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REV. DR. TALMAGE.
THE BROOKLYN DIVINE’S SUN
DAY SERMON.
Subject: “The Assassination.”
Text: “ Whosoever cloth not bear hie
• cross , anil come after Me, cannot be Mtj
Disciple." —Luke xiv., 27.
The cross was a gibbet on which criminals
were put to death. It was sometimes made
in the shape ot the letter T, sometimes in the
shape of tae letter X, sometimes in the shape
of the letter I—a simple upright;; sometimes
two eros pieces against the perpendicular
bar, so that upon the lower cross piece the
criminal partially sat. But whatever the
style of thj cross, it was always disgraceful
and always agonizing.
When Darius conquered Babylon he put
200 captives to death on the cross. When
Alexander conquered Tyre, he put 2000 cap
tives to death on the cross, fco it was
an ordinary mode,of punishment. But in
all the forest of crosses on the hills and in
the valleys of the earth, there is one cross
that attracts more attention than any other.
It is not higher than the others, it is not
made out of different wood, there is nothing
peculiar in the notch at which the two pieces
are joined, and as to the scene, they witnessed
crucifixions every fen' weeks: so that I see
a reckless man walking about the hill and
kicking carelessly aside a skuii. and wonder
ing who the villain was that had so flat and
misshapen a head: nn 1 here is another skull,
and there on the hillside is another skull. In
deed, the Bible says it was "a place of skulls.”
But about the victim on one of these crosses
all ages are crying: “Who is he? was he a
man: was he a God? was he man and God?”
Through the darkness of that gloomy day
I come up close enough to the cross to see
who it is. It is Jesus. How did he come
there? Had he come up on the top of the hill
to look off upon the beautiful landscape or
upon a brilliant sunset? No. He came there
ill and exhausted. i'eople sometimes wonder
why Christ expired so (quickly on the cross,
in six or seven hours, while other victims
have been on the cross for forty-eight hours
before life was extinct. I will tell you the
reason. He was exhausted when he came
there. He had been scourged. We are hor
rified at the cruelties of the whipping post,
but those cruelties were mercy compared
with the scourging of Jesus Christ.
1 saw at Antwerp a picture made by Rubens
—Rubens's picture of the scourging of Jesus
Christ. It was the most overmastering pict
ure I ever looked at, or ever expect to see.
As the long frocked official opened the door
that hid the picture, there he was —Christ
with back bent and bared. The flagellator
stood with the upper teeth clenched over the
lower hip, as though to give violence to the
blows. There were tho swollen shoulders of
Christ. There were the black and blue ridges,
denied even the relief of bleeding. There
was the flesh adhering to the whips as they
were lifted. There were the marks where the
knots in the whips gouged out the flesh. There
stood the persecutor, with his foot on the caif
of the leg of the Saviour, balancing himself.
O! the furious and hellish look on those faces,
frinning vengeance against the Son of Cod.
he picture seized me, it overwhelmed me;
it seemed as if it would kill me. Ido not
think I could have looked at it live minutes
and have lived.
But that, my friends, was before Christ had
started for Calvary. That was only the
whipping. Are you ready for your journey
to the cross?
The carpenters have split the timber into
two pieces. They are heavy and they are
long pieces, for one of the m must be fastened
deep down in the earth, lest the struggling of
the victim upset the structure. They put
this timber upon the shoulder of Christ very
gradually first, to see whether he can stand
it, and after they find he can stand it they
put tiie whole weight upon him. Forward
now, to Calvary! The hooting and the yell
ing mob follow on. Under the weight of the
cross, Christ being weary and sick, he stum
bles and falls, and they jerk at his robe, in
dignant that he should have stumbled and
fallen, and they cry: “Get up, get up!”
Christ, putting one hand on the ground and
the other hand on the cross, rises, looking
into the face of Mary, his mother, for sym
pathy; but they tell her to stand back, it is
no place for a woman. “Stand back and
atop this crying.”
Christ moves on with His burden upon His
shoulders, and there is a boy that passes
along with Him, a boy holding a mallet and
a few nails. I wonder what they are for?
Christ moves on until the burden is so great
He staggers and falls flat into the dust and
faints dead away, and a ruffian puts his foot
on him and shakes him as he would a dead
dog, while another ruffian looks down at him
wondering whether he has fainted away, or
whether lie is only pretending to faint away,
and with jeer and contempt indescribable,
says: “Fainted, have you? Fainted! Get
up! get on!”
Now they have arrived at the foot of the
hill. Off with his clothes! Shall that loath
some mob look upon the unrobed body of
Christ? Yes. The commanding officers say:
“Unfasten the girdle, take off the coat; strip
him!” The work is done. But bring back
the coat, for here are the gamblers tossing
up coin on the ground, saying: “I have it, 1
have it; it is mine!” He rolls it up and puts
it under his arm, or he examines it to see
what fabric it is made of. Then they put
the cross upon the ground and they stretch
Christ upon it, and four or five men hold
him down while they drive the spikes home.
