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THE BUTLER HERALD.
W. I. BERKS AKD JAMES D. RUSS, Editors.
‘LET THERE BE LIGHT.”
SUBSCRIPTS: $1.50, ia Alviu
VOLUME X.
BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JUNE 8, 1886.
NUMBER 31.
DR, TALMAGE’S SERMON,
RETURN FROM THE dHAsE
Text: “In the mornrng he shall devour the
prey, and at night ho shall divide the spott.”
Genesis, xlix, XL
There is in this chapter such an affluence df
simile and allegoiY, such amiDgling of mbtar
bhors, that thfcre Are a thousand thoughts in
iu it hofe on the stlrface. Qld Jacob, dyiqe,
is telling the fortunes of his children. He
prophecies the devouring propensities of
Benjamin and his descendants. With his
dim old eyes he looks off and sees the hunters
going out to the fields, ranging them all day
and at nightfall coming home, the game slunjr
over the shoulder; and reaching the door or
the tent the hunters begin to distribute the
game, and one takes a ccney and another a
rabbit an l another a roe. “In tho morning
he shall devour the prey, and at night ho
shall (livid? the sx>oil.” Or. it may be a ref
erence to the habits of wild beasts that slay
their prey, and then dreg it back to the cavo
or lair and divi 'o it among tho young.
There is r.o hiug more lancinating than tho
life of a hunter. On a cortaia day in all Eng
land you can hear the crack of the sports
man's gun because grouse-hunting has begun;
nud every man that can afford the time and
amu ition and can draw a bead starts for
the li 1 is. On the 20th of October our woods
an i forests will refund with the shock of
firearm-, nud will be tracked of pointers and
6 tters boeauso the quail will then be a lawful
pri.e for the siioitsman. Xenophon grew
c loquent in regard to the art of hunting. In
the far least p.ople, elephant-mounted, chase
the tiger. Tho American Indian darts his
arrow at the buffalo until the frightened herd
tumble over ilie ro ks. European nobles are
often found in the fox chase and at the stag
hunt. Francis L was called the father of
hunting. Moses declares of Nimrod: *‘He
was a mighty hunter before tho Lord.”
Tlwrelore, in ail ages of the world the imagery
of my text ought to be suggestive whether it
means a wolf after a fox or a man after a
lien. “Ini he morning he shall devour the
p:ey, and at night he shall divide tho sooil.”
1 take my text in the first place os descrip
tive < f those people who in the morumg of
their life give themselves up to hunting the
world, but afterward, by the grace of God,
iu tho evening of their life, divide among
themselves tho spoils of Christian character.
There are aged Christian men and women in
tliis house who, if they gave testimony, would
tell j'ou that in the morning of their life they
were alter the world as intensely as a hound
after a hare, or as a falcon swoops upon a
fM, :e le. They wanted the world’s plaudits
ami tho wor.d s gains. They felt lhat if they
could get this world they would have every
thing. Some cf them started out for the
pleasures of the world. They thought
that tho man who laughel loudest
was happ'est. They tried repartee nud
conundrum and burlesque and mad-
ijgal. They thought they would like to be
Tom IIcoJs, or Charles Lambs, or Edgar A.
l J ce 5. They m ngled wine and music and the
sjxKta.ular. Tney were worshipers of tho
harlequin an-1 the Merry Andrew and the
buffoon and tho jes.er. Life was to them
foam au l bubble and cackinuation and
loystenng and grimace. They were
so lull of glee they oould hardly
repress their mirth ev on sol-
emu occa-ions, and they came near burst
ing cut li laiiously even at tho burial, be
cause there was something so dolf rous in the
ton? «.r countenance of the undertaker.
After a-Ah lc misfortune struck them hard on
the back. They found there was something
they coul l not laugh at.
Under their lato hours their health gave
way or th,»ro was a death in the house. Of
every green thing their soul was exfoliated.
They found out that lifo was more than a
ioke. From the heart of Gol there blazed
into their soul au earnestness they had never
telt before. '1 hey awoke to their sinfulness
and their iiumoi tality, and here they sit to
e-ay at sivty or s?veuty years of age, as ap
preciative of all innocent mirth as they ever
were, but they are bent on a style of satisfac
tion which in early lifo they never hunted;
the evening of their days brighter than the
morning. In the morning they dovourod tho
prey, but at night they are dividing the spoil.
Then there are others who started out for
f nan ial success. They see how limber a
limn s hat is w hen lie bows down before some
on? transpicuous. They felt that they would
like to tee how the world looked from tho
window’ of a three thousand dollar turnout.
They t bought they would like to have the
monrng sunlight tangled in the headgear of
n da-Mug span. They wanted tho bridges in
tho park ta res juud under tho rataplan of
their swift hoofs. They wanted a gilded
bald rick, and so they started cn the dollar
hunt. They chased it up one street and
cliasxl it down another. They followed it
when it burrow e l in tho cellar. They treed
it in the roof. Wherever a dollar was ex-
jectod to bo they were. They chased it
a r iss the o can. They chased it across tho
l.sud. They stopped not for tho night.
