Newspaper Page Text
W. D. B CHAMBERS, Pro-nietor.
VOL. X
'UNDER THE EOUCHS OF THE HOLLY TREE.”
“Whither away, 0 Neil Mac Donald,
Whither away so fleet hie ye?”
"I have a tryst to keep, my mother,
Under the boughs of the holly tree.”
"Go ye not, O Neil Mae Donald!
Go ye not, prithee! prithee!”
*‘l must keep the tryst, mv mother,
Under the boughs of the holly tree.”
Over the burn bounds Neil Mac Donald.
Through the bracken plunges he;
He has won to the purple shadows
Under the boughs of the holly tree.
"O my love!” cries Neil Mac Donald;
O my love! my love!” cries she;
And their lip* are met together
Under the bougue of the holly tree.
OFF tlio northern coast of
Maine lies Badge Island. On
it Is a little Government light
until a short time ago kept
by Frank Gray, a widower, with one
child, a little girl of eight. Those who
have read the delightful tale of “Cap
tain January” may get some knowledge
of the life that this father and daugh
ter led on the rocky little islet. The
child was her father's soul and heart.
The mother had died when Catharine,
the little one, was five years old.
Frank Gray was loth to give up his
sea-girt life. The circumstances of
the case forbade the taking to the isl
and of a woman to care for Catharine.
The father would not part with her
to an institution, and so there in the
bleak spot they lived for many months
of the year ttogether, neither seeing
any other human being.
The child’s playfellows in the sum
mertime were the birds of the air. The
island was the home of thousands of
tea birds, the great gulls and the grace
ful terns. The birds built their nest
all over the island. It was Catharine’s
delight to watch the great gatherings
of these feathered sea clans. The birds
grew to know her and to look upon
her simply as one of the natural ob
jects of their island home. She picked
her steps as she made her way over
the rocks or through the few grassy
stretches, lest by mishap she tread
Upon one of the precious eggs or downy
WAS LYING DEAD ON TIIE SANDS.
foung. She called the big birds her
Chickens. She went on occasion to a
Quiet cove and tossed into the water
bits of fish, and then watched the terns
poising in their flight and diving airily
for the. food. In the winter Cathar
ine's pets left. From the first day of
March her face was pressed against
the outside pane of the light watching
for their return. At times on foggy
flights a few bewildered birds would
flash themselves to their death against
the glass, lured by the light. In the
morning Frank Gray would gather up
the dead birds at the foot of the light
tower and carry them away lest Cath-
M’lne, knowing of the tragedies, should
grieve. IVhen the season's nest making
began, or rather when the choosing of
nesting sites began, for the sea bird’s
home is at times only the bare rock,
Catharine could tell her friends of an
other year from the strangers among
the flock by their fearlessness of her
presence. The child of nature, noted
the differences of plumage in the birds,
and told their age thereby. Her knowl
edge was that best of all nature knowl
edge born of observation and not of
books.
One day Catharine Gray felt weary,
did not go as usual to look from
the cliffs or from the beach at the
swarms of soaring gulls. Into her
father’s eyes came an anxious look.
In an hour a signal was swung. It
w#s answered from another island
nearer the heavy.coast line. In .twen
ty-four hours’ time a..doctor w as. mi
htadge Island. lie was too late.
The sun was ! *out-hing the--lensds xjf
the lamp with a brighter beam than
those they nightly, reflected to .guide
the mariner "wiffn Cafliafrue'"flsk'ed'
her father to lift her she might,
look through the little masoTTciiain
hered window at her “chickens. ’’ The
child saw- them in their light flying
battalions hovering and sweeping
above the tossing waves. She smiled
and then the light of her eyes failed.
DADE COUNTY SENTINEL.
BY CLINTON SCOLLAND.
Bitter the frost upon the moorside,
Bitter the frost, but what recks he.
With his arms about Fiorna
Under the boughs of the holly tree!
“What is that I hear, beloved?
What is that dark shape 1 see?”
“You but dream, my Neil Mae Donald,
Under the bo’ughs of the holly tree!”
“He dreams not, your Neil Mac Donald
Sister, false as the falsest be!”
Hark!—the clan-call of Mac Gregor
Under the boughs of the holly tree!
Hark!—the clan-call of Mac Gregor!
Every man has a weird to dree;
He .has dreed his, Neil Mac Donald,
Under the boughs of the holly tree.