At every thump a groan—a groan. Alas!
alas! The hour passes on and the time
comes when they must crucify him. 1
Christ has only one garment left now, a
cap, a cap of thorns. No danger that it will
fall off, for the sharp-edges have punctured
the temples and it is sure and fast. One ruf
fian takes ho dof one end of the short beam
of the cross, and another ruffian takes hold
of the other end of the short beam of the
cross, ami another ruffian puts his arms
around the waist of Christ, and another ruf
fian takes hold of the end of the long beam
of the cross, and altogether they move on
until they come to the hole digged in the
earth, and with awful plunge it jars down
with its burden of woe. It is not the picture
of a Christ, it is not the statue of Christ, as
you sometimes see in a cathedral; but it is
the l ody of a bleeding, living, dying Christ.
They sometimes say he had five wounds,
but they have counted wrong. Two wounds
for the hands, two wounds for the feet, ono
wound for the side, they say; five wounds.
No; they have missed the worst and they
have missed the most. D;d you ever see the
bramble out of which that crown of thorns
was made? I saw one on a Brooklyn ferry
boat, in the hands of a gentleman who had
iust returned from Palestine; a bramble just
like that out of which the crown of thorns
was made. O. how cruel and how stubborn
were the thorns! And when that cap of
thorns was put upon Christ, and it was
pressed down upon him, not five wounds, but
ten. twenty, thirty—l cannot count them.
There were three or four absences that
made that scene worse. First, there was the
absence of water. The climate was hot; the
fever, the inflammation, the nervous pros
tration, the gangrene had seized upon
him, and he terribly wanted water.
His wounds were worse than gunshot
fractures, and yet no water. A Turk in the
Thirteenth century was crucified on the banks
of a river, so that the sight of the water
might tantalize him. And 0! how the
thirst of Christ must have tantalized as He
thought of the Euphrates and the Jordan and
the Amazon and all the fountains of earth
and heaven poured out of His own hand
They offered Him an intoxicating draught
made out of wine and myrrh,but lie declined
i'c. He wanted to die sober. No water.
Then, my friends, there was the absence of
light. Darkness always exasperates trouble.
I never shall forget the night in the summer
of 187.3, in the steamer Greece, mid Atlantic,
every moment expecting the steamer to go
down. All the lights in the cabin were
blown out. The Captain cam. crawling on
his hands and knees, for he could not stand
upright, so violently was the vessel pitching,
and he cried: “Light up, light up:” The
steward said: “We can’t light up; the can
dles are gone and the holders are gone.” The
Captain said: “I can’t help that; light ud!”
The storm was awful when the lights were
burning; worse uhi-n the lights wont out.
Then there was the absence of fait dill
nurses When you are ill, it ri n lease nr, to
have the head bathed and the hands and tVet
rubbed. Look at the hands and feet o£
Chi Gt. look at the face of Christ. There were
Women there who had cared tor the sick, but
none of them might come up near enough to
help. There was Christ’s mother, but she
might not come up near enough to help.
They said: “Stand back, stand back; this is
no place for you.” The high priests and the
soldiers wanted it their own way; they had it
their own way.
The hours pass on and it is 12 o’clock of the
Savior’s suffering, and it is 1 o’clock, and it
is 2 o’clock, and it is almost 3 o’clock. Take
the last look at the suffering face; wan and
pinched, the purple lips drawn back against
the teeth, the eyes red with weeping and
sunken as though grie f had pushed them
bark, blackness under the lower lid, the whole
bo i v adroop and shivering with the last chill,
the breath growing feebler and feebler and
feebler and feebler until he gives one long,
deep, last sigh. He is dead!
O! my soul, he is dead. Can you fell why?
YV as he a fanatic dying for a principle that
did not amount to anything? Was he a man
infatuated? No; to save your soul from sin,
and mine, and make eternal life pos-ibh*, he
died. There had to be a substitute for sin.
Who shall it be? “Let it be me,” sai d Christ,
“let it be me.” You understand the mean
ing of that word substitution. You were
drafted for the last war; some one took your
place, marehel your march, suffered your
wounds and died at Gettysburg. Christ
comes to us while we are fighting our battle
with sin and death and- hell, and He is our
substitute. He marches our march, fights
our battle, suffers our wounds and dies our
death. Substitution! substitution!
How do you feel in regard to that seenede
scribed in the text, and in the region around
about the text? Are your sympathies
aroused? Or are you so dead in sin, and so
abandoned bv reason of your transgressions
that you can look upon all that tearless and
unmoved? No, no; there are thousands of
people here this morning who can say in the
depths of their soul: “No, no, no; if Jesus
endured that, and all that for me. I oujht to
love him. I must love him, I will love him,
Ido love him Here, Lord, I give myself to
thee; ’tis all that I can do.”
