VI
I THE HMD IDER THE SEAT.
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Did I ever tell you, or did you ever
bear from other sources, how logical
deductions and obivious inferences
once led me into what might have
proved deep waters? asked Detective
Sergeant Channing, as he threw his
feet up on a chair and settled himself
comfortably.
It was a winter's night, cold, bard,
and frosty, eight or nine years since. I
had been down to Cliffe to spend a
few hours with a friend, and was
going onto Sharnal street, the next
station down, to (spend the night with
another friend.
I was walking up and down the de
serted j)latforin, thinking of various
things, when my foot kicked up
against something which went sliding
ulong the platform, and fell upon the
down line. My inquisitiveness im
pelled me to jump down and search for
It with the "aiding light of a lucifer.
It turned out to be a novel—l forgot
the title—and was in a very damaged
condition. My explanation of the torn
cover and the bent corner was that
they were the outcome of the book
having been flung out of the window
of a passing train.
I took it into the licrlit of an asth
matical lamp and examined it. There
was writing on the fly leaf—writing in
pencil, and the shakiness of it and the
uncertainty of the lines immediately
suggested to me that they had been
written in the train. The words them
selves convinced me. They were:—
"Man hiding under the seat of this
compartment Believe he has designs
on valuables I have about me. Com
munication cord broken. Only way to
inform in case anything occurs; and
with anchor tattooed on wrist. Left
hand."
For a moment I half suspected it
was a practical joke. Then it occurred
to me that there was more in the affair
than lame humor. Cliffe is on the line
to Queenborougli, where one can take
boat for Flushing, which is in Holland,
the principal town of which, Amster
dam, is well known as a trading place
for dealers in precious stones. The
logical deduction was, therefore, that
the writer of the message was travel
ing with jewels from London to Am
sterdam via Queenborougli and Flush
ing. Possibly he had a small fortune
in gems upon his person, and was un
easy in his mind. Possibly the man
traveling under theseatof hiscompart
xnent. but for whose presence the other
would have been alone, had des'gns
upon the valuables lie carried, and,
realizing he could not stop the express
owing to the communication cord being
broken, he decided upon the novel
method of giving the police a clue in
the possible event of the hiding man
killing him to obtain the valuables.
I knew quite well that the Queen
borough express had run through Cliff.'
three-quarters of an hour b 'fore, and
it had by that time reached its destin
ation.
Going over to the station master's
office, I showed that official the mes
sage and explained my conclusion. lie
agreed that the affair might be serious.
The only tiling he could not under
stand was the point that the man un
der the seat must have taken up his
position before the other man entered
the compartment, and this did not sug
gest tlint he had designs upon the other,
because he could not rely upon the
other choosing that particular com
partment. But I pointed out to him
that the hiding man may have taken
up his position in a compartment next
to that of his intended victim, expect
ing to get along by the footboard at
the first opportunity and that the other
man, for some reason, might have
changed into the next compartment
at Gravesend, thus walking into the
enemy's camp unconsciously, and not
discovered his enemy's presence until
the train was running between Graves
end and Cliffe.
To oblige me he wired down the line
to Tort Victoria, and shortly after
wards came the news that nothing
absolutely pointing to a crime had
come under notice. But that, in a
second-class smoking compartment, a
quantity of blood had been found by
a guard.
A .peculiar fact was, however, that
no body had been found. If a murder
bad been done, what had become o?
the body? If only an assault had been
committed, why had the victim neither
been found in the compartment nor
given information? So he wired back
to Tort Victoria, giving them details,
advising them to make immediate in
quiries and to search the lino. Very
shortly after that we received a mes
sage to the effect that blood had also
been found upon the footboard on the
down-side of the compartment on the
floor of which similar stains had been
discovered. The police had been in
formed, and already a search party
had been sent up the line.
I wired full particulars to Scotland
Yard, and, on receiving instructions to
personally conduct the inquiry, I or
ganized a search gang, and, armed
with naphtha lamps, we set out down
the line to meet those coming from
Port Victoria.
We went along as far as Sharnal
street without discovering anything,
and from that station we wired on for
information. In reply we were advised
that stains of blood had been found
at the side of the down metals, half
way between Sharnal and Port Vic
toria, and that a track of stains had
been followed down the embankment
and half across a field.