H a ring that dollar even in tho darkne-s
thril cct them as an Adirondack sportsman is
thrilled by a loan’s laugh. They chased that
dollar to the money vault. They chased it to
the Government treasury. They routed it
from under the counter. All the hounds were
out—all tho pointers and setters. They
lease 1 iho hedges for that dollar, anl they
cried: “Hark, away! a dollar! a dollar!” and
when at last they came upon it and ha 1 a -tu-
ully captured it, their excitement was like
that of a falconer who had successfully flung
ills Hr.-1 lmwk. Iu tho morning of their life,
oh bow they devoured the prey! B it there
came a better lime to their soul. They found
out that an immortal nature cannot live on
Government bonds. They took up a North
ern Facilic bond and there was a hole in it
through which thev could look into the un
certainty of all enrthlv treasurer. They saw
Eomj Ralston, living at tho rate of $25,003 a
month, leaping from tho Fan Francisco wharf
because ho could not continue to live at the
same ratio. They saw’ the wizen and para-
1\ tic bankers, who had change i their souls into
molten gold, stamped with the image of the
ca th, earthy. They sawsone great souls
by avarice turned into homunculi, and they
sai l to themselves: “I will seek after higher
treasure. ’ From that time they did not care
whether they walked or ro3o if Christ w alked
with them: nor whether th 'y lived in a man
sion or a hut ii’tli ?ydwo't under the shadow of
the Aim"ghty; uo« : whether they wore robed in
French broadcloth or ia a homesimn if they
had the robe of the Saviour's righteousness;
nor whtt ier th>y were sanda’ed with mo
rocco or calf-skin if they were shod with the
preparation of tho GospeL Now you roe
peace on tneir counteuan o. Now tint man
sacs: “What a fool I was to be enchanted
with this wo Id! "Why, 1 have more in ac
tion in five minutes in the service ot G cl than
1 ha i in alt the first years of my lifo whi.o I
was gain getting. 1 li e this evening o. my
day a great d al betfc r than I did tho morn
ing. In the morning I greed l.v devoured the
prey; but now it is eve ling, and I am glori
ously dividing the spoils.”
Mv friends, this world is a poor thing to
hunt. It s healthful to go out iu the woo-Is
and hunt. It rekindles tho lustre of tho
eye. It strikes the brown of the q itu nnal
leaf into the cheek. It gives to th? rheu
matic limbs a strength to leap like th? roe.
Christopher North’s pet gun. the mucfcle-
mounted meg, g >ing off in toe summer in
th? fore*t', ba I it- echo in the winter t*mo
in the elo iuence that i ang through the Uni
versity halls of Edinburgh. It is healthy to
go hunting in the field-: but I te’l you that
ii is belittling and 1 e Iwarfing and belaraing
for a man to hunt this world. The hammer
comes down on the gun cap and the bnrrel
cxnlcdc > and kills you instead of that which
you are pursuing. When you turn out to
hunt tho world, the world turns out
to hunt you: and as many a sportsman aim-
in? his gun at a panthers heart has gone
down under th? striped claws, so while you
have been attempting to devour this world,
the world his l>oen devouring you. So it
was with Lord Byron. So it was with Cole
ridge. So it was with Catherine of Russia.
Henry II. went out hunting for this world
and its lances stuck through his heart. Fran
cis T. aimed at the world, but the assassin’s
dagger put an end to bis ambition and his
life with one stroke. Mary, Queen of Scots,
wrote on the window of her castle:
“From the tep of all my trust,
Mishap hath laid mo in the dust.”
The Oueen Dowager of Navarre was
offered for her wedding day a costly and
boau'iful pair of gloves and she put them on;
but they were poisoned gloves and they took
her life. Bettor a bare hand of cold priva
tion than a warm and poisoned gtove of
ruinous success. “Oh,” says some young
man in the audience, “I believe what you are
preaching. I am going to do that very thing.
In tho morning of ray life t am going to
devour the prey, and in the evening I shall
divide the spoil of Christian character. I
only want a little while to sow my wild cats
And then 1 wiii .be gOod.” Yoting man, did
you ever take the cehsusof all the old people?
How many old popple are there in your
house? One, two or none! How many in a
vast assemblage like this! Only here and
there a gray Head, like . the patches
of sn"»w here and there in tho fields on a lato
April clay. The fart is that the tides of the
S cars arc so strong that men go down under
lem before they get to. be sixty, before they
f et to be fifty, before thoy get to be forty,
cforo they get to be thirty: and if yon, mv
young brother, resolve now that ycu will
spend the morning of your days in devouring
the prey, tho probability is that 3 r oii will
never divide the spoil in the evening hour.
H? who post’ ones until old ago the rel’giou
of Jesus Christ, postpones it forever. Whoro
are tho men who, thirty years a?o, resolved
to become Christians in old a~e, putting
it off a certain number of ycare ?
They never cot to be old. The
railroad collision or the steamboat
ex-*ios:oa or tho slip on the ico or the falling
ladder or the sudden cold put an end to tlicir
o -pertuniLies. Thev linvo n?ycr hud an op-
port mlly si ice and never will have an op
portunity again. They locked tho door of
H< a veil against their souls and tli *y threw
away the keys; and if they could now break
in 1 an 1 come up shrinking t > this aud'enoe,
I do no" think they would take two minutes to
persuade us all to repentance. They chase i the
world and they died in the cha e e. The wounded
tiger turned on them. They fade d to take the
game that they pursued. Mounte 1 on a swift
courser they leaped the hedge,but th? courser
fell on them and crushed them. Proposing to
barter their soul for the worll they lost both
and got neither.
dViii’e this is an encouragement to old peo
ple who are yet uupardone l, it is no encour
agement to the young who are putting off
tho day of grnc?. This doc trine that the old
may bo repentant is to be taken captiously.
Jt is medicine that kills or cures. The same
n edfrine given to different patients in one
ca<e saves life and iu the other dastroys it
This possibility of repentance at the close of
life may cure the old man while it kills the
young. Be cautious in taking it.
Again, my subject i# descriptive of those
who° com? to a sudde* and radical change.
You have noticed ho\* shoit a time it is from
u o niug to night in winter—eight or ten
hours. You know that a winter day has a
very brief life. The heart of tho longest day
h»a*s t wenty-four times and then it is dead.
IIo .v «mirk the transition in the character of
these Benjaminites! “Iu the morning they
shall devour the prey, and at night they
s’.ial divide tho spol.” Is it possible
that there shall bo such a trans-
f.irmation in any of our characters?