But how are you going to b>st your love,
and test your earnestness? My text gives a
test. It says that while Christ carried a
cross for you. you must be willing to carry a
cross for Christ. “Well,” you say, “I never
could understand that. There are no crosses
to be carried in this land; those persecutions
have passed, an 1 in all the land there is no
one to be crucified, and yet in the pulpit and
in the prayer meetings you all keep talking
about carrying a cross. What do you mean,
sir?” Imeanthis: That this is a cross which
Christ calls you to do, which is unpleasant
and hard. “0!” you say, “after hearing the
story of this Christ and all that he has en
dured for me, t am ready to do anything for
him. Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll
do it. lam ready to carry any cross,”
Suppose I should ask you at the close of a
religious service to rise up, announcing your
self on the Lords side—could you do it? “O!
no,” you say, “I have a shrinking and a sen
sitive nature, and it would be impossible for
me to rise before a large assemblage, an
nouncing myself on the Lord’s side.” Just
as I feared. You cannot stand that cross.
The first one that is offered you, you reject.
Christ carried a mountain, Christ carried a
Himalaya. Christ carried a world for you,
and you cannot lift an ounce for Him.
But here is a man whose cross will be to
announce among his business associates to
morrow morning on exchange that he has
begun a new life; that while he wants to be
faithful in his worldly duties, he is living for
another world, and he ought to advise all
those who are his associates, so far as tie can
influence them, to begin with him the Chris
tian life. Could you do that, my broth r?
“Oh, no.” you say, “not just that. I think
religion is religion, and business is business,
and it would be impossible for me to recom
mend the Christian religion in places of
worldly business.” Just as I feared. There
is a second cross offered you, and you can
not carry it. Christ lifted a mountain for
you; you cannot lift an ounce for Him.
There is some one whose cross will be to
present religion in the home circle. Would
you dare to kneel down and pray, if your
brother and sister were looking' at you?
Could you ask a blessing at the tea table 1 *
Could you take the Bible and gather your
family around you, and read of Christ and
heaven and your immortal soul? Could you
then kneel and pray for a blessing on your
household? “Oh!” you say, “not exactly
that; I couldn't quite do that, because I have
a very quick temper, and if I professed re
ligion and tried to talk religion in my house
hold, and then after that I should lose niy
temper, they would scoff at me and say:
‘You are a pretty Christian!’” So you are
cowed down, and their sarcasm keeps you
out of Heaven and away from Christ, when,
under God, you ought to take your whole
family into the kingdom. Christ lifted a
mountain, lifted a world,for you: you cannot
lift an ounce for Him. I see how it is; you
■want to be favorable to religion, you want
to support Christian institutions, you like to
be associated with those who love Jesus
Christ; but as to taking a positive step on
this subject, you cannot—you cannot; and
my text, like a gate of a hundred bolts, bars
you away from peace on earth and glory in
heaven.
There are hundreds of men and women here
brave enough in other things in life who sim
ply, for the lack of manliness and womanli
ness, stray away from God. They dare not
say: “Forever and forever. Lord Jesus, I
take Thee. Tftou has redeemed me by Thy
blood, here is my immortal spirit. Listen,
all my friends. Listen, all the world.” They
are lurking around about the kingdom of
God—they are lurking around about it, ex
pecting to crawd in some time when nobody
is looking, forgetful of the tremendous words
of my text: “ Whosoever doth not bear his
cross, and come after Me, cannot he My dis
ciple.”
An officer of a neighboring church told mo
that he was in a store in New York—just
happened in—where there were many clerks,
and a gentleman came in and said to a young
man standing behind the counter: “Are you
the young man that arose the other night in
the Brooklyn Tabernacle and asked for pray
ers?” Without any flush of cheek he replied:
“I am. I haven’t always done right, and I
have been quite bad; but since 1 arose for
prayers I think lam better than I was.” It
was only his was of announcing that he had
started for the higher life, God will not cast
out a man who is brave enough to take a
step ahead like that.
i tell you these things this morning be
cause, my dear friends, 1 want to show you
how light the cross is that we have to carry
compared with that which Christ carried for
us. You have not had the fiesh torn off for
Christ’s sake in carrying your cross. He
fainted dead away under his cross. You
have not carried the cross until it fetched the
blood. Under his there was a pool of car
nage that plashed the horses’ fetlocks. Aou
have friends to sympathize with you in
carrying tho cross: Christ trod the wine
press of God’s wrath alone, alone! The cross
that you and I ought to carry represents
only a few days or a few years of trial- The
cross that Christ carried for us had com
pressed into it the agonies of eternity.
There has some one come here to-day whom
you have not observed. He did not come
through the front door; he did not come
down any of these aisles; yet I know he is
here. He is from the East, the far East. He
conies with blistered foot, and with broken
heart, and cheeoks red not with health but
with blood from tho temples. 1 take hold of
his coat and I sav: “It does not seem to fit
thee.” “No,” he says, “it is not mine; it is
borrowed; it does not belong to me now.
