Bloomington Courier, Volume 15, Number 11, Bloomington, Monroe County, 5 January 1889 — Page 2
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THE COURIER. !
BY H. J. FELTUS.
S MINESj
BLOOMINGTON,
INDIANA
Si
to ori 0j the brads of White 01 L n. Ohio is said to have been the ttepredations of the laborers employed on a new railroad. At first their acts were excused by their acknowledged justice, but finally the society drifted into acts of lawlessness prompted by personal spite. An organisation of the White Caps' victims has been formed to
regulate their persecutors, ibeyare called Black Caps.
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The Christmas tree is a recent affair in
America. JFifty years ago no such thing was known, except in German families and a few German Catholic countries. But Santa Clans was abroad, and Kris Kringle, and Puritan ideas were softenings The' tree soon crept into Protestant' Sunday-schools, and Christmas became an accepted holiday. A single dealer in New England last year disposed of 10,000 trees to be decorated, 25.000 yards of evergreen wreathing, and 800 barrels of evergreen spray. .The trees range in price from $5 down to
10c, and the poorest, families find means to briehten life -witir a men winter's
holiday. Christmas is a fair rival
Thanksgiving is best holidays. .
constituting our two
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At their mayoralty election the ladies
of Boston marched to the polls and dem
onstrated one fact beyond dispute; and
that is, that they are quite willing
vote and eager for casting ballots . when
they havethe opportunity. In spite -a .heavy rain, there were women
every polling place; and they were there all day, casting in all nearly 20,-
000 ballots, and working enthusiastically
to influence the ballots cast by the men.
That they succeeded in this is eviden
from the change of front of city politics.
The power of persuasion most assurdely
belongs to the female sex. ; There
also one more fact already demonstrated
that the effect is to prevent rowdyism and coarseness. This has before been
the 'unanimous report, from Wyoming.
is
- If one-hundreth part of the- reports o
- outages on the Alaska Indians is true
the perpetrators should be hung, or sho
for it., Ouriaviiixation has no warrant,
so long as' our soldiers and their officers
and a chartered company like the Alaska
rnmmfimkl Oomnanv can' betrav the
nations'a wards, and drive them- into
bestial practices, that heathenism never
suggested, and has no name for. We are
all the more beholden to rescue the
wretched Indians because they not only
are helpless, but are peaceable, ana inoffensive The Aleuts are not of the
stock of our red Indiansotherwise there
woul d have been war. Th e report
- the abominable and disgraceful rioting
in beastliness comes from Gov. Swine-
lord, and is authoritative.
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Thb introduction of leprosy into the
United States must be stopped and the
terrible disease stamped out at once,
it will be;the most unmanageable of all
epidemics that ever visited our land
There is no longer any questi on of its being communicable. The lepers have
invaded British Columbia, and bad such
free access to the Indians that the whole
race of red men is infected. . The a
tagonism -to Chinese immigration will be : more widespread than every and will be based on something besides race prejudice. It would be far better to stop quarantining against -yellow fever - and emall-pox, for while the latter kill more
quickly; leprosy devours its victims with
a living death. When wiil our authorities get well aroused to appreciate i the
a danger that is coming upon us? ? ,
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I?anythmgapproximaiiBg'the state of thmresdhjave wjcurred at
vreu iiuu)jB, wv mmjuom, ue true, our Canadian neighbors are not wanted
in tnis Vmon for some time to come. It seems that the diphtheria broke out in a
man's family early- in the month Of
December, and he could get no physi
- cian to come into his house until - four
.were dead. No neighbor would no near
hotose; srleijiyi$4tince.;'I
the sexton would not bury them, and
he was compelled tojeavetnlonilpi tfie
ground one of thera without- Coffin
and a second in a coffin too small,
tnat its Ieg3 protruded. At last a physician from a neighboring town has volun
teered his services, and the family
cared for." It is hard to feel much regret
tnat otber families are now suffering.
oacn barbarism is incredible. It stands
: m contrast to, the heroism dis
played in Florida during the yellow
v fever. . -
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Xhx French for once have weU beaten . Bismarck and the Germans. Russia has long found it impossible to convert her debt and float a new loan because the Germans held so large- a proportion of her bonds; This enabled Bismarck to
constantly keep the ruble depreciated
by throwing bonds on the market Some
time ago France secretly began to buy up all offered bonds, and now nearly all
uiCAiuoiw ucw ua uwna jrans lnstead of Berlin. When the new Russian
4 per cents were offered the other day
the Bourse was the scene of astounding
enthusiasm, four times as much was sub
scribed as was called for. The French
have played a sly and sharp same, and
trie u:tar will not forget it This brings
to the front the alliance of Eastern and
Weste rn Europe, and explains why there is so much stir in military affairs
in the Southeast Bussia at last has the
sinews of war. without which horses and
men do not avail much.
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: Double Cradle Keeps Rocking. The wife of Mr. John .E. Meeks pre
sented1 him on Saturday with a bouncing
pair of twin babies. They have now tnrenty living children, eighteen girls and two boys. Mr. Meeks is only fortynine years old and his wife forty-four. A peculiarity of Mr. Meek's household is that two cradles have been going since the first two years of his marriage, and he has never had but one doctor's bill. AlLthe children are living.
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Increased Lake Shippinjr. The ship yards of the great lakes will exhibit active operations this winter, Fifty-nine new vessels are to be built, and' eleven of them will be entirely of steel. They wiH cost $7,124,000, and they will add 100,950, gross tons to the carrying capacity of the commerce of the
great, lakes ?
tot fit. RIDER HAGGARD. : CHAPTER 1. ... I MEET SIR HENRY CURTIS. It is a curious thing that at my age fifty last birthday I should find myself taking up a pen to try and write a history. I wonder what sort of a history it will be when I have done It, if 1 ever come to the end of the trip! I have done a good many things in my life which seems a long one to ine, owing to my having, begun so . young, perhaps. At ttn age when other boys are at school t was earning my living as a trader in the bid Colony. , I have been trading, hunting, mining ever Bince. And yet it is only eight mouths ago that I made my pilel It is a big pile now I have got it I don't know how big but I don't chink I would go through the last fifteen or sixteen months again for it; no, not if I knew that 1 should come out safe in the end, pile and all. But then I am a timid man, and don't like violence-, and am pretty sick of adventure. I wonder why I am going to write this book; it is not in mv line. I am not a literary man,
thoueh. devoted to the Old Testament
and also the "Jngoldsby Legends.' Let me try and set down my seasons, just; to see if I have any. ..
First reason: Because Sir Henry Cur
tis and Captain John Good asked me to. ...