—Collier’s Weekly.
It was a white-haired, bent man who
two years ago was still keeping Badge
Island light. His was the loneliest
vigil on the whole Atlantic coast, but
the island in its desolation was not ns
lonely ns the keeper's heart. Cathar
ine’s “chickens” still flocked to the isl
and, and in increasing hundreds. The
mercantile marts of the country were
demanding the plumage of the gulls
and the terns that it might be used to
deck the hats of women. From the
Isaac and Smith islands of Virginia
to the forbidding cliffs of the Provinces
the plume hunters had followed their
prey, killing ruthlessly and leaving the
fledgling young to die of starvation.
No creature is so quick as a bird to dis
cover when it has a haven of rest.
All the gulls and the terns from all
parts of the Maine coast gathered at
Badge Island. There the plume hunt
ers had come, but they had been driven
away by the sight of a stern-faced man
patrolling the shore with a rifle on
his shoulder.
Many attempts the men harriers
made during the season of 1899 to
carry on their work of destruction.
Each one of the thousands of birds
that swung in circling flight about
Badge Island represented so much
money. Commercial agents from Bos
ton and New York were on the main
laud displaying rolls of the tempter
and urging men to forget their decency
and their manliness and go to the work
of the slaughter. There were some,
white men in Maine who attempted
the killing of the gulls, but who
stopped when they heard of the deter
mination of Frank Gray to save the
birds, and above all when they learned
the story of Catharine’s “chickens.”
There arc some Indians in Maihe, and
these the tradesmen tempted beyond
their power of resistance.
One day Frank Gray left Badge Isl
and on ar, Imperative errand. He was
gone six hours. When nearing home
he heard the cries of the gulls and
knew from the tone—for birds have a
language—that 'there wgs desolation
above the water. Then there came
shots. Frank Gray bent to his oars
and shot his boat under the lee of the
island, lie dashed up the rocks into
the lighthouse and grabbed his rifle.
He made for the north end of the isl
and. Belpw himr just off the beach, he
saw three boats, each containing two
men and the carcasses of hundreds of
birds. Frank Gray leaped from rock to
rock till he struck the beach. Cathar
ine’s “chickens,” what there were left
of them, were wheeling and crying
over his head, and atyout the places
where the now parentless young were
helpless in their nests. Catharine's
“chickens.” Gray's heart and mind
were frenzied. He raised his rifle and
took a sho* at one of the sea bird as
sassins. He missed by many yards.
There came, three shots, and Frank
Gray, Gavermpent lighthouse, keeper,
was ij'irig'deafl on Ifie sands. Self-de
fense sqlil a jury whoso members had
no souls,'. r k
Catharine Gray are
dead. -Catharine’s “chickens” are 'be
ing sold to-dny in State street, Chicago’,'
Tor ’si each.—Edward B. Claris, in the
Chicago Record-Herald. +
To every 100,000 of the population
of the German empire there are on the
average forty-eight medical men.
BILL ARPS LETTER
r-
Oft Predicted Millennium Is Yet
Far Off, Thinks William.
WOULD-BE PROPHETS WHO FAILED
Conversion of thi World to Christ Is
Much Too Slow and Better Prog
ress Will Have to Be Made
By Missionaries,
I believe the millennium craze has
subsided for awhile. Within my recol
lection it ha£ bobbed up three or four
times and excited good people all over
the country, for good people wish it
to come, and live in expectation. I
remember when William Miller, of
Massachusetts, had all New England
excited, for he was a very learned man
and a sincere Christian, and believed
all that he professed. For ten years
he exhorted the people to be ready for
the coming of Christ in 1848, and even
fixed the day when they would see
Him descending from heaven in mag
nificent glory and escorted by Moses
and Elijah and a retinue of angels. He
had over .50,000 devoted converts and
the night before the promised day
they arrayed themselves in white rai
ment and sang and shouted and prayed
until morning and then climbed the
high hills and the tree tops and the
spires of the churches to meet Him as
He neared the earth. But He didn’t
come, and it nearly broke their hearts,
and they like to have perished to
death, for they had given away all
their earthly possessions.