Yes. a man may bo at seven o’clock in the
mo: li lig an all-devouring worldling, and at
•3 • veil o', look at night ho may be a peaceful
distributive Christian. Conversion is in-
st n am o is. A man parses into the kingdom
of God q uicker than down the sky runs the
zig-zag lightning. A man may be anxious
about liis soul for a great many years; tho*
does not make him a Christian. A man may
pray a great while; that does not make him a
Christian. A man may res five on the refor
mation of his character and have that reso-
Iu ion geiugon a great while; that dors not
ma ;o him a Christian. But the very instant
when he flings his soul on the mercy of
Jo in Christ, that iustant is lustration,
emancipation, resurrection. Up to that
point lie is goiag in the wrong direction;
after that point h? is going in the right di-
ro -rioiL Before that moment lie is a child
sm; after that moment lie is a child of God.
Bsfoi e that moment, boll ward; after that
moment, heavenward! Before that moment,
devouring th? prey; after that moment, di-
vidiu^fche spoil. Five minut?s is as good
a? llvePyearrs! My hearer, you know very
well that Che best things you have done j*ou
have dona in a flash. You made up your
mini in an instant to buy or to sell
or to invest or to stop or to start.
If you had missed that ouo chance you
woull have missed it forever. Now just as
pre ipitatc anl quick and spontaneous will
be tho ransom of your soul. This morning
you are making a calculation. You arc ou
the f rack of some financial or social came.
With your pen or pencil you are pursuing it.
This very morning you are devouring the
prey; but to-night you will be in a different
mo d. You find that all heaven is offered you.
You won ler how you can get it for yourself
r.nd family. You wonder what resources it
will give you now and here if ter. You are
divi ling peace aucl comfort and satisfaction
an l Christian reward iu your soul. You aro
dividing the spoil.
On a Sabbath night at th? close of the ser
vice, I said to some persons: “When did you
first bi'cone seriou; about your soul?” and
they told mo: “To-night.” And I said to
011161*8: “Whoa did you give your heart to
God?” and thev’ said: “To-night.” And I
said to still others: “When did you resolve
to serve the Lord all tho (lays of vour life?”
and they said: “To-night.” I saw by tflhir
apparel that when the gra*e of God struck
thorn they war? devouring tho prey; but I
s iw also-in the flood of joyful tears, and in
tho kindling raptures on their brow, and in
ill *ir exhilarant and transporting utterances
that they were dividing tho spoil. At night
with one touch of e!e:tricity a ! l these lights
blaze. Oh, I would to God that th? darkness
of your souls might bo broken up, au 1 that
by one quick, overwhelming, instantaneous
flush of illumination you might be brought
into tho light and the liberty of the sons of
God!
You see that religion is a different thing
from what some of you peoplo sunpcs?d.
You thought it was decadence; you thought
religion was emaciation; you thought.it was
hip Invar robbery; that it struck one down and
loft him"half dead; that it plucked out tho
eyes; that it plucked out tho plumes of tho
soul; that it broko tho wing and crushed the
b?ak as it came clawing with its black talons
through tho air.No,that is not religion. What
is religion? It is dividing the spoil. It is tak
ing a defenseless soul and panoplying it for
ete rnal conquest. It is tho distribution or
prices by tho Kings baud; every mxlal
stamped with a coronation. It is an exhil
aration, an expansion. It is imparadisatiou.
It is onthronoment. Religion makes a man
master of earth, and death, and hell. It
goes forth to gather tho medals ot victory
won by Priuce Emmanuel, an l tho diadems
of heaven and th? glories of realms terres
trial and celestial, and then, after
run ping all world; for everything that is
resplendent, it divides the spoil. What was
it that James Tnrncr, the famous English
evangelist, was doing when in his dying
moment he said: ‘‘Christ is all! Chris; is
rll!” Why, he was entering into light; ho
was rounding the Cape of Good Hope; ho
was dividing the spoi.. What was the aged
Christian Quakeress doing when at eighty
years of ago she nro. i -e in the meeting one
day and said: “The time of my departure
is come. Mv grave clothes are falling off.”
She was dividing the spoil.
“She longed with wings to fly away.
And mix with that eternal day.”
What is Daniel now doing, tho lion tamer!
and Elijah, who was drawn by the flaming
coursers? and Paul, the rattling of whosi
chaius ma !e kings quake? and all th? other
victims of flood and fire and wreck and guil
lotine? Where are they? Dividing tho spoil
“Ten thousand times ten thousand,
In sparkling raiment bright.
The armies of t ho ransomed saints
Throng up tho steeps of light.
’Tis finished, all is finished,
Their fight with death and sin;
Lift high your golden gates
And let the victors in.”
Oh, what a grand thing it i3 to be a Chris
tian < We begin on earth to divide the spoil,
but 1 he distribution will not be completed to
ail eternity. There is a poverty-struck soul,
Sim is a business-oespoileA soul, there is a
sin-struck soul, the»o is a bereaved soul-
why do you not come and got the spoils
c f 'Christian character, the comfort, tho
joy, the peace, the > salvation that I
am seut to offer ../ou in my Mas
ters names. Thouglf vour knees knock
together in weakness, though your hand
tremble in fear, though,vour eyes rain tears
of unccntrojable weeping—come and get the
spoils. Rest for all tho weary. Pardon for
all the guilty. Harbor for all the bestormed.
Life for all the dead. I verily believe that
there are some who have come in here out
cast because the world, is against them, *m*.l
because they feel God is against
will go away to-day saying:
“I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary and worn and sad
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.”
Though you came in children of the world,
you may go away heirs of heaven. Though
you were devouring the prey, now, all worlds
witnessing, you may divide the spoil.
The Impossible.
Mati cannot draw water from an empty welly
Nor trace the stories that gossips toll,
Nor gather the sounds of a pealing bo T
Man never can stop tho billow’s roar,
Nor change the winds till they blow no more,
Nor drive true love from a maiden’s door.
Man cannot o’ertehft a, fleeting lie,
Change his wheat ion field of rye,
Nor call back years that have long gone by.