' Second reason: .Because 1 am laid up
here at Durban with the pain and trou
ble in my left leg. Ever since that confounded lion cot hold of me I have been
liable to it. and its beine rather bad
just now makes me limp, more than ever. TKam miio i to onma YtAioAn in a linn 'a
There must be some noison in a lion s
teeth, otherwise how is it that when
your wounds are healed they break out aflrain ' ffenerailv. mark vou, at the same
time of the year that you get your maul-
mar- It is a hard thine that when one
has shot sixty-five lions as I have in the
course of my life, that the sixtv-sixth
should chew your leg like a quid of tobacco. It breaks the routine of the thing
and nutting other considerations
aside. I am an orderlv man and don't
like that. This is by the way. Third reason: Because I want my boy Harry, who is over there at the hospital in London studying to become a doctor.
to have something, to amuse him and
keen mm ottt of mischiei lor a wees: or
so. .Hospital work must sometimes pall and get rather dull, for even of cuttin g up dead bodies there must come satiety, and as this history won't be dull, whatever else it may be, it may put a little life into things for a day or two while he is reading it. -.' Fourth reason and last Because I am going to tell- the strangest story that I know of. It may seem a queer thing to say that, especially considering that there is no woman in it except Foulata. Stop, though!: there is Gagoola, if she was a woman and not a fiend. But she was a hundred at least, and therefore not marriageable, bo T don't count her At any rate, I can safely say that there is not a petticoat in the whole history. Weill had ..better come to the yoke. It's a stiff place, and I feel as though I were boggeo up to the axle. Bat "sutjes, sutjes,"as the Boers say (I'm sure I don't know how they spell it),,; softly does it A strong team will oome through tlast, that is if they ain't too poor. You wi 11 never do anything with poor oxen. Now to begin. ." .... 1 Allan Qaatermain, of Durban; Natal, Gentleman, make oath , and say-that's how I began my deposition .before the magistrate, about poor Khiva's and Ventvogel's sad deaths; but somehow it doesn't seem quite the right way to begin a book. And, besides, am I a gentleman? What is a gentleman? J don't quite know, and yet I have ha to do with niggers-no, I'll scratch that word 'niggers" out, for I don't like it. I've known? natives who are, and so' you'll
say, narry , my ooy, oetore your done
with this tale, and"! have known mean
whites with lots of money and fresh out
from home, too, who ain't. . Well, at
any rate. I was born a gentleman, though
I've been nothing but a poor traveline
trader and hunter all my life. Whether
I have remained so l know not, vou
must judge ot that. Heaven knows I've
tried. I've killed many men in my
ume, dux a ve never si am wantoniv or
stained my hand in innocent blood; only ... . . rm a
in seii-aeiense. ine Aimieatv eave us
bur lives, and I suppose he meant us to
defend them, at least I have always act
ed on that, and i hope it
brought up against mjhen my clock
strikes. Tbererinere, it is a cruel and
wcxec world, and lor a timid man
have been mixed up in a deal of
slaughter. I can't tell the rights of it,
but at any rate I have, never Btolen,
though I once, cheated a KafFer out of a
herd of cattle. But then he had done
me a dirty turn, and it has troubled me
ever since into the bargain.
wen, it s eignteen mouins or so ago
since 1 nrst met bir llenrv Curtis and
Captain Good, and it was in this way.
I had been up elephant hunting beyond
tfamamgwato, and had had bad luck.
Everything went wrong that trip, and
tAtin.npswJ;h I got the fever badlv. So
eoo& aC I Xas well enough I trekked
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aown to me uiamona uiejas, sold such
ivory as l had, and also my wagon and
oxen, discharging my hunters, and took
the post-cart to the Cape. After spend
ing a week in Cape Town, findine that
they overcharged me at the hotel, and
having seen everything there was to
see, including the botanical gardens,
wuicu Beem 10 me iineiv to comer a
great benefit on the country, and new
Houses of Parliament, which I expect
will no nothmg of the sort, I determined to go on back to Natal bv the "Dnn-
keld" then lying m the docks waiting
mr ine "jaainDurgn uastie.' due in from
England. 1 toot my berth and went
aboard, and that afternoon the Natal
passengers from the "Edinbure Castle"
transhipped, and we weighed and put
out to sea. . . .. .
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-among ine passengers wno came on
board there were two who excited mv
cunoaiiy. une, a man ot about thirtv.
was one of the biggest-chested and lone-
ast-armed men I ever saw. He had vel-
iow navr, a Dig yeuow beard, clear-cut
features, and large gray eves set deeo
mto nis neaa. . x never saw a finerlooking man, and somehow he reminded me of an ancient Dane. Not that I know much of ancient Danes, thoucrh I
remember a modern Dane who did me
out of ten pounds; but I remember
once seeing a picture of some of those gentry, who, I take it, were a kind of
white Zulus. They were drinking out
of bighorns, and their loner hair him
down their backs, and as I looked at my friend standing their by the companion-ladder.-! thought that if one onlv let
his hair crow a bit, put one of those
chain shirts on to those great shoulders
of his, and give him a big battle-axe and a horn-mug, he might have sat as a model, for that picture. And by the
way it is a curious thing, and just shows how the blood will show out, I found
out afterward that Sir Henry Curtis, for that was the big man's name; was of Danish blood. He also reminded me
of somebody else, but at the time I could
not remember who it was. -
The other man who stood talking to
Sir Henry was short, stout, and dark,
and of quite a different cut. I suspected at once that he was a naval officer. I don't know why, but it is difficult to mistake a naval man. I have gone shooting trips with several of them in the course of my life, and they have
always been just the best and bravest and nicest fellows I ever met, though
given to the use of profane language.
I asked a page or two back, what is a
gentlemen? I'll answer it now; a Royal
Naval officer is in a general way, though,
of course, there may be a black sheep among them here and there. I fancy it
is inst the wide sea ami the breath of
God's wind's that washes their hearts
and blows the bitterness out of their
minds and makes them what men ought
o be. Well, to return, I was right
again; i . tound out that he was a naval officer, a lieutenant of thirtv-one, who,
J after seventeen years' service, had been
turned put of her majesty's employ with the barren honor of a commander's
rank, because it was impossible that he
should be promoted. That us what peo
ple who serve the Queen have got to expect; to be shot out into the cold world
to find a living just when they are. be
ginning to really understand their wora, and to get to the prime of life. Well, I suppose they don't mind it, but for my rjarfe T had rather earn mv bread as a
nunter. One's halfpence are as scarce perhaps, but you don't get so many kicks. His name i found out by referring to the passenger's list was GoodCaptain John Good. He was broad, of medium height, dark, stout, and rather a curious man to look at. He was so very neat and so very clean shaven, and always wore an eye-glass, in his right eye. It seemed to grow there, for it had no string, and he never took it out except to wipe it. At first I thought he used to sleep in it, but I afterward found that this was a mistake. Ho put it in his trousers pocket when he went to bed, together with his false teeth, of which he had two beautiful sets that have often, my own being none of the best, caused me to break tbe tenth commandment. But I am anticipating. Soon after we had got under weigh evening closed in, and brought with itvery, dirty weather. A keen breeze sprung up off land, and a kind of aggravated Scotch mist soon drove everybody from the deck. And as for that "Dunkeld," she is a flat-bottomed punt, and going light aa she was, she rolled very heavily. It almost seemed as though
she would go right over, but she never
did. It was quite nnposMbte to walk
about, so I stood near the engines where
it was warm, and amufiea mysen witn watching the pendulum, which was fixed
opposite to me,s winging slo wly backward
and forward as the vessel roiled, and marking the angle she touched at each lurch, ,
"That pendulum's wrong; it is not properly weighed," suddenly said a voice
at my shoulder, somewhat testily. .Look
ing round I saw the naval officer I had
noticed when the passengers came aboard.
