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LILLIE IDLES;
UHD BY II BDSB
itcm.
A Story of the War in
the Southwest.
BY ARVIDE 0. BALDWIN.
CHAPTER XT—Continued
“No, we mus’ go slow, Marse John, 'case
dere is no use frowin’ away powder, an'
mebbe gettin’ crippled, on account ob fool
ishness in dis heah fuss. We is all right
heah, an’ night am de best time ter hunt
coon and bushwhackers.”
From where our friends were located it
was impossible for their foes to leave
without been seen, so a constant watch was
kept on the openings below aud above their
cam)).
“I don't see any horses, Jeff. They must
have plenty of them, but where can they
he?”
“Does yer see dat holler ’trv? de hill an’
de camp?”
“Yes.”
“Dat am de 'cality. De bosses am dere.”
“What makes .you think so?”
“ ’Case I knows it. I’se seed dem.”
“Well, Jett, you are a good one!”
“Yes, Marse John, I’se a purty fair nig
ger ter work when I likes de business. ”
“You certainly must like war, then."
“Jes tollable, tollable, Marse John.”
“What about the horses?”
“ When I was gwine up de paf dat go to
de place whar Miss Lillie is, 1 heerd de
tinklin’ ov a bell to de lef’ in de brush, an
I jes went out fer ter see about de matter.
As I specs, hosses was dere, an dey comes
handy sometimes, yer know. Well, I foun’
de hosses, Marse John, an’ lots ob dem.
Mebbe we kin use some ob dose animals
dis ebenin’.”
“That is what I think, Jeff. But how
does it come that you are so well posted,
and know light where everything is?”
“I'se been heah befo’, Marse John, ef yet
disremember correc’lv.”
“Thai’s true, so you have; and it seems
that you improved your time, too. ”
“I’se a no ’count plantation nigger, Marse
John, but I’se some ’dapted for wah, an’ I
'spec de reason am dat I spize de debbil
an udder bushwhackers.”
When the sun wa3 pretty well up a per
son was seen carrying something from
camp toward the hill beyond which were
the captives. The watchers supposed it was
food for them.
An hour or more later they saw another
one of. the campers going in the same direc
tion.* They were not positive, at that dis
tance, but they believed it to be Edom
Woodsley. Ho walked slowly, and the two
men watched him closely until hi 3 head
sank beyond the hill.
It is worth our while to follow this indi
vidual, for our friends were correct in
thinking the person to be Woodsley. It
seemed that he was not in as healthy con
dition as he desired. His wound had in
flamed, and without proper care was not
doing as well as he could wish He was not
in the best of spirits as he unlocked the
door of the rough log prison that held his
lovely captive.
Lillie was sitting by one of the small
loop-holes that answered for windows,
watching the birds flitting about in the
neighboring trees. Her spirits had re
vived since hearing that friends were near,
and she was appearing her own self again
when Edom Woodsley entered.
As she saw who the intruder was she rose
abruptly, and her eyes flashed as he came
toward her.
“Good morning, Miss Lillie. I trust I
find you well,” he saidas he reached out his
left hand.
“You will excuse me for not offering you
my right hand, but that hand appears to be
too ‘shaky’ now.” And he tried to laugh at
the w r eak pun.
“I wish you would not impose your hate
ful presence upon me, when you know how
distasteful it is,” she said, without paying
any attention to the outstretched hand.
“O, my little beauty, you will like me
when you know me better,” he signifi
cantly remarked.
“God knows, I wish I had never known
you. Your wickedness has made all my
misery.”
“Your hate has brought any trouble upon
■you that you have had. You have attempt
led the life of one that loves you, Lillie Ed
dies, but even that will be forgiven if you
'will but ”
“Hush! Do not insult me again, and
when I am unprotected. I could never even
call one friend who has thus warred on the
defenseless.”
“You have not always been so defense
less, it seems.” And he pointed to htl
wound.
“Ah! But I wish I had that weapon with
me whenever a coward offers an insult.” .
“It is useless to prolong this ill-feeling.
Let us be friends and then we can under
stand each other. lam either a gentleman
or a devil, and you have the power to say
which I shall be in the future. ’
“Well, I’ll say be a mau, then, and be a
gentleman—if you can,” she answered
tartly.
“Then you will forgive all?” he asked.
“Yes. all.”
“And love me, Lillie?”
“Never!”
“You must! You shall!” he wildly ex
claimed.
“I never can, and never will," she firmly
replied.
“Lillie Eddies,” he exclaimed, “you will
marry me, or I will cut your proud heart
from your breast! If kindness will not do,
I will use other means, for you can never
live to be another's. I will feed your pretty
carcass to the buzzards first ”
“You can murder me, Edom Woodsley;
but you can never call me wife, ” she un
flinchingly answered.