For my vesture did they cast lots. ” And I
say to Him: “Thine eyes are red as though
from oss >fsleep.’ Hesays: ‘Yes, the Hon
of man had not where to lay His head.”
And I touch the logon His back and Isay:
“Why carriest Thou this?” “Ah!” Hesays,
“that is a cross I carry for thee and for the
sins of the whole world. That is a cross.
Fall into line, march on with Me in this pro
cession, take your smaller crosses and your
lighter burdens, and join me in this march to
heaven.” And we join that procession with
our smaller crosses and 4ur lighter burdeus,
and Christ looks hack and He sees some are
halting because they cannot endure the
shame, or bear the burden, and with a voice
which has in it ma esity and omnipotence.
He cries until all the earth trembles: “Who
so ver doth not bear his cross,and come after
Me, cannot be My disciple.”
O! my brethren, my listers —for I do not
speak professionally, I speak as a brother
would speak to a 1 rotiier or sister —my
brother, can you not bear a cross if at last
you can wear a crown? Come, now, Jet us
divide off. Who is on the Lord's side? Who
is ready to turn his back upon the Lamb of
God that takoth aw-ay the sin of the world?
A Roman emperor said to a Greek archi
tect: “You build me a coliseum, a grand
coliseum, and if it suits me 1 w.ij crown you
in the presence of all the people, ami I will
| make a great day of festival on your ac
! count.” The Greek architect did his work,
j did it magnificently, planned the building,
looked after its construction. The building
was done. The day for opening arrived. In
the coliseum were the emperor and the great
architect. The emperor arose amid the plaud
its of a vast assembly and said: “We have
gathered here to-day to open this coliseum
find to honor the Greek architect. It is
' a great day for the Roman empire.
Let this building be prosperous, and let
honor be put upon the Greek architect.
Oh, we must have a festival to-day. Bring
out those Christians and let us have them
put to death at the mouth of the lions.” Tho
Christians were put into the center of the
amphitheatre. It was to be a great celebra
| tion in their destruction. Then the lions,
hungry and three-fourths starved, were let
; out from their dens in the side of the amplii
! theatre, and they came forth with mighty
spring to destroy and read the Christians,
and all the galleries shouted: “Huzza, huzza!
Long live the emperor!" Then the Greek
architect arose in one of the galleries, and
shouted until in the vast assemblage all
heard him: “I, too, am a Christian!” and
they seized him in their fury and flung him
to the wild beast- until his body, bleeding
and dead, was tumbled over and over again
in the dust of the amphitheatre.
Could you have done that for Christ ?
Could you, iu a vast assemblage, all of
whom hated Christ, have said: “I am a
Christian,” or “I want to be a Christian?”
Would you have had the ten thousandth
part of the enthusiasm and the courage of
the Greek architect? Nay, I ask you another
question: Would you in an assemblage where
they are nearly a!l Christians—in an assem
blage, avast multitude of whom love Christ
and are willing to live, and if need be to die,
for him—would you dare to say: “I am a
Christian,” or “I want to be a Christian?”
Would you say in the presence of the friends
of Christ as much as the Greek architect said
in the presence of the enemies of Christ: Oh,
are there not multitudes here this morning
who are ready to say: “Let the world look
on. let all the gallerias of earth and heaven
and hell look on, I take Christ this day.
Come applause or abuse, come sickness or
health, come life or death, Christ now, Christ
forever. ”
Are you for Christ? Are you against Him?
The destinies of eternity tremble in the bal
ance. It seems as if the last day had come,
and we were gathered for the reckoning.
“Behold! ne com Ah with clouds, and every
eye shall see him.” What-1 say to one 1 say
to all. What are you doing for Christ?
Wliat are you bearing for Christ.'
O! Christian man, O! Christian woman!
Have you any scars to show in this conflict?
When a war is over the heroes have scars to
show. One hero rolls back his sleeve and
shows a gunshot fracture, or he pulls down
the collar and shows where he was wounded
in the neck. Another man says: “Ihavenever
had the use of my limb since I was wounded
at that great battle.’’ When the last day
comes, when all our battles are over, will we
have any wounds for Christ? Some have
wounds for sin, wounds for the devil, wounds
gotten in fighting or. the wrong side. H ive
w e wounds that we can show —wounds gotten
in the battle for Christ, and for the truth?
On that resurrection day Christ will have
plenty of scars to show. Christ will stand
there and show- the scars on his brow, the
scars on his hands, the scars on his if et,and
he will put aside the robe of his royalty
and show the scar on his side, and all heaven
will break down with emotion and gratitude
in one great sob, and then in one great ho
sanna. YViil you and I have any scars to
show?
