gazirig. A man of large wealth may have statuary in the halt and paintings in the sitting-room, and works of art in all parts of the house, but he has the chief pictures in the art gallery, and there, hour after hour, you walk with catalogue and glass and ever increasing admiration. Well, heaven is the gallery where God has gathered the chief treasures of his realm. The whole universe is his palace. In this lower room where we stop there are many adornments—tessellated floor of amethyst and blossom, and on the winding cloud-stairs are stretched out canvas on which commingle azure, and purple, and saffron, and gold. But heaven is the gallery in which the chief glories are gathered. There are the brightest robes. There are the richest crowns. There are the highest exhilarations. John says of it: The kings of the earth shall bring their honor and glory into it. Anri 1 see the procession forming, and in the line come all empires, and the stars spring up into an arch for the hosts to march under. They keep step to the s*,und of earthquake and the pitch ot avalanche from the mountains, and the (lag they hear is the llame of a cons+rm in giVor-ld, and all heaven turns oat with harps and trumpets and myriad voiced acclamation of angelic dominion to welcome them in, and then the kings of the earth bring their honor and glory into it. Do you wonder that good people often stand like Stephen, iooking into heaven? We have a great many friends there. There is not a raari in this house to-day so isolated in life b/ut there is some one in heaven with whom he once shook hands. As a man gets older, the number of his celestial acquaintances very rapidly multiplies. We have not had one glimpse of them since the night we kissed them goodby and they went away, bgt still we stand gazing into heaven. As when some of our friends go across the sea, we stand on the dock, or on the steamtug. and watch them, and after awhile the hulk of the vessel disappears, and then there is only a patch of sail on the sky, and soon that is gone, and' thriv are all out of sight, and yet we stand looking in the same direction: -so When tnWTfiends go away from us into the future world we keep looking down through the narrows, and gazing and gazing as though we expected they would come out and stand on some evening cloud, and give us one glimpse of their blissful and transfigured faces. Pass on now, arid see Stephen looking upon Christ My text says he saw -the Son of Man at the right hand of God. Just how Christ looked in this world, just how he looks we can aot say. A writer in the time of Christ says, describing the Savior’s personal appearance, that he had blue eyes and light complexion, and a very graceful structure; but I suppose, it was all guess-work. The painters of ther different ages have tried to imagine the'features of Christ, and put them on canvas; but we will have to wait until with our own eyes we see him and with our own ears we can hear him. And yet there is a way of seeing and hearing him now. I have to tell you that unless you see and hear Christ on earth you will never see and hear him in heaven. Look! There he is. Behold the lamb of God!