"Indeed, now what makes you think
so?" I asked,
"Think so. I don't think at all. , Why there" as she righted herself after a roll "if the ship had really gone, to the
degree that thing pointed to . then, she would never have rolled again, that's all. But ft is iust like these merchant
skippers, they always are so coniounded
careless. Just then the dinner-bell Tung, and
was not sorry, for it is a dreadful thing to have to listen to an officer of the Royal
Navv when he gets on that subject. I
only know one worse thing, and that is
to hear a merchant ssipper express his
candid opinion of officers, of the Royal Navy.. . " ....
Captain Gooa and I went down to
dinner together, and there we found Sir Henry Curtis already seated. He
and Captain (ood sat together, and 1 sat
opposite to them. The captain and I soon got into talk about shooting and what not; he asking me many questions, and I answering as well as I could. Presently he got on to elephants. "Ah, sir," called out somebody who was sitting near me, "you've got. to the right man for that; Hunter Quatermain should be able to tell you about elephants if anybody can." Sir Henry, who. had been sitting quite
quiet listening to our tain, started visi
bly..,..:. ,.', - "Excuse me, sir," he said, leaning forward across the table, and speaking in very low, deep voiee,a very suitable voice it seemed to me, to come out of those
great mngs. excuse me, sir. out is
your name Allen Quatermain?" It said it was. The big man made no further remark, but I heard him mutter "iortunate" to his beard. Presently dinner came to an end, and as. we were leaving the saloon Sir Henry came up and asked me if I would come into his cabin and smoke a pipe. I ac
cepted and he led the way to the "Dunkeld" deck cabin, and a very good cabiait was. It had been two cabins, but when Sir Garnet or one of thoBe big swells went down the coast in the "Dunkeld," they had knocked away the partition and never put it up again. There was a sofa in the cabin, and a little table in front of it. Sir Henry sent the steward for a bottle of whiskey; and lit the lamp, "the year before last about
this time you were, I believe, at a -place-
called Jtsamangwato, tQ Jhe- Iibrth of
Tr
that this gentleman should be so well acquainted with my movements, which were not, so far as I was aware, considered of general interest.. "You, were trading there, were you not?" put in Good, in his quick way, "I was. I took up a wagon-load of goods, and made a camp outside the settlement, and stopped till I had sold them." Sir Henry was sitting opposite to me in a Madeira chair, his arms leaning on the table. He new looked up, fixing his large gray eyes full upon my face. There wasacuriou8 anxiety in them, I. thought. "Did you happen ato meet a man called Neville there? - "Oh, yes; he outspanned iongside of me for a fortnight to rest- his oxen before going on to the interior. I had a letter from a lawyer a lew months back asking me if I knew what nad become of him, which I answered to the best of my ability at the time.'s "Yes," said Sir Henry, "your letter was forwarded to me. You said in it that the gentleman called Neville left Bamangwato in the beginning of May in a wagon with a driver, a voorlooper, and a Kafir hunter called Jim, announcing his intention of trekking ii possible as far as Inyati, the extreme trading post in the Matabele country, where be would sell his wagon and proceed on foot. You also said that he did sell his wagon, for six months afterward you saw the wagon in te possession of a Portuguese trader, who told you that he had bought it at Inyati from a white
man whose name he had forgotten, and
that the white man with a native servant had started off for the interior on a shoot
ing trip, he believed,"
"Yes."Then came a pause, "Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry,
suddenly, "I suppose vou know or can
guess nothing more ol the reasons of my--of Mr. Neville's journey to the north
ward, or as to what point that journey was directed?" . - ;
"I heard something," I answered and
stopped. The subject was one which I did not care to discuss.
Sir Henry and Captain Good looked at
each other, and Captain Good nodded.
"Mr. Quatermain' said the , former,
"I am going to tell you a story, and ask
your advice, and perhaps y our assistance.
The agent who forwarded me your letter
told me that I might implicitly rely upon it, as you were," he said, " well known and universally respected in Natal, and especially noted for your discretion."
I bowed and drunk some whisky and
water to hide my confusion, for I am a modest man and Sir Henry went on.
"Mr. No ville was my brother," "Oh " I said, starting, for now I knew
who Sir Henry had reminded me of
wben I first saw him. His brother was
a much smaller man and had a dark
beard, but now I thought of it, he possessed eyes of the same shade of gray
and with the same keen look in them,
and the features too were not unlike.
"He was " went on Sir Henry, "my
only and younger brother, and till five
years ago I do not suppose we were ever a month away from each other, But
just about five years ago a misfortune
befell us, as sometimes aoes happen in families. We. had -quarreled bitterly,
and I behaved very unjustly to my
brother in my angey-" Here Captain
Good nodded his head vigorously to him self. The ship gave a big roll just then,
so that the looking-glass, which was fix
ed opposite us to starboard, was for a
moment nearly over our heads, and as 1 was sitting with my band3 in my pockets
and staring upward, I could see him
nodding like anything.
"Aa I dare say you know, went on
Sir Henry, 'if a man dies intestate, and has no property but land, real property it is called in England, it all descends to his eldest sou. It so happened that just at the time when we quarreled our father died intestate. He had put off mak
ing his will until it was to late. The result was that my brother, who had not been brought up to any profession, was left without a penny. Ot course it would
haye been my duty to provide lor him,
but at the time the quarrel between us
was so bitter that I did not-rto my shame I say it (and he sighed deeply)
offer to do anything, but I waited for
hmi to make advances, and ho made none. I am sorry to trouble you with
this Mr. Quatermain, but I must make things clear, eh, Gcod?" "Quite so, quite ao," said the captair?. "Mr. Quatermain will, I am,' sure, keep this history to himself." "Of course' said I, "for I rather pride myself on my discretion." "Well," went on Sir Henry, "my brother had a few hundred pounds to
account at the time, and without saying anything to me he drew out this paltry sum, and, having adopted the name of Neville, started ofT for South Africa in the wild hope of making a fortune. This I heard afterwarci. Some three years passed, and I heard nothing of my brother, though 1 wrote several timeB. Doubtless the letters never reached him. But as time went on I grew more and more troubled about him. I found out, Mr. Quatermain, that blood is thicker than water." "That's tru j," said I, thinking of my boy Harry.., "I found out, Mr., Quatermain, that I would have given half mv fortune to
know that my brother George, the only relation I have, was safe and well, and that I should see him again." v ...