“You will he my wife before to-morrow
night or your life will close. It is I or
death; take your choice!”
“Death is preferable,” she carelessly re
plied.
“I will return again to-morrow and re
ceive your final answer. If you do not con
sent to become my wife, so sure as there is
a God in heaven you w.ll never live to love
another." And he swung his lefthand above
his head, and his thin lips closed tightly
together.
Lillie felt conrineed that he intended to
do as he said, but she did not despair. She
knew friends were near, and the hope of
escape gave her sustaining courage.
He turned about when he ceased speak
ing aud op ned the door and looked back.
“Remember, to-morrow brings happi
ness or death!”
Lillie deigned no reply to this, and he
pissed out.
When he had gone a sense of great relief
came over her. She knew she was in danger
of losing her life if she vratuiot rescued be
fore the chmitvg day, for she verily believed
that IV oodslov would do as he said —mur-
der her uuless she complied with Lis de
mands; aud she firmly determined never to
do that.
CHAPTER XII
A MYSTERIOUS RECOGNITION.
Time passed slowly to the two men in the
rocks, and it seemed that the day would
never wear away, but night finally came, as
it always does, and always will, no matter
how anxiously we are waiting, and our frinds
prepared to leave their place of conceal
ment.
The bushwhackers had built their even
ing fire, and white clouds of smoke were
circling far above the trees.
Our friends felt relieved when the last
light streak of departing day disappeared in
the west, aud they began to climb down the
rocks.
Up the river and across it once more they
went, and directed their course toward the
ravine that held the horses. They carefully
crawled across the open space so that they
would not be otoerved, but when ouce
across nearly ail fear of being discovered
disappeared, and they followed on up the
ravine.
In a short time the tinkling of the small
bells were heard, and they knew the horses
were nigh.
Four of the best ones were secured, and
then tney cut the bells from those that wore
them and began driving the small herd up
the ravine. When they thought they had
gome far enough, they then chungedtheir
course, and passed over the steep hill on
the left, still driving the loose animals be
fore them.
When they reached the opposite side
they left the driven horses at the foot of the
hill, in the valley, and then kept on down.
Soon they came to the clearing, in the
center of which was built the prison of the
captives. They halted and began to recon
noiter. They found everything as Jeff had
found it the previous night. There was
the little log prison-house, and there were
the two men on guard, one at the back and
one in front, pacing back and forth over
their beat. Everything was quiet as they
looked, but soon the sharp notes of the
whip-poor-will rang out but a short dis
tance away. Jeff started. The superstition
of his race for ait instant got the better of
him, but it was only for an instant, for be
fore the first sharp cry bad died away he
recovered and again possessed his natural
coolness.
“It is against my inclinations and I dread
to do it,” John whispered, “but our only
hope of releasing the prisoners is by a des
perate action. The two sentinels must be
got away with, and we hav ■ it to do.”
“All right. Marse John, I hears yer.”
“Which one will you take, Jeff?”
“De ’whacker back er de house.”
“I’ll take the other. Be sure and get
your mau, Jeff. Shoot when I whistle. ’
John glanced around a moment and then
appeared to be satisfied.
"All ready now. Crawl close to that
stump and get fixed, and when I give the
signal drop him. ”
The negro got down on his hands and
knees and crawled along like a snake,
until he had reached the spot designated.
John did the same, and the two arrived
at their stations at nearly the same instant.
iTO RE CONTINUED.]
The Lepers Sent Away.
The Philadelphia Press says; It came
to light yesterday that Mrs. Miranda
and her daughter, the lepers who were
isolated in the Municipal Hospital, have
left the city. Since their removal to the
hospital many plans had been discussed
by the health authorities to send them
back to their homes in South America,
but every vessel Captain that was ap
approached would have nothing to do
with them.
Dr. Ford of the Board of Health said
last night that Mrs. Miranda and her
daughter had left the city at their own
request. The Board of Health and
several charitable gentlemen took the
matter in charge.
In March a tramp steamer entered
this port, and by the 12th she was ready
to sail for Brazil, South America. The
Captain was approached, and, as soon as
seen, lie was recognized as the Captain
of the vessel that had brought the lepers
here. The case was stated to him, and
he said lie would gladly give them pas
sage to Brazil, and that they would be
isolated from all parties on board.
Tramp steamers are not chartered to
carry passengers, being registered as
freight steamers, but the two lepers
were taken as part of the family which
the steamer is allowed to carry.
The strange part of tile story is that
the lepers return on the same steamer
that brought them here, with the same
Captain and occupying the same state
room. When Dr. Ford informed Mrs.