This new fact appeared Important,
seeming to suggest tnat either the
assailant or his wounded victim had
Jumped out of the running train, and
escaped across the fields. But U it
were the assailant, where was his vic
tim? If the victim, where was the
assailant? Could it be that the latter
had by any means taken the former
with liim? I rather fancied it possible.
It might turn out that the tattooed
man had killed his victim, thrown him
from the train, jumped after hijn, and
disposed of the body in some way,
reckoning that the crime could not be
discovered except by accident, and not
until he was without the read; of the
law.
As soon as it was light we were on
the supposed tracks. We followed
them across a field to where they
stopped before a gate in a hedge.
There were no other tracks; no trace
of any body could we find. But we
did discover a new jack-knife, which
might, however, have belonged to any
one.
Here we were entirely at fault. In
the hope of discovering something that
might lead to estabishing the identity
of tlie supposed victim.l had inquiries
made in London of all the diamond
merchants and big jewelers. But none
had sent any one traveling with val
uables, and advices from Amsterdam
informed me that 110 messenger was
expected there with stones or gems
from London.
1 was sorely puzzled, and hardly
knew what to do or to think, when I
received a telegram from Scotland
Yard saying that Robert Ryan, who
had broken jail a few days before,
was described as having an anchor
tattooed 011 the wrist of his left hand.
Here was a clue indeed! We were 110
longer hunting a mere hand, but a
man. I had not been advised until
that moment that It.van, who had
been an otficer in the navy, but was
sentenced to four years for forgery,
had escaped from prison. But I knew
a lot about him, and this knowledge
suggested to iue that he would seek
his erstwhile sweetheart the moment
he felt he could safely do so. But the
same knowledge of him precluded me
from thinking that lie could have com
mitted a murder for mere gain, unless
—good gracious, the whole case seemed
to be clear as day to me! The mere
name cleared the whole mystery.
Robert Ryan had always protested
his innocence of the charge of forgery.
But the evidence was dead against
him. I had seen him in custody on one
occasion, though it was not my case,
and lie had darkly hinted that a cousin
of his had worked up the whole charge
against him to separate liim from his
fiance, whom the cousin loved and he
said to me that when he had regained
liberty he would be able to prove that
he was the victim of jealousy, and
that he had suffered for another's
crime.
The story, though I could not believe
it, interested me so much that I was
led into making a few private inquiries
as to who the cousin could be; and,
finally,l decided that the only person
possible was Herbert Ryan. And now
it rushed across my mind that the two
Ryans might be the persons of the
mystery; Robert, the hand under the
seat; and Herbert, the writer of the
message. Possibly, Herbert had not
recognized the hand, and honestly be
lieved the hiding man had designs upon
property he carried. Or lie may have
recognized the hand, and feared the
anger of his cousin. In any case,
Robert's belief that his cousin had put
him in prison was ample motive for his
seeking to murder Herbert.
I wired up my suspicions to the yard,
and set out for the place where I be
lieved Robert Ryan's sweetheart was
staying, for 1 had reason to know* the
charge against him had not changed
her, as I have explained.
1 reached the house in the afternoon,
and was informed that the young lady.
Miss Duncan, was out. I mentioned
a time when I would return to see
Miss Duncan, and went away. Rut I
did not go far.
Making sure that 110 one was watch
ing. I crept round the walls of the gar
den which surrounded the house, and
listened for the sound of any voices.
But I could hear 110 one—no sound but
the distant sea beating upon the beach.
I thought I might as well have a look
at the stretch of blue waters to while
away the time before going back to see
Miss Duncan. So I wandered over the
downs towards the edge of the steep
cliffs. As I stood on the edge of the
cliff I caught sight of two lonely
figures slowly walking on my left.
One was that of a woman, the other
was that of a tall man.
Fancying I could guess who tlicy
were, and noticing they were coming
in my direction, I threw myself down
lest they should see me silhouetted
against the sky. I watched them draw
nearer. Then they turned and retraced
their steps. Once I saw the woman
throw out her hand impetuously to
the man, who seized it and pressed it
to his lips.
There was now little or no doubt in
my mind as to who they were, and
walking along the cliffs until I came
to a place where the descent was fair
ly e sy, I made my way slowly down.