There will be Ignatius on that day showing
the mark of the paw and teeth of the lion
that struck him down in the coliseum. There
will be glorious John Huss showing just
where on his foot tho flames began on that
day when his soul took wing of flame and
soared ud from Constauee. There will he
Hugh McKail ready to point to the mark on
his neck where an ax struck him. There
will be McMillan aud Campbell and Free
man, the American missionaries, who with
their wives and children were put to death in
the awful massacre of Cawnpore, showing
the place where the daggers of the Sepoys
struck them. There will be the YValdenses
showing where their limbs were broken on
the day when the Piedmontese soldiery
pitched them over the rocks. Will you and
I have any wounds to show ? Have we fought
any battles for Christ? Oh, that we might
all be enlisted for Christ, that we might all
be willing to suffer for Christ, that we might
all bear a cross for Christ.
When the Scottish chieftain wanted to
raise an army they would make a vvoodeit
cross, and then set it on fire and carry it
with other crosses they had through the
mountains, through the highlands and among
the people, and as they waved the cross the
people would gather to the standard and fight
for Scotland. To-day I come out w ith the
cross of the Son of God. It is a flaming cross
—flaming with suffering, flaming with tri
umph, flaming with glory. I carry it out
among all the people. Who will be on the
Lord’s side? Who will gather to the standard
of Emmanuel? Across, a cross, a cross!
“Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and
come after Me, cannot be My disciple.”
Carrying’ a Lady’s Muft
A Cincinnati lady tells a story of an
experience she had several years ago
with a New Orleans cousin who was
visiting her, and who, with all his fresh
ness as to Northern ways and fashions,
was exceedingly polite. The time was
winter, when large muffs were the
proper caper, and muffs in the Crescent
City were unknown. The first day out
for a walk the young New Orleans gen
tleman, noticing his fair cousin sup
porting the large muff, mistook it for a
burden, and said;
“Cousin Lucy, let me tote you’ bah
6kin fo’ you?”
“No, Cousin Thomas,” responded his
companion, “all the young ladies in
Cincinnati carry them; yotl see it’s the
fashion.”
“Well, T never saw but one of them
before,” replied the young Chesterfield,
“and that was in New Orleans, and a
young lady was not totin’ it, either, it
was in front of a brass band and on the
head of the drum inajah.” —Cincinnati
Times.
Honeymoon Amenities. —“Oh, ina,
darling, I am so glad to get back from
that horrible honeymoon,” sobbed tiie
fair bride, flinging her arms around the
elderly matron’s neck. “Peter has be
haved like a perfect brute.” “YVliat has
he been guilty of, the wretch? Tell me
at once, Daisy, my —my poppet,” ex
claimed the anxious maternal parent.
“Why, the other day he insisted on
poor dear Fido being thoroughly washed
with some abominable dog soap, and the
pet Iras done nothing but shiver ever
since . Yesterday he actually refused to
buy me a duck of a bonnet that took
my fancy, and this morning lie wouldn’t
lend me Iris razor when I wanted to out
my corns,” cried the sorely afflicted girl.
“Just wait till I see the tyrant,” growled
the old lady. —London Jady.
IN MAY.
BT A. CEDES FKITSCH.
My love, ’tis bonny May time, a,»d each bloom
ing. wind-swayed tree
Whispers with oountless flower-lips thy name
mysteriously.
! Nature's reawakened choir, song bird and
drowsy bee.
Sing thy dear name to me in sweetest har
mony.
Oh! sweet in flowery May time is the robbin’s
matin song,
And sweet the oriole's lay that rings the woods
along,
And silvery clear the blackbird’s voice the
trembling reeds among:
But sweeter are the accents that to thy deal
voice belong.
Brightly in sunny May time Aurora paints the
skies,
Bright is the golden moonlight that o’er rip’ning
grain fields lies,
And bright the glaueo of Venus that o'er glist
ening frost-gems hies;
But brighter far, my treasure, is the smile that
lights thine eves.
And dear unto my soul are home, country, ana
liberty,
And friendship’s sweet communings and its
restful sympathy:
And, dear tho hope of future life, the soul’s
eternal day—
But dealer fai than earth and Heaven art thou,
my love, to me!
LILLIE EDDLES;
OR,
ABDUCTED BY THE BOSH
. WHACKERS.
A Story of the War in
the Southwest.
BY ARVIDE 0. BALDWIN,
CHAPTER IIL
THE SLAVES STOLEN.
“Come, boys, let me show yon over the
plantation,” he said, in as jolly a tone us he
could command. They readily followed
him out of doors, greatly to his surprise
and pleasure, and he tried to entertain them
in such a manner as would prevent their
wishing to return to the house.
They appeared to be more interested in
the slave quarters than anything else on the
present occasion.
As they strolled around, the unwelcome
visitors would criticise the condition and
ask tho value of different negroes. They
would rudely grasp the muscles of the arm
to test their strength, and press them in the
ribs to note their condition, just ns you
have seen butchers do with animals.
