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CATTLE CRY.
More than half beaten, but fearless,
Facing the storm and the niitht; tearless,
Breathless uml reeling, but
Here In the lull of the light,
I who bow not but l>t >vc Thee,
Cod of the fighting Clan,
Llftirinj my lists J Implore Thee,
Uive me the heart of a Man!
What though 1 live with the winners
Or perish with those who tall?
Only the cowards are, sinners,
Fighting the fight Is all.
Strong is my Foe—be advances!
Snap! Is my blade, O Lord!
See the proud banners and lances!
O spare me this stub of ft sword!
(Jive me no pity, nor spare me;
Calm not the wrath of rny Foe.
See where he beckons to dare me.
Bleeding, half beaten i go.
Not for the glory of wtrning.
Not for tbe fear of the night;
Shunning the battle is sinning •
O spare me the heart to light
Red is the mist about me; side;
Deep is the wound in my flout me/
"Coward” thou criest to lied
O terrible Foe, thou has
Here with my battle before me,
Ovtl of the lighting Clan, bore
Grant that the woman who me
Suffered to sueitle a Man!
—John G. Neihardt, in The Outing
Magazine.
^ 1 Hr*
|l: Polly Grey J + >
■ ■
By Nan Todd.
?4HFHHF++ UMUUiUiUiiUiUUlUiUR , fr+4“F++++++++++4*^
It was a glorious June morning.
Across the meadows wafted a breeze
as delicate in fragrance as the color¬
ing of the trees and grass over which
it danced, But in spite of all this
summer sweetness, Polly Grey was not
happy. It was the day of the first
picnic of the year, which glowing
event was to be celebrated in some
nearby woods, Polly had planned to
go, when her mother had been unex¬
pectedly called to nurse a sick neigh¬
bor, and tlxe little girl had been oblig¬
ed to slay at home and care for her
aged, helpless grandmother; besides,
there were cakes to bake, and this is
not any fun on a summer’s day. The
Greys were poor, It was only by her
tkill in cooking (hat Mrs. Grey man¬
aged to find a livelihood for the little
family of three, Polly sighed woe
fully as she opened the oven door. The
cakes were not near done, The day
was not a bit as she had planned.
“Hello,” called a voice suddenly
from the outside.
“Hello,” Polly answered, unlatching
the kitchen door upon four girls gath¬
ered near the steps.
“Can’t you go to (he picnic, Poll?”
asked one of the group.
“Nope.”
Why?”
“Mother’s gone away. I’ve got to
stay at home and take care of grand¬
ma. There are some horrid cakes to
bake, too.”
“For Nancy Hyde’s wedding, I
s’pose. My! I should think you’d feel
grand havin’ your ma bake cakes for
that wedding. I’d love to go. The
man Nancy is goin’ to marry is awful
rich. You could carry the cakes over,
Poll, and maybe you could see some¬
thing. n But Polly was inconsolable.
«« Well, I’d leave my grandma for a
minute,” tempted another voice. “She
wouldn’t mind if you ran down lo the
woods and’•right back.”
But as Polly Grey would make no
plans, the girls, anxious to join their
friends, hurried away leaving a disap¬
pointed, teary-eyed girl to watch them
until they had disappeared in the bend
of the road.
Polly,” called Grandmother Grey
presently from across the kitchen.
“What are you doing? When is your
mother coming back?” and the grand¬
child dutifully answered the old lady's
questioning.
Later, the cakes were put upon a
high schelf out of the old cat, Tabby’s
rehxh. The work done, the morning
dragged into early afternoon. Grand¬
mother Grey had fallen asleep in her
armchair, and the big kitchen was
very still. Polly leaned disconsolately
on the table and looked out ox me
window, frowning deeply.
.4 The cakes are all baked, and I
wouldn't be but a minute,” she whis¬
pered, trying to convince herself of
the justness of her thoughts. She
turned and tiptoed to her grandmoth¬
er’s side, and stood looking down up¬
on the sleeping old lady. Polly was
certain her grandmother har never neg¬
lected a duty; but then grandma had
lived in a time when, according to
stories, girls never wanted to be dis¬
obedient. Tabby rubbed against her
little mistress’ dress but the girl paid
no heed. She was thinking of her
friends, the deep woods—and her
mother's tired face. Two minutes
dragged by.