Can you not see him? Then pray to .God to take the scales off your eyes. Look that way—try to look that way. His voiefe comes down to you this day —comes down to > the -blindest, to the deafest soul, saying: Look unto me, all ye ends of the earth, and be ye saved, for I am God,, and there «is none else. I pass on, and look at Stephen stoned. The world has always wanted to get rid of good men. Their very life is an assault upon wickedness. Out with Stephen through the gates of the city. Down with him over the precipices. Let every man drop a stone upon his head. But these men did not so much kill Stephen as they killed themselves. ; Every stone rebounded upon them. While these murderers were transfixed by the scorn of all good men, Stephen ! lives in the admiration of all Christendom. Stephen stoned, but Stephen j alive. So all good men must be pelted. All who will live godly in Christ Jesus must suffer persecution. It is no i eulogy of a man to say that everybody likes him. Show me one who is doing all his duty so State and Church, and I will show you scores of men who utterly abhor him. ! If all men speak well of you it is because you are either a laggard or a do t. If a steamer makes rapid progress through the waves the water will boil and foam all around it. Brave soldiers of Jesus Christ will hear the carbine’s click. When I see a man with voice, and money, and influence all on the right side, and some caricature him, and some sneer at him, and some denounce him, and men who pretend to -be actuated by right motives conspire to cripple him, to cast him out, to destroy him, I say: “Stephen stoned.” Pass on now and see Stephen in his dying prayer. His first, thought was not how the stones hurt his head, nor what would become of his body. His first thought was about his spirit. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. The murderer standing on the trapdoor, the black cap being drawn over his. head before the execution, may grimace about the future; but you and I have no shame in confessing some anxiety about where we are going to come out. You are not all body. There is within you a soul. I see it gleam from your eyes to-day, and 1 see it irradiating your countenance. Sometimes I am abashed before an audience, not because I am under your physical eyesight, but because I realize the truth that I stand before so many immortal spirits. The probability is that your body will at last find a sepulchre in some of the cemeteries that surround thi| city. There is no doubt but that your obsequies will be decent and respectful, and you will be able to pillow your head under the maple, or the Norway spruce, or the cypress, or the blossoming fir; but this spirit about which Stephen prayed, what direction will that take? What guide will escort it? What gate will open to receive it? What cloud will be cleft for its pathway? After it has got beyond the light of our sun, will there be torches lighted for it the rest of the way? Will the soul have to travel through long deserts before it reaches the good land? If we should lose our pathway will there be a castle at whose gate we may ask the way to the city? O this mysterious spirit within us! It has two wings, but it is in a cage now. It is locked fast to keep it, but let the door of this case open the least, and that soul is off. Eagle’s wing could not catch it. The lightnings are not swift enough to take up with it. When the soul leaves the body it takes fifty worlds at a bound. And have 1 no anxiety about it? Have you no anxiety about it? I do not care what you do with my body when my soul is gone, or whether you believe in cremation or inhumation. I shall sleep just as well in a wrapping ofsackcloth as in satin lined with eagle’s down. But my soul—before I leave this house this morning I will find out -where it is going to land. Thank God for the intimation of my text, that when we die Jesus takes us. That answers all questions for me. What though there were massive bars between here and the city of light, Jesus could remove them. What though there were great Saharas of darkness, Jesus could illume them. What though I get weary on the way, Christ could lift me on his omnipotent shoulder. What though there were chasms to cross, his hand could transport me. Then let Stephen’s pray’er be my dying litany: Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. It may be in that hour we will be too feeble to say a long prayer. It may be in that hour we will not be able to say the “Lord’s Prayer,” for it has seven petitions. Perhaps we may be too feeble even to say the infant prayer our mothers taught u-, which .John Quincy Adams, 70 years of age. said every night when lie |>Ut his head upon his pillow: : Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. We may be too feeble to employ either of these familiar forms, but this prayer of Stephen is so short, is so concise, is so earnest, is so comprehensive, we surely will be able to say that: , Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. O, if that prayer is answered, how sweet it will be to die! This world is clever enough to us. Perhaps it has treated us a great'deal better than we deserved to be' treated; but if on the dying pillow there shall break the light of that better world, we shall have no more regret about leaving a small, dark, damp house for one large, beautiful and capacious. That dying minister in Philadelphia, some years ago, beautifully depicted it when, in the last moment, he threw up his hands and cried out: “1 move into the light!” Pass on, now, and I will show you one more picture, and that is—Stephen asleep. With a pathos and simplicity