Reaching the hard beach, I stayed
in hiding where I could watch them.
I saw them turn agalu, and come
leisurely towards me. I could hear the
murmur of their voices over the babble
of the sea, but I could not catch their
words—they talked in undertones.
As they drew up near to where I
stood I jumped out and ran towards
them. The man started at my ap
proach, but made no attempt to eluda
me.
"Robert Ryan," I cried, "I arrest
you!"
"It 1» of little consequence," here
piled, coldly. "But I would ratlier
Lave surrendered myself. I am uow
In possession of evidence which will
prove my innocence and that I was
unjustly punished."
"That is not the only thing for which
we want you," I said. "You are sus
pected of having murdered a gentle
man between Cliffc and Port Victoria."
"Is he dead?" he cried.
"We have reason to think so."
He laughed lightly, but rather an
evil, unnatural laugh.
"I don't think so," he said. "I was
very near strangling him at one mo
ment, but he gave In like the wise and
cowardly wretch he is. Shall I tell
you all I know? See, 1 have here—
wormed from him by threats—a writ
ten confession that he committed the
forgery and swore false evidence
against me, and he told me where I
shall And the proofs of all he did to
ruin me and my good name."
I took the paper—a half-sheet of
common note-paper covered in pencilled
words; and I readily recognized the
writing as being the same as that of
the message in the novel. It was, as
he said, a full confession, and signed
with the name of Herbert Ryan.
"I got to London," he began, while
I was yet reading, "after my escape,
determined upon coming down here
to see Miss Duncan before I thought
of anything else. I meant to walk all
the way, but I overestimated my
strength—impaired by 15 bitter months
in prison—and the boots I had stolen
from a rubbish heap were stiff and
heavy; I had to throw them off and go
barefooted, as you see me now. So be
fore I reached Gravesend I decided to
risk recapture, and steal a ride. I
waited In a cutting for the coming of
a chance to board a train unseen,
and my luck was good enough to
bring one to a standstill within a few
hundred yards of me.
"I boarded it, and having found an
unoccupied compartment, 1 got in and
scrambled under the seat. To my dis
may, at Gravesend a man got into the
compartment. I feared he would no
tice me and call the guard, but he
didn't and the train set off again. It
was a tortuous position I was in
cramped in every limb, not daring to
move lest the passenger should notice
ine and stop the train, and I had b td
ly cut my foot on a stone in walking
along the - and the "wound
caused me great pain, and bled not a
little.
"I could only see the legs of the pas
senger, who sat on the opposite s at.
I was dreadfully afraid that he would
stretch out his legs and kick me any
moment. But he did not. After a
time, however, he grew restless, and
went to sit at the corner farthest front
me. I could not see what he did, tut
I could pretty well guess that after
he had changed his seat he opened the
window and tried to pull the communi
cation-cord, and I heard a low oath
as the cord ran slack in his hands, j
Had I not guessed the cord was wrong
I should have slipped up and .lumped i
out of the train before it pulled up.
But I understood, and kept quiet to
consider what I should do. I twisted
my head slightly, and in this way was
able to see him take a book out of his
bag; and I saw his hands writing in it.
Presently the roar in front of the train
told me that we were running through
a station; and I saw ltiin lean to tlie
right and fling the book out of the win- I
dow. His head came so low that I saw
his face and recognized him as my
traitor of a cousin. "I wormed myself
out and confronted him. He did not
seem in the least surprised to see inc
ite told me later that he recognized my
hand by the tattooed anchor—but pro
fessed the greatest pleasure at seeing
inc. But all the while his face was
pale as death, and his hands shook like
thoße of a palsied titan. I had some
difficulty in dealing with him. Once 1
put my fingers around his throat, and
felt like strangling him. He told me
what I wished to know—how I eould
clear myself, so I released my hold.
I made him write that confession and
duly sign it.and with it on me 1 got on
to the footboard as soon as the train
slowed down, and jumped. I opened
the wound in my foot in jumping and
had to pause awhile, it pained me so.
I hung about the fields for a time, then
cut away to see Miss Duncan. That's
all. Herbert was going over to Hol
land. He won't stop there now be
cause I know how and where 1 can
find proof to convict him of the crime
for which he had me sentenced. He
told me that himself.