Miranda and her daughter that passage
had been secured for them they were
overjoyed. The steamer sailed on the
14th of March, during the blizzard. A
few days ago a telegram was received
announcing their safe arrival among
tlieir friends.
Real Smart Jersey Rabbins.
A couple of robbins recently came to
an amicable understanding, and built a
nest in the fork of a low bough on a pine
tree growing near the railroad station at
Fair View, N. J. It was almost com
pleted on Sunday, und, going to tlieir
new home, with the last few twigs re
quisite, rather for an ornate finishing
than for anything else, the birds were
mortified to find a large, green, ugly
toad filling the nest, and hopping over
the edges. Whether a toad can climb a
tree or not is an unsettled question, and
did not seeni to interest the birds. He
was there, and that was quite enough
for them. Several hours were passed in
strenuously trying to eject him, the birds
working in a systematic manner, and,
by using their combined forces at one
side of the nest, endeavoring to heave
the intruder out at the other. They
were not strong enough, however, and
they could not raise the gross body.
The toad seemed to be asleep, and, as
he lay with closed eves, the respiratory
heaving of his fat sides alone showing
that lie was not dead, neither peeking
nor pushing seemed to have the slight
est effect on him. Weary and discour
aged, the robbins flew to an adjacent
bush, and, apparently, discussed the
situation.
When they returned to the attack ten
minutes later they had perfected a plan
that made short work af the toad. They
began, with great earnestness, to teat
away the bottom of the nest, and in a
very short time the obnoxious thing
came tumbling tlnough the hole. HJ
roused himself, and, with a hoarse pro
testing croak, hopped into the long
grass. Then the robbins flew away t<]
build another house. They had ousted
the toad, but they had no intention oJ
reconstructing their desecrated nest.
REV. DR. TALMAGE.
THE BROOKLYN DIVINE 1 8 SUN.
DAY SERMON.
Subject: “The Martyrs of Every-Day
Life.” (Drenched at Lakeside, 0.)
text: Thou, therefore, endure hardness.
—II. Timothy, ii., 3.
Historians are not slow to acknowledge the
merits of great military chieftains. We have
the full-length portraits of the Cromwells, the
Washingtons, the .Napoleons and the Well
ingtons of the world. History is not written
in black ink, but witli red ink of human
blood. The gods of human ambition do not
drink from bowls made out of silver, or gold,
or precious stones, but out of the bleached
skulls of the fallen. But lam now to unroll
before you a scroll of heroes that the world
has never acknowledged; those who
faced no guns, blew no bugle
blast, conquered no critics, chained no
captives to their chariot wheels, and
yet. in the groat day of eternity, will stand
higher than those whose names startled the
nations; and seraph, and rapt spirit, aud
archangel will tell their deeds to a listening
universe. I mean the heroes of common,
every-day life.
In this roll, in the first place, I And all the
heroes of the sick room. When Satan had
failed to overcome Job, he said to
God: ‘‘Put forth thy hand and touch
his bones and his flesh, and he will
curse thee to thy face.” Satan had found out
what we have found out, that sickness is the
greatest test of cue's character. A man who
can stand that can stand anything. To be
shut in a room as fast as though it were a
hostile; to be so nervous j’ou cannot endure
the tap of a child’s foot; to havh luxuriant
fruit, which tempts the appetite df the robust
and healthy, excite our loathing and disgust
when it first appears on the platter; to
have the rapier of pain strike through the
side, or across the temples, like a razor, or to
put the foot into a vice, or throw the whole
body into a blaze of fever. Yet there
have been men and women, but more
women than men, who have cheerful
ly endured this hardness. Through
years of exhausting rheumatisms and ex
cruciating neuralgias they have gone, and
through bodily distresses that rasped the
nerves, and tore the muscles, aud paled th®
cheeks, and stooped the shoulders. By the
dim light of the sick-room taper they saw on
their wall the picture of that land where the
inhabitants are never sick. Through the
dead silence of the night they heard the
chorus of the angels. The cancer ate away
her life from week to week and day to day,
and she became weaker and weaker, and
every “good night” was feebler than
the “good night” before—yet never
sad. The children looked up into
her face and saw suffering trans
formed into a heavenly smile. Those who
suffered on the battle-field, amid shot and
shell, were not so much heroes and heroines
as those who in the field hospital and in the
asylum had fevers which no ice could cool
and no surgery cure. No shout of a comrade
to cheer them, but numbness, and aching,
and homesickness—yet willing to suffer,
confident in God, hopeful of heaven.
Heroes of rheumatism. Heroes of
neuralgia. Heroes of spinal complaint.