"But you never did, Cnrtis," jerked
out uaptam Grooa, glancing at the big man's face,
' 4 Weli, Mr. Quatermain, as time went on, I became more and more anxious to
find out if my brother was alive or dead,
and if alive to get him home again. I set inquireis on foot.and your letter was one of the results. So far as it went it was
satisfactory, for if; showed that till lately
George was alive, but it did not go far
enough. So, to cut a long story short,
I made up my mind to come out and
look for him myself, and Captain Good
was so kind as to come with me."
"Yes." said the captain; "nothing else
to do, you see. Turned out by my Lords
ot the Admiralty to starve on half pay
And now perhaps, sir, you win ten us what you know or have heard of the
gentleman called Neville."
V
CHAPTER II. THB LEGEND OF SOLOMON1 MINES.
"What was it that you heard about
my brother's journey at Bamangwato?"
said Sir Henry, as I paused to fill my pipe before answering Captain Good.
"I heard this," I answered, "and I
have never mentioned it to a soul till to-day. I heard that he was starting for Solomon's Mines." . . "Solomon's Mines!" ejaculated both my hearers at once, " Where are they?" "I don't know," I said. "I know where they are said to be. I once saw the peaks of the mountains that border them, but there was a hundred and thirty miles of desert between me and them, andJI am not aware that any white man ever got across it save one. But perhaps tbe best thing I can do is to tell you the legend of Solomon's Mines as f know it, you passing your word not to reveal anything I tell, you without my permission."" Do you agree to that? 1 have my reasons for asking it." v Sir Henry nodded, and Captain Good replied, "Certainly, certainly." " Well," I began, "as you may guess, in a general way, elephant hunters are a rough set of men, and don't trouole themselves with much beyond the facts of life and the wavs of Kattrs. But here and there you meet a man who takes the trouble to collect traditions from the natives, and tries to make out a little piece of the history of this dark land. It was such a man a this who first told me the legend of Solomon's Mines, now a matter of nearly thirty , years ago. It was when I. was on my first elephant hunt in the Matabele country. His
name was Evans, and he was killed next
year, poor fellow, by a wounded buffalo.
and lies buried near Zambesi Falls. I was telling Evsms one night, I remember, of some wonderful workings I had
4eafiO-whilst-lranting koodoo and eland
in what is now the Lydenbnrg district of the Transvaal. I see they have come across these workings again lately in prospecting for gold, but I "knew of them years ago. There is a great wide wagon road cut out of the solid rock, and leading to the mouth of the working or gallery. Inside the mouth of this gallery are stacks of gold quartz, piled up "ready for crushing, which shows, that the workers, whoever they were, must have left in a hurry, and about twenty paces in the gallery is built across, and a beautiful bit of masonry it is. ? 'Ay,' said Evans, but I will tell you a queerer thing than that;' and he went
on to ten me now ne naa louna in ine far interior a mined city, which he be
lieved to.be the Ophir of the Bible, and, by the way, other more learned men
have said the same long since poor
ii, vans s tune i was, i rememDer, list
ening open eared to all these wonders,
for I was young at the time, and this
storv of an ancient civilization and of
the treasure which those old Jewish or Phoenician adventurers used to extract from a country long since lapsed into
the darkest bfirbarism took a great he'd
upon mv imagination, wnen sudder ly
he said to me. "Lad. did you ever hear
of the Suliman Mountains up to the
northwest of the Mashukulumbwe coun
try?" I told him I never had. "Ah,
well," he said, "that was where Solomon really had his mine, his diamond
mines. I mean." - " 'How do vou know that?' I asked. " 'Know it," why, what is "Suliman"
but a corruption of Solomon? and, besides, an olcl Isanusi (witch doctor) up in the Manica country told me all about it. She said that the people who lived across those mountains were a branch
of the Zulus, speaking a dialect of Zulu,
but finer and bigger men even: that
there lived among them great wizards, who had learned their art from white men when "all the world was dark,;f and who had the secret of a wonderful
mine of "bright stones."
"Well, I laughed at this time, though it interested
diamond hems were not discovered then, and poor Evans went off and got killed, and for twecty years I never thought any more of the matter. But just twenty years afterward and that is a longtime, izentlemen: an elephant hunter does not
often live twenty years at his business
L heard sometmng more uenmie uuuut
Suliman's Mountains and the country
which lies beyond it. . I. was up bej'ond
the Manica country at a place called Sitanda's Kraal, and a miserable place it was, for one could get nothing to eat there, and tnere was but little game about. I had an attack of fever, and was in a bad way generally, when one day a Portuge arrived with a single companiona half breed. Now I know your Delagoa Portugee well. There is no greater devil unhung in a general way, battening as he does upon human agony and flesh in the shape of slaves. But this was quite a different type of man to ihe low fellows I bad been accustomed to meet; he reminded me rabre of the polite dons I had read about. He was tall and thin, with large dark eyes and curling mustaehois. Wo talked, together a little while, for he could speak broken English, and I understood a little Portugee, and he told me that his name was Jose Silvestree, and that he had a place near Delagoa Bay; and when he went on next day with his half-breed companion, he said, Goodbye, taking off his hat quite in the old, old style. 'Good-bye senor,' he Baid;' if ever we meet again I shall be the richest man in the world, and I will remember you.' I lauahed a little I was. too weak to laugh much and watched him strike out for the great desert to the west, wondering if he was mad, or what he thought he was going to find thor.
story at me, for
the the
"A week passed, I got oyar .the fever. One evening I was sitting on the ground in front of the little tent I Had with me, chewing the last leg of a miserable fowl I had bought from a native for a bit of cloth worth twenty fowls, and ptaring at the hot red sun sinking down into the desert, when suddenly I saw a figure, apparently that of a European, for it
wore a coat, .on the slope of the rising ground opposite to me, about three hundred yards away. The figure crept along on its hands and knees, then it got up and staggered along a few yards on its legs, only to fall and crawl along again. Seeing that it was somebody in distress, I sent one of my hunters to help him and presently he arrived, and who do you suppose it turned out to be? "Jose Silvestre, of course," said Captain Good. V Yes, Jose Silvestre. or rather his skeleton and a little skin. His face was a bright yellov with the bilious fever, and his large, dark eyes stood nearly out
ot his head, lor ail his nenn had gone. There was nothing but yellow parch-mant-like skin, with hair and the gaunt bones sticking tip beneath. . " ' Water! for the sake of Christ, water!
he moaned, l saw that his lips were cracked, and his tongue, which protruded
between them, swollen and blackish.