Next came Dr. John Cummings, a
very learned minister of London, who
wrote a book on it and fixed the mil
lennial year at 1863. We were fighting
over here about that time and the mil-
to be postponed. The mil
lennium means the reign of ChriFt
upon the earth for a thousand years,
when everybody will be good and there
shall be no more death nor pain nor
sorrow, and there has not been a cen
tury since the criciflxion that the re
ligious people have not been looking
for His coming. The Christians got
their belief from the prophecies of
Daniel and from St. John and St. Pe
ter and later on from Irenacus and
Justin Martyr, and they delighted
themselves with dreams of glory that
was near at hand. Some of them de
clared there would be no more winters,
no more nights and everlasting wells
would run with honey and milk and
I wine. Jerusalem would be rebuilt and
I the fruits of the earth would be co
lossal and never dying. One notable
writer said that every grape vine
would' have 10,000 branches and every
branch 10,000 shoots and every shoot
10,000 bunches and every bunch 10,000
grapes and every grape would make
25 gallons of wiine. Good gracious!
how thirsty that fellow must have
been. But the millennium didn’t come,
and by and by Origin, a very wise and
good man came along in the third cen
tury and declared that there would
no such grapes, but that Christ’s com
ing would be altogether spiritual. Still
His coming kept on being predicted
and when the reformation of Luther
and Calvin came about they said that
the pope was the anti-Christ and the
millenniam was near at hand. Next
came Oliver Cromwell, who excited
his followers with a prediction of the
millennium —and so it goes on and on
and now it is about'time for another,
just as soon as we have done killing
off the Fillipinos and England nas
killed off all the Boers.
Well, now all these, ruminations
about the millennium were provoked
by what I have been reading about
the recent discoveries of oil all over
the country. One thing brings on an
other, and if the coming of Christ is’
near at hand and His Reign is to be a
spiritual one for a thousand years, and
there Is to be no winter or night or
sickness or pain or -sorrow, we won’t
need all this oil, neither for fuel or
light. And so I don’t believe the millen
nium is very near. If all the people
are to be cpnverted and become good
it will be a long time off, for it is a
slow process, and all the coal and ol!
In the bowels of the erath will be
needed. It wasn’t put there for noth
ing. Missionary work is going on
more rapidly than ever before, but it
is like a drop in a bucket of water.
We have got 20,000 missionaries in
heathen lands and they are aided by
80,000 native preachers and teachers,
but these 100,000 will have to convert
an average for each of ten a year to
make a million, and there are pver a
thousand million, and there are over a
mere coming on. But they do not con
vert half a million a year, for the last
repen gives only 4,000,000 all told.
Last year we spent $20,000,000 on them
and have now over 1,000,000 children
going to Christian schools and have
23,000 churches, and over 1,000 sec
ordary schools Besides medical col
leges and training schools and hospi
tals and asylums for orphans and the
blind and the insane and the lepers.
They have got almost everything that
we l.ave got and now have protection
in CohstantinopTe and Pekin and
Beirut and other great h'egthen cen
ters. The weirk they haVe' done in the
last fen years is amazing and the ab
duction of Miss Stone’has increased.’
their zeal. Thirty million dollars have:
hCen*>:i. B, fl r ??fl tbia’yaar-and. they say
tj>al.if.y* cannot convert them we can
at least civilize them and teach them
the nnctrine of a clean shirt and
comfortable home, and these are the
first lessons in religion. The last offi
cial report tells us that more than half
Official Organ of Dado COunty
TRENTON. GA. FRIDAY. MARCH 21.1902
the pupils are girls, or centuries
women and girls have been under the
ban and were of no more conseuence
in the household than doge or beasts
of burden, but now iney are being lift
ed up and treated with humanity and
respect. If the work of our mission
aries accomplish no Other good but the
rescuing of women from the degrada;
Hon of the ages, it is worth ten times
its cost. What is the. cost but the sur
plus of our wealth, and that surplus
is rot ours, but God's Libraries and
colleges are good things to build up
anr. foster, but how much do the mil
lionaires give to the cause of mis
sions? Most of the charity, we are
told, came from those who are not
worth one-tenth of a million. It is a
lamentable fact that .the more a man
has the more he wsTts, and the less
he gives away in proportion to his
wealth. The parable of Dives and
Lararus was intended to alarm the
rich and selfish, but most of them Ray
give me a little more money and I will
take the risk of losing heaven. Paul
said to Timothy: “Gain Is not godli
ness, but godliness with contentment
Is great gain. We brought nothing
into this world, aud it is certain we
can carry nothing opt, and they who
would be rich fa'l into temptation and
into foolish and heartful lusts that
cast men Into perdition. The love of
money is the rooj of.all evil. There
is a sermon to live by, but it is hard
to do. Somehow I can’t help wishing
I had a little more than I have got—
no tfor myself, bifl. my wife would
like a carriage and horses and ride
around and take the grandchildren,
and she would like to have some
money of her own to give away and
buy little presents without asking me
now and then for a dollar or two. She
dees hate to do that, and I don’t let
h’r when I have any to spare.
