Newspaper Page Text
LILLIE IDLES;
on,
HD El THE BDsE
mint
1 Story of the War in
the Southwest.
BY ARVIDE 0. BALDWIN.
CHAPTER L
INTRODUCTORY.
The war was an extremely severe strain
on'the people of the South, especially those
situated along the southern border of
Mason and Dixon's line. It would not have
seemed so severe if it had not been for the
suffering of the innocent. Men precipitate
war, and should be the ones to assume
war’s duties and pay all its penalties; but
alas! they do not. Many poor women, with
small children, have had to resort to that
■sort of food that an animal would disda : n
to eat, in order to sustain life in that
country.
Bushwhackers, guerrillas, jay hawkers and
every evil that war could generate were en
tailed upon those that were along the bor
der and could not break through the ter
rible line of brush-thieves and escape. Jn
•d’gnity upon indignity was heaped upon
the unprotected females, until a desperation
bom of despair took possession of them
and raised them to do acts heroic, or drove
them downward to devilish deeds.
The northern part of the State of Arkan
sas was peculiarly adapted to the successful
prosecution of the nefarious business ol
the gangs of desperadoes that infested that
portion of the country. The numerous caves
in the northwest famished a safe retreat in
case of pursuit and an impregnable strong
hold in case of attack. The Ozark Moun
tains are in the northwestern part of the
State. The “divide," or top of the moun
tains, is comparatively level—about half of
the surface being prairie and the remainder
covered with a stunted, inferior growth of
timber. The “breaks” are that portion of
the country situated between the streams
and the divide, and this broken, hilly sec
tion is of such a nature and sameness that
a large body of men could not traverse it
unless they were to go parallel with the
ridges. A stranger in the depths of these
hill-forests, -without a guide or compass,
would easily become lost and bewildered.
Upon the topmost point of this con
tinuous range of mountains runs the road
known now, as it was known years ago, as
the “Wire Road.” This road was formerly
used by the Butterfield Express Company,
and a wire was stretched along its winding
course, over which news was transmitted,
and important points thus brought into
dose communication with the world. As
there was no rail or water connection with
this country, the trafficking was done with
teams, which carried the produce out, and
brought those things wanted by the inhabit
ants. Slave labor had made many families
wealthy, and there were some intelligent,
refined people here. There were, also,
many people of the poorer class, and not a
few of them possessed the essentials for
making first-rate villains, capable of doing
any desperate deed that crcumstances
seemed to render desirable. Their oppor
tunity came with the coming of the war,
and my story will show how well they im
proved it.
For the better understanding of this his
toric tale I have written this preliminary
explanation.
“Mother, John is come! John is come!”
and Lillie Eddies danced on her toes, in a
circle, by the open window. Her hands
were clasped in ecstasy, and her loose golden
hair floated ganzily around her tall, elegant
figure.
“Why, no, not John, surely, so soon after
returning to college!” replied the mother,
a stately, gray-haired dame, as she slowly
adjusted her gold-bowed spectacles. “Byi
it is certainly he”, she continued, “for Jell
■ is now going for his luggage. Something
is wrong, or John would not have left his
studies now, when he is so near graduating.
What can it be?”
Her question was unanswered, for Lillie
had rushed out upon the lawn and in a mo
ment more was strongly clasped in the em
brace of a big, noble-looking young man of
perhaps twenty-one years of age.
“How you have grown, sister, in the past
year,” said John as he looked in admiration
upon his lovely sister. “Can it be that you
have grown so tall and womanly in so short
a time? You were so slight and small
then. ”
“But you did not think I would always
remain small, did you, brother?” laughingly
asked the pretty girl.
“Yes, dear, I am afraid that it would
have been better if you had always re
mained my little sister.”
The look of gayety had all passed away,
and a serious one had taken its place.
'' What do you mean John? You can't be
serious?” she inquired.
"Too serious, too serious, dear child,” he
hurriedly answered as he crossed the
threshold to meet his doting mother.
The meeting was affectionate, for they
were a noble family, with all the elevating
qualities of such people.
Mrs. Eddies was a widow, her husband
having died a few years previous to the
opening of our story. He had been c phy
sician, and had gone South from a Northern
State while yet a young man, after trying,
unsuccessfully, the battle of life in his
native State. He had loved and won a
beautiful bride, who had the courage and
will to try and help build a home and a for
tune in a new land away from relatives and
friends. That they had succeeded was evi
dent when one looked over the vast domain
and took into consideration the grand
Southern mansion, with its broad porches
extending nearly around, and the numerous
out-buildiugs, among which were the
“negro quarters;” for the Eddleses owned
slaves.