peculiar to the Scriptures, the text says of Stephen: ’ He fell asleep. “O,” you say, “what a place that was to sleep! A hard rock under him, stones falling down upon him, the blood streaming, the mob howling. What a place it was to sleep!” And yet my text takes that symbol of plumber to describe his departure, so sweet was it; so contented was it; so peaceful was it. Stephen had lived a very laborious life. His chief work had been to care for the poor. . How many loaves of bread he distributed, how many bare feet he had sandaled, how many eots of sickness and distress he blessed with ministries of kiiidness and love, I do not know; but from the way he lived, and the way he preached, and the way he died, I know he was a laborious Christian. But that is ail over now. He has pressed the cup to the last fainting lip. He has taken the last insult from his enemies. The last stone to whose crushing weight he is susceptible has been hurled! Stephen is dead. The disciples come. They take him up. They wash away the blood from the wounds. They straighten out the bruised limbs. They brush back the tangled hair from the brow, and then they pass around to look upon thd calm countenance of him who had lived for the poor and died for the truth. Stephen asleep! I have seen the sea driven with the hurricane until the tangled foam caught in the rigging, and wave rising above wave seemed as if about to storm the heavens, and then 1 have seen the tempest drop, and the waves crouch, and everything become smooth and burnished as though a camping place for the glories of heaven. So 1 have seen a man, whose life has been tossed and driven, coming down .at last at an infinite calm in which there was the hu3h of heaven’s lulaby. Stephen asleep! I saw such an one. He fought all his days against poverty and against abuse. They traduced his name. They rattled at the door-knob while he was dying with duns of debts he coul,d not pay ; yet the peace of God brooded over his pillow, and ivhile the world faded, heaven dawned, and the deepening twilight of earth’s night was only the opening twilight of heaven’s morn. Not a sigh. Not a tear. Not a struggle. Hush! Stephen asleep. I have not the faculty to tell the weather. I can never tell by the setting sun whether there will be a drouth or not. 1 can not tell by the blowing of the wind whether it will be fair weather or foul on the morrow. But I can prophesy, what weather it will be when you, the Christian, come to die. You may have it very rough now. It may be this week one annoyance, the next another annoyance. It may be this year one bereavement, the next another bereavement. Before this year has passed you may have to beg for bread, or ask for a scuttle of coal or a pair of shoes; but spread your death couch amid the leaves of the forest, or make it out Of the straw of a pauper’s 0 hut, the wolf of the jangle howling close by, or inexorable creditors jerking the pillow from under your dying head-—Christ will come in and darkness will go out. And though there may be no hapd to close your eyes, and no breast on which to rest your dying head, and no candle to lift the night, the odor of God’s hanging garden will regale your soul, and, at your bedside will halt the chariots of the king. No more rents to pay, no more agony because flour has gone up, no more struggle with “the world, the flesh and the devil,” But peace—long, deep, everlasting peace. .Stephen asleep! Asleep in Jesu-s blessed sleep, From which none ever wake to weep; .. A calm and undisturbed repose, Uninjured by the fast of foes. Asleep in Jesus, far from thee Thy kindred and their graves may ta* But there is still a blessed sleep, From which none ever wake to weep. i You have seen enough for one morning successfully examine' more than five*picturasju ajlayv Therefore we stop, having seen this cluster of divine Raphaels—Stephen gazing into heaven; Stephen looking at Christ; Stephen stoned; Stephen in his dying prayer; Stephen asleep.

Superseding the Horse.

In the German Army, the experiment is being tried of mounting the aides and messengers, as well as some members of the staff, upon bicycles and tricycles. The rbads and fields on the continent are in such excellent condition that these wheeled vehicles can be easily used. As is well known, a bicycle can, in time, run down the swiftest horse; and then it is cheap to keep. Of course, horses would have to be used for dragging heavy artillery and for cavalry purposes. Horsemen can no longer be used for charging upon lines of infantry. The magazine ride has put an end to all such exploits. Both for raids, tearing down telegraph poles, cutting off detachments, a regiment of wheelmen might be quite as useful as a troop of horses. — Vu/iur.est’s Monthly.

Where the Presidents are Buried.

The burial-places of our Fresidents are widely scattered. Washington lies at Mount Vernon; the two Adamses are buried under the old church at Quincv, Mass.; Jeffersojirests at Monticeilo; Madison’s gravels at Montpelier, not far from Monticello; Monroe’s remains lie in tjie Richmond Cemetery; Jackson’s grave is in front of his old res idencer “The Hermitage;” Van Buren was buried atKinderhook; Harrison at North Bend, near Cincinnati; Folk at Nashville; Taylor’s remains are near Louisville; Fillmore lies in Forest Lawn Crimetery. Buffalo; Pierce was buried in Concord and Buchanan at Lancaster; Lincoln’s grave i 3 near Springfield, Johnsbn's at Greenville, Garfield's at Cleveland, Grant’s at Riveside-and Arthur’s at Albany,^.: i Washington Letter. ——■ \ a■. ■ — - 0 ——————:

INDIANA.

