Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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 #