"Let me just speak to Miss Duncan
in private for one moment, sir," he con
cluded. "I give you my word of honor
that I will not attempt to escape; and
then I shall be ready to accompany
you to prove my innocence."
He kept his word well, not only
about escaping, but as to proving his
innocence. And I had an invitation to
his wedding, not long after.—Tit-Bits.
Uncle Sam's Vegetable Garden.
Teople who were amused in the days
of Holman, at that great economist's
suggestion that potatoes instead of
flowers might be planted in the
grounds around the public buildings
may not b:> aware that Uncle Sam has
a great garden of spring delicacies
around the Capitol building. The first
garden delicacies of the season are
found there. On the southern slope
of the lawn under the protection of the
terrace and exposed to the sun, the
dandelions have begun to sprout, and
a few days ago some old women and
children who know the secrets of the
soil were out with their baskets
gathering these "greens" for the table
Mushrooms of the best variety, as well
as dandelions, grow in great abuu
dance on this broad lawn, and it is o
source df supply of "greens" or mush
rooms almost from the time snow
disappears until w:nter comes again.
•-Washington Star.
DIL TALMAGE'S SERMON.
SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
Subject: Go<l'i Saving Grace—Religion L
an Active Principle Which Work.
Constantly For the Welfare of Body
and Mind and Soul—Hope For Sinner*.
[Copyright IIKHII
WASHINGTON, D. C.—Dr. Talmage is
now traveling in Norway, where he has
been deeply interested in the natural phe
nomena and the quaint social life of that
wonderful land. In this sermon he ar
gues, contrary to the opinion of many,
that religion is an active principle which
works constantly for the welfare of body
and mind and soul. His text is Luke xiv,
34. "Salt is good."
The Bible is a dictionary of the finest
similes. It employs among living creat
ures storks and eagles and doves and uni
corns and sheep and cattle; among trees,
sycamores and terebinths and pomegran
ates and almonds and apples; among jew
els, pearls and amethysts and jacinths
and chrysoprnses. Christ uses no stale
illustrations. The lilies that He plucks in
His discourse are dewy fresh; the ravens
in His discourses are not stuffed specimens
of birds, but warm with life from wing tip
to wing tip; the fish He points to are not
dull about the gills, as though long cap
tured, but a-squirm in the wet net just
brought up on the beach of Tiberias. In
my text, which is the peroration of one of
His sermons, He picks up a crystal and
1 oMs it before His congregation as an illus
tration of divine grace in the heart when
He saj-s what we all know by experiment,
"Salt is good."
1 shall try to carry out the Saviour's
idea in this text and in the first place say
to you that grace is like salt in its beauty.
In Gallicia there are mines of salt with ex
cavations and underground passages reach
ing, I am told, 280 miles. Far underground
there are chapels and halls of reception,
the columns, the altars and the pulpits of
salt. When the king and the princes come
to visit these mines, the whole place is
illuminated, and the glory of crystal walls
and crystal ceilings and crystal floors and
crystal columns, under the glare of the
torches and the lamps, needs words of crys
tal to describe it. But you need not go so
far as that to find the beauty of salt. You
live in a land which produces millions of
bushels of it in a year, and you can take
the morning rail train and in a few hours
get to the salt mines and salt springs, and
you have this article morning, noon and
night on your table. Salt has all the
beauty of the snowflake and water foam,
with durability added. It is beautiful to
the naked eye, but under the glass you see
the stars, and the diamonds, and the white
tree branches, and the splinters, and the
bridges of fire as the sun glints them.
There is more architectural skill in one of
these crystals of salt than human inge
nuity has ever demonstrated in an Alhain
bra or St. Peter's. • » ,
It would take all time, with atl .infringe
ment upon eternity, for an angel of Ot>d~
to tell one-half the glories in a salt crystal.
So with the grace of God; it is perfectly
beautiful. I have seen it smooth out wrin
kles of care from the brow; I have seen it
make an aged man feel almost young
again: I have seen it lift the stooping
shoulders and put sparkle into the dull eyp.