Condensed Reports of ttie Latest New* from All Pqrts of the State. —There are five building associa•tiQns in Frankfort : —There are said to be seventy saloons id Logansport. —The wheat prospect in Monroe county was never better. —Goodbub is the name of a New Albany restaurant-keeper. has fourteen saloons, each paying SIOO a year license. - A monument to Col. W. C. Kise whs recently unveiled at Lebanon. —Three men were struck by lightning in Peru recently. William Heirs was killed. —Strawberries were being sold recently by Elkhart grocerymen at 24 cents per quart. —Frank Patty, a farmer near Winamac, was struck by lightning tffe other day and instantly killed. * —At Decatur J. F. Snow was elected County Superintendent of Schools. He has served two terms. —The forty-sixth commencement of St. Mary’s Academy, of Vigo county, will take place on the 29th inst. —The farm-house of Allen Dehart, near Lafayette, burned a few days agoLoss, $6,000; insured for $2,000. —The decrease in La Porte county taxables since the assessments one year ago is $634,07.0, or 9.4 per cent. —John Scanling, of Oakton, 21 years old, committed suicide recently by shooting. Unrequited love was the cause. —County School Superintendents have been elected as follows: Tipton, Jerry E. Fish; Jay, W. J. Houck: Porter, Homer W. Porter. —Eugene Lefever, a young farmer in Jefferson township, near Fort Wayne, was killed by the accidental discharge of his gun. He was 25 years of age, and unmarried. —Vevay post-oflice was broken into the other night and robbed of an unknown quantity of stamps and cash. The Cross Plains mail-pouch was broken open and letters rifled. —A. J. Dillon, of Rochester, a Republican, was elected County Superintendent of Schools over Frank Hainibaugh, the present Democratic incumbent. Haimbaugh claims the election was illegal and will contest it. —Morris Lewis, of Indianapolis,who had a most valuable collection of trained ponies and dogs, received news lately that seven of his ponies had been burned by a fire in a Michigan livery stable, where they were kept. —Two miles north of Brooksburg, near Madison, at midight recently sixmasked men took a young farmer, Stout Brinson, his wife, and child from their bed, removed all the furniture, then burned the house and disappeared. No cause is known for the outrage. —The Allen county grand jury failed to'indict Miss Sarah Jane Gunter for drowning her babe, although they did not question the facts. It was established that the girl was subject to epilepsy and morally irresponsible. Her seducer is understood to have been indicted. —Representatives of Madison’s two large brewing companies recently plead guilty in the Circuit Court to charges of violating the law in delivering liquor Sunday and Judge Friendly assessed light lines, in consideration of the brewers signing a contract to not hereafter sell or deliver ale, beer or other liquors between 12 o’clock Saturday night and 12 o'clock Sunday night. —The Indiana Millers’ Association held their annual session in Kokomo: The meeting was well attended and milling interests throughout the State reported In a very prosperous condition. Officers for the ensuing year were elected as follows: President, William Styer of Kokomo; Vice President, Isaac Miller of Peru; Secretary, A. P. Landis of Lafayette; Treasurer, W. H. Green of Attica, —ln Indianapolis recently Judge Woods disbarred Commodore Clemaus and Woodson S. Marshall from further practice of law in the Federal courts of Indiana. This order was based upon the action of Judge Olds of the Kosciusko Circuit, who disbarred Clemans for giving W illiam C. Matchett a forged note, purporitng to have been made* by Val Hamirion, for SB6. Marshall was disbarred for giving a similar notq to Samuel O’Brien calling for SSOO. —The action the Northern Illinois coal operators in refusing to pay the advance till all the conditions have been met, and of the miners in the stubborn districts in refusing to strike to force scale rates, virtually defeats the advance throughout the State belonging to the Federation. The miners in the Brazil district are holding meetings, addressed by the State and District President, to determine on a course to pursue. There seems to be no other alternative but to submit. —When the trustees of the Indianapolis Insane Hospital met recently, Gov. Grav’s appointees to the places occupied by President Harrison and ‘Triißreg*GajpgßL made a demand for tSem and were refused. The case will now go to the courts. Superintendent Fletcher’s term of four years has expired, and if the present trustees were sure of their positions, they would elect a successor, but as it is action on this matter was postponed for thr?e months. , —At a recent election in Peru for County Superintendent a queer question arose, which will most likely have to be settled by the courts. The vote stands seven Democrats and seven Republicans, with the Republican auditor. On the vote electing a chairman, the L'emocratic side claimed that the aud

iior had no right to vote, and so protested in writing, all signing and withdrawing. The Republicans then voted, as did the auditor, and elected Mr. Woodridge to serve the ensuing term. They claim that he is elected by a majority. * *,,u* -‘-Robert Short, a farmer near Mount Vernon, while attending his brother’s funeral, became violently insane. He was controlled by several neighbors until after the services at the cemetery, when he seemed calmer and was permitted to rejoin his family. The party started for home, and when crossing a bridge spanning a creek twenty feet below, Short suddenly drew a claspknife from his pocket and cut a gash across his throat. Before the occupants of the wagon could seize him he leaped over the bridge Into the rocky Creek bottom. He was picked up in a dying condition. ---During a heavy thunder and rain storm recently lightning struck the residence of Mrs. Ellen Gilbert at Cen tre Square, a smr 11 village near Vevay, and passing down the side into the sitting room, killed two women, Mm,. Jane Gilbert, wife of Thomas Gilbert, and Mrs. Mary Morch, wife of John Moreh. There were three other persons in the room at the time, and they were knocked senseless, but recovered. The clothing of Mrs. Morch was set on fire, but the llames were extinguished by a neighbor. The house was considerably damaged. A chair in which one of the victims sat was torn into splinters.