She felt, suddenly oppressed. With
haste, she opened the door and, as
she did so, the draft caused a volume
of smoke to pour from every conceiv¬
able crevice of the kitchen stove. Tab¬
by rushed out of doors. Polly, dazed,
followed, stumbling down the steps.
What met her eyes made her poor lit¬
tle heart fairly stop beating. For near
the chimney, where the roof sagged, a
brick had broken away and a flame
was fiendishly lapping the rotten shin¬
gles.
“Oh, what will I do?” sobbed the
frightened girl. She looked Irantieally
down the road, but not a person wr.j
in sight. She ran back into the house,
crying, "Grandma!”
The room was already blue with
smoke. The woman had awakened.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Oh—I must get you away. The
house is on fire. I’ll drag.your chair
out. Sit awful still. Oh, please, grand¬
ma, I’m not afraid. it
It was nq easy task to pull the chair
across the kitchen floor; but Polly
gained her ground inch by inch. Then
came the question of how she could
get the chair and its precious freight
down the steps. But not a minute
must be lost; the flames had multi¬
plied and were rising higher and high
er.
"Hold tight, grandma,” Polly chok¬
ed, down the steps she dragged the
chair to a plage out of danger, and
then she rushed back to tbe kitchen
and carried the cakes out.
“Oh, if someone would only come,”
she cried. “Grandma, what will I
do?”
“Polly Grey,” said the old lady in a
voice the granddaughter had never re¬
membered hearing her use, “you’re
a Grey. Get a ladder—there must be
one in the woodhouse. Climb to the
roof, with a pail of water. Oh, if I
were only young!”
And Polly obeyed. Pail after pail
of water was emptied upon the roof;
still the tongues of flames malignantly
seethed and crackled. Polly was now
discouraged. Her limbs ached, and her
head swam with the heat of the sun
and flames. She grew dizzy, and,
afraid of falling, felt for the ladder
and slipped down to the ground. Then
she heard the sound of carriage wheels
in the road, and before she realized
what had happened, a cheery voice
called, "Hi, there!” The speaker was
a young man. The stranger and Polly
worked hard and fast against the
flames. After a time their labor was
rewarded, for the fire now smouldered
feebly. Danger was passed.
“A close call,” the young fellow ex¬
claimed, slipping on his coat, which he
had hastily discarded.
“Indeed it was, and thank you, sir,”
said Grandmother Grey. “My grand¬
child was about tuckered.”
Polly was indeed tired. The excite¬
ment over, she had fallen to the
ground, sobbing bitterly. The man
crossed the space of the garden to
her side.
“I say,’ he consoled, bending over
her, “it is all over. > >
“My grandma— it
"She is all right,” he said.
“But I nearly went away and left
her,” sobbed Polly.
“But you didn't,” he answered, not
knowing exactly what to say.
“Oh,” sobbed Polly, who felt all of
a sudden an overwhelming confidence
in this kindly young man.
“1 see,” he Replied, after the gjrl’s
entire confession of the afternoon’s
temptation. “Miss— 11
“Polly Grey.”
> • Well, Miss Polly Grey, you wouldn’t
have gone to the picnic, and you know
you wouldn’t.”
And then a very strange thing hap¬
pened. For the young man was no
other than the prospective bridegroom
of (he beautiful Nancy Hyde, for
whom Mrs. Grey had baked the cakes
which Polly rescued. And the little
girl was invited to the wedding that
was the interest of the countryside for
miles around.
She was a very penitent, thankful
and a much wiser little Polly Grey.—
Detroit Free Press.
Old Slave Market of Memphis.
Grim, unsightly, paintless, seamed
and crooked throughout its masonry,
(hero stands today an old brick build¬
ing on Adams street, midway between
Main and Second, about which clust¬
ers more of history aud of change than
can be compressed into song or story.
It is situated just on the east of the
alley midway between Main and Sec¬
ond streets and is used as a shelter for
the city prisoners who are worked on
the rock pile.