BILL ARP.
RECORDS IN THE SAND.
Prints Made by Man or Beast That
Convey News to Desert Dwellers.
In the Sahara little gusts of rain
sometimes occur. On these unusual
occasions each d&fflflrcaves its impress
on the sanfipaiflree thousands of tiny
being proof positive that
rain has fallen. If it happens that a
calm in the air follows so that the
sand is not disturbed for a number
of days the marks of the raindrops
remain as clear as when they were
first made.
The sand i3 the record of all that
happens on its surface. Just as the
waves obliterate the markings on the
beach, so the winds of the desert,
blowing the sands here and there,
sooner or later wipe out the records
stamped on the surface, but they
often remain for quite a while, and as
the desert residents know how to
read them they derive information
that is useful to them.
When they see a sinuous, unbrokem
groove along the sand they know that
a serpent has passed that way and
by following up the track they often
catch the “varmint” before he finds i
hole into which to crawl. They cJM,
tell -how many feet an insect hasd|^ :
the marks on the sand. In faet4jjF“ er
are as thoroughly versed in ‘<Yr Te an
of sand' marks as our
were in the mysteries t
before they were res
ervations and lost muni of the cun
ning of their fathers.
The desert people know the track
of every species of animal that trav
els on the sand. They become won
derfully quick in detecting differences
in the sand prints. As long as a
man keeps afoot the fi.tory of.Jvis do
ings during the day is written for all
to read. The natives can tell the
footprints-of every person of their ac
quaintance. They know every one
,. of their camels.pr- hordes ly the
marks they make.
When' they see' tracks That a pass
ing caravan they dethet pe
culiarities indiscernable to all but the
desert dweller! which reveal to them
the tribe to which the, travellers be
long. When they turn their animals
loose to graze where grass has sprung
up among the, wplls they will perhaps
pay no attention to them for days, but
when the animals are wanted they
will surely be traced by indications
so slight that they would escape the
notice of an inexpert observer. In
fact, a great variety or information
is imparted to the natives by sand
markings that others would not ob
serve.
Among the cases near the northern
edge of the desert there is no such
thing as property in land. The sands
are everywhere and man may use any
part of the surface Just as long as he
choojses to occupy or cultivate it; but
his claim upon it ceases when he
stops using it; There is ho individual
property in water. In many places
water underlies the surface at a depth
of ten or thirty feet and he who
chooses to dig for it and bring it to
the surface to nourish the date palm
is at liberty to do eo., -But he does 1
not own the water. Any one is at
at liberty to use it for his palm trees,
but he must not plant a tree within
about thirty feet of those owned by
his neighbor. • *
There is, in fact, 1 individual owner
ship .only in the tree, itself. If the
tree dies and the owner does, riot re
place it with’ariothef, Sany'orie is ffee"
,td plant in
is that a man’s date palms mjiy be
■Scattered 'around * in"4' number of
groves. He may sell his Irees. if he ‘
desires, but he cannot sell the ground
in which they” are planted* nor the.
water that vivifies them. —New York
Sun.
DR.TALTI AGE’S SERHON
nw Eminent Divine’* Sunday
Discourse.
Subject: Ttio Art of Forgettlnp—flotr to I?©
Happy—Cancrllnir Yon; Allow
Others to forget—Coma lulo Meicjr
ami I'ardou.
Washington, t). C— From the letter
to the Hebrews Dr. Taltnage takes a test
and illustrates how all offenders may be
emancipated; test, Hebrews viii, 1?,
“Their sins and their iniquities Will I re
member no more.’’-* - '
The.national fiower of the Egyptians is
the heliotrope, of- the Assyrians is the
water lily, of tho Hindoos is the'mangold,
of the Chinese is the cnryaantaeirufn. We
have no national flower, but there is
hardly any flower more suggestive to
many of us. than the forgcu-ienot,. Yy’e all
like to be remembered, and one of our mis
fortunes is that there are so many things
we cannot' temember, Mnemonics, or the
art of assisting memory, is an important
art. It was first suggested by Simonides,
of Ceos, bob year* before Christ. Persons
■ who had but little power to recall events
or put facts and names and dates in proper
processions have through this art had their
memory re-enforced to an almost incredi
ble extent. A good memory is an invalua
ble possession, By all meaps cultivate it.