The Turnkey's Story.

“Say, Barney, you will have to put that hat away and get a white one,” said the venerable mikado to the reporter who attends the sin and iniquity of the city, as he sat copying the slate, where the old man in the course of his experience lias enrolled the names’of thousands of law breakers; Then the veteran lighted his long pipe and, tilting back in his easy chair, silently watched the wreaths of smoke as they curled about the solitary gas jet that threw its light over his basement office. Presently the old man looked up, and, after adjusting his spectacles said: “That hat of yours reminds me of a silk hat that was worn in here by a gentleman one cold winter’s night. Let me see, that was about ten years ago. it was a bitter cold night, cold enough to freeze a mortgage off a house. I was sitting here thinking of the many arrests that I had witnessed in the years since I first put on the Star—on April 7, 1851— that’s a long time ago, Barney—when the door opened and an elegantly dressed man walked in. On his shirt front sparkled a diamond and another and larger one glistened on his iinger’Js he removed his gloves. He walked carelessly up to the table, and, pulling from his pocket a handsome time-piece, glanced at it, then looked at me and said: ‘My good man, I am a stranger to you and am on a strange mission, and cc me to, you to see if you can tell me what I seek. Then he sat down, and, laying his silk hat on the table, pulled from his pocket a gold locket, w hich contained a tress of black hair. After looking at it a moment, he picked up the hat and coming over to my side, showed me the lock of hair, and a photograph which was pasted in the crown of the hat. It was the picture of a girl, with laughing eves and a bright, pretty face. ‘There’ said he, ‘is the picture of my sister, and as he spoke his eyes filled with tears. ‘She is now 35 years of age. She left home with an actor when but 16 years old, and we have never seen her since. Her father and mother are both dead, and grief’ hastened them away. 1 traced her from place to place, until about ten years ago, when 1 lost all track of her. Last week I heard that she had been arrested in this city, and I want to know if it be true.” “Well, I looked at the picture a minute, and 1 thought of how, but a few nights before, 1 had placed a cot in a cell back there with the original of that picture. She had been brought in by two officers so drunk that she could not walk. They had found her in a saloon on St. Paul street, and it had taken four men to put her in a cell. Despite the dissipation of the unfortunate woman, I could see traces of the girlish face in the hat, and knew that they were one and the same person. He watched me closely as I looked at the picture, and when I handed the hat back said, ‘tell me, do you recognize her?” He was in earnest and I told him all I knew. He thanked me, and as he turned to go said. ‘I feared it,’ and bidding me good Alight passed out into the storm. Well, he went and saw her in the penitentiary, but she never went back with him. She was past redemption. She married a worthless fellow, like herself, and «>»'’« -jxi She lives in the penitentiary about eleven months in the year. I afterward learned that her brother was a wealthy New York broker, but she would never tell me ,his # name. That's a true story, Barney, but ii’s a strange one.” And the old man refilled his pipt anil silently continued his smoking.

Eating Snails.

.. New Orleans is the largtst consumer of snails in this country. They art* first thrown into hot water, says a Southern epicure, and killed. —Then they are washed in a weak solution of Ive, whieh removes the slime, and the shells are cleaned with stronger lye. Then the meats are boiled and replaced in the shells, with a dressing of bread and parsely, and thus prepat ed the snails are roasted. When the covers are removed from the dish one must eat the snails whether one like? them or not, the flavor is so enchanting. They can be eaten in two ways—tlie meat can be picked out with a fork, or the shell may be put to the mouth and the snail sucked out bodily.- JV. U Times. v

THE CAMP FIRE.