If you will take the trouble to step
to the westward side of this old build¬
ing, where it faces the alley, and
I glance up along its second story you
may still discern the (inscription:
| ■■xegro Mart and Livery Stable, i j or as
much of it as time nas not penciled
out. The last letter of the word “Sta
ble, • • and the last letter of the word
"Mart” are gone, The others are
dimmed with age and might pass un¬
noticed unless you look a second
time.
Time was, nearly e half century ago
when Ihis was a famous Negro market.
It was presided over, in its time, by
not less a man than Gen. Forrest him¬
self. Thousands of negroes were
bought and sold within its vails, and
hundreds of thousands of dollars
passed there from buyer to vendor.
One old, gray headed negro told the
writer a few days ago:
“I’se seen many a bushel of money
piled up on the upstairs flo’—gold
money, sah, in de ole days. Yes, sah,
I 'members Gin’l Forrest, an’ he was
de beateness’ man 1 evah seen. Dey
done what he tole ’em, sah; an’ he
only tole ’em onet.”—Memphis Com¬
mercial Appeal.
It is said that a growth of ivy ab¬
sorbs the moisture from a stone wall
i rather than imparting it, as is popu¬
larly supposed. f
&%i
THE PULPIT.
A BRILLIANT SUNDAY SERMON BY
DR. CHARLES EDWARD LOCKE.
Theme: Faith's Victories,
Brooklyn, N. Y.—The Rev. Dr.
Charles Edward Locke Sunday closed
his pastorate at the Hanson Place
Methodist Episcopal Church. He
leaves to assume charge of the great
First Methodist Episcopal Church of
Los Angeles, Cal. Large audiences
filled the church at both services. In
the morning Dr. Locke’s subject was
Faith’s Victories. The text was 1
John 5:4: “This is the victory that
overcometh the world, even our j
faith.” Dr. Locke said: I
Early in the morning after refresh- i
ing sleep amid the fragrant bowers
of Bethany, on the second day of our
Week, Lord’s Jesus sad and with triumphant His disciples Passion was j
on His way around the graceful slopes j
of Olivet to the great city. All being
hungry, and seeing a fig tree, they ap
proached it, confidently expecting to
enjoy the luscious fruit, for the season
of the ripening fruit had come, but
the time for the gathering of the har
vest was not yet. When they reached !
the tree they found nothing but
leaves. Christ thereupon pronounced '
a curse upon the unfruitful and use- j
less tree, and immediately it withered ,
away. When the wondering disciples ;
saw the fig tree withered away they j
marveled, but Jesus said: ‘If ye
have faith and doubt not, ye shall not
only do this which is done to the fig
tree, but, also, if ye shall say unto
this mountain, be thou removed and |
be thou cast into the sea, it shall be j
done; and ail things whatsoever ye :
shall ask in prayer believing ye snail
receive.” 1
John was the best loved of all the j
disciples of Jesus. Our introduction
to him is when he is a young man,
when he and Andrew at the sugges
tion of John the Baptist Behoid the
Lamb or God. follow Jesus and in
qmre, Where dwellest Ihou. aad
He replies, Gome and see. blx ,\f
years have passed, he is now an o
man standing on the mountain op i
expectancy with the light ot lmm or
tality aglow upon his ace. f
forward into the future he cries, , T It
d° h not yet appear what we shall
be. and looking backwaid upon e
way he has traveled, nd up
great wond strugg ing for mas er ,
he shouts triumphantly This is
J c ory T ’
“Faith haitn is is the the substance substance (assurance) (assurance)
?nroving)of things laid not seen ” It has
teen truthfully that faith ia a
hip-ber builds fannltv than reason fruitless^ Reason
^ l laboriously Sl^ and d SiKuS- often
lv soars into^ the verv^ bosom of the
Infinite Faith is a grateful arch
which snans the chasm between man
the finite and God the Infinite Faith
is a aift faith_it°is “Bv arace ve are saved
through Faith^is the CT ift of God.”
the 6 himself subtle force by which
man adjusts toGod
Faith is pardon peace_regenera
tion. “Being justified by faith, we
have peace with God through our
Lord Jesus Christ.” We are saved
from sin, not by evolution, or by revo¬
lution, or by works alone, but by
faith—“believe on the Lord Jesus
Christ and thou shalt be saved!”