M&tt cannot a cruel word recall,
Fetter a thought, be it great or small,
Nor honey extract from a drop of galL
Man never can bribe old Father Time,
Gain the peak that he cannot climb,
Nor trust the hand that hath done a crime.
Man never can backward turn the tide,
Nor count the stars that are scattered wide,
Nor find in a fool a trusty guide.
Man cannot reap fruit from worthless seed,
Roly for strength on a broken reed,
Nor gain a heart he hath caused to bleed.
Man never can hope true peace to win,
Pleasure without and joy within,
Living a thoughtless life of sin.
JIM CHURCHILL.
Ifc.w:is dusty, hot and badly ventilated
indoors, although out of doors a cold ram
rvas beating cheerlessly against the car
windows, and the damp, raw wind was
as fresh as the brown hills and ice cov
ered marshes it blew over. It was an ac
commodation train on one of the trunk
lines in the central part of this State and
therefore a hotter condition of affairs
could not have been expected. No mat
ter how cold the weather or wet, it is al
ways hot and dusty on an accommoda
tion train. The colder and wetter it is
outside, the hotter and dustier inside,
and the more unpleasant it is the slower
the train bumps over the rails, the more
frequent the stop3 it makes, the larger
the crowd of on-coming passengers, and
the greater the throng of goers-out. At
Palatine Bridge the train came to another
stop. On the uncovered platform of the
railway station there were gathered a few
shivering would-be-passengers, eager to
barter one condition of discomfort for
another almost equally as disagreeable
and impatient at the delay, for whoever
knew an accommodation train to be on
time? Among them were a man dressed
like a farmer and two little girls—the el
der less than six years old and the young
er her junior a year or so—with fresh,
smiling, dimpled faces and sweet, prat
tling voices, which even the rumbling of
the train, the sticky dust, the plashing
rain, the smoke, the heat and the crowd
ed load of ill-tempered passengers could
not cloud or • silence. They came into
the car where I sat. The farmer and the
younger child found a vacant-seat in
front of me. I moved nearer the aisle to
let the other climb over the parcels by
my side next t > the window, out of
which she gazed into the rain and
through the blinding clouds of smoke
which covered the soggy fields with an
intensity of delight that was so unaffect ■
ed that tire train ought to have felt flat
tered, had it had sense enough to feel
anything.
“I dess love to ride on tho cars, don’t
you?” she asked after the train had re
sumed its tiresome journey.
“Sometimes,” I replied.
“I do all the time. My papa is an en
gineer.”
“Then you ride a good deal?” I ven
tured.
“Not very much,” she answered with
a little sigh of discontent; “not as much
as I want to. Since Mamma went away,
Pan,3 won’t let me and Grandma always
cries when I go on the cars.”
“Ah?”
“Didn’t you know that? You know
my Papa?” she remarked with such con
fidence in my knowledge that I was al
most ashamed to say that I didn’t:
“Don’t bother the gentleman,” inter
rupted the farmer as he turned half
around in his seat and faced me. “She
is a big talker.
“She doesn’t bother me in the least,” I
made haste to say. So, reassured, the
little maiden turned her face to the win
dow, and in a moment was too much ab
sorbed in the fleeting panorama to re
member anything but the passing pleas
ure.
“Her father was an engineer on this
road—Jim Churchill. Ever heard of
him?” continued the fnrmer after a short
pause. “No. Well, I ain’t surprised.
Yet he deserved to be known more’n lots
of men that gets their names before the
public. Jim and I was schoolboys to
gether up country near Palmyra. We
was both raised in the same township,
and we used to think when we was men
we’d be partners, and so we was—-almost.
Jim was bigger’n me, stronger and a year
or so older. I was always a runt among
the boys, and if it hadn’t been for Jim
I’d probably been licked every day in my
life. But Jim would n’ stand nothing of
that sort. He was as brave as a giant
and he never allowed anyone to be im
posed upon while he could prevent it,
and when the boys learned that he meant
what he said they let me alone. So we
grew up together like two brothers, lie
loved me because I was weaker then he
was, just as a father loves a baby, and I
just worshipped him. I’d a’ died for
him, stranger, just as easy—if he’d only
said the word. You ought to have know-
ed Jim Churchill. One Jim Churchill
would make up for a haif a million such
fellows as me and the ordinary run of
folks.
“When we were about sixteen years
we had our first trouble. She was the
prettiest girl in the county, and she was
just as sweet and good asMie was pretty.
She was the dominie’s daughter, and
when she came to school Jim and I both
set our caps for her at the same time.
Funny, stranger, how a pretty girl will
come between old friends. Two men
can live like twins a whole lifetime, but
just let a pretty woman come in and they
will fight like brothers-in-law over a will.
When little Phillis came to school, and
Jim and I ran races to ask to see her
home or to fetch her to singing school or
Sunday night meeting, then, stranger, we
knowed the first trouble of our lives.
Somehow we grew cold like, and before
that year was ended we did not speak.
One night Jim and I met at her house.
I was seventeen then, and Jim was over
eighteen and as big as a man. He had a
beard, almost, and he was as handsome
as a picture. lie didn’t know that I was
there,- or I don’t think he’d a called. I
had been there about an hour, and just
before the knocker sounded Phillis had
told me the old story we. all -of us Jove to
hear so well, and I felt as happy and
light-hearted as a lark. When Jim came
in and saw us sitting in the little old par
lor he seemed to know just what had
happened like a flash. For a moment I
thought he’d do something he’d regret
sometime. His face got so black and
sullen and his eyes got ugly. Phillis saw
it, too, soon as I did. ,
“ ‘Jim, ’ said she, her voice trembling
just a little. ‘Jim, I want you aud Bob
to shake hands and be friends.’
“Then I got up and held out my hand;
though, to tell the truth, I felt sort of
nervous.