I bad an aged friend who, detained all
night at a miserable depot in waiting for a
rail train fast in the snowbanks, enter
tained a group of some tea or bitten cler
gymen, likewise on their way
home from a meeCThgof presbytery', by
first with a piece of out on
the black and sooty-wails <w the depot the
characters of Walter Scott’s “Marmion"
and then reciting from memory the whole
of that poem of some eighty pages in fine
print. My old friend, through great nge (
lost his memorv, and when 1 asked h : m it
this story of the rnilrotld depot was true
he said, “I do not rtmem'ocr how. but it
was just like me. Let me see,” said he to
me. “Have I ever teen you before?”
“Ye3,” I said; “you were ny guest last
night, and I wM with you an hour ago.”'
What an awful contrast in that man be
tween the greatest memory I ever knew
and no memory at all!
But right along with this art of recol
lection, Which I nthndt too high'y eulogize,
is one quife as important, and yet I never
heard it applauded. I mean the art of for
getting. There i3 a splendid faculty in
that direction that we all need to culti
vate. We might through that process be
ten times happier and more useful than
we now are. live have been told that for
getfulness U a weakness and ought to be
avoided by all possible means. So far
from a weakness, my text ascribes it to
God. It is the very top of omnipotence
that Cod is able to obliterate a part of Ilis
own memory. If we repent of sin and
rightly seek tho divine forgiveness, the
record of the misbehavior is not Only
crossed off tho hooks, but God actually
lets it pas3 out of memory. “Their sins
and their iniquities wiil I remember no
more.” To remember no mor* is to forget,
and yon cannot make anything else out of
it. God’s power of forgetting is so great
that if two men appeal to Him and the
one man, after a life all right, gets the
sin* of his heart pardoned and the other
man, after a life of abomination, gets par
doned God remembers no more against
one than the othi S The entire past of
both the moralist ißth his imperfections,
and the his debaucheries,
is as much obliJ®ted in the one case as
in the other, forever and for*
ever. “Their and their iniquities will
I. remember < Bmre.”
This eubVgHftttribute of forgetfulness
on the parjjgWod you and I need, in our
finite wavgPMitate. You will do well to
cast ouJifflEj* recollection all wrongs
done the course of one’s life
he isjJßß Sr.'ljß misrepresented, to be lied
There are those who
k&FJald cjMgs fresh by frequent rehear*
jtMower isljßave appeared in print, they
(Mcf all (MMheir scrapbook, for they cut
’rnarsh.‘4;S paragraphs out of news
f Field,**®' and at leisure times look
they have them tied up in
e m pigeonholes, and they
themselves and their
'these careens, these falsehoods, these cru
elties. 1 *Be known gentlemen who car
ried theioßi their pocketbooks,. so that
they coudßasily get at these irritations,
and theyßt their right hand in the inside
of tfyeimMt pocket over their heart and
say; “LMB here! Let he show you some
thing.” catch wasps and hor
nets ai JBBoisonous insects and transfix
them ijjfß-iositv bureaus for study, and
that ia9|B, but these of whom 1 speak
catch tflfcßasps and the hornets and pois
onous iwßs and play with them and put
them OjlKßpmselves and on their friehdi
and set LjPjf far the noxious things can
jump ajflEdiow how deep they can sting.
Have W such sorapbook. Keep nothing
in-, yopr possession that is disagreeable.
Tear Ap the falsehoods and the slander*
and Jne hypercriticisms.
- Imitate the Lord in ray text and forget,
actually fprget, sublimely, forget. There
is no happiness for you in any other plan
or procedure. You see all around you in
the church and out of the church disposi
tions acerb, • malign, cynical, pessimistic.
Do you know-how these men*and women
cot that disposition? It was by tjie em
balmment of things pantherine and viper
ous. They have spent much of their tim*
in calling the roll of all the rats that have
nibbled at their reputation. Their soul is
a cage of vultures. Everything in them is
sour or imbittered. The milk of human
kindness has been curdled. They do not
believe in anybody or anything. If they
see two people whispering they think it is
about themselves. If they* see tw.o people
laughing, they think it is about them
selves. Where there "is one sweet pippin
in their orchard there are fifty crabapples.