Faith is life—“The just shall live
by faith” was Luther’s discovery on
the staircase in the lateran. “The
life which I now live in the flesh I
live by the faith of the Son of God. »
Christ is life—He came to interpret
and enlarge life for each of us.
Faith, also, is character. Faith in
Christ is the foundation of character,
the inspiration of achievement. Char¬
acter is what a man is doing all the
time. When the disciples asked Jesus
what they should do to work the
works of God, He replied, “Believe on
Him whom He hath sent.” What we
believe will determine what we do.
Great men are great ideas incarnated.
It was said of Abraham, “He believed
God, and it was accounted unto him
for righteousness.”
“Faith is the substance of things
hoped for.” Faith realizes while oth¬
er men dream and doubt and debate.
Columbus first had a vision of a new
world, and *hen found it. Morse was
a man of faith and prayer, until in
1844 the first telegraph wire between
Washington and Baltimore carried
the message, “What God hath
wrought?” So of Eads with his jet¬
ties, Stephenson with fiis steam en¬
gine, and Field with his cable. What
these heroic men worked out was
“substance” to them before tbeir dis¬
coveries and inventions were actual¬
ities. The same is true of the work
and faith of our Pilgrim Fathers and
Mothers, the founders of the Wes¬
leyan movement, Francis Xavier,
William Taylor, William Butler and
Judson. Pioneers of faith have dis¬
mally discovered that it is more diffi¬
cult to overcome the unbelief of men
than to master the principles upon
which their deductions and inventions
depended.
After all, the stronger argument
for our Christian faith is not what we
say, but what we do. It has been
thoughtfully remarked that although
the unbeliever may not read the Bi
ble, he does read the life of Chris
tians to see_ how they live. A truth
incarnated in a consistent Christian
life Is the church’s invincible argu
ment for Christianity. j I
Faith is salvation—salvation from
sin and self and sorrow and sickness | ;
and adversity. There is no ill of the
soul for which faith is not a specific, I
and many ills of the body flee away I
like the poisonous fogs before tbe ,
sunlight . I
Dear Chaplain McCabe had a broth¬
er who, after forty years of tbralldom
to strong dring, was finally, through ; 1
/
the faith and love and perseverance
of his hopeful brother, redeemed from
the sad slavery. The chaplain used
to say: "When I get to heaven I am
going to take my brother by the hand
and lead him up to my mother and
say: 'Mother, here's George; I have
brought him home!’'’ and nothing
will save a vast multitude of men un¬
less their fellows, in love and faith,
help them to fight their battles
through to a victory.
Abraham Lincoln was a man of
boundless faith in God. He once said:
"It is not particular whether Go<J is
on our side, but it is all important
whether we are on God’s side.’’ On
one occasion when his pastor desired
to make a call, the President fixed the
hour at 5 o’clock in the morning. He
found Mr. Lincoln reading the Bible,
and he learned that it was the great
emancipator’s custom to spend the
early corning hour each day in Bibj,e
re n d ‘if
My 7,. dear rriends any substantial
. . h beea won in this dear
eb durinK my yastorate P which
™ ... TaTth victorfes^ 0 d Sabbath they
bav *' been be e ”‘ ndeavoSd Nothing
p to do together
da , . g these five hanny years has
cf , , }1 unle ss thankfuYfor it wa-i what
o 0 wanted done lam brought
tbe jj. }ndly providence which
me to this noble church with i ts mul
titude of dev oted and loyal people. I
am deeply gra t e ful to you all for your
love and pa ti ence , for your fidelity
and your prayer g. i w j S h I could
have served you better. In the ardu
oug> though happy, labors of this
at par i S h I have been assured of
your earnest and sympathetic sup
port W itho.ut your constant co-oper
ation I should have utterly failed. I
thank you tenderly for your generous
sympathy, for during these five years
my greatest sorrows have come to me.