Heroes of sick headache. Heroes of
lifelong invalidism. Heroes and heroines.
They shall reign foi ever and ever.
Hark! I catch just ene note of the eternal
anthem: “There shall be no more pain.”
Bless God for that.
In this roll I also find the heroes of toil, who
do their work uncomplainingly. It is compar
atively easy to lead a regiment into battle
when you know that the whole nation will
applaud the victory; it is comparatively easy
to doctor the sick when you know that your
skill will be appreciated' by a large company
of friends and relatives; it is comparatively
easy to address an audience when, in thb
gleaming eyes and the flushed cheeks, you
know that your sentiments are adopted;
but to do sewing where you expect
that the employer will come and
thrust his thumb through the work to show
how imperfect it is, or to have the whole gar
ment thrown back on you to be done over
again; to build a wall and know there will be
no one to say you did it well, but only a
swearing employer howling across scaffold;
to work until your eyes are dim and your
back aches, and your heart faints, and to
know that if you stop before night your
children will starve. Ah! the sword has
not slain so many as the needle. The great
battle-fields of our last war were not
Gettysburg and Shiloh and South Moun
tain. The great battle fields of tha last war
were in the arsenals, and in the shops and in
the attics, where women made army jackets
fora sixpence. They toiled on until they
died. They had no funeral eulogium, but, in
the name of ray God, this day, 1 enroll their
names among i iiose of whom the wor d was
not worthy. Heroes of the needle. Heroes
of the sewing machine. Heroes of the attic.
Heroes of the cellar. Heroes and heroines.
Bless God for them.
In this roll i also find the heroes who have
uncomplainingly endured domestic injus
tices. There are men who for their toil and
anxiety have no sympathy in their homes.
Exhausting application to business gets them
a livelihood, but an unfrugal wife scatters
it. He is fretted at from the moment he en
ters the door until he comes out of it. The
exasperations of business life augmented by
the exasperations of domestic life. Such
men are laughed at, but they have a heart
breaking trouble, aud they would have long
ago gone into appalling dissipations
but for the grace of God. Society
to-day is strewn with the wrecks of
men, who under the northeast storm of
domestic infelicity have been driven on the
rocks. There are tens of thousands of drunk
ards In this country to-day, made such by
their wives. That is not poetry. That is
prose. But the wrong is generally in the op
pcsite direction. You would not have to go
far to find a wife whose life is a perpetual
martyrdom. Something heavier than a
stroke of the fist; unkind words, staggering
home at midnight, and constant maltreat
ment w hich have left her only a wreck of
what she was on that day when in the midst
of a brilliant assemblage the vows wore taken,
and full organ played the wedding march,
and the carriage rolled away with the
benediction of the people. What was the
burning of Latimer and Ridley at the stake
compared with this? Those men soon became
unconscious in the flra. but here is a fifty
years’ martydom, a fitly years' putting to
death, yet uncomplaining. No bitter words
when the rollicking companions at 2 o’clock
iD the morning pitch the husband dead drunk
into the front entry. No bitter words when
wiping from the swollen brow the blood
struck out in a midnight carousal.
Bending over the battered and
bruised form of him, who, when he took
her from her father’s home, promised love,
and kindness, and protection, yet nothing
but sympathy, and prayer.-, and forgiveness
before they are asked for. No bitter words
when the tatnily Bible goes for rum, and the
pawnbroker's shop gets the last decent dress.
Some day, desiring to evoke the story of her
sorrows, you say: “Well, how are you get
ting along now? ’ aud rallying her tremhling
voice, and quieting her* quivering lip, she
says: “Pretty well. I thank you. pretty
well.” She never will tell you. In the de
lirium of her last sickness she may
tell all the secrets of her lifetime,
but she will not tell that. Not
until the books of eternity are opened on the
thrones of judgment will ever be known
what she has suffered. Oh! ve who are
twisting a garland for the victor, put it ou
that pale brow. AT hen she is" dead the
neighbors will beg linen to make her a
shroud, and she will be carried out in a plain
box with no silver piate to tell her years, for
she has lived a thousand years of trial and
anguish. The gamblers and swindlers who
destroyed her husband will not come to the
funeral. One carriage will be enough
for that funeral—one carriage to carry the
orphans and the two Christian women who
presided over the obsequies. But there is- a
flash, and the opening of a celestial door, aud
a shout: “Lift up your head, ye everlasting
gate, and let her come in!” And Christ will
step forth and say: “Come in! ye suffered
with me oa earth, be glorified with ine in
heaven.” What is the highest throne in
heaven? Y'ou say; “The throne of the Lord
God Almighty and the Lamb.” *No doubt
aoout it. * U.’liut is the next highest throne in
heaven? While I speak it seems to me that it
will be the throne of the drunkard’s wife, if
ahe with cheerful patience endured all her
earthly torture. Heroes and heroines.