"I gave him water with, a little milk
in it, and he drank it in great gulps, two
quarts or more, without stopping.
would not let him have any more. Then
the fever took him again, and ho fell
down and began to rave about fluliman's Mountains, and the diamond's andthede ert. f took him into the
tent and did what I could forhim, which
was little enough; but 1 saw how it must end. About eleven o'clock he got
quieter, and I lay down for a little rest and w ent to sleep. At dawn I woke
again, and I saw him in the -half light
sitting up, a strange, gaunt form, and gaz
ing out toward the desert. Presently
tho first rays of the sun shot right across
the wide plain before us till it reached the faraway crest of one the tallest of of the Suliman Mountains more
than a hundred miles away.
" There it is', cried the dying man in Portuguese, stretching out his long thin arm.. 'but I shall never reach it, never.
No one will ever reach it
"Suddenlv he paused and seemed to
take a resolution. 'Friend,' he said,
turning toward me, 'are you there? Mv
eyes grow dark.'
"Yes.1 1 said: 'yes. lie down now and
rest,' .
" Ay, he answered, "I shall rest soon,
I have time to. rest all eternity. Listen I am dying! You have been good to me. I will give you the paper. Perhaps you can get there ii you can live through
the desert, which has Killed my poor
servant and me. .
'Then ho groped in his shirt and
brought out what I thought was a Boer
tobacco pouch of the skin of the Swart-vet-pens (sable antelope). It was fastened with a little strip of hide, what we call a rimpi, and this he tried to untie,
but could not. He panned it to me
untie it, he said, i did so, and ex
tracted a bit of torn yellow linen
on which somethins: was written in
rusty letters. Inside was a paper
"Then he went on teemy. lor he was
growing weak: The paper has it all, that
is on the rag. it took me years to read. Listen: My ancestor, a political refuge from Lisbon, and one of the first Portuguese who landed on these shores, wrote that when he was dying on those mountains which no white foot ever pressed before or since. His name was Jose da Si! vestra, and he lived three hundre i years ago. His slave, who waited for him on this side the : mountains, found him dead, and brought the writings home to Delagoa. It has been in the family ever since, but none have cared to read it till at last I did. And I have lost mv life over it, but another may succeed
and become the richest man in the world. Only give it to no one; go yourself! Then he began to wander again, and in, an hour all was over. , "God rest him! he died very quietly, and I buried him deep with big boulders on his breast: so I do not think the
jackals can have dug him up. And then
I came away. "Ay, but the document," said Sir Henry, in a tone of deep interest. "Yes the document: wThat was in it?"
added the captain.
"Well, gentlemen, if you like will tell you. . Iv have never
showed it to anybody except my dear
wife, who is dead, and she thought .it-
was all nonsense, and a drunken old
Portuguese trader who translated it for
me, and had forgotten all about it next
morning, me original rag is at my
home in Durban, together with poor Don Joe's translation, but I have the English rendering in my pocket-book,
and a fac-simile of tihe map, if it can be
called a map. Here it is."
T, Joeda Silvesira. who m now dyiug of
hunger lu the cave wh'iro no snr.w is on the i;ortn side of the nipple of tho fsomhernmoM- of the iwomouutains I hav named Sheha's Breasts.
write this in tbe year 1593 with a cleft hone up
on a remnant of my Tftiment, ray blood being
the ink. If my slave anoul J find u wnen he
comes, ana snouia Dnn? u w yeisgoa. lei my friend (name iilegib e) brlug the matter to the knowledge of ti e kinir, that he may fend an
armv hich, it they live through the desen and the mountains, and cm overcome the brav Kukuane and their devilish arts, to which Hid
manv priests should b brought, will make him tne richest king since Solomon. wjb my own eyes I have seen the counties diamonds htored in o'oraonVtreafcure chamber behiud the white Dewth : ti'it through the treachery of Gaguol the witchfiuderl mis?ht bring nought away except my life- Let him who comes follow the map, and climb the t?nov of i?beha,s left breast till be comes to the nipple, on the north aide of which is the great roa'd soJoicon made, fiom whence three days j urney in tbe King's Place. Let him kill Gagool. Pray for my soul. Pa ewell. Jose da SylTOstra." When I had finished reading tho ahove and shown the oony of the map, drawn by the dying hand of the old Don with his blood for ink, there followed a silence of astonishraent. M Well," said Captain Good, "I have been ronnd the world twice, and .put in at most ports, but may I be hung if I ever heard a yarn like that out of a story book, or in it either, for the matter of that" "It's a queer story Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry. U suppose you are not hoaxing us? It is, I know, sometimes thought-allowable to take a green-horn in.'' . ,. . . If you think that. Sir Henry," i said, "much put out, and pocketing ing my paper, , for I do not like to be thought one of those silly fellows who considers it witty to tell lies, and who are forever, boasting to new-comers of extraordinary hunting adventures which never happened "why shat ends tho matter,"and Tjrose to go. Sir Henry laid his LiTga hand upon my shoulder. "Sit down, Mr. Quatermain," he said, "I beg your pardon; I see very well you do not wish to deceive us, but the storjr sounied so extraordinary that I can hardly believe it." .. .f'You shall see the original map and writing when we reached Durban," I said, somewhat mollified, for really when I came to consider the matter it was scarcely wonderful that he should doubt mv erood faith. " But I have not told
you about your brother. I knew man Jim who was with him. He Bechuana by birth, a good hunter, for a native a very clever man.
morning Mr. Neville was starting I
Jim standing by my wagon and cutting u tobacco on the diBsel boom.
" 'Jim1 said I where are you off to
this trip? Is it elephants?'
'JNo, Haas, ne answered, we are alt
er something worth more than ivory.'
" f And what might that4bex Isaidjfor I
was .curious, itgoiur
" fc3ro. Baas, sdmuihing worth more
than gold,' and he grinned.
'I did not ask any more questions, for did not like to lower my. dignity by
seemi ng curious, out, i was puzsieu.
Presently Jim fimshed cutting nis tobacco. .
" 'Baas' eaid he. "1 took no notice. ....
" 'Have you ever heard of diamonds there?' " 'I have heard a foolish story, Jim.' " 'It isno story, Baas. I once knew a woman who came from there, and got to Natal with her cnild, she told me-she is dead now. ... .......... " "rour master will feed the aasvogels
vultures) Jim, if he. tries to reach isuli-
man's conrry, ana so win you it xney can get any pickings olf yonr worthless carcass.' said I.
He erinned. Ulayhap: iJaas. man
must die I'd rather like to try a new country myself; the elephants are get tiog worked -out about hero1 " 'Ah! my boJ7 I said 'vou wait till
the "pale old man" (deatn) gets a grip
of your yellow throat, and then we 11
hear what sort of a tune you smg.
Half an hour after tnat 1 saw Mr.