T here was a happy tri-unionate of us;
my sa { n ted father, my only brother,
and myse jf My father was a com
rade and congenial companion to his
boys. All unexpectedly, in the morn
ing Qj , big Pr jui an t career, my brother
wag s t rand j n a f e w hours the
em jnent young lawyer stood before
Great Judge.
wag a de ad.ening blow. My
f atber) advancing In years, bent un
d er the chastening. Though it whit
ened his locks, it divinely brightened
big f a jth. It was your distinguished
jj onor to know my father and hear
bim preacb His last sermon was
£ preached in this pulpit, his last public
^ was offei -ed at these holy al
Re uged to sit beside me here,
and j ove me into be tter service. Oc
casionally, when I urged him to do so,
be would v { sit the other churches and
listen to my brilliant confreres, who
are widely known for their eminence
and eloc luence; and, then, with a par
ent . a fond lndu i g ence and extrava
gance he would say “ My son> none
> ’
you ‘l! ese 1 . simied at the S', fiction, ,h b but “
'
ue ye rtbeless my father’s opinion was
more to me than any other’s, and bis
! oving presence furnished tonic and
inspiration to my work; and when, in
that P arsonage in the very shadow of
the sanctuary, his soul ascended to
meet his the noblest and most
exquisite Christian gentleman whom
^ od ever made ’ end ed his earthly pil
grimage. In my great sorrow you
sustained me with your tender pray
ers and sympathy. But the old world
bas been P retty lonesome to me since
tbe soms away of these two dear
men.
I leave you reluctantly, hut I turn
my face again to the sunset shore
with happy expectations. Many
friends await our coming. Nino
years ago this very week I laid the
cornerstone of that beautiful church;
and a piece of my heart went into the
copper box. I want your prayers that
my ministry there may be faithful and
fruitful.
A sincere and hearty welcome to
my successor. Dr. Henderson and his
family, will be a token of true love
and loyalty to me. He is most wor¬
thy of your highest confidence and es¬
teem. He has won many trophies, is
a man who has been tried and not
found wanting. He is a stalwart;
rugged in body, vigorous in mind
and large of heart. He is capable,
resourceful, victorious. God bless
him and you, and make his coming
the most notable pastorate in the
eventful history of this church.
And, now, once more, I thank you
one and all—the trustees, the stew¬
ards, the class leaders, the Sunday
school, the presiding elders, the dea¬
conesses, the sexton, the Epworth
League, the Men’s 2-3-2 Club, the
missionary societies, the organists
and choirs, the ushers, the children
who have loved me, the young people
who have listened to me, the older
people who have prayed for me; all
who have in any way helped in these
five memorable years of my life, I
thank you with all my heart and pray
for you. To the members of other
churches, and those who have attend¬
ed upon my ministry who were not
members of this church. I would say,
you have gladdened and encouraged
my heart by your presence and kindly
words; and I thank you, one and all,
again and again. Remember when
you come to California Ishall be there
to warmly welcome you to my church
and to my home.
Challenged,
Acting on the advice of a prisoner
for whom he was appearing in Dublin
a barrister challenger four or five
j urymen on the ground that they were ”
Prejudiced . against Ki his client. When
at: ’ ast tae swearing of the jury was
completed, the prisoner leaned over
the dock and whispered to his advo
cate: “The jury’s all right new, Oi
think, but Oi want yez to challenge
the judge, Oi’ve been convicted under
him three toimes already, and maybe
he’s beginning to have a prejudice
agin me.”—Lcm':n News;
ir
UTr
<Dunt>ckj-<§>cfioof i
J
INTERNATIONAL LESSON POM.
MENTS FOR OCTOBER 18.
Subject—David's Kindness to Jona.
than’s Son, 2 Sam. 0—Golden
Text, Eph.4:32—Com jn it Verse 7
—Read 2 Sam. 10:1-4; 10:21-30.
pr «rF Jerusalem. time.
q
ftpocuttov _t \r if . ^ ,
S0C J r( f ly th r VL ^ he!
pins to think of bis dearest friend of
the days of his trial—Jonathon. The
honse of Saul as a wholp bad bo en hi*
bltteresf enemies, but he will show
tbem kindness for Jonathan's sake.