I find also in this roll the heroes of Christian
charity. We ali admire the George Pea
boiys and the James Lenoxes of the earth,
who give tens and hundreds of thousands of
dol ars to good objects.
But 1 am speaking this morning of those
who, out of tbeir pinched poverty, help
others—of such men as those Christian ui is
sionaries at the West, who«re living on $..‘5U
a year that they may proclaim Christ to the
people; one of them, writing to the Secretary
in New York, saying: “I thank you
for that $25. Until yesterday we
have had no meat in our house for
three months. Wo have suffered terribly.
My children have no shoes this winter.” And
of those people who have.only a half loaf of
bread, but give a piece of it to others who
are hungrier; and of those Wi.o ha-e only a
scuttleol'coal, but help others to fuel: and
of those who have only a dollar in their
pocket, and give twenty-five cents to some
body else; and of that father who wears &
shabby coat, and of that mother who wears
a faded dress, that their children may be well
apparelled. You call them paupers, or
ragamuffins, or emigrants. I call them
heroes and heroines. Y ou and I may not know
where they live, or what their name is. God
knows, and they have more angels hovering
over them tiian you and I have, and they
will have a higher seat in heaven.
They may have only a cuj of cold water
to give a poor traveler, or may have only
picked a splinter from under the nail of a
child's finger, or have put only two mites
into the treasury, but the Lord knows th -m.
Considering what they had, they dud more
than we have ever done, au i their faded
dress will become a white robe, and the
small room will be au eternal mansion,
and the old hat will be a coronet of vic
tory. and all the applause of earth
and all the shouting of heaven w>!l be drowned
out when God rises up to gi'\, his reward to
those humble workers in his kingdom, and to
say to them: “Wei! cone, good and faithful
servant.” Y'ou have all seen or heard of the
ruin of Melrose Abbey. I suppose in soma
respects it is the most exquisite ruin on earth.
And yet, looking at it I was not so impressed
—you may set it down to bad taste —but I
was not so deeply stirred as 1 was at a tomb
stone at the foot of that Abbey—the tomb
stone piacea oy waiter Mcott over the grave
of an old man who had served him for a good
many years house. The inscription most
significant, and I defy any man to
stand there and read it without tears coming
into his eyes. The epitaph: “Well done,
good and faithful servant." Oh! when our
work is over, will it be found that because
of anything we have done for God, or the
church, or suffering humanity, that such an
inscription is appropriate for us? God grant
it.
AYho are those who were bravest and de
served the greatest monument—Lord Claver
house and his burly soldiers, or John Brown,
the Edinburgh carrier, and his wife? Mr.
Atkins, the persecuted minister of Jesus
Christ in Scotland, was secreted by John
Brown and his wife, and Claverhouse rode
up one day with his armed men
and shouted in front of the house.
John Brown's little girl came out He said
to her: “Well, mis-, is Mr. Atkins here*”
She made no answer, for she could not betray
the minister of the Gospel “Ha!” Clever
house said, “then you are a chip of the old
block, are you? I have something in my
pocket for you. It is a nosegay. Some peo
ple call it a thumbscrew, but I call it a nose
gay.” And he got oif his horse, and he put
it on the little girl's naud, and began to turn
it until the bones cracked, and she cried. He
said: “Don’t cry, don't cry: this isn’t a thumb
screw; tl»is is a nosegay.” And they heard
the child’s cry, and the father and mother
came out, and Claverhouse said: “Hal It
seems that you three have laid your holy
heads together determined to die like all the
rest of your hypocritical, canting, snivelling
crew; rather than give up good Mr. Atkins,
pious Mr. Atkins, you would die. I have a
telescope with me that will improve your
vision.” and he pulled out a pistol. “Now,”
he said, “you old pragmatical, lest you
should eaten cold in this cold morning of Scot
land, and for the honor and safety of tbfe
king, to say nothing of the glory of
God and the good of our souls, I
will proceed simply anl in the neatest
and most expedit.ous style possible to blow
your brains out.” John Brown fell upon his
knees and began to pra>W‘Ah!” said Claver
house, “look out, if going to pray;
steer clear of the King; the council and
Richard Cameron.” “01 Lord,” said John
Brown, “since it seems to be Thv will that I
should leave this world for a world where I
can 10. e Thee letter and serve Thee more, I
put this poor widow woman and three help
less, fatherless children into Thy hands. We
have been together in peace a good
while, blit now we must look forth to
a better meeting in heaven, and as
for these poor creatures, blindfolded
anil infatuated, that stand before mo, con
vert them before it be too late, and may they
who have sat in judgment in this lonely place
on this blessed morning, upon me, a poor, de
fenseless fellow-creature—may they, in the
Last Judgment, find that mercy which thtjy
have refused to me, Thy most unworthy, but
faithful servant. Amen." He rose up and
said: “Isabel, the hour has come of which I
spoke to you o:i the m< ruing when 1 proposed
hand and heart to you; and are you will
ing now, tor the love of God, to let me
die?” She put her arms around him
and said: “The Lord gave, and the
Lord hath taken away. Blessed l>e the name
of the Lord!” "Stop that snivelling,” said
Claverhouse. “I have had enough of it.