“ ‘Jim,’ she went on, her voice get
ting stronger and her face getting sweet
er and sweeter. ‘I want you to love Bob
again just as you used to, because—be
cause—I love him so much. Won’t you,
Jim? for—my sake.’
“I wish you could have seen Jim just
then, stranger. I never saw the good iu
a man fight so hard with the bad and
come out.qhcad in all my life before or
since ar/ never expect to again. He
stood there by the open window just as
if he’d been carved out of stone. I didn’t
know whether he’d heard what she said
or not, he was so still. Then just as I
was about to take back my hand Jim
took it in both of his so hard I almost
dropped. Then he threw his arms
around my neck, kissed me ou my lips,
flopped down on a chair, stranger, and
cried like a baby. Phillis, the little
woman, cried too, and there wc all were
with our arms around each other crying
like women and net any of us knowing
what we was crying about.
“That settled things with us. After
that we was brothers just like we used to
be. Well, it’s a long story, and I guess
you won’t care to hear it all. So I’ll cut
it short. When I was twenty-one I was
married. Jim was our best man, and my
oldest boy is named James Churchill
Brown. ' About a year or so later Jim
married. * She was a cripple and sup
ported her mother doing sewing. But
if she had been a royal princess Jim
couldn’t have treated her any better.
After he got on the road he built her a
little house near us and there they lived
and there these little tots came into the
world. About a year ago a little boy
came to their cottage, but he only stayed
a day or so, and when he went back to
where he came from he took the little
mother back too, and these little ones
were left behind. Jim never lost heart
though, but the blow nearly killed him.
He stood up under it as brave as a lion,
I and you’d never have known from his
I face, except that lie didn’t smile the way
| he used to, that he knew what sorrow
i was. Ouc evening last week—it was an
| off-day with Jim—lie and Phillis w r as out
walking by the creek that runs through
my meadow by the red barn. It was
just dusk and my little boy was running
on ahead playing in the snow when they
came to the railroad crossing. Just as
they got there Jim heard a whistle. It
wasn’t time for the regular train, so he
wasn’t watching for danger. It was a
special and it was coming ’round the
curve like lightning. My little Jim was
playing on the culvert. Phillis heard the
-Ancient Writing Material.
When the Prophet Ezekiel was com
manded to write about the city of Jeru
salem, he was compelled to write his ac
count on smooth tiles, and we find frag
ments of such tiles to this day. The
heaps of broken pots and crockery of all
sorts, which are now so abundant in all
Eastern towns, prove that bits of smooth
stone or tiles were constantly used for
this purpose. The Island of Elephantine,
on the Nile, is said to have furnished
more than a hundred such specimens.
One of these is a soldier’s leave of ab
sence, scribbled on a fragment of an old
vase. How little those scribes and ac
countants imagined the interest with
which their descendants would one day
treasure their rough notes! Still quaint
er were the writing materials of those an
cient Arabs who, before the time of
Mohammed, used to carve their annals
on the shoulder-blades of sheep. The
“sheep-chronicles” were strung together,
and thus pressed. After awhile sheep’s
bones were replaced by sheep's skin, and
the manufacture of parchment was
brought to such perfection as to place it
among the refinements oi^irt. We hear
of vellums that were tinted yellow, others
white. Others were dyed of a rich pur
ple ; and the writing thereon was in gold
en ink, with gold borders and many-
colored decorations. These precious
manuscripts were anointed with the oil of
cedar to preserve them from moths: We
hear of one such in which the name of
Mohammed is adorned with garlands of
tulips and carnations painted in vived
colors. Still more precious was the silky
paper of the Persians, powdered with
gold and silver dust, whereou were
painted rare illuminations; while the
book was perfumed with atter of roses or
essence of sandalwood. Of the demand
for writing materials, one may form some
faint notion from the vast manuscript
libraries of which records have been pre
served, as having been collected by the
Caliphs both of the East and the West,
the former in Bagdad, the latter in An
dalusia, where there were eighty great
public libraries, besides that vast one at
Cordova. We also hear of private libra
ries, such as that of a physician who de
clined an invitation from the Sultan of
Bokhara, because the carriage of his
books would have required 400 camels.
STRUCK BYA WHALE.
A Little Schooner Gets in the
Way of a Monster
And i3 Overturned and Dragged Out of
Sight by tho Leviathan.
“What do I know about whales, sharks,
squids, and other animals of the sea?”
echoed Capt. Carter of the brig Mary
J me. “Wait till I light my pipe and
I’il reel you off a yarn which I can bring
Avitne.'so: to swear to."
“In 1879,” he continued, after getting
his pipe alight, “I owned a smallschoon-
erealled the Fiy, and I had her in the shell
trade. I used to gather them on Santa
llosa Island, and from thence along the
coast clear around to Cape St. Bias. SIv
crew was composed of a negro, who act
ed as mate, and two boy'-. Being a wee
bit- of a craft, and dodging among the
islands most of the time, we did not
need much of a crew nor any great
amount of seamanship. It was in August
of the year I have named that one after
noon we were about midway between
Santa Rosa and the cape, and about
fifteen miles off the land. We
were headed for the cape, and mak
ing about three knots an hour, the wind
being light aud the weather fine. One
of tho boys was at the wheel, the other
asleep, and tho mate was splicing a rope.
I stood on the port how looking at a
broken spar floating a few hundred feet
off. There was no sea on, aud the Fly
was on an even kcc!. Suddenly, and
without a breath of warning, the
schooner was lifted clear of the water
with a great crash and flung on her beam
ends. It so happened that no one was
thrown overboard, but before we could
exactly understand what had happened
the craft turned turtle.
“The first thing I knowed I was on
her bottom, with one of the hoys along
side o’ me. I had a small keg o’ powder
in the cabin, and my first thought was
efforts to get clear, but as this was im
possible, he headed right out to seap-and
at length was lost to sight. About mid •
night that night we were picked up by a
coaster. The mate and one of the boys
were clean gone, probably drowned under
the Fly as she went over, but the other
boy—now a man—is living in New Or
leans, and can back every statement J
have made.”—New Tori Sun.