They loved their adopted county, for in
it they had won a competence and inde
pendence, and had enjoyed all the happi
ness usually vouchsafed to mortals. There
were only two children, John and Lillie,
and they had grown to be a pride and a
blessing to their doting parents, who had
bestowed upon tnem everything that wealth
cou ! d procure. The death of the husband
and father had been a severe blow to th«
family, for the loss was irreparable, but
they yet had loving friend - and each othei
to live for, and comfort; and at the time om
•story begins the severe pain of a recent
great affliction had partially been healed.
Afttr the greetings they all gathered
around the large open fire-place that threw
its cheerful light over the group aud made
it very pleasant on this chilly March even
ting. Questions were eager y asked and
answered for a time, but the two ladies,
with their natural shrewdness nnd insight,
saw that there was something hangiag
heavily on John's mind, and that while he
seemed cheerful he was far from feeling
SO.
“There is someting the matter, John.
Are you unwell, dear son?" asked the fond
mother, reaching forward and lovinglv
stroking his curly hair.
"Mother,” John slowly replied, and he
held his head low, “wo are on the brink of
a terrible war. It may not last long; I
hope it will not, but if i t does, it is going to
be terrible. That brought me home.”
respect and friendship so long as ycu con
duct yourself as a gent man should.”
“These are unsettled times, Miss Lillie,
and you must have some one to take an
interest in your wellfare—some one to pro
tect you. I love you, may I not be your
protector?’’
And John arose and thoughtfully paced
the floor.
"In May the convention will meet, and if
our State secedes, which I believe it is de
termined to do,” John went on to say, “the
I nited (States will send troops here, and
fighting is likely to take place even on our
own plantation.”
“No, no; the people of Arkansas cannot
be so rash as to bring war into their own
borders,” Mrs. Eddies replied, “for it would
be rash and suicidal for them to do so, and
they must know that they would suffer by
the act. No, it cannot, cannot be.”
“I do not wish to frighten you, mother;
but the country is greatly agitated, and war
is unavoidable. The South has gone too
far. ”
“What had we best do, my son?”
“I am not decided on what will be best,
but I could not remain away from you,
knowing tbe excited condition of the peopled
Perhaps it would be better for you and
Lillie to go North to our relatives, and re
main there until ail dauger is past. I will
remain here and see to the property.”
“Mother may go, but I never will while
you remain here,” said Lillie.
She had been an attentive listener until
now. Her pearly teeth were closed, and a
firmness settled around tbe delicate mouth
as she spoke.
“We never should run from an imaginary
danger. We will all remain here until there
is evidence of trouble,” the brave mother
replied, and the children quietly acquiecsed,
although the better informed mind of John
Eddies convinced him that there were rea
sons for fear.
As the spring passed away and summer
came, it was observed that there was an un
usual increase of lawlessness.
The convection had met as arranged and
the act of secession was passed.
The citizens that were opposed to the act
did what little they could to prevent any
separation from the General Government,
but they were in a helpless minority, so
when the deed was done and the State had
severed the link that bound it to the nation,
their lips were sealed.
John Eddies acted with great discretion,
and refrained, as much as possible, from
expressing his opinion for or against seces
sion; but he believed that war w ould be a
death-blow to slavery, and his judgment
was, that if that institution was wiped out
it would be far preferable to remain with
the old Government than to establish a new
one. He was a Northern man by nature,
and his sympathies were with that people,
although he owned'slaves. While he was a
Unionist, yet no man loved the “sunny
South” better than he. He was not entire
ly alone in his Union sentiments. There
were others who believed with him, but all
used the utmost caution in their speech.
All such men, who did not show the proper
sympathy for .the South, were marked, and
neighbors and others made it troublesome
for them. It was very unpleasant, to say
the least, to live under such circumstances
and to suffer such annoyances as they were
subject to.
While the Eddleses were now aware of the
fact that it would be better to depart, they
could not consistently do so and leave so
much valuable property without protection,
so they concluded to remain.
CHAPTERIL
THE REJECTION.
The people were becoming more and
more excited as time wore on, and some
Idifficulties bad already occurred ou account
of the bitterness of feeling.
Edom Woodsley, the son of a wealthy
neighbor, who had been an occasional vis
itor to the Eddies mansion, was now almost
a constant one. He was a young man of
fair looks and good education.
While he was gentlemanly in deportment
and possessed of a handsome face, he could
not conceal the undercurrent of treachery
and baseness of his nature. Culture and
circumstances had influenced him to be a
gentleman against the natural tendency of
his baser nature. Lately his attentions were
directed to Lillie, who received them in a
lady-like manner, but wiih a coldness that
should have convinced him that they were
not desired.
Mrs. Eddies and John joined in her dis
like for the young man, but he was always
courteously treated while enjoying their
hospitality.
“John,” said Edom, as he met that gentle
man coming from the house one day to
give orders for some work to be done on
the plantation, “it is about time that we be
gin organizing. People in other parts of
tbe State have already organized, and we
will soon have to show our hand.”
“I shall remain with my property and the
ladies, as they have no other protector, and
will not take any part in this affair as long
as possible,” John replied.