Soldiers, do your work. Take aim! Fire 1”
and the h ad of John Brown was scattered
on the ground. While the wife was gather
ing up in her apron the fragments of her
husbands head—gathering them up for
burial—Claverhouse looked into her face and
said: “Now, my good woman, how do you
feel about your bonnie man?” “Oh!” she
said, “I always thought wael of him; he has
been very good to me; I had no reason for
thinking anything but weel of him, and I
think better of him now. Oh, what
a grand thing it will lie in the
Last Day to see God pick out his
heroes and heroines Who are those
paupers of eternity trudging off from the
gates of heaven? Who are they? The Lord
Claverhouses and the Herods and those who
had sceptres, and crowns, and thrones, but
they lived for their own aggrandisement,and
they broke the heart of nations. Heroes of
earth, but paupers in eternity. I beat the
drums of their eternal despair. Woe’ woe!
woo!
But there is great excitement in heaven.
Why those long processions? Why the
booming of that great bell in the tower? It
is coronation day in heaven.
Who are those rising on the thrones, with
crowns of eternal royalty? They must have
been great people ou earth, world renowned
people. No. They taught in a ragged school!
Is tnat all? That is all. Who are those wav
ing sceptres of eternal dominion? Why. they
are little children who waited on invalid
mothers. That all? That is all. She was
called “Little Mary” on earth. She is an em
press now. Wno are that great multitude
on the highest thrones of heaven?
Who are they? Why, they fed the
hungry, they clothed the naked, they healed
the sick, they comforted the heart-broken.
They never found auy rest until they put
their heal down on the pillow of the
sepulchre. God at -lied them. God laughed
defiance at the < neaiies who put tbeir heels
hard down pn these His dear children; and
one day the Ix>rd struck His hand so hard on
His thigh that the omnipotent sword ratt ed
in the buckler, as ho said: “I am their God,
and no weapon formed against them shall
prosper.” What harm can the world do you
when the Lord Almighty with unsli<»**Ahed
sword fights for you?
I preach this sermon for comfort. Go
tome to the place just where God has put
you to play the hero or the heroine. Do not
;nvy any man his money, or bis applause, or
bis social position. Do not envy any woman
her wardrobe, or her exquisite appear
ance. Be the hero or the heroine. If
there be no flour iu the house, and you do
not know where your children are to
get bread, listen, and you will hear
something tapping against the window-pane.
Go to the window and you will find it is the
beak of a raven, and open the window aqd
there will lly in the messenger that fed
Elijah. Do you think tliat the God who
grows the cotton of the South will let you
freeze for lack of clothes? Do you think that
the God who allowed the disciples on Sunday
morning to go into the grain field, and then
take the grain and rub it in their hands and
eat. Do you think God wiil let you starve?
Did you ever hoar the experience of that
old man: “I have been young, and now am
I old. yet have I never seen the righteous
forsaken, or his seed begging bread?” Get up
out of your discouragement, O! troubled
soul, O! sewing woman, O! man kicked and
cuffed by unjust employers,O lye whoarehard
beset in the battle of iifeandk ow not which
way to turn, 01 you bereft one, O; you sick one
with complaints you have told to no one,
come and get the comfort of this subject.
Listen to our great Captain’s cheer: “To him
that overcometh will I give to eat of the
truit of the tree of life which is in the midst
of the Paradise of God. ”
THE MYSTERY OF A SKELETON
Reasons for Believing it is that of &
Noted Gambler in War Times.
[From the Louisville Courier.]
A few days ago the citizens of Brook
lyn, a small town opposite Paducah,
were terribly excited over the discovery
of a skeleton in the bottom of a well
which has been abandoned thirty years.
The erection of a new mill made it
necessary to clean out the old well.