Apnc'ie Characteristics,
The Apaches and kiudred tribes are
among the most cautious fighters on
earth, and also among the most desper
ate. Near the close of last year a band
of Chiricahuas numbering eleven killed
twenty-one friendly Apachc3 living on
the reservation, and twenty-five white
men, women and children. Their supe
riors as prowlers in war probably never
existed. The army officers in Arizona
declare that the Apaches are the ideal
scouts of the whole wori 1, with their
hawk eyes, stealthy motion and sensitive
ears. Though undersized, they have
broad, deep chests, muscular limbs, aud
small, wiry hands and feet. They march
about four miles an hour, halting after a
few hours’ tramp long enough to smoke
cigarettes. If no matches are at hand
they bring fire in from eight to forty-five
seconds by rapidly twirling between the
palms a hard, round stick fitted into a
circular hole in another stick of softer
fiber. They will march forty miles a
day on foot across dry plains aud precip
itous mountains regardless of the fiercest
heat. The Apache finds food where the
Caucasian would starve. He can catch
turkeys, quail, rabbits, doves, field mice
and prairie dogs; feast off a dead horse;
gather acorns from the stuuted mountain
oak; roast the Spanish bayonet or cen
tury plant, and strip the fruit and seed
from the cactus; dig the wild potato or
bulb of the tule; raid the nest of the
ground-bee; or, if driven to it, keep
The Ball.
Unlike the mule, the bull seals his dec
laration of war with the front end of his
body. And while the mule is satisfied
with an attitude of calm and philosoph
ical belligerency, the bull nearly fright
ens his victim to death with unseemly
demonstrations of wrath before finally
tossing him into the great beyond. The
heels of the mule may be the favorite re
sort of the uncertainty of life, hut on the
fore-front of the bull sits a nightmare of
rampageous fury that is worse than death.
I was once chased over a ten-acre lot
by an angry bull, and I know whereof I
speak. The day of doom will not be a
fragment of a last year’s circumstance to
what I experienced on that occasion. He
cued me, as a billiard-player would say,
while yet I lingered half way through the
fence, and I thought the end of all thiugs
had come, especially the front end of the
bull. And to all intents and purporses
the final cataclysm had, indeed, broken
loose. The fence tumbled down upon
me like, and the beautiful, bucolic land
scape was lacerated beyond recognition.
To add to my misery, some one struck
me with the butt-end of a brick hpuse,
and jammed a church steeple through my
j left leg. And as if I had not achieved
enough glory for one day, the horizon
was rent in twain, the blue vault of heav
en collapsed, and a big fragment of the
sky fell on the small of my back.
My friends afterward tried to convince
me that all this was a figment of my agi
tated imagination. They cruelly scouted
the idea that I was punctured by a church
that we were blown up. I didn’t cling nary Vay . down . on . thc . Suwanne e-River
to this idea more’n a minute, however; j horn They even wcnt so faI as to insia .
for, as I got the water out o’ my eyes, I ] uato that the i andscap0 was uot much
caught sight of a great black mass along- ; hurt> aud that it was only the demolition
side, and in a second more made out the , of my two-dollar-and-a-half pantaloons
great square head of a whale., The water that made me think tho graves wc giv-
jist there was at least ninety feet deep, in „ up their dead . But I carry with me
but it had been roiled up until it looked ; down ‘ this vale of teara a game i eg and a
like a mud hole for an acre or two around
us. I got it through ray wool pretty soon
that we had been struck by a whale,
and that the old leviathan of the deep
was still alongside. Iu fact, I could
have touched his nose with a twenty-foot
pole.
“Now, one of the singular things is
twisted spine as proof of my assertions.
There is one good point about the bull
—he can’t climb a tree.— Washington
Hatchet.
The School of Patience.
My dear boy, if a man can only culti
vate patience and strength, it seems to me
that we hadn’t seen the spout of a whale J he ^iu be a good neighbor, a pleasant
that afternoon. Indeed, it is rare for , man do business with, a safe man to
one to run in so nign that coast. Of j t. nls t and the kind of a man the world
course, there might have been a whale ! )ovc9j cven tho „gh he lack wisdom, and
sporting around and we not see him, but hnth no geniuSj and can . t tell a good
the chances are that that fellow had made st0 or si a note IIow much doe3 the
a run of several miles under water.
■When he came up to blow he foumd the
Fly iu his way, and he threw her off his
nose as a bull would toss a gadfly. The
fretful, restless, hurrying old world owe
to the patient man, who finds his strength
“iu quietness and confidence,” who can
be patient with our faults, our fancies,
whistle, she saw the boy on the track, down the pangs of hunger .with the inner
and heard the rattle of the engine just as
if it was a dream. Then she gave a little
scream and fell down on the road in a
faint—"’
“East Creek!” called out the conduct
or, as the train stopped again in the
storm.
“Oh! Uncle Bob!” cried the little
maiden by my side. “Look out the
window. There’s Aunt Phillis and cous
in Jim and there’s grandpa and grandma
and what a funny long black wagon that
is! Look! Look 1” she continued as the
farmer gathered together his charges and
j started for the door. “They are putting
a black box in the wagon, and Aunt
Phillis is crying awful hard.”
“Yes,” replied the farmer as he brush
ed away a tear from his eyes. “Yes,
that’s Jim Churchill, stranger, in that
box.”—Benjamin Northrop in Graphic.
A Very Successful Case.
First Lawyer—Ah, Dobkins, how did
you come out in that case you were-just
beginning when 1 went East?
Second Lawyer—Gloriously. It was
a perfect success. Created a great sen
sation. Papers full of it. Got lots
cf a.lvertisiug out of it. I think it was
the making of my future.
“Good! Glad to hear it, old fellow.