“ You may have to take a part sooner than
you are aware of. The ‘Feds. ’ are likely to
run into Arkansas soon, I hear.”
“I can’t help that,” John replied, shortly.
“Y’ou will fight, of course—fight for the
freedom of your country?” Edom asked.
“Yes, I will, whenever my country is in
1 danger of losing its freedom.”
"But we are in that danger now. ”
“I am not in a fighting mood,” replied
•John, "and until I have to I don't intend
to fight in a useless cause. “
"Do you say our cause is useless?” Edom
demanded. .
"It is the worst folly the South ever com
mitted, and it will be a death-blow to our
institutions,” stud John.
“I see; you are a traitor.”
“You are a liar, sir!”
As John said the vrords in a slow, meas
ured tone the blood left the face of young
Woodsley, and clenching his fists he was
about to spring forward to strike his com
panion, when the queenly figure of Lillie
Eddies stepped out of the doorway and in
a commanding manner called for Edom to
stop.
“Stop, sir. stoV not another step.”
Instantly his arms dropped at his side,
and he was as meek as a lamb. He began
to reason. He saw that his zeal for the
South was likei.y to endaugerhis success in
obtaining 4he beautiful girl whom he loved,
and who so imperiously commanded him.
Craftiness now changed him completely.
“John, I was too hasty. I am sorry I have
no better control over myself than to act
rashly. I trust you will overlook it.”
John Eddies had been standing with
folded arms looking calmly at his excited
visitor. A sneer came into his tone when
he answered, for he intuitively saw' the ob
ject of the sudden change in iiis demeanor.
“ Very well: we will let this matter drop
and try to be friends.”
"Yes, friends,” Edom replied aloud, but
mentally added “for policy. ”
llis face was somewhat flu-hed as he ad
vanced slowly to where Miss Eddies stood,
a d reaching ont his hand he smilingli
said. “I trust >ou will forgive me for this
rashness; I could not have been in my
right senses to have thought of injuring one
so dear to her -whom I —l—would gladly
die for.
“That is enough nonsense, Mr. Woodsley.
This is too serious a matter.”
“But I am in earnest, Miss Lillie.”
“Well, then, that is more reason for not
mentioning it.”
“May I see you alone. Miss Eddies?" he
asked.
“it is not worth while. If you wish to
say thing to me you can say it here,” she re
plied.
“ But this is on business of some mo
ment and interest to you. ”
“Very well, then, be brief.” And Lillie
led young Woodsley into the parlor.
“Lillie,” he broke out abruptly as he
clasped her hands, “you must know that I
love you! yes, that I adore you! O, have
you not a little love for me in return?”
“I can never love you, Mr. Woodsley,”
she replied; “but you will command my
“But how will thit affect us? We will
have nothing to do with it.”
“Why, mother, they are now organizing
bands of soldiers all over the country—al
most at our own door. The danger of los
ing life and property, in case of war, is
very great.”
“We have a protector,” Lillie loftily re
plied.
“John, you mean, of course?”
“Yes.”
“But you do not understand.”
“Understand what?” she asked.
“That John is a tra , ’’but before he
could finish the word “traitor" one delicate
finger was pointed at him like the barrel of
a pistol, and with equal effect.
“Don’t you dare say that of John, you
scoundrel!” and her eyes flashed as she
spoke.
“What! do you call me scoundrel?” he
demanded, doing his utmost to control his
temper, which still showed by facial con
tortions.
“I call anyone a scoundrel that dare to
say our John is a traitor."
“I mean that he was a Unionist, and
against the South, if that pleases you
better. ”
“He is not against the South, sir,” Lillie
argrilv answered.
“Well, he is not with us, and you know
that ‘he who is not with us is against us.’ ”
“Neither am I with anyone who is wicked
enough to break up our Gove ruin nt; but I
Jo not wish to talk more of this matter.
We are having trouble enough now.” And
she arose to go.
“Lillie, Lillie Eddies, will you not say
that I may hope; that I can some time call
you ‘ wife,’ and thus havo a protecting
claim over you? I can be of great help in
these troublesome times to all your family,
if you wid only hid me hope.”
' No, Mr. Woo Isley, I do not wish to
marry; and if I did it would be by different
wooing than this.” And Lillie advanced
toward the door.
Edom Woodsley stepped suddenly before
her and grasped her arm with such force
that it made her cry out with pain. “I must,
and will know ” But before he could
finish the sentence a blow laid him quiver
ing on the floor. A pleasant-faced, plainly
attired young man stood over the prostrate
form and prevented the half-fainting girl
from falling, and conducted her gently to a
. seat.
| The stunned man only remained in that
j condition for a moment, when he began
j raising himself and looked around in a be-
I wildered way, until he began to compre
hend what had happened, when with a look
of unutterable hatred he stumbled to his
feet, and, shaking his fist at his antagonist,
growled through his grinding teeth:
“Henry Arno, you will pay dearly for this
interference, i’ll follow you until your
death but I will liare revenge,” And with a
| curse he turned and passed out and away.