ROUTED. i Some things are better run away from that faced, even by brave men. It is idle to take risks if nothing is to be gained by doing so. For Our part, therefore, we do not blame the company of soldiers described below, Who refused to enter a certain thicket of ’ bushes, orders or noorders. The story is told by a captain of the Union army. We had halted, one day, for a short rest, and, as blackberries were plentiful in the adjacent fields, the men soon scattered in all directions. Presently a squad came rushing in at headlong rate, and I was startled by this sudden retreat They were flying as if they had been put to rout by a bayonet charge. “Halt!” I cried. “Whatfrdoes this mean? Are we attacked?” “Yes,” exclaimed Saunderson, “and driven back; couldn’t stand our ground in that thicket!” “We ran,” shouted Brixy, “and never stoppea to fire. I’m glad I’m out of it!” . bcA “Then we had better form, and charge, and drive them out,” I said. “You can do it if you like,” said Saunderson, “but I won’t go in there again.” “You will obey orders,” I replied, sternly. “Shoot me for a deserter,” said another, “but you won’t get me into that place again.” There was a comical look on the faces of the men, which indicated that someth ing-’queer was going on. Just then Corporal Vail came in on a run; his hat gone, and his whole appearance showing that he had beaten a hasty retreat. “It’s worse than a Confederate battery!” he exclaimed; “I'd rather lace a charge by 1 ickett s whole division.” “What is it?” I asked, my curiosity being excited. “It's a plague-faked skunk!” answered Brixy, and tnen a shout of laughter burst simultaneously from the whole group. “Well,” I said, “you're a brave set of fellows to be driven away pell-mell by an animal no bigger than a cat; you ought to be ashamed of yourselves!” “That animal,” said Saunderson, “is considerably Ligger than he looks. I don’t estimate him according to his size, but according to his ability, lie’s a good deal like a Gatiing gun—more in him than there looks to be.” “It what's in him would only stay in him,” said Yaii, “l wouldn't care, but it "wont. Try him yourself, captain.” I had no desire to make any such trial, and congratulated my men upon their escape. “f don't want anymore blackberries from that patch,” broke in oaunderson; “they’re green and not IiLLo eat” TIIE FIELD OF GETTYSBURG. The memory of the gallant heroes who fell at Gettysburg grows greener each year. More than $400,0U0 has | been appropriated during the past winter by different legislatures for the marking of positions held by troops of the various .states, and before the close of 1887 more than one hundred : additional monuments will have been erected. The States of Pennsylvania ! and New York have the most dead buried on this historic field, yet, singular to say, they have been derelict in marking the sacred spots. Pennsylvania, however, will provide eightyone monuments this year and New York will erect a large number. Among the beautiful monuments on the field is that erected to the memory of Col. Ellis, of New A'ork. It is situated in the rear of the Devil’s Den, and stands on the line occupied by the One Hundred and Twenty-fourth New Y’ork, of Orange county, in the repulse of Longstreet on J uiy 2. West of Seminary Ridge is the stately and classic monument of the Fourteenth New York. It is 6 feet high and represents a private of the command standing in the attitude of obeying the order, “Handle cariridge”. It is placed on a pedestal 8 feet high, giving it a total height of 14 feet. It cost $3,000 and is considered 1 one of the most elegant structures on the field. The regiment was known as the “Fighting Fourteenth” and the “Redlegged Devils of Brookl} n”. Improvements to the battle-field are continually being made by the Battlefield Memorial Association. A wide avenue has been laid out along the line of battle, which great facilitates a visit to the interesting points of the line and the monuments which mark them.—if. Y. World. - ITEMS. TbeHMinnesota Division, Sons of Veterans, boid3 its third annual encampment at St. Paul, Minn., June 4. . This division has thirty-four camps. The swords presented to Henry Ward Beecher while he was chaplain of the Thirteenth Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y., have been presented to Company G of that regiment by. Mrs, Beecher in memory of her husband. They will hang on the wall of the company room, under a picture of Mr. Beecher. Get. William H. Lytle of-Cincin-nati, author of “l am dying; Egypt, dying,” was one of the heroes of the i war. who gave his life to his country on the field of Chickamauga. A Confederate bfficer Who knew him well tells the Cincinnati Gazette that when Gen. Lytle fell he had on a pair of new L black kid gloves and a cigar in his h mouth. The gallant Lytle was in the thick of the storm and knew it, and handled his men with the greatest intelligence until his death. He had refused to dismount when struck by L four balls—a whole platoon of Mississippians firing upon “the man on the horse,” who was conspicuous above the hazel bushes in which the deadly struggle took place.