Two bright, healthy negio women were
very favorably criticised, and the price
asked.
“Times are so uncertain that I really
could not tell wliat they would bring in
market, but they are not for sale. We
would not part with them at any price,” ex
claimed John.
After a few covetous glances at the two
women they condescended to resume their
travels if the Eddies people would give
them some blankets and cooked provisions.
John began a distribution of his goods
that day that would shortly have been the
means of bankrupting him unless he had
changed his tactics.
Anything, except slaves, that could be
sold for gold was parted with, even at a
sacrifice, and the money buried in a safe
place in the ground (a practice that hun
dreds follow to this day in Arkansas).
By this means he secured some value
for goods that would have ceitaiuly been
taken by force.
The Eddies ladies were devoutly thankful
.that they had got off their lives, and
when they saw the of the treacher
ous scoundrels beyond sight
on the Wire Road they were happy. Bui
that happiness was destined to be of short
duration, for the next morning there was a
terrible commotion in the negro (quarters,
and the F.ddleses found the two ne.resses,
Sylva and Nancy, who were coveted by theii
yesterday visitors, bad disappeared.
We will how leave the Eddleses and fol
low the strange horsemen who were their
unwelcome visitors the day previous.
After leaving the plantation and follow
ing the road about half a mile, they came
to a pathway that led them to the left and
which they took, keeping a continuous look
backward to be sure they were not followed.
The pathway led downward, and brought
them to the foot of the hill and into n nar
row but lonely valley with a clear spring
stream, large enough to turn a mill-wheel,
running down its bed. Here they were
met by another man on horseback, who
Eeered cautiously about aud then came
oldly forward.
We have seen this young gentleman be
fore. He is the one who received the hard
blow dealt by Henry An» at tho Eddies
mansion only a short time before, aud no
less a personage than Edom Woodsley.
“Well?” he inquired, as he rode up to the
leader of the gang.
“Wall, irhich?” demanded he.
“How did you succeed?”
“We’ve looked over ther groun’ and got
’em all worked up. but we’ll bring ’em
down. ” And the unscruplons rascal gurgled
a sort of laugh.
“Did you see the ladies?" asked Edom.
“We seen the old woman an’ gal.”
“ She's a durned pretty gal, too, ” said a
young bushwhacker.
Young Woodsley scowled.
“What are you going to do next?” de
manded Woodsley
“Take in ther niggers.”
“What for?”
“Run ’em ter the river (Arkansas) and
sell’em. Five hundred apiece in it. ” And
he twisted his eyes around knowingly.
Young Woodsley, with all his education
and polish, was not a whit better than the
low brutes about him.
He would stoop to the meanest act to ac
complish his desires. Anything tint would
injure the Eddleses and cripple them finan
cially would tend to place then in a con
dition to be at his mercy, when he could
bring the haughty Lillie to terms. Of course
he was too crafty a rascal to let it be known
that he was a party to any act of theft or
riolence that might take place, and so,
yhile he planned, assisted, and encouraged
jthers to deeds of lawlessness against those
lie had called friends, he took particular
paius to prevent them from knowing that
he had done so; for it was not his intention
to remain with these fellows iu the brush
and caves, but to remain at home, and
about there, where he could watch the
people around him. and thereby the better
assist the gang with whom he was iden
tified.
The six horsemen turned off from the
road in which they now were, and, after pass
ing ou through underbrush and among trees,
came to a small opening. Dismount
ing. they allow ed their animals to graze at
will, w hile they lounged around on the grass
or made preparation for the night's work.
"When night set in young Woodsley took
his leave, having made a suitable excuse for
n ot remaining with them.
After he was gone quiet settled over the
group, and in a short time tho most of them
wero sound asleep, as could be attested by
their constant, regular breathing.
About midnight tho leader arose to a
sittiug posture aud, shaking one on either
side, called out:
“Come, boys, come.”
In an instant the five were on their feet,
and, getting their traps together, were mak
ing preparations for a trip. The horses
were saddled, and in a few moments more
the leader led tho way out of the brush.
They took the same direction from which
they had come, and in a short time were
again on the Wire Road. They went as
close to tho Eddies negro quarters as they
thought safe, and, taking their horses
into a thicket, tied them securely and
made their way on foot among the buildings
in which the negroes slept. When they had
reached the hut occupied by Sylva and
Nancy, they cautiously crept up to the old
rickety door which tho occupants had not
considered it worth their while to fasten,
and gently pulled the latch-string, when
the door swung in on its creaky, wooden
hinges.
The women partly raised themselves a*
the sound of the door opening, but before
they comprehended their danger they were
roughly grasped by the throat and com
manded not to make a sound or they would
be killed on the spot. The terrified negroes
dared not speak, even if they could have
done so. They were ordered to dress and
make preparations to travel, and in a short
time were quietly hustled out of doors, and
while closely guarded were conducted to
where the horses were tied.