“0, Henry, what shall I do. what shall I
i do?” the poor girl moaned as she partially
j recovered from Ihe shock. “I am afraid of
; that man, he is so bad. ”
“Do not fear him,” replied her new com
: panion. “I will attend to that gentleman if
j he dare to ever molest you again.”
“I am not afraid for myself, but he swore
so horribly to have revenge upon you that
he will certainly do so if he has a chance.
He may kill you. ” And she shuddered at the
thought.
“I will not let him take me unawares, and
| lie is too cowardly to attack me openly, ” he
replied.
When John returned from the fields he
■ was astonished to find the household in a
! great state of excitement over the events
; related and the evils they were likely to
| bring in the future.
Mrs. Eddies had returned from a visit,
and when apprised of the occurrences of
the day was in a state of anxiety and fear.
Two days from Henry Amo’s encounter
with Edom Woodsley, five strange horse
men rode up to the Eddies mansion and
demanded dinner, which was readily fur
nished them.
The strangers were heavily armed, and
| they flourished their pistols with a wanton
recklessness that greatly frightened the
ladies.
“Gentlemen, yon are in the presence of
ladies, and you will please conduct your
selves like men,” said John in a tone of re
spectful request.
With an oath that jarred the china on the
mantel shelf one ot them, a big, burly,
red-headed fellow named Jim, demanded
what he had to do about it,
“1 am the proprietor of this place and
the protector of these ladies, and I propose
to take care of them,” John replied
warmly.
“Your name is Eddies, aint it?” asked
another one of the ruffians, as he turned
his black, snaky eyes searchingly upon
young Eddies.
“John Eddies is my name, sir.”
“You are the chap what is agin the South,
! aint yer?”
“No, sir. The man who says John Eddies
is against the Somli is a liar.”
“Does yer say I’m a liar?” demanded the
snaky-eyed -visitor, drawing a ponderous
navy pistol, and putting it unpleasantly
near John’s nose.
“Only the man who says I am against the
South,” ho undauntedly replied.
“Then yer aint agin us?”
“Not against the South.”
“Then jiue us.”
“Join who?”
“Jine the Capting. Put your name
down. ”
“Who is the Captain?”
“Me,” pointing his finger toward his
stomach.
“ What regiment do you belong to, Cap
tain.'” inquired John.
“None yit. ”
“Have you got vour commission?”
“Got which?”
“Your commission-papers from the Gov
ernor authorizing you to raise a company,”
John explained.
“Don t need any. This is my ‘eomishing’
as yer call it,” said the scoundrel, as he
cocked the ponderous pistol, and, taking a
careless aim, shot the head from a photo
graph hanging on the wall, across the
room.
The ladies screamed and the ruffians
yelled like madmen.
John gently forced his mother and sister
through a doorway into another room and
closed the door, lie knew now that he was
in the presence of a gang of cutthroats and
thieves, that he knew afterward by tie. name
of bushwhackers and guerrillas.
His object now was to get rid of his ob
noxious company as soon and .as quietly as
possible. i
[to be cermxvED.j)
BEY. DR. TALMAGE.
THE BROOKLYN DIVINE’S SUN
DAY SERMON.
Subject: “Disabled Hunters Bringing
Down the Most Game.”
Text— “ The lame take the prey — lsaiah
xxxin., 2&
The utter demolition of the Assyrian host
was here predicted. Not only robust men
should go forth and gather the spoils of con
quest, but even men crippled of arm and
crippled of foot should go out and capture
much that was valuable. Their physical
disadvantages should not hinder their great
enrichment. So it has been in the past, so if
is now, so it witl be in the future. Ho it is in
all departments. Men labor under seemingly
great disadvantages and amid the most un
favorable circumstances, yet making grand
achievements, getting great blessing for
themselves, great blessing for tbe world,
great blessing for the church, and so “the
lame take the prey. ”
Do you know that the three great poets of
the world were totally blind.’ Homer, Os
sian, John Milton. Do you know that Mr.
