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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).