I knew you had stuff in you. And by
the way, what did they do to your cli
ent?
‘ ‘Oh, they hanged him. ”
A Carriage and Pair.
Smith—I thought you told me that
Brown had got along in the world so well
that he had a carriage and pair?
Jones—Well, I told you the truth.
8.—You did, eh? Why, he is work
ing as a laborer in the navy yard.
J.—Well, that is all right. A man
that gets into the nary yard is getting
along in the world, and the carriage and
pair I referred- to were a baby carriage
and twins.—Boston Courier,
bark of the pine or the roots of wild
plants. With the rifle and bow he has a
life training. “Every track in the trail,
mark in the grass and scratch on the
hark of a tree explains itself to an
Apache. He can tell to an hour almost
when the man or animal making them
passed by, and, like a hound, will keep
on the scent until he catches up with the
object of his pursuit.”
Theodore Thomas.
Theoildre Thomas, whose name sounds
so Anglo-Saxonish, is a native of Hanov
er, the son of a noted musician, and be
longs to a numerous musical family. He
was a child prodigy, and astonished
everybody by his violin playing when he
was only 7 years old. At 8 he gave a
public concert at the capital, and was
highly praised by the most careful critics.
Not long after he was brought to this
country. His whole life has been devot
ed to the cause of music, and his devo
tion has borne good and abundant fruit.
He has unquestionably done more for
musical culture and advancement in the
United States than any 20 men who
might be named. The orchestra which
he carefully selected and has drilled for
years is not only the best, by all odds, in
the country, but is not surpassed by any
in Europe. Competent critics who at
tended the Bayreuth festivals during
Wagner’s life, where everything was as
nearly complete as possible, declare that
the famous orchestra was not a whit bet
ter than, and some think it was not so
good as, the orchestra of Theodore
Thomas. He has made New York one of
the great musical centres of the world.
Every new composition of any value he
introduces to us as early as practicable.
Enthusiastic admirers of music who have
spent years in Germany are often sur
prised to hear in New York compositions
they have never heard in any of its capi
tals.—New Tori Commercial Advertiser,
My Hero.
What signifies the outward show!
Wh t- signifies his west h or place!
When we the heart havo learned to know,
What do we care for form or face!
And what care we for name or croed
That buried ages may unroll,
If under all we clearly read
The record of a dauntless soul’
If loyal to his sense of right,
If prompt and sure at Duty’s call,
He walks, a3 walking in God’s sight
Ris aim-the manliest man of all:
If belpfnl as the sunbright day.
If pitiful of others \voo3,
He follows in the masters way
And bears a blessing where he goes;
If, gaining much, he loses all.
While summer friends go coldly by
lie proves his courage by his fall
Resolved to win the day or die;
With hope alive, in God his trust,
lie keeps a spirit kind and true,
And rises bravely from the dust
To fight his'veary battle through;
If, working or. through pain and loss.
His earnest soul be not cast down:
He bc-arvth patiently his cross,
While winning steadily his crown;
The man’s hero! and wo give
The meed of love, which is his duo,
No idle praise! but while we live,
The wreath of bay! Ibe knot of blue!
—Helen Keith,
HUMOROUS.
blow must have dazed him, however, for our w j ckcdnes8; who can be quiet when
it was a good three minutes before he the softest word would have a sting; who
moved a iin. I could look into one of his cau wad f or storms to blow over and for
eyes, and by and by I noticed it take on j wrongs to rig i lt themselves; who can
a malicious twinkle, and he gave his j patj^tly and silently endure a slight un-
flukes a flirt and backed off about a hun- | til hc has forgottcn j t) and who can even
dred feet. He was mad. He thought j t, e patient with himself. That’s the fel-
he had been attacked by some enemy, j my t, oy) w ho tries my patience and
aud he wanted revenge. I strength more than any man else with
“Well, sir, that consarned critter was ! w hom I have to deal. I could get along
coming for us. Being light, the Fiy j w ith the rest of the world well enough,
was high and dry out of water, and | u ^ e were only out of it. lean meet all
offered a pretty fair target. Hc uttered j my other cares and cnem i es bravely and
a snort, swung his flukes about, and came ■ cheerfully enough. But whcMi myself
head on, striking the schooner fair amid- j c omcs to me with his heart aches and
ships. lie knocked the two of us twenty j blunders and stumblings, with his own
feet into the water, and he made a hole ; follies and troubles and sins, somehow he
in her side through which you could have j takes all the tuck out of me. My strength
flung a water butt. The blow broke her j j s weakness and my patience is folly,
all up, but as the water poured in she | Vi .b en I come to deal with him. He tires
only settled down until her bottom was a ! mc j[ e = 3 suck a fool. He makes the
wash. When the hoy and I got our eyes ' same s t up i d blunder in the same stupid
clear we noticed that the yawl, nigh full way so many times. Sometimes, when I
of water, was floating a little way off, ;i,; n l,- I must put up with him and his
and we made for it. While I hung on to j way3 all my life I want to give up. And
the bow ho climbed in and bailed her out, j t hcn the next time he comes to me with
and in about ten minutes we were afloat ! bis care3 and the same old trouble he
again. Meanwhile the whale had his | ser . ras so helpless and penitent that I feel
nose agin the upset schooner, as if smell- | sorry f 01 . him, and try to be patient with
ing of her. She was between us and him, j i,i m _ .^,,1 promise to help him all I can,
and it was a lucky thing for us. We once more . Ah, my dear boy, as you
hadn’t so much as a splinter to paddle j grow 0 i der) that is the fellow who will
with, and the breeze seemed to have died try you and torment vou, and draw on
away about the time the Fly went over.