Prescott, who wrote that enchanting book,
“The Conquest of Mexico,” never saw Mex
ico, could not even see the paper on which he
was writing! A framework across the sheet,
between which, up and down, went the pen
immortal. Do you know that Gambassio, the
sculptor, could not see the marble before him
or the chisel with which he cut it into shapes
bewitching? Do you know that Alexander
Pope, whose poems will last as long as the
English language, was so much of an invalid
that he had to be sewed up every morning in
rough canvas in order to stand on his feet
at all ■
Do you know that Stuart, the celebrated
painter, did much of his wonderful work
under the shadow of the dungeon, where be
had been unjustly imprisoned for debt? Do
you know that Demosthenes, by almost
superhuman exertion, first had to conquer
the lisp of his own speech before he con
quered assemblages with his eloquence? Do
you know that Bacon struggled all
through innumerable sicknesses, and that
I.ord Byron and Sir Walter Scott went
limping on club feet through all their life,
and that many of the great posts and paint
ers and orators and historians and heroes of
the world had something to keep them back,
and pull them down, and impede their way,
and cripple their physical or their intellectual
movement; and yet they that pushed on and
pushed up until they reached the spoils of
worldly success, and amid the huzza of
nations and centuries, “the lame took the
prey?” 1
You know that a vast multitude of these
men started under the disadvantage of ob
scure parentage. Columbus, the son of the
weaver. Ferguson, the astronomer, the son
of the shepherd. America, the prey of the
one; worlds on worlds the prey of the other.
But what is true in so ular directions is more
true in spiritual and religious directions,and.
I proceed to prove it.
There are in ail communities many inva
lids. They never know a well day. They
adhere to their occupations, but they go
panting along the streets with exhaustions,
and at eventime they lie down on the lounge
with achings beyond all medicament. They
have tried all prescriptions, they
have gone through all the cures
which were proclaimed infallible,
and they have come now to surrender
to perpetual ailments. They consider they
are among many disadvantages; and when
they see those who are buoyant in health
pass by they almost envy their robust
frames and easy respiration.
But 1 haye noticed among that invalid
class those who have the greatest knowledge
of the Bible, who are in nearest intimacy
with Jesus Christ, who have the most glow
ing experiences of the truth, who have
had the most remarkable answers to
prayer, and who have most exhilar
ant anticipations of heawia Tlie tempta
tions which weary us who are in
robust health they have conquered. They
have divided among them the spoils <jf the
conquest. Many who are alert and athletic
and swarthy loiter in the way. These
are the lame that take the prey. Rob
bert Hall, an invalid; Edward Payson,
an invalid; Richard Baxter, an invalid;
Samuel Rutherford au invalid. This morn
ing, when you want to call to mind those
who are most Christlike, you think of some
darkened room in your father’s house from
which there went forth an influence potent
for eternity.
A step farther: Through raised letters the
art of printing has been l*ough t to the at
tention of the blind.
Y’ou take up the Bible for the blind, and
you close your eyes, and you run your fin
gers over the raised letters, and you say:
“Why, I never could got any information in
this way. What a slow, cumbrous way of
reading! God help the blind.”
And yet I find among that class of persons
—among the blind, the deaf and the dumb—
the most thorough acquaintance with God’s
word. Shut out from all other sources of
information, no sooner does their hand touch
the raised letter than they gather a prayer.
Without eyes, they look off upon the kingdom
of God’s love. Without hearing they catch
the minstrelsy of the skies. Dumb, yet with
pencil, or with irradiated countenance, they
declare the glory of God.
A large audience assembled in New York
at the anniversary of the Deaf and Dumb
asylum, and one of the visitors with chalk on
the blackboard wrote this question to the
pupils: “Do you not find it very hard to be
deaf and dumb'?’ And one of the pupils took
the chalk and wrote on the blackboard this
sublime sentence in answer: “When the song
of the angels shall buret upon our enrapt
ured ear, we will scarce regret that our ears
were never marred with earthly sounds.”
Oh! ths brightest eyes in heaven will be
those that never saw on earth. The ears
most alert in heaven will be those that in
this world heard neither voice of friend, nor
thrum of harp, nor carol of bird, nor doxol
ogy of congregations.
A iad who had been blind from infancy
was cured. The oculist operated upon the
lad, and then put a very heavy bandage over
the eyes, and after a few weeks had gone by,
the bandage was removed, and the mother
said to her child: “Will,e, can you see?” He
said: “Oh! mamma, is this heaven?” The
contrast between the darkness before and the
brightness afterward was overwhelming.
And I tell you the glories of heaven will tai
a thousandfold brighter for those who never
saw anything on earth. While many with
good vision closed their eyes at nignt, and
many who had a good artistic and cultured
ear went down into discord, these aiHicted
ones cried unto the Lord in their trouble,
and he made their sorrows their advantage,
and so “the lame took the prey.”
In the Seventh century there was a legend
of St. Modobert. It was said that his mother
was blind, and cne clay while looking at his
mother he felt so sympathetic for her blind
ness that he rushed forward and kissed her
blind eyes, and, the legend says, her vision
came immediately. That was only a legend,
but it is a truth, a glorious truth, that a kiss
of God’s eternal love has brought to many a
blind eye eternal illumination.
A step further: There are those in all com
munities who toil mightily for a livelihood.
They have scant wages. I’erhaps they are
diseased, or have physical infirmities, so they
are hindered from doing a continuous day’s
word. A city missionary finds them up the
dark alley, with no fire, with thin clothing, with
very coaree bread. They never ride in the
street cars; they cannot afford the five cents.