Solomon discovered its therapeutic quali
ties when he said, "It is marrow to the
bones." It helps to digest the food and
to purify the blood and to calm the pulses
ann quiet the spleen, and instead of Tyn
dall's prayer test of twenty years ago, put
ting a man in a philosophical hospital to be
experimented upon by prayer, it keeps him
so well that he does not need to be prayed
for as an invalid. I am sneaking now of a
healthy religion—not of that morbid relig
ion that sits for three hours on a grave
stone reading Hervey's "Meditations
Among the Tombs"—a religion that pros
pers best in a bad state of the liver! I
speak of the religion that Christ preached.
I suppose, when that religion has con
quered the world, that disease will be ban
ished, and that a man 100 years of age will
come in from business and say, "I am
tired; I think it must be time for me to
go."and without one physical pang heaven
will have him.
But the chief beauty of grace is in the
soul. It takes that which was hard and
cold and rejuilsive and makes it all over
again. It pours upon one's nature what
David calls "the beauty of holiness." It
extirpates everything that is hateful and
unclean. If jealousy and pride and lust
and worldliness lurk about, they are
chained and have a very small sweep.
Jesus throws upon the soul the fragrance
of a summer garden as He comes in say
ing, "I am the Hose of Sharon," and He
submerges it with the glory of a spring
morning, as Ile.says, "I am the light."
Oh, how much that grace did for the
three Johns! It took John Bunyan, the
foul mouthed, and made him John Bun
van, the immortal dreamer; it took John
Newton, the infidel sailor, and in the midst
of the hurricane made him cry out, "My
mother's God, have mercy upon me!" It
took John Summerfield from a life of sin
and by the hand of a Christian maker of
edge tools led him into the pulpit that
burns still with the light of that Christian
eloquence which charmed thousands to the
Jesus whom He once despised. Ah, you
mav search all the earth over for anything
so beautiful or beautifying as the grace of
God! Go all through the deep mine pas
sages of Wieliczka and amid the under
ground kingdoms of salt in Hallstadt and
show me anything so transcendently beau
tiful as this grace of God fashioned and
hung in eternal crystals.
Again, grace is like salt in the fact that
it is a necessity of life. Man and beast
perish without salt. What are those patli9
across the western prairie? Whv, they
were made there by deer and buffalo going
to and coming away from the salt "licks.
Chemists and physicians all the world over
tell us that salt is a necessity of life. And
so with the grace of God; you must have it
or die. I know a great many speak of it
as a mere adornment, a sort of shoulder
strap adorning a soldier, or a light, froth
ing dessert brought in after the greatest
part of the banquet of life is over, or a
medicine to be taken after powders and
mustard plasters have failed to do their
work, but ordinarily a mere superfluity, a
string of bells around a horse's neck while
he draws the load and in nowise helping
him to draw it. So far from that I deciare
the grace of God to be the first and the
last necessity. It is food we must take or
starve into an eternity of famine. It is
clothing, without which wo freeze to the
mast ol infinite terror. It is the plank,
and the only plank, on which we can float
shoreward. It is the ladder, and the only
ladder, on which we can climb up into the
light. It is a postive necessity for the
soul. You can tell very easily what the
effect would be if a person refused to take
salt into the body. The energies would
fail, the lungs would struggle with the air,
slow fevers would crawl through the brain,
the heart would flutter, and the life would
be gone. Salt, a necessity for the life of
the body; the grace of God, a necessity
for the life of the soul!
Again, I remark that grace is like salt in
abundance. God has strewn salt in vast
profusion all over the continents. Russia
seems built on a salt-cellar. There is one
region in that country that turns out 00,000
tons of salt in a year. England and Russia
and Italy have inexhaustible resources in
this respect. Norway and Sweden, white
with snow above, white with salt beneath.
Austria, vielding 900,000 tons annually.
Nearly all the nations rich in it —rock salt,
spring salt, sea salt.
Christ, the Creator of the world, when
He uttered our text, knew it would become
more and more significant as the shafts
were sunk, and the springs were bored,
and the pumpe were worked, and the crys
tals were gathered. So the grace of God is
abundant. It is for all lands, for all ages,
for all conditions. It seems to undergirt
everything—pardon for the worst sin, com
fort for the sharpest suffering, brightest
light for the thickest darkness.