They have never been able to torget. They
•Jo not" want to forget. They never will
forget. Their wretchedness is supreme,
for no one can be happy if he carries per
rctually in mind the mean things that
Lave been dono hhm On the other hand,
you can find here and there a man or
woman (for there are not many of them)
whose disposition is genial and summery.
WTiy? Have they always been treated
well? Oh, no. Hard things have been said
against them. They have been charged
with officiousness, and their generosities
have been set down to a desire for display,
and they have many a time been the sub
ject of tittle tattl", and they have had
enough small assaults like gnats and
enough great attacks like lions to have
made them perpetually miserable. If they
would have consented to miserable.
But they have had divine philo
sophy to cast of the annoyances, and they
have kept themselves in the sunlight of
God’s favqr and have' realized that those
oppositions and hindrances are a part of a
mighty discipline by which they are to be
prepared for usefulness and heaven. The
secret of it all is they have, by the help
of the Eternal God, learned how to forget.
Another practical thought; When our
faults are repented- of let them go out of
mind. If God forgives "them, we have a
right -to "forget -them. Having once re-'
penttyl- of par infelicities and ipisdemean
,ors, there is‘no . heed of -our prepqnting of
: tbem agaifr. ■•Wu-ppose* I owe you‘a large
• sum of. money.,! and 'you are persuaded I
am incapacitated to pay and you give me
acquittal from that obligation. You say:
“I cancel that debt. All is right now.
Start again.” And the next day 1 come in
and say: “You know about that big debt I
owe you. I have come in to get you to let
me off. I feel so bad about it I eanno'
rest. Do let me off.” You reply with a
little impatience: “I did let you off. Don’t
bother yourself and bother me with any
more of that discussion." The following
day I come in and say: “My dear sir, about
that debt—l can never get over the fact
that 1 owe you that money. It is some
thing that weighs on my mind like a mill
stone. Do forgive me that debt.” This
time you clear lose your patience and say:
“You are a nuisance. What do you mean
by this reiteration of that affair? I am
almost sorry I forgave you that debt. Do
you doubt my veracity or do you. not un
derstand the plain language in whirh I
told you that debt was canceled?” Well,
my friends, there are many Christians
guilty of worse folly than that. While it
is right that they repent of new sins and
of recent sins, what is the use of bother
ing yourself and insulting God by asking
Him to forgive sins that long ago were
forgiven? God has forgiven them. Why
do you uot forget them? No; you drag
the load on with you, and 305 times a year,
if you pray every day, you ask God to re
call occurrences which lie has not only for
giVeri, but forjtffften.
Quit this folly. I do not ask you less to
realize the turpitude of sin, but I ask ycu
to a higher faith in the promise of God
and the full deliverance of His mercy. lie
does not give a receipt for part payment
or so much received on account, but re
ceipt n full, God having for Christ’s sake
decreed “yjour eins and your iniquities
will I/emembcf no more.”
I know you will quote the Bible refer
ence to the horrible pit from which von
were digged. Yes, be thankful for that
rescue, but do not make displays of the
mud of that horrible pit or splash it over
other people. Sometimes I have felt in
Christian meetings discomfited and unfit
for Christian service because I had dono
none of those things which seemed to bo,
in the estimation of many, necessary for
Christian usefulness, for I never swore a
word or ever got drunk or went to com
promising places or was guilty of assault
and battery or ever uttered a slanderous
word or ever did any one a hurt, although
I knew my heart was sinful enough and I
said to myself, “There is no use of my try
ing to do any good, for I never went
through those depraved experiences.” But
afterward I saw consolation in the thought
that no one gained any ordination by the
laying on of the hands of dissoluteness and
infamy.
And though an ordinary moral life, end
ing in a Christian life, may not be as dra
matic a story to tell about, let us be grate
ful to God rather than worry about it if
we have never plunged into outward abom
inations.
' A sin forgetting God! That is clear be
yond and far above a sin pardoning God.
How often we hear it said, "I can forgive,
but I cannot fbrget.” That is equal to
saying, “I verbally admit it is all right,
but I will keep the old grudge good.”
Thera is something in the demeanor that
seems to say: "I would not do you harm.
Indeed, I wish you Well, but that unfortu
nate aff air can never pass out of my mind.”