Yesterday the negro who was at work
discovered the feet and legs of a skele
ton protruding from the mud which he
was cleaning out of the hole. The
whole frame was intact, and by some
mean 3 the bones had been well pre
served throughout their long confine
ment. They also found the iron frame
of an old-fashioed pocketbock and an
old musk soap-box. All vestige of
clothing except the shoes the man
wore had disappeared, but the brains
still remained in the skull. Physicians
pronounce the skeleton to be that of a
middle-aged man, which in a measure
confirms the alleged identification last
night, many being of the opinion that
the remains are those of one John Alex
ander, wlio flourished in that section
nearly twenty-five years ago.
A well-known gentleman of Paducah
said to a reporter yesterday:
“I knew Alexander well. When the
army left Shiloh and abandoned all that
part of the Tennessee River above John
sonville, Alexander, accompanied by his
brother-in-law, . Bally Hinckle, came
down with us from Savannah, Tenn.
They were both pronounced Union men,
and "it would not have done for them to
have staid in that country after the Fed
eral soldiers went away. They Gere
both expert gamblers, and after they
reached Paducah they commenced gam
bling among the soldiers here aud won
a great deal ef money. Their exploits
in this direction became so numerous
and the complaints against them were
so many that the attention of the Pro
vost Marshal wv.s at last attracted to them
and they were warned to stop their
operations, and compelled to re
restore several hundred dollars they had
fleeced a couple of soldiers out of a night
or two before.
When Buford made his laid upon
Paduedi, they both fled across the river
to Brooklyn. Alexander never returned.
After the raid Illinickle returned and
reported his brother in-law as inyster
iou<Qv missing. A thorough search was
madWor him, but it was of no avail. It
was strongly susjiecfced at the time that
he had been made aw ay wi.h and robbed
of a large sum of money he was known
to carry about his person. I am per
feetiAjatisfied that the skeleton found
in tlie well was that of Alexander, and I
believe that he was treacherously mur
dered. Hinckle later turned up here
again with Mrs. Alexander, who made
every effort to ascertain her husband’s
fate,but failing,finally returned home in
despair.
That a skeleton should remain in au
abandoned well, located in a populated
district, twenty-five years without being
discovered seems incredible, but such
appear to be the facts in the case.
A Little Love.
lam minded to write a few lines on
the little courtesies of life that some of
us who are husbands and wives seem to
have forgotten, or purposely set aside,
since the days of our honeymoon. Wo
clung to them tenaciously enough be
fore—yes, we gloried in them. I know
I used to tip my hat in the most grace
ful and courteous manner to my wife
when I chanced to meet her on the strpet
before we were married. Sometimes,
I confess it with shame, I don’t do it
now. I used, in those “politer” days,
V) think that she could not, under gny
sircumstances, go upstairs without a
good deal of my arm for support, and
now—well, sometimes I bolt ou ahead
af her, and she says reprovingly: “Here,
sir, you’re a gallant husband, to let me
go up stairs unassisted.” Then I al
ways go back aud do my duty in this
respect. Wives cling longer than hus
bands to ail the gentle, gracious little
courtesies that were never forgotten in
the lialycon days of their courtship; but
they, too, forget at times some of the
little things that made them so charm
ing in the eyes of Tom or John or Will.
Why shouldn’t we say: “I beg your par
don,” or “Excuse me,” and “Thank
you,” to each other as well as to other
men and women. The lack of these
little oourtesies and kindnesses has
much to do with the lack of harmony
and happiness in many houses.— Good
Housekeeping.
An Object or Pity.
My friends say that I have consump
tion. and advise me to partake of fresh
blood. AVhere, oh where is there some?
— Judge.
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
More Room
When every nook and corner seems
full, consider the walls. A great many
things may be hung on a strip of wood
running across your bed room or kitchen
wall, covered from dust by a calico cur
tain. Envelope bags straightened by
ropes or lath strips, may hang anywhere
to hold aprons, collars, hats, newspa
pers, everything. Packing boxes may
be placed one above another and shelved
aud curtained, or small ones may ba
padded like ottomans aud used for seat*
and casc3 to hold bed linen or under
clothing. .A few yards of bright chintz
adorns a room wonderfully in the way
of curtains, (hair covers and scrap bags.
—New Orleans Picayune.
Inex-pensivo Cream Puffs.
Cream puffs, made by the general re
cipes found in the cook books, are ex
pensive luxuries. A recipe is here given
which those who have used very highly
endorse: Take one cup of cold water and
one half cup of butte: and set it on the
stove. When this comes to the boiling
point stir in one cup of flour dry. The
mixture will cleave from the bottom of
the pan when sufficiently stirred. Then
take from the stove and when a little cool
so the eggs will not cook, stir in three
eggs, one at a time, without beating,
l.ast of all, add a piece of saleratus the
size of a pea, dissolved in a teaspoonful
of milk. Drop on well buttered tine,
with a large spoon, and bake twenty-five
minutes in a a very hot oven. This rule
makes one dozen very large ones, or
about fifteen of the usual bakery size.