Around about the salt lakes of Saratov
there are 10,000 men toiling day and night,
and yet they never exhaust the saline treas
ures. And if the 1,600,000,000 of our race
should now cry out to God for His mercy
there would be enough for all—for those
furthest gone in sin, for the murderer
standing on the drop of the gallows. It is
an ocean of mercy, and if Europe and
Asia, Africa. North and South America,
and all the islands of the sea went down
in it to-day they would have room enough
to wash and come up clean.
Let no man think that his case is too
tough a one for God to act upon. Though
your sin may be deep and raging, let me
tell you that God's grace is a bridge not
built on earthly piers, but suspended and
spanning the awful chasm of your guilt,
one end resting upon the rock of eternal
promises and the other on the foundations
of heaven. Demetrius wore a robe so in
crusted with jewels that no one after him
ever dared to wear it. Hut our King, Jesus,
takes off the robe of His righteousness, a
robe blood dyed and heaven impearled,
and reaches it out to the worst wretch in
all the earth and says:"Put that on! Wear
it now! Wear it forever!"
Again, the grace of God is like salt in
the way we come at it. The salt on the
surface is almost always impure
which incrusts the Rocky Mountains and
the South American pampas and in India
—but the miners go down through the
shafts and through the dark labyrinths and
along by galleries of roclc, and with
torches and pickaxes, find their way under
the very foundations of the earth to where
the salt lies that makes up the nation's
wealth. To get to the best saline springs
of the earth huge machinery goes down,
boring depth below depth, depth below
depth, until from under the very roofs of
the mountains the saline water supplies
the aqueduct. This water is brought to
the surface and is exposed in tanks to the
sun for evaporation, or it is putin boilers
mightily heated and the water evaporates,
and the salt gathers at the bottom of the
tank. The work is completed, and the for
tune is made.
Have you not been in enough trouble to
have that work goon? I was reading of
Aristotle, who said there was a field of
flowers in Sicily so sweet that once a
hound, coming on the track of game, came
to that field and was bewildered by the
perfumes and so lost the track. Oh, that
our souls might become like "a field which
the Lord hath blessed" and exhale so much
of the sweetness of Christian character
that the hounds of temptation, coming on
our track, might lose it and go Howling
back with disappointment!
But I remark again that the grace of
God is like the salt in its preservative
quality. You know that) salt absorbs the
moisture of articles of food and infuses
them with brine, which preserves them for
a long while. Salt is the great antiputre
factor of the world. Experimenters, in
preserving wood, have tried sugar and
and air-tight jars and everything
else, but as long as the world stands
Christ's wohft will be suggestive, and men
will admit that 4s- a j*reat preservative
"salt is good."
But for the grace of God the earth would
have become a stale carcass long before
this. That grace is the only presA-vative
of laws and constitutions and literatures.
Just as soon as a government loses this
salt of divine grace it perishes. The philo
sophy of this day, so far as it is antagonis
tic to this religion, putrefies and stinks.
The great want of our schools of learning
and our institutions of science to-day is
not more Leyden jars and galvanic batter
ies and spectroscopes and philosophical ap
paratus, but more of that grace that will
teach our men of science that the God of
the universe is the God of the Bible.
How strange it is that in all their mag
nificent sweep of the telescope they have
not seen the morning star of Jesus, and
that in all their experiments with light and
heat they have not seen the light and felt
the warmth of the Sun of Righteousness!
We want more of the salt of God's grace
in our homes, in our schools, in our col
leges, in our social life, in our Christianity.
And that which has it will live; that which
has it not will die. I proclaim the tenden
cy of everything earthly to putrefaction
and death, the religion of Christ the only
preservative.
Mv subject is one of great congratulation
to those who have within their souls this
gospel antiseptic. This salt will preserve
them through the temptations and sor
rows of life and through the ages of eter
nity. I do not mean to say that you will
have a smooth time because you are a
Christian. On the contrary, if you do your
whole duty I will promise you a rough
time. You march through an enemy's
country, and they will try to double up
both flanks and to cut you oft from your
source of supplies. The war you wage will
riot be with toy arrows, but sword plunged
to the hilt, and spurring on your steed
over heaps of the slain. But I think that
God omnipotent will see you through. I
know He will. Hut why do I talk like an
atheist when I ought to say I know He
will? "Kept by the power of God through
faith unto complete salvation."