Neville's wagon move off. Presently Jim came running back. "Good-bye
Baas,' he said I didn't like to start with
out bidding you good-bye, for I dar say
you are right, and we snail never come back again.1 V 'Is your master really going to Suiiman's Berg, Jim, or are you lying?' " 4Nof' savs he, 'he is going. He told me he wfis bound to make his fortune somehov, or try to do so ; he micht as weli try the diamonds
" 'Oh!" said I; 'wait a bit, Jim; will you take a note to your master, Jim, and promise not to give it to him till you reach Inyati.' (which is some hundred milfS off i. " 'Yes,' said he. "So I taok a scrap of paper, and wrote on it, Let him who comes .... climb the snow ol Sbeba'a left breast, till he comes to the nipple, on the north side o! which in Solomon's great road.' " 'Novr. Jim,' I said 'when y op give this to your master, tell him. he had netter follow the advice implicitly. You are not to give it to him now, because I don't want him back asking me questions which I went answer. How, be off, you idle feHow, the wagon ia nearly out of si: ht.' r , ' "Jim look the note and went, and that is all I know about your brother. Sir Henry; but am afraid "Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry, "I am going to trace him to Suliman'B Mountains, and over tnem if necessary till I find him, or till I know that he is dead. WiH you come with me?" Iam, as I think I have said,a cautious man, indeed a timid one, and I shrunk from the idea. It seemed to me that to start on such a journey would be certain death, and putting other things aside, aa I had a son to support, I could not afford to die just then. , "No, thank you, Sir Henry, 1 think I had rather not," I answered. "I am too old for a wild-goose chase of that sort, and we should only end up like my poor friend Silvestre, I have a son dependent on me, so cannot afford to risk my life." . Both Sir Henry and Captain Good look very disappointed. "Mr. Quatermain," said the former, I am weil ot and I am bent upon this business. You may put the remuneration for your services at whatever figure you like in reason, and it shad be paid over to you before we start. Moreover, I will, before we start, arrange that in the exnt of anything happening to us or to you, that your son shall be suitably provided for. You will see from this how necessary I think vour pres
ence. Also if bv anv chance we shouldt
reach this place, and find diamonds, they shall belong to you and Good equally. I do not want them. But of course the chance is as good as nothing, though the same thing would apply to any ivory we might get. Yov may pretty well maie your own terms with me, Mr Quatermain, and of course 3 shall pay all expenses." . '''Sir Henry," said I, "this is the most liberal offer I ever had, and one not to be sneezed at by a poor hunter and trader. Bui; the job is the biggest I ever came across, and I must take time to think it over. I will give you my answer before we get to Durban." "Veiy gcod," answered Sir Henry, and then I said good-night and turned in, and dreamed about poor long-dead Silvestre and the diamonds. r Continued next week.
BARNLIKE
THE MANGER AND THE STAR OF
BETHLEHEM;
Marking tho Birtbplaco'of a Savior Sent ak a Saqriflce ot a RetopUious World.? J 2
LONDON'S LATEST SENSATION.
Two Boj
SInrderert and lated.
Horribly Mutl-
wae
""Tbe mutilated body of a boy
found in an outhouse at Bradford Saturday morning. It was recognised as that
of John Gill, eight years of age, who when last seen alive was sliding on the
ice with some companion. The boy had
been brutally murdered. His legs and
arms had been chopped off in a rough
manner and tied to his body.his ears had
been cut off and there were two stab wounds in his chest and his heart and his entrails had been torn out. The remains, when found, were wrapped in a rough covering. The police believe, from the clumsy manner in which the body was mutilated, that the crime was
the work of drunken lads. whose imagina tion had been inflamed by reading accounts of .Whitecbacel atrocities. It is su pposed th e murder and butchery were committed in some other place and the remains afterwards carried by the. perpetrators to the outhouse in which they were found. The crime has created the gi eat est excitement at Bradford. The police have not as yet found any trace of the murderers.. A milk man has been a rested on suspicion of having committed the- crime. The murdered boy had occasionally accompanied him on his rounds. The prisoner was the first to recognize the remains. It is certain that the body was placed in the outhouse between the honrs of 4 and 6 of the morning, . Scarcely had the people began to recover from the shock of the first than they were horrified by the report of an other boy murder. The body of the second boy wa3 horribly mutilated. It was found at Kilwich near Keighley. No clue to the murderer in either case has been found. The police are searching the country around and are assisted Iw volunteer parties. All the railway
stations are oeing watched. ; f
Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at, the Brooklyn Tabernacle last Sunday. Text:
Luke ii., 12-13. He said: .
At midnight from out ot tne galleries
of the sky a chant broke. To an "ordi
nary observer there wak no -?easpn. for
such a celestial demonstration, a poor man and' wife--traveled Jpsepn and Mary by namehad lodged in putfiniian nf nil imimnnrtnnt, villnm Th
Minrfimfi hour of solemnitv had na?sed,
and upon the pallid forehead and chek
oi Jylaty woq nau pet xue a.gnny, tat grandeur, thb tenderness, the everlasting and Divine significance of motherhood. . But such scenes had often occurred in Bethlehem, yet never before had a star been unfixed or had a baton of light marshaled over the hills-winged orchestra. If there had been such bril
liant and mighty recognition at an advent in the House of Pharaoh or at an advent in the House of Ciwar, or the House; of Hapsburg, or the House of Stuart, we Would not so much have wondered, but a barn seems too poor a center for such delicate and archanffelic circumference. The stage seems too small for bo great an act, the music too grand for such unappreciative auditors, the window of the stable too rude to be serenaded by other worlds. : No, sir. No, madam, it is my joy this morning to tell you what Was born that night in the village barn; and ai 1 want to make my oiscourse accumulative and climacterii, I begin, in the first place, by telling you that that night in the Bethlehem manger was born (1) encouragement for all the poorly started. He had only two friends: they" His parents. No satin-lined cradle, no delicate attentions, but straw, and the cattle and the coarse joke and . banter of the camel-d iver. No wonder the mediteva painters represent the oxen as kneeling before the infant JeBns, -for there were no men there at that time to worship. From the depths of what poverty He rose until to-day He is nonored in all Christendom, and sits on .the imperial throne in heaven.
Wnat name is mientiest to-aay im
Christendom? Jesus: Who has more friends on earth than any other being? Jesus. . Before whom' do the most thousands kneel in chapel and church and cathedral at this hour? J esus. For whom could one hundred million souls be marshaled, ready to fight or die? Jesus. From what, depths o poverty to heights of renown? And so let all those who are poorly started remember that they can not be more - poorly born, or more disad van tageously, than this Christ. Let them look up to His example while they have time ; and eternity ta imitate it.':. ; . Do ou know that the vast majority of the world's deliverers had barnlike birthplaces? Luther, the emancipator of religion, born among the mines; Shakespeare, the emancipator of literature, born in an : humble home at Stratf ord-on-Avon; Columbus, the discoverer of a world, born in poverty at Genoa; Hogarth, the discoverer of how to make art accumulative and administrative of virtue, born in a humble home at Westmoreland. Yea , I have to tell you that nine out of ten of the world's deliverers, nine ont of ten" of the world's Messiahsthe Messiahs of science, the Messiahs 0? law, the Messiahs of medicine, the Messiahs of poverty, the Messiahs of grand benevolence were bomin want.. ' ' ..;,J. ... ,:,.". ..,,. ; I stir your holy ambitions to-day, and I want to tell you, although the whole world may be opposed to you, and inside and outside of your occupations or professions there may be those who would hinder your ascent on your side and enlisted in your behalf and the sympathetic heart and almighty arm of One who. one Christmas night, about eighteen hundred and eighty-eiht years ago, was, wrapped m swaddling clothes and laid in a manger: .