I hey never see any pictures save those in
the show windows on the street, from which
they are often jostled, and looked at by some
one who seems to say in the look: “Move on’
what are you doing here lookingat pictures?”
Yet many of them live on mountains of
transfiguration. At their rough table ho
who fed the five thousand breaks the bread.
They talk often of the good times that ara
coming. This world has no chnrin for them,
but heaven entrances their spirit 1 hey often
divide their scant crust with some forlorn
wretch w ho knocks at their door at night, and
on the blast of the night wind, as tne door
opens to let. them in, is heard the voice of
him who said: “I was hungry and ye fed
me.” No cohort of heaven will he too bright
to transport them. By God’s helD th ev have
vanquished the Assyrian host. They have
divided among them the spoils. Lame, lame,
yet they took the prey.
I was riding along the country road one
day, and 1 saw a man on crutches. 1 over
took him. He was very old. He was goiii (r
very slowly. At that rate it would
have taken him two hours to go a
mile. I said: “Wouldn't you like to
ride ?” He said: “Thank you, I would.
God bless you.” When he sat beside me
he said: “You see I am very lame and
very old, but the Lord has been a good 4<ord
to me. I have buried all my children. The
Lord gave them and the Lord had a right to
lake them away. Blessed he his name. I
was very sick and I had no money, and my
neighbors came in and took care of me and
I wanted nothing. I suffer a great
deal with pain, K '-»t then I have
so many mercies left. The Lord
has been a good Lord to me.” And be
fore we had got far I was in doubt whether
I was giving him a ride or he was giving me
a ride! He said: “Now, if you please, I'll get
out here Just help me down on my crutches,
if you please. God bless you. Thank you,
sir. Good morning. Good morning. You
have been feet to the lame, sir, you have.
Good morning.” Swarthy men had gone the
road that day. I do not know where they
came out, but every hobble of that old man
was toward the shining gate. With his old
crutch he had struiut down many a Sen
nacherib of temptation which has mastered
you|and me. Lame, so fearfully lame, so aw
fully lame; but he took the prey.
A step further: There are in all com
munities many orphans. During our last
war,and in the years immediately following,
how many children we heard say: “Oh! my
father was killed in the war. ” Have you ever
noticed—l fear you have not—how well those
children have turned out? Starting under the
greatest disadvantage, no orphan asylum
could do for them what their father would
have done had he lived. The skirmisher sat
one night, by the light of fagots, in the
swaihp, writing a letter home, when a sharp
shooter's bullet ended the letter which was
never folded, never posted an 1 never read.
Those children came up under great disad
vantage. No father to fight their way for
them. Perhaps there was in the old family
Bible an old yellow letter pasted fast, which
told the story of that father's long march,
and how he suffered in the hospital; but they
looked still further on in the Bible, and they
came to the story of how God is the father of
Ihe fatherless, and the widow's portion, and
they soon took their father’s place in that
household. They battled the way for their
mother. They came on up, and many of
them have in the years since the war taken
positions in church and state. While many
of those who suffered nothing during those
times have had sons go out into lives of in
dolence and vagabondage, those who started
under so many disadvantages because they
were so early bereft, these are the lame who
took the prey.
A step further: There are those who
would like to be good. They say: “Oh!
it I only had wealth, or, if I had elo
quence. or if I had high social position,
how much I would accomplish for God
and the church!” I stand here to-day to
tell you that you have great opportunities
for, usefulness.
Who built the Pyramids? The King who
ordered them built? No; the plain workmen
who added stone after stone and stone after
stone. Who built the dikes of Holland? The
government that ordered the enterprise? No; I
the plain workmen who carried the earth
and l ung their trowel on the wall. Who are
those who have built these vast cities?
The capitalists? No; the carpenters, the
masons, the plumbers, the plasterers, the
tinners, the 'voofers, dependent on a day’s
wages for a livelihood. And so in the great
work of assuaging human suffering and en
lightening human ignorance and halting hu
man iniquity. In that great work, the chief
part is to be done by ordinary men, with
ordinary speech, in an ordinary man
ner, and by ordinary means. The
trouble is that in the army of Christ
we all wanted to be captains and
colonels and brig.lier generals. We are not
willing to march with the rank and file and
to do duty with the private soldier. We
want to belong to the reserve corps, and read
about the battle while warming ourselves at
the campfires, or on furlough at home, our
feet upon an ottoman, we sagging back into
an arm chair.
As you go down the street you see an
excavation, and four or five men are work
ing, andjjerhaps twenty or thirty leaning on
the looking over at them. That is
the way it is in the church of God to-day:
where you find one Christian hard at work,
there are fifty men watching the job.