The slnnPr is a bittftr pnpmv God
<Rom. 8:7; Jas. 4: 4), but G-od loves
the sinner and search him out
and ^ow him kindness for Jesus’
sake. The house of Saul bad sunken
from its former greatness into such
obscurity that it took som» time of
searching to find one of the house
hold. A former servant of the house
Saul was better known than his
children or grandchildren. The kind
ness that David desired to show to
some of the house of Saul was "the
kindness of God.’’ unmerited kindness
and great kindness. As God had
shown kindness to David, so David
would show kindness to bis enemies,
Mephibosheth is a fitting type of the
sinner; he was “lame on his feet
and so is the sinner, unable to walk
uprightly in the paths of righteous
j ness, constantly stumbling and fall
ing; and he lived in Lodebar (which
means, "no pasture”), and the sinner
is without pasture, starving. God has
made the human soul on so large a
plan that nothing can satisfy it but
God Himself. We may flatter our
I selves that if we have much goods
laid up for many years, our souls can
j "take their ease, eat, drink and he
merry” (Luke 1 2:19). but the human
j soul that drinks of any other well
than that to which Jesus invites him
will thirst again (John 4:13). It is
onlyVhen he drinks of the water that
.Tesus gives that, he never thirsts, bat
whosoever drinks of the water that
Jesus gives shall never thirst and it
will be in him a well of water spring¬
ing up into everlasting life (John
4:14'. Away from God there is no
pasture, but when we return to God
and He becomes our Shenherd He
makes us to lie down in green pas¬
tures end leads us beside the waters
™ st y^mptlon 23:2
R. V., margin). Our David not
merely sends for us. He comes
for us (Luke 19:10). and when
H e finds us He rejoices over us,
lays ns on His shoulder and brings
ns saf ely borne (Luke 15:5-7'. How
foolish Mephihosheth would have
been if when the king sent for him,
be had refused to go with the messen
gers, and how foolish the sinner is
when the King of kings sends for him
through His messenger, the Holy
Snirit. if he refuses to leave the land
of “no pasture,” and the house of
bondage, to go to the King and re*
1 ceive the reward of tliq faithful.
1 j TL Mephibosheth at tbe King’s
Table, 7-13. When Menhihosheth
came into the presence of the king he
was full of fear in spite of the pur¬
poses of love that the king had ex¬
pressed (v. 3). So tue sinner is full
of fear when he draws nigh to God,
though God’s purposes, revealed over
and over again, are purposes of in¬
finite love. To trembling Mephibo¬
sheth David said. "Fear not,” and ’o
the trembling sinner God sa^s, "Fear
not” (Is. 41:10,13; 43:1,2,5). There
is scarcely anything God says more
frequently in His Word than “Fear
not.” David gave Mephibosheth good
reason for not fearing, namely. “I will
surely show thee kindness for Jona¬
than’s, thy father’s, sake.” God gives
us even better reason for putting
fear from us, because He will show
us kindness for His only begotten
Son’s sake (Rom. 8:32; John 14:13,
14; 2 Cor. 5:21). David not only
promised to restore all the land to
Saul, his father, but furthermore that
Mephibosheth should eat at his own
table continually, and this is what
God invites us to do. No earthly
king s table was ever so bountifully
spread as the table of the great King
to which He invites every sinner to
sit down and to eat there continually.
David’s kindness filled Mephibosheth
with a sense of his own utter un¬
worthiness (v. 8). He regarded him
self as only a dead dog. When we
see ourselves in the light of God’s in¬
finite grace, we too will see that we
are no better than dead dogs in our¬
selves, but by the grace of God we
become children of God (John 1:1-)*
David sought to relieve Mephibosheth responsibility
of all care by laying all property
for looking after his large himselt
upon Ziba, the servant. Ziba
had fifteen sons and twenty servants,
but he in turn was to be servant to
Mephibosheth. God provides us w;.h
mightier servants yet, servants of n®
less dignity than the angels (Heo.
1:13, 14). Mephibosheth was not
only to eat at the king’s table, but n
was to eat there as one of the king s
sons. We sit down at God's table
not as guests, but as a child 1 R°™'
8:15, 17). The lesson closes wiia
Mephibosheth no longer in Lodeba *
the land of “no pasture,” bm a .Jei li¬
salem, which means, “founder in
peace.” And not only in .lerusaH >
the city of peace, but continualD
the king's table. At this P 01 .’ still
type fails, for Mephibosheth and th . re
lame on both his feet, but
deemed sinner is no longer la walk
made strong in his feet, able to
in the paths of righteous:! (PS.
23:3; Eph. 6:10).