By this time they were sobbing piteously,
but a 6top was soon put to tha t by their
captors placing p.istols against their heuds
in no gentle manner and demanding silence.
The lazy men tied their captives together
and then drove them ahead like cattle, mak
ing them walk as rapidly as possible. They
drove them over the hilis to White River,
which they reached just as daylight broke
over the beautiful scenery of that lovely
stream.
Winding around the base of a tall, rocky
bluff that rested down close by the stream,
and traveling a short distance they came to
an opening in the cliff, into which they
drove the negroes, and, after securing and
feeding their horses, followed after. The
cave was like hundreds of others in the
hills along that stream. The opening, al
though narrow at tha entrance, gradually
enlarged to quite a room, with small pas
sage ways leading in different directions.
The branches generally make an abrupt
termination, but occasionally continue for
long distances. During the day the party
remained in and about the cave, closely
watching the captives.
When night set iu they wore taken out
and placed upon two horses, which were
furnished from some mysterious source—
perhaps Woodsley knew what—and all
turned eastward across the river, which
was easily forded, and traveled in a
southwardly direction over the hills and
along the stream, making as little noise
as possible, and going ns rapidly as the
rough country through which they had to
pass would permit.
As the night waned and the party became
worn a halt wras called at a dilapitated,
abandoned log house, near a lonely spring
that boldly gushed from the earth.
The captives were now allowed a reason
able amount of freedom, as it was the im
pression that they never could find theii
way out of the hills, even if they had the
temerity to try it.
In this they were destined to be mistaken,
as we shall presently see.
After abusing the poor slaves and making
them prepare the common food they had
with them for the early morning meal, they
drove them into the hut and then threw
themselves upon the grass under the grove
in front, and prepared for rest. The con
stant travel during the night had told heav
ily on all, but, while the men had only
bodily weariness to rest and were easily
wooed to sleep, it was not so with the cap
tiveflfc The huddled together iu a corner
and commenced at once planning an escape.
While they had implicitly obeyed every
command, and seemed to be perfectly sub
missive, they had an idea of the robbers’
object in running them further south, and so
to try aud escape, even if
murdered for so doing.
TO BE CONTINUED.
She Knew Him.
“You know the defendant in this case,
do you ?” asked a Kansas lawyer of a
female native of the soil.
“Know which?” she asked.
“The defendant, Jake Lynch.”
“Do I know Jake Lynch?”
“Yes.”
“You want to know if I know Jake
Lynch—well, if that ain’t a good one.
Why, mister, the Lyncli family an’ ”
“Can’t you say yes or no?”
“Why, Jake Lynch’s mother an’ my
step-dad’s father was once first cousins,
an’ ”
“Then you know him?”
“Who, Jake Lynch ? Me know Jake
Lynch. You’re a stranger in these parts,
ain’t yon ?”
“'.Chat has nothing to do with the case.
If you know Jake Lynch, say so.”
“If I know him ! Lemme tell you
that Jake Lynch’s birthday and my
brother Hiram’s is on the same day, an’
ft •
“You know him, of course, then?”
“Who—Jake Lynch ? Ask Jake if I
know him ! Ask him if he was ever in
terdooced to Betty Skelton.”
“I don’t care to ask him anything. I
simply want to ask you if Jake Lynch is
known to you personally.”
“Pussonlv ? Well, I don't know what
you mean by ‘pussonly,’ but if you
wart to know if 1 know Jake an’ if he
knows me, I can tell you in mighty few
words. Jake Lynch’s lather an’ my
father ”
“Now, I want you to say ‘yes’ or
‘no.’”
“Thought you wanted me to say if I
knew Jake Lynch.”
“That’s just what I do want.”
“Well, then, lemme alone an’ I’ll tell
you all about it. Jake Lynch was born
in lnjeeany an’ I was born in the same
county an’ ”
“And of course you know him ?”
“Who—Jake Lynch? Do I know
■Jake Lynch, when the very horse he rid
here on was one he traded my man a
pair of young steers for? Why, man,
Jake’s wife was Ann Elizy Skiff’, an’ her
an’ me is the same age to a day, an’
“That will do, I see that you do know
him.”
“Know him? Know Jake? Why,
man ”
“That will do.”
“Why, I was married on a Chewsday
an’ Jake was married the next day, an’
his oldest boy an’ my oldest girl is most
the same age, an’ ”
“That will do."
The Philadelphia License Court has com
pleted its work so far as the retail dealers are
eoneerne 1, and the result is that the number
of licensed drinking places in the city has
oeea cut down fryui 5313 to 12>8.
WORDS OF WiSDOJI.
They who forgive most shall be most
forgiven.
The best instruction is to practice Miat
you teach.
It becomes a wise man to try negotia
tion before arms.
Many a worthy man sacrifices his peace
to formalities of compliment and good
manners.