Oh! my friends, why do you not go to
work and preach this Gospel! You say: "I
have nojmlpit.” You have. It may be the
bench, it may bo the mason's
wall. The robe in which you are to
proclaim this Gospel may be a"shoemaker’s
apron. But woe unto you if you
preach not this Gospel somewhere, some
how! If this world is ever brought
to Christ, it will be through the unanimous
and long continued efforts of men who,
waiting for no special endowment, conse
crate to God what they have. Among the
most useless people in the world are men with
ten taients, while many a one with only two
talents, or no talent at all, is doing a great
work, and so “the lame take the prey.”
There are thousands of ministers of whom
you have never heard —in log cabins at the
West, in mission chapels at the East—who
are warring against the legions of darkness,
successfully warring. Tract distributors,
month by month undermining the citadels
of sin. You do not know their going or their
coming; but the footfalls of their ministry
are heard in the palaces of heaven. Who
are the workers in our Sabbath schools
throughout this land to-day? Men celo
brated, men brilliant, men of vast es
tate? For the most part, not that at all.
I have noticed that the chief characteris
tics of the most of those who are success
ful in the work is that they know their
Bibles, are earnest in prayer, are anxious
for the salvation of the young, and Sabbath
by Sabbath are willing to sit down un
observed and tell of Christ and the resurrec
tion. These are the humble workers who
are recruiting tho great army of Christian
youth—not by might, not by power, not
by profound argument, not by brilliant
antithesis, but by tlie blessing of God on
plain talk, and humble story, and silent
lear, and anxious look. “The lame take the
prev.”
Oh! this work of saving the youth of our
country—how few appreciate what it is!
This generation tramping on to the grave
we will soon all be gone. What next?
An engineer on a locomotive going across
the western prairies day after day saw a
little child come out in front of a cabin and
wave to him; so he got in the habit of wav
ing back to the little child, and it was the
day’s joy to him to s « tho little one come out
in front of the cabin door and wave to him,
while he answered back.
One day the train was belated it came on
to the dusk of the evening. As the engineer
stood at his post he saw by the headlight that
little girl on the track, wondering why
the train did not come, looking
for the train, knowing nothing of
its peril. A great horror seized upon
the engineer. He reversed the engine. He
gave it in charge of the other man on board,
and then he climbed over the engine, and
he came down on the cow’-catcher. He said,
though he had reversed the engine, it seemed
as though it wi re going at lightning speed,
faster and faster, though it was really slow
ing tip, and with al:n< st supernatural clutch
ha caught that child by the hair and lifted it
up, ami when the train stopped and the pas
sengers gathered around to see what was the
matter, there the old engineer lay, fainted
dead away, the little child alive and in his
swarthy arms.
“Oh!” you say, “that was well done.”
But 1 want you to exercise some kindness
and appreciation toward those in the
community who are snatching the lit
tle ones from under the wheels of tempta
tion and sin—snatching them from
under thundering rail trains and eternal
disaster,bringing them up into respectabi ity
in this world and into glory for the world to
come. You appreciate what the engineer did;
why can you not appreciate the grander
work done by every Sabbath school teacher
this afternoon?
Oh! my friends, I want to impress upon
myself and upon yourselves that it is not the
number of talents wo possess, but the use vv»
make of them,
God has a royal family in the world,
i Now, if 1 should ask: “Who are the
! royal families of history?” you would
! say: “House of Hapsburg, house of
| Stuarts, house of Bourbons.” They lived in
I palaces an 1 had great equipage. But who
i are the Lord's royal family! Some of them
may serve you in the household, some of
them aro in unlighted garrets, some
of them will walk this afternoon down
the street, on their arm a basket of
broken food; some of them are in the alms
house, despised and rejected of men, yet in
the last great day, while it will be found that
some of us who fared sumptuously every day
are burled back into discomfiture, there are
the lame that will take the prey.
One step further: There are a great many
people discouraged about getting to heaven.
You are brought up in good families, you
had Christian parentage; but they frankly
tell me that you are a thousand miles away
from the right track.
My brother, you are the one 1 want to
preach to this morning 1 have been
looking for you. I will tell you how you
got astray. It was not maliciousness on
your part. It was perhaps through the
geniality and sociality of your nature
that you fell into sin. You wandered
away from your duty, you unconsciously
left the house of God; you admit the Gospel
to lie true, and yet you have so grievously
and so prolonge lly wandered, you say rescue
is impossible.
It would take a week to count up the name 3
of those in heaven who were on earth worse
than you tell me you are. They went the whole
round of Iniquity, they disgraced themselves,
they disgraced their household,they despaired
of return because their reputation was gone,
their property wa' gone,everything was gone:
but in some hour like this theyhieard the voice
of God, and throw themselvcß on the divine
compassion, and rose up more than con
querors. And I tell you there is the same
chance for you. That is one reason why I
like to preach this Gospel, so free a Gospel,
so tremendous a Gospel. It takes a man all
wrong, and makes him all right.