Oh, what magrnentacouragement J
tor tnejioewy started! , . " 4
i Acain, I have to tell you that in
that village . barn that night was born
good will to men. whether you call xt
kindness, or forbearance, or forgiveness, or geniality, or affection, or love. It was no sport of high heaven to send its fa
vorite to tnat numniataon. it was a sac
rifice for a rebellious world. After the
caiamitv in Paradise not only did the
ox begin to gore, and the adder to sting, and the elephant to smite with his tusks, and the lion to put to bad use tooth and
paw, but under the very tree from which
the forbidden fruit was plucked were hatched out war and revenffe,and malice
and envy and jealousy, and the' whole
brood of cockatrices.
But against that scene I set the Bethlehem manger, which eaysi "Blesa rath
er than curse; endure rather than assault;" and that Christmas night puts out vindintivt-ness. It says: "Sheath your sword, dismount your guns, dismantle your batteries, turn the war shin Constellation, that carried shot and shell, into a grain ship to take food to famishing Ireland; Iiook your cavalry horses
to the plow; use your deadly gunpowder
in blasting rocks and m patriotic celebrations; stop yoir lawsuits; quit writing anonymous letters; extract the sting f ' o ?u your sarcasm ; J et your wit corras-. cate, but never b'arn; drop all the harsh words out of your vocabulary. -'Good will to men.' " 'Obi" you say, 'fl can't exercise it; I won't exercise it until they apologise; I won't forgive them until they ask me to forgive them." Yb a are no Christian, then I say you are no Christian, or you are a verv inconsistent Christian. If . .. .. - it . . "
vou forgive not men tneir- trespasses.
the was and The saw
" Baas,' said he again. " 'Eh, boy, what is ii?'
sa d I.
" Baas, we are going after diamonds. " 'Diamonds! why, then, you are go-
ing m tne wrruw aireouon; you snouia
head for the Fields,7 ,
" 'liaas. have vou heard of Suliman's
Berg?' (Solomon'tt Mountains),
Execrable Spelling, K. Y. Sun. . The ignorance of some jeople is invincible. It is seemingly impossible .to make the countryman understand the bunco game; the stories of the victims are told each week in the papers which the country folks read, yet when the bunco man cries "Next!" they crowd up,
almost quarreling for the honor of being cheated. Another thing that never seems to occur to the countrymanand to many a city man, too, . for that matter is that he can use the newspapers aa a spelling book, or get other good from them than news. Two letters reached
the Sun yesterday; in one the writer asked for 14 Webster's Under Bridge Dicf-ionerry;" in the other, the writer said he could i4youse" something if he had it. This second man lived in this city. .... .... From the country some time ago came a letter asking, "What was the unforbediVnt fruit? Why did King sle-w Able?" And similar letters come almost everv day. signed nnhbishvnsly 'Constant, Reader" or, "Old Reader." It ne ver sterns to ooour to he writer that bv signing himself so, and at the same time misspelling mst atrociously . half of his words, he writes h'mself down largely as an incorrigible sluggard who knows not how to use his opp rtunities; but he does; whether he knows it or
not. .
The Irish Question. Harper's Magazine. ..... Every prosperous community has "three strings to its bow"-agriculture, manufactures and commerce. Whatever or whoever is to blame for it, all three have goae wrong iu Ireland. .
how can 'orl expect your Heavenly
Father to forgive you? Horgive them if thev ask your forriveness, and forgive
them anvhow. Shake hands all around.
"Good will to men." ;: Oh. mv Lord, Jesus, drop that spirit
into our hearts this Christmas hour. I
tell vou what the world wants more
than anything else more helping
hands, niore sympathetic hearts more kind words that never diei more dis
position to give other people a ride, and to carry the heavy end of the load and uiv a other people, the light end, and
to ascnoe good motives instead of bad and to find our happiness in making others happy. Out of that Bethlehem crib let thebear aud the lion eat straw like an ox "Good will to men.' That principle' will yet settle all controversies aad under it the world will keep on improving until thei e will lie only" wq antagonists in all the earth; and they will, side by side, take the jubilant sleigh-ri le intimated by the prophet when he said: "Holiness shall bo on the bells of the horsefu" , V 3. Again, I remark that, Christmas night in the villa ge barn,; was sympathetie union with other worlds. The
only skepticism I have ever; had about Christianity was an astronomical skepti
cism, which said: W ny would uod out of the heavens and amid the jupiters and Saturns of the universe have chosen our little bit of a yorld for the achieve mentsbf His only begotten Son when lie might have l ad a vaster scale and vaster Vorldb?" But my skepticism is all gone as I cone to the manger and watch its surroniings. Now I see all the worlds are sisters; and that when one weeps they ill weep, and when one sings they all sir ig. ... ; - From that supernatural grouping in the cloud-banks over Bethlehem, and from the especial trains that run. down to the scene, I lind that our world is beautifully and gloriously and magnificently surrounded. .. . . 1 The meteors are with us, for one of them ran to a tioint down tothe birthplace. The heavens are with & be
cause ot the thou gnt ot our redemotion
Angels in the the sick." An
to- watch otir church ready- ; with the Angela above
may be better surrounded than we'
sometimes imagine, and when a child is born angels fetch it, and When it dies anuels take it, and wheja an old man be ds under the weight of ye&ri angels uphold him, and when a heart
break3 angels soothe it. hospital to take care of gels in the cemet ry dead. Angels in tho to Qy heavenward news of repentant souls.
the world. Angels under the world.
Angels all around tlie world. - RuB the f - ' dust of human imp;rfectiou ,puti bjf jror- ::' eyes and look into th heavens ind see . angels of pity,,ange)8 of mercy,7 aniels o ;vv.-; pardon, angels of iielp angels charioted. v , J The world defended by angels, girdled v . by angelsVcohorted by angels r-cloudn ofr-Z't.
angeis. ... . n ear - ua. viu cry oxsk : jl.
chariots of God :. are ntwenty thousand.!