.Many seem to pa a s on from youth to
decrepitude without any reflection on the
end of life.
He that has no friend and no enemy i*
one of the vulgar, and without talents,
power or energy.
Half the miseries of life might be ex
tinguished would man alleviate the gen
eral curse by mutual compassion.
Forbearance and self-control smooth
the road of life, nnd open many ways
which would otherwise remain closed.
YYe may train ourselves in a habit of
patience and contentment on the one
hand, or of grumbling and discontent oa
the other.
Censure is most effectual when mixed
with pr ise; so when a fault is discov
ered it is well to look up a virtue to go
in company with it.
All the possible charities of life ought
to be cultivated, and where we caa
neither be brethren nor friends, let us be
kind neighbors and pleasant, acquaint
ances.
Laws were made to restrain and punish
the wicked; the wise and good do not
need them as a guide,but only as a shield
against rapine and oppression; they can
live civilly and orderly, though there
were no law in the world.
The World’s Gold Supply.
“Probably nine-tenths of all the gold
obtained by man has been taken
from placer deposits, and our American
experience has been no exception to the
general rule,’’ remarked an experienced
mining operator in speaking of the past
and future of this valuable product the
other evening. “Previous to 1847 oui
total gold production amounted to $12,-
000,001), but between 1847 and 1881
about $1,7.30,000,000 were contributed
to our stock of gold. Of this, nearly
three-fourths came from placer deposits.
In 1850-56 we obtained more than $50,-
000,000 per annum in gold from the placers
of California, and almost nothing from
gold-bearing veins. Now, with an an
nual production of $30,000,000 about
one-half only is from placers. Our own
territory has been so thoroughly ex
plored that no considerable superficial
deposits of gold are likely to be dis
covered, and nearly the same thing can
be said of the entire world.
“In the northern extension of oui
western mountain ranges in British Col
umbia and Alaska there are probably
important deposits of gold. It is likely,
however, to come from this region in a
moderate but perennial stream, and not
in a flood. Great didieulty will attend
the working of those mines on account
of the cold, long winters and the diffi
culty in transporting supplies. Unless
the mines should prove richer than ex
pected there may be a dearth of gold in
the near future. In the Allegheny belt
of mountains, in this country, there are
lai-ge deposits of gold, but they are
difficult to work. Still, industry and
perseverance may make them pay a
pront. Mexico may be expected to turn
out $1,000,000 a year, but no more. The
west ( oast of South America yields little
but silver.
Columbia, Venezuela and Brazil have,
on the contrary, always .been producers
of gold. It is estimated that from Brazil
alone more than $1,000,000,000 in gold
were obtained during the first 300 years
after the advent of the Portuguese. Col
umbia and Venezuela are now yielding
about $1,000,000 each annually’ and little
more than this can be expected in the
future.
Australia produces about $30,000,000
a year and we cannot hope for more
than $5,000,000 annually from Asia.
That will cover it all. I don’t fear that
you and I will ever suffer from a famine
of gold, but unless the North American
deposits are richer than is expected
some one will suffer.— Mail and Express.
A Family of Five Living in a Tree.
.One of the queerest residences among
the many oddities of the modern taste
can be found on the great Kanawha rivet
in West Virginia, not more than five or
six miles above the confluence of that
stream with the Ohio. The residence
referred to is a monster sycamore tree,
which doubtless was a monarch in a giant
forest when Cornstalk and his warriors
contested with the pale face for su*
premacy in that beautiful valley, and
perhaps cast a grateful shade under which
tho chieftain when weaned with the
chase or conflict often reclined. .This
monster tree is now hollow from its cen
tre within a few inches of its outer
surface. So large is the open space that
a family consisting of two men, a woman
and two children have taken up their
abode within its recesses.
They live, eat and sleep in it, and to
all appearances are as happy as many
owners of brownstone fronts in large
cities. “Y’es, we are pretty well satis
fied with our Quarters,” one of the men
replied in answer to a query. “The
landlord never threatens us with a writ
of ejectment because we don't pay the
rent; #o never have any repairs to make;
the house never needs painting; the tax
gatherer never bothers us, and then we
never have the bother of moving. Taken
altogether, we think we’re better off
than a great many people.”
Love Song of the Prairie Lark.
As the full Springtime comes on the
number of these short chants is greatly
increased, while their prolongations and
variations are without number, aud sood
it becomes evident to the most casual
observer that the love fires are kind
dliug and that each musician is striving
to the utmost of his powers to surpass all
rivals aud win the lady lark of his choice.
On one occasion, as I lay in hiding neai
a fence, three larks came skimming ovei
the plain; they alighted within a few
vnrds of me and two of them burst iptc
song, soniet mes singing together ,and
sometimes alternately, but the. third was
silent. When at last they flew up I no
ticed that the silent one end one of the
singers kept together. I had been wit
ness to a musical tournament, and the
victor had won his bride, —American
Magog* l #