In a former settlement where I preached, a
member of my congregation quit the house of
God, quit respectable circles, went into all
styles of sin, and was slain of his iniquity. The
day for his burial came, and his body was
brought to the house of God. Some of his com
rades who had destroyed him were overheard
along the street, on "the way to the burial,
saying: “Come, let us go ami hear Talmaga
damn this old sinner!” Oh! I had nothing
but tears for the dead, and I had nothing
but invitations for the living. You see 1
could not do otherwise. “Christ Jesus
came to seek and save that which was lost.”
Christ in his dying prayer said: “Father,
forgive them,” and that was a prayer for you
and for me. Oh! start on the road to heaven
to-day. You are not happy. The thirst of your
soul will never be slaked by the fountains of
sin. You turn everywhere but to God for
help. Right where you are, call on Him. Ha
knows you, Ho knows all about you, Ha
knows all the odds against which you have
been contending in life. Do not go to Him
with a long rigmarole of a prayer, but just
look up and say: “Help! Help!”
But you say: “My hand trembles so from
my dissipations I can’t even take bold of a
hymn book to sing.” Do not worry about
that, my brother; I will give out a
hymn at the close so familiar you
can sing it without a book. But you,
say: “1 have such terrible habits on ma
I can’t get rid of them.” My answer is:
Almighty grace can break up that habit, and
will break it up. But you say: “The wron"
1 did was to one dead and in heaven now,and
I can’t correct that wrong.” You can correct
it. B.v the grace of God,go into the present**
of that one. ami the apologies you ought tq
have made ou earth make in heaven.
“Oh!” says some man, “if I should
try to do right, if I should turn away
from my evil doing unto the Lord, I
would be jostled, 1 would be driven
back; nobody would have any svnipathy
for me.” You are mistaken. Here, in
the presence of the church on earth and
in heaven, X give you to-day the right hand
of Christian fellowship. God sent me here.,
to-day to preach this, and he sent you lmfe
to hear this: the wicked forsake his
way, and the unrighteous man his thought,
and let him return unto the Lord, who
will have mercy, and unto our God*
who will abundantly pardon.” Though
you may have been the worst sinner,
you may become the best saint, and in
the great clay of judgement it wilt
be found that “where sin abounded,
grace does much more abound, an d while
the spoils of an everlasting kingdom are
being awarded for your pursuit, it will be
found that the lame took the prey. Blessed
be God that we are, this (Sabbath, one week
nearer the obliteration of all the inequalities
of this life and all its disquietudes.
Years ago, on a boat on the North
river, the pilot gave a very sharp ring to
the bell for the boat to slow up. The
engineer attended to the machinery, and
then he came up with some alarm oa
dock lo see what was the matter. Ha
saw it was a moonlight night, and therd"
were no obstacles in the way. Ho went
to the pilot and said: “Why did you
ring the bell in that way? Why do
you want to stop? there’s nothing
the matter.” and the pilot said to
him “There is a mist gathering
on the river; don’t you see that? and there is
night gathering darker and darker, and I
can’t see the way.” Then the engineer, look
ing around and seeing it was a bright moon
light, looked into the face of the pilot and
saw that he was dying, and then that he was
dead.
God grant that when our last moment
comes we may be found at our post doing
our whole duty; and when the mists of the
river of death gather on our eyelids, may the
good Pilot take the wheel from our hands
and guide us into the calm harbor of eternal
restl
Drop the anchor, furl the sail;
I am safe within the vale.
Wild Ponies on the Southern Coast.
On the hanks 61* sand bars that divide 1
the Atlantic Ocean from Pamlico Sound,
North Carolina, just inside the light
house that marks out to the mariner
dreade4 Cape Lookout, there is to be
found a hardy race of ponies known as
“bankers.” These ponies have lived
there as long as the tradition of the old
est inhabitant inhabitant dates back.
Entirely surrounded by deep water at all
seasons, having no communication with
the mainland, and being barren of vege
tation save a scanty groowth of seed
grass and low shrubs, the banks have re
mained uninhabited except by these
ponies, which seem to thrive and multi
ply in spite of the hardships to which,
they are exposed.
How they first came there, or of what
origin, is conjecture, and tradition merely
hints the story of some violent storm,
with its attendant shipwreck and loss of
nil on board save 8 lot of ponies from
some European port, which were east
upon the sands, and, surviving the storm,
became the progenitors of the race now
•o numerous. Having to rely on instinct
alone, these animals are a subject of
study to the naturalist, as they are a prey
not only to the driving sands but to the
storms of the cape, that break upon and
over the narrow sand bar and change
with each recurring hurricane the top
ography of the country. The ponies,
choosing tlio protected sides of the hil
locks, burrow deep into the yielding
sand and stamp out a protected stall,
where they take refuge from the storm;
and, while many are destroyed, their
number lias increased.— American Agri
cultiiriitt.
Copper is coming into fashion as a
material for ornamenting mens
umbrellas, etc.