mightiest angel stood not that night: in the clouds over Bethlehem; the mightiest angel tixat nijrht lay among the; cattle--the At-gel of the new cqvenehC ' ; As uhe clean white linen sent in W
some motherly? villager was heing wrapped arouvnd the little form of that J , Child Empert1; not a cherub, "not seraph, not an & hgel, not a yrorld but wept and thriilea and shouted: ; Oh! ye . : ourworni has ple.ity oT sympathisers; V Our world is only & sil ver rung of : great ladder, st the top of which; i our father's houee. Nd more stellar sohtariness for our wdi)d, i0 a friend le I planet spun-out ihtb space to freeze hnt a world in the bosom of div e mateiit ty. A star harnessed to a maift : .,- . 4. Again, ; I remark thai thav highfef J born in the village barn, wae : er's hope. ..'...t-. a';v" yyt' -Jap'$ Some sermoni2ers may. say I ought, to . ' have oioiected this thought a the oe v
ginning of the sermon." i Ol'nojS;' wanted you to rise toward it' I want? ed you to examine the cornelians, andithe jaspers and the emeralds and te ; cbrvsaiis before showed you the-Kofe-'
noor the crown jewel of the ages.: :
Ohl that jewel had a very poor eettingr The cub of bear is born amid the grand old pillars of the forest, the whelp of the , lion takes it first step from the jungle of luxuriant left and wild-flo wer, the k id ot A goat is born in eavern ' chandelieredl. with stalactite and pillared with stalagmite. Christ was born, in a bare barn. 't Yet that nativity was the ondeye . hope. ..Over the door of heavenAre written these4 words: Non6 but thsi"
sinless may enter here." , .rt v rf ,'0h, horrori" you say, "that shuts u all omt;" Ufa. Christ $ came - to theworld in one door, "and Me departeds
through another door. He came through
the door of the sepulcher, and His
one, 5
pusmess was 10 waoo p.vny : u -ou uimv
V;
one second after we are dead there will?
be no more sin about, us ia.bonlthe eternal God. :r. .-'- I -know, that it in nuttinfir it stronfflv. -
but that is';;wbat I ' understand : iy f . ? i full remission. All erased, all washeft r tt away, all scoured outi all ffne. Thate" undertfirdinz, and overarchine. and ir , Si
radiating, and imparadising possibilityfor -you and for me, and for the whole-. v race, wasgiveii on that Cbrijtmar - night:'. .. .-: -;'Vr. -:-:-7: .60 you wonder ;we. , larihg; flowers to-dav to celebrate such an ctventt : f
Do you wonder that we$; take the organ and cornet and : f youthfolvoice and queenly soloist to celebmte ' T)o you wonder that Baphae and JRotjjrr ens and Titian and Giotto and Glarlan- -daio. and all the old German and Italian
painters gave the mightiest stroke of the . pencil to sketch the Madonna? Mary and. her Boy? ... ... - ;' ' - -. :" : Oh! now I see what the manger :
Not so high the gilded, jeweled and em-
broidered-cradle of the Hunrys, m ng g land, or the Louises of Fraiice, fha. Fredericks of Prussia. Now I fin tuijt the Bethlehem crib ied not bO mucu f -the oxen of the stall as the white torses of Apocalyptic vision. Now I find ftgfi s adding clothes enlarging and emblaa?
omng-into an imperial roue tor icw-, queror. ... Now I find the'- star of that h Christmas night was only the diamond? sandal of Him who hath . the moon : un der His feet. Now I come to ? under- v : stand that the music of the night waa '. not a complete song, but onlv the string- 7 in of the instruments ' for the r reat i ; chorus of the two worlds, the fcass to be J Xj
carried by the earthly Nations savedV and the soprano by,Kicgdomabf Gloay
WOn. . , . . , .. .. :-l -Nvf Oh, heaven, heaven, heaven. ;I shaJ . meet you there. After all pur? impeij fections are gone, I shall meet you , there. I look out to-day, through the mist of years, through the foj that risep'v' from the cold Jordan, 'throitgh the 'wide open door of" solid pearl, to that reunipn I expect to seey ou there as certainly aa J
I see you here. What a time we shafi have in high converse j talking over sins pardoned and sorrows, comforted and
battles triumphant ,: -V " ; K V V ? 7 .-! am ?oing m; TI am going tottake aU 5? my famuy with me. I am going to take -, all my church with me;-' I am gbingv to
take all my mends and neighbors with me. I hare,sp much . faith ;in man-5 ger and crossVt I. feel sure of 5fi .I1 am going to coax you in? rl am goings to: push yon in. ; By holy ,stratageni 1 anx going to surprise" you in. Yeaf . with "ail. the concentrated energy of mynaire - physical mental: spiritual "and immor
tal I am going to compel you to so 2in
1
nitv wih vou
like you so well I. want to spend eterr
Some of your children- have? already. me. Some time 'aero J buried one of?"'
cone
them, and though people passin e along
the street and seeing white crape on the dooihbell may have said: It igi only-V child!' yet when the broken': hearted father came to solicit my service he said: "Come around and comfort us, for though she was only fifteen months oldwe loved her so much,- Abl Cit ioea upt take lo e for a child to get itearnia around the parent's whole natuie "
make when those with whein you usecl:'" to keep the holidays are all around-you in fceavenl Silver-haired old I taUxex ;
many aches and pains and decrepitudes &
well again, and all your brothers and
sisters and the little"5 bnes Hwwfli
they will be to see you! , fe V' :
T aev have been waiting. The last
time they saw your face it was coverecb
wnii tears ana aiBcrcse, ana pauia irons long watching, and one of them l caiu imagine to-day, with one hand holding
tast the snimng gate, ana the other
hand swung out toward you, saying:
"Stepr this way, fat 0 Sr. steer straignn for met
tH te kub ui ndven 1 am watttngjfor tnee.7 . &
lCerry v Christmas! Merry witht the , thought of sins forgiven merry witfi the idea of sorrows comforted , meriy!. with the raptures to com- s, Oh lm that Christ from the manger and lay "4 Him down in all our hearts IVe mas;
a- 4
m
.r
not bring to Him as costly a; pi-eaent as the Magi brought, but we bring to ftiS1
incence of our joy, 'the - pearls : ol out v liearsi t he kiss of our ? iojb -tion of our worship, -vr ; i i . , Down at His feet all churhesatt rt ages, all earth, all heaven.; I )ownt t, His feet the four-and-twenfcy elders otJJ" their faces; Down the "great multathdef that no man can number. ' Y J)own Mioael 4 vfc the archangel! Down all worlds at
His feet and . worship; v "Glory to: God in the highest and on earth pece,good ! .will to men!" V . .
- ' An Old-Time Remedy
It is seldom, in these days hat
you.
Not:
hear of a person being leeched or c
It is rapidly becoming a lost art a great many years back it was a-
lmportant ousmess m cpnnecuon with , tonsprial establishmenlii- Inifsct it- was almost a prof ession oi own, Cuppiag,
ana leecmng were verj; popuujir among
the Ciermans, and, w nether weak oi:,t
strong, they followed the usee Not a great many years ago an ; apprentice barber invariably had to become as Proj iftcient in the application :of tht leech as'
he did in the shaving line. Barbers also
they roUhosanaas outpf, the midnight ; did a good deal of tooth jerking," but
skv. , " . .',v j that part of the business is aieii.no'pnore Ohl yes; I do not know,Jpu our world I since mmmm'tl ;
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