“By and by old leviathan backed off
for another round. This time he went
further, and he came faster, hut as the
schooner had settled down lie slid up on
her bottom until Ids weight settled her
down and let him pass over. As. he
floundered over she roiled heavily to star
board and bis flukes were no sooner clenr
of her than she righted herself. In so
doing both masts snapped off, and a tan
gle of cordage cover.-1 J'.ie water. . Tho
your sympathy, and tax your patience
and strength. Be patient with him, poor
fellow, because I think he does love you,
and yet as a rule you are harder ou him
than any one else.-—Burdette in Brooilyn
Bill Kye on Halos.
James—the halo which you say you
see in so many pictures is not worn at the
present time anywhere, especially in
this climate. In the early history of tho
Fly hadn’t ba’l ist enough to sink her, i world people went bareheaded, then they
but she was down until her mil was al- began to wear the halo, and after that
most awash. The yawl was too small gradually adopted the laurel wreath, and
potatoes for the whale, or ho reckoned later on the plug hat.
on finishing the schooner first. He lay-
quiet for a short time and made another
dash at her. He was kicking up such a
sea that we couldn’t exactly make out
how he got fast in the wreckage; but fast
he got. .-There was such a tangle of ropes
that he probably drew some of them into
his mouth. Then the fun came to a cli
max. We had drifted away until well
clear of him, and apprehending no im
mediate danger. What a commotion
that old chap kicked *up when he found
himself toggled! He rapped the water
with his flukes until the sound could be
heard a mile away, and hc rolled his huge
bulk to starboard and port until he raised
a sea heavy enough for a ten-knot breeze.
By and by he seemed to get rattled, and
off he went, towing wreckage, schooner,
and all. He made the most tremendous
People seem to have grown less and
less robust as the country grew older and
civilization advanced farther and farther.
A cherub would fly for days with a pair
of light summer wings aud never feel the
cold, but gradually people began to
leave their measure for clothes, and then
the next jump was chest protectors and
fur overcoats. It’s all habit; and yet a
man who would attend a winter
carnival at St. Paul wearing nothing but
an old-fashioned halo with a hole in it
would attract attention.
Thoughtful youug lady (to college
graduate)—Who, in your opinion, Mr.
Muscle, was the noblest Roman of them
all? College Graduate—I imed to think
Hanlan was, but I wouldn’t bet a cent
on any of ’em novr,
A pawnbroker is a loan'.y man.
“I smoothed everything over,” as the
laundress said.
People who wear pepper-and-salt suits
arc always in season.
The selfish man has most presence of
mind. He never forgets himself.
“Buffaloes are bred in Kansas,” it is
said. They are meat elsewhere.
“This is my sphere,” said ahappywife,
as she patted her bald-headed husband
on the pate.
A rule that works both ways—When
a fleet goes out on a cruise the crew3 go
out on the fleet.
“Brass bands are on the increase
throughout the country.” Even the dogs
wear them on their necks.
Teacher: “What animal is most ca
pable of attaching itself to man? - ’ Head
of the class: “The leech.”
Can the sound in a man’s head, when
his wife hits him with a rolling-pin, be
described as a “marriage ring?”
When a young lady tells a young man
that she will not have him, does it tie
him up in a beau knot, as it were!
“My motto is, ‘Live and let Live,’”
said the soldier as he turned his back to
the enemy and fled from the battle-field.
Little Boy—Pa, why does the world
move? Pa (thinking of something, else)
Because it finds it cheaper than to pay
rent.
A harmless American ship of war may
be called “she” properly enough, but a
fine mail steamship ought to be called
“he.”
“Well, that beats rue,” tho boy ex
claimed when his teacher sent him to the
principal’s room to borrow the master’s
rattan.
A journalist went into a barber shop
the other day to get his hair cut, and fell
asleep during the operation. The barber,
who awoke him when he had finished,
said to him: “You are tired. I under
stand it. It’s the same way with mc when
evening comes. Ah, this head-work is
something terrible 1”
“You ought to be married, sir,” said
the phrenologist co the victim on the
stage. “Yes, sir. You ought to be
married. You have no right, sir, to
have lived a bachelor so many years.
Now, look at your clothes, sir! Who
mended your coat, sir? Tell me that.”
“My third wife, sir.”
A London Public School.
One of the miserable districts of Lon
don is to be found in Somers Town.
Blocks of “Improved Dwellings” and
sundry measures taken by the parish au
thorities have recently reformed it to a
considerable extent. Yet it remains a
haunt of poverty. The petty tradesman
is the aristocrat of the neighborhood.
The police in its streets are all picked
men. The swells who go “slumming”
through it, according to the fashion of
the season, are looked at by the patient
eyed poor with the same wonderment
that butterflies in its alleys would create.
In the midst of this sordid district
stands a handsome new Board School.
It is as large as an average fortress of an
cient times. It3 bounding walls contain
a space of two acres. Within the intri
cacies of the play-grounds and covered
courts and ground-floor passages the visit
or becomes bewildered. It reaches a
height of many stories. And here, every
day 2,200 poor child ren are being endow
ed with the inestimable benefit of a
sound education. It is indeed quite a
town in itself, filled with Lilliputians,
who can exhibit at times remarkable free
dom of speech and action. Their parents
chiefly come under the following catego
ries: laborers, 355; cabmen, 97; coalmen,
93; charwomen, 78; joiners, 50; porters,
45; painters, 44; carmen, 44; stokers, 32;
bricklayers, 31; gas stokers, 25; stable
men, 25; blacksmiths, 25; factory men,
23; needle-women, 22; shoemakers, 22;
slaughtermen, 21; railway servants, 21;
costermongers, 19; bakers, 17; milkmen,
18; tailors, 10. Among the others are
sweeps, -potmen, cat’s-meat vendor?,
hucksters, drovers, barmaids, barbers,
plumbers, sailors, mangle-women, etc.,
etc. The social state of the people send
ing children to this school may be indi
cated by the single fact that, out of their
number, 415 families inhabit only one
room apiece, and 1,030 inhabit homes of
two rooms. The families number six in
dividuals pn the average.