There may be no hard words pas3 Between
them, but Until death breaks in the same
coolness remains, But God lets our par
doned, offenses go into oblivion, He never
throws them up to us again. He feels ns
kindly toward us .as though we had been
spotless and positively angelic all along.
Many years ago a family consisting of
the husband and wife and little girl of two
years lived far out in a cabin On a western
prairie. The husband took a few cattle to
market. Before he started his little child
asked him to buy her a doll, and he prom
ised. He could after the sale of the cattle
Purdue household necessities _ and cer
tail 9 would not forget the doll he had
promised, In the village to which he went
he sold the cattle find obtained the grocer
ies for his household and the doll for his
little darling. He started home along tho
dismal rond at nightfall. As he went
along on horsobaok a thunderstorm broke,
and in the most lonely part of the rond
and in the heaviest part of the storm he
heard a child’s cry, Robbers had been
known to do some bad work along that
road, and it Was known that this herds
man had money with hint, the < price of the
cattle sold. The herdsman first thought
it as a stratagem to have him halt and bo
despoiled of nis treasures, but the child's
cry became more keen and rending, and so
he dism innted and felt around in the
darkness and all in vain until he thought
of a hollow tree that he remembered near
the road where the child might be, and
for that he started, and, sure enough;
found a little one fagged out and drenched
of the storm and almost dead. He wrapped
it up as well as he could and mounted his
horse and resumed his journey home.
Coming in sight of his cabin he saw it all
lighted up, and supposed his wife had
kindled all these lights so as tq guide her
husjiand. through ti)C darkness, no.
The house was full of excitement, and the
neighbors were gathered arid stood around
the wife'of the lio'Jse, who was insensible
front some great calamity. On inquiry the
returned husband found- -that ’ the little
child of that cabin was, go.ne, -She had
wandered out to meet her father and get
the present .he had premised, and the
child was lost. Then the father unrolled
from the blanket the child he had found m
the fields, and, I 'ld,''it 4 was his'own child
and the lost one of the prairie home, and
the cabin quaked with the shout over the
lost one found.
How suggestive of the fact that once we
were lost in the open fields -or.ainong the
mountain God’s wandering children,
and t lle > found us, dying in the tempest
and wrapped us in the mantle of His love
and fetched us home, gladness and con
gratulation bidding uS welcome. The fact
is that the world does not -know God or
they would all flock to Him.
So I set open the wide gate of my text,
inviting you all to come into the mercy
and pardon of God—yea, still further, into
the ruins of the place where once was
kept the knowledge of your iniquities.
The place has been torn down and the
xecords destroyed, and yet you will find,
the ruins more dilapidated and broken
and prostrate than the ruins of Melrose or
Kenilworth, for from these last ruins you
ran pick up some fragment of a sculptured
stone or you can .see the curve of some
broken arch, but after your repentance
and your forgiveness you cannot find in all
the memory of God a fragment of your
pardoned sins so large as a needle’s point.
“Their sins aud their iniquities will I -a
member no more.”-
Six different kinds of sound were heard
on that night which was interjected into
the daylight of Christ’s assassination. The
neighing of the war horses—for sqme of
the soldiers were in the saddle —was one
sound, the bang of the hammers was a
second sound, the jeer of malignants was
a third sound, the weeping of friends and
followers was a fourth Eound, the - plash
of blood on the rocks was a fifth sound,
and the groan of the expiring Lord, was a
sixth sound! And they all commingled
into one sadness.
.Over a place in Russia where wolves
were pursuing a load of travelers and to
save them a servant sprang from the sied
into the mouths of the wild beasts and
was devoured, and thereby the other lives
were saved are inscribed the words, “Great
er love hath no man than this, that a man
lay down his life for his friend.” Many a
surguon in pj- owp tjme has, in trachtco
t'omy with* his' own lip's "drawn from the
windpipe of a diphtheritic patient that
which, fured the patient, and slevy the wh
et oh, an’d all’ have honored the self sacri
fice. But all other scenes of sacrifice pale
before this most illustrious martyr ef all
fime and all eternity. After that agonizing
spectacle in behalf- Of dUr fallen Twee noth
ing about the sin forgetting God is too
stupendous for my faith, and I accept the
promise, and will you not all accept it?
“Their sins and their iniquities will I is
member no more.”
[Copyright, 1902, L. Klopsch. 1
SI.OO a Year.
NO. 44
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