Do not open the oven door to look at
them in less than twenty minutes. When
the puffs are cool cut a slit in one side
with the scissors and fill with cream. As
to the cream filling, almost every cook
has her own favorite way of making it,
some using flour in its preparation, and
others, corn starch, but for the benefit
of those who are minus any particular
modus operaudi the following is very
good: Beat together one egg, one half
cup of sugar, and three tablespooufuls
of corn starch or flour, stir into it a pint
of boiling milk, stir until thick enough;
when cold add the flavoring. Open the
puffs on the side and put in a spoouful
af the cream.— St. Louis Sayings.
How AVater Should Be Cooked.
“Water is one of the secrets of cook
ing,” sententiously said a well-known
New York chef to a Mail and Eppiess re
porter.
“I suppose you mean all food in iti
raw state should be washed ?”
“Nothing of the kind,” replied the
artist. “A few cooks understand the
many effects produced by hard and soft
water in cooking vegetables and meat.
If peas and beans, for instance, are
cooked in hard water, containing lime
and gympsum, they will not boil tender,
because these substances have a tendency
to harden vegetable caseine. Now,
many vegetables, as onions, boil nearly
tasteless in soft water, because all the
flavor is boiled out. The addition of
salt often checks this, as in the case of
onions, causing the vegetables to retain
their peculiar flavoring principles,
sides such nutritious matter as might be
lost in the soft water. Some of the
finest dishes in the world are ruined by
the use of hard water when soft is re
quired. It is a science that can best be
’earned by actual experience in the ca
pacity of assistant chef. It requires a
ong apprenticeship and a natural apti
ude to become a great cook and to un
derstand water. Now, to extract the
Juice of meat to make a broth or soup
soft water, unsalted and cold at first, is
the best, for it much more readily pene
trates the tissue. But for boiling, where
the juices should be retained, hard water
or soft water salted is preferable and the
meat should be put iu while the water is
boiling, so as to close up the pores at
once. I have two assistants and once a
week I lecture them on the proper use of
hard and soft wrier in cooking certain
dishes. In answer to your facetious ques
tion above 1 will state that not only raw
food should be clean, hut that water
goes a long way in keeping a first-class
cuisine in a healthy sanitary condition.
__________ l
’’ A
Recipes. ►
Imitation Oysters. —Cut tender vea'
in pieces the size of an oyster; then sea
son well with salt, pepper, and thyme or
mace, and dip in egg, then in cornmeal
or cracker crumbs and fry.
Fried Egg Plant. —After peeling
the egg plant cut in slices one-half inch
thick, pepper and salt them, and lay one
slice upon the other, leaving them to
stand ten or twelve hours. Drain off
the liquor, dip in flour and fry brown.
White Wings Cake. —Beat one and
a half cups sugar and two tablespoons
butter to a cream, then add a cup of
sweet milk, in which dissolve a teaspoon
of soda, one egg well beaten, three cups
sifteA flour with two teaspoons of cream
tartar, and a teaspoon of lemon essence.
Bake in one large or small pans in a
quick oven.
Acid Drinks. —In warm weather acids
are not only palatable but healthful.
The abundance and cheapness of lemons
makes their free use possible, and much
of the spring sickness is due to the
neglect to use freely such fruit as nature
has provided at that season. Lemonade
makes a better drink for young and old
tliau tea or coffee too freely used.
Rhubarb Jam. —An English cook
gives the following recipe for it: Peel
and cut up the rhubarb, boil till reduced
to a pulp with a very little water; allow
ODe pound of sugar, one ounce of sweet
almonds, blanched and chopped, and
half a lemon, cut in slices, to every pound
of pulp; boil tor three-quarters of an
hour or an hour, remove the lemon peel
and put into pots.
Pie-Plant Pie. —One cup of stewed
pie plant, one cup of sugar, yolks of
three eggs, white of one egg, one spoon
ful of butter, melted; lemon to flavor.
Bake in a bottom crust, make a meringue
of the whites of two eggs, put over the
top of the pie and brown lightly in the
oven. Some persons bake the crust
separately, and, after cooking the other
ingredients, fill the crust.
Orange Comuote. —Orange compote
is a delicious dessert and is thus made:
Cut oranges and bananas iu small pieces,
and to four of each, use three-fourths of
a cup of white sugar, and the grated
rind and juice of one lemon. Arrange
iu layers in a glass dish and pour over a
small quantity of currant jelly melted.
Serve ice cold with i ake, and regulate
the quantity of sugar by the acidity of
i the o. atiges.