When Governor Geary, of Pennsylvania,
died years ago 1 lost a good friend. He
impressed me mightily with the horrors of
war. In the eight hours that we rode to
gether in the cars he recited to me the
scenes through which he had passed in the
civil war. He said that there came one
battle upon which everything seemed to
pivot. Telegrams from Washington said
that the life of the nation depended on
that struggle. He said to me: "I went' into
that battle, sir, with my son. His mother
and 1 thought everything of him. You
know how a father will feel toward his
son who is coming up manly and brave and
good. Well, the battle opened and con
centered, and it was awful. Horses and
riders bent and twisted and piled up to
gether. It was awful, sir. We quit firing
and took to the point of the bayonet.
Well, sir, I didn't feel like myself that day.
I had prayed to God for strength for that
particular battle, and I went into it feel
ing that I had in my right arm the
strength of ten giants," and as the Gov
ernor brought his arm down on the back
of the seat it fairlv made the car trcVnble.
"Well." he said, "the battle was desperate,
but wfter awhile we gained a little, and wo
marched on a little. I turned round to the
troops and shouted, 'Come on, boysl/ and
I stepped across a dead soldier, and 10, it
was my son! I saw at the first glance he
was dead, and yet I did not dare to stop a
minute, for the crisis had come in the bat
tle, so I just got down on my knees, and I
threw my arms around him. and I gave
him one good kiss and said, 'Goo<l-by,
dear,' and sprang up and shouted. 'Come
on, bovs!' " So it is in the Christian con
flict. It is a fierce fight. Heaven is wait
ing for the bulletins to announce the tre
mendous issue. Hail of shot, gash of sa
bre, fall of battleax, groaning on every side.
We cannot stop for loss or bereavement
or anything else. With one ardent em
brace "and loving kiss we utter our fare
wells and then cry: "Come on, boys!"
There are other heights to be captured,
there are other foes to be conquered, there
are other crowns to be won."
Yet as one of the Lord's surgeons I
must bind up two or three wounds. Just
lift them now. whatever they be. I have
been told there is nothing like salt to stop
the bleeding of a wound, and so I take this
salt of Christ's gospel and put it on the
lacerated soul. It smarts a little at first,
but see, the bleeding stops, and lo the flesh
comes again as the flesh of a little child!
"Salt i» good." "Comfort one another
with these words."
Great Britain imported 16.000,000 great
hundreds (1,820,000,000) of eggs last year.
THE GREAT DESTROYER.
SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.
Oar Coming Banner Poverty Can He
Traced to t>tquor In at Least Twenty,
five Per Ceut. of Case*—'Evil of Drunk
enness Decrenslnic In Tills Country.
0 Bay! do you see on our star-spangled
l%g
The red stains of a crime that dishonors,
the nation,
Which soon in its course would to infamy
drag •
And make of our land one vast desola
tion?
See the woe and despair! hark! what cries
lill the air
As the wide flood of ruin pours on every
where!—
'Tis the curse of the demon that fain
would enslave
All the free, and defile all the good and
the brave.
Long—long doth the tyrant his iron sway
wield
In paths drenched in blood, law and order
defying,
Till thousands of homes of the drunkards
are filled
With vain prayers for help or the groans
of the dying;
Yet the lava-tide flows, amid shrieks, wails
and throes
Of victims that know not relief nor repose.
And still the striped banner in mockery
waves
Over millions of souls rushing onto their
graves.
O! then, let us rise in our God-given
might
To drive out the foe and all his pollution
With prayers and with ballots, to urge on
the fight,
And courage that never will know dimi
nution.
So, with victory blest, in peace we shall
rest,
Assured of our birthright of Freedom pos
sessed,
While the Star-spangled Banner forever
shall wave
O'er the land of the free —the pure—and
the brave!
—National Advocate.
I.lqnnr-Drinkliig In America.
In a very interesting and Instructive
book written by a John Koren, some re
sults are given of the inquiry of the "Com
mittee of Fifty" into the liquor problem,
or drinking customs, of the United States.
Among those who come under the notice
of the charity organization societies pov
erty can be traced to liquor in at least 25
tier cent, of the cases. Of those in alms
houses 37 of every 100 would not be there
but for drink. The committee investigated
into the cases of no less than 13.400 con
victs, and found that in one-half of the
cases the crime was chiefly due to intem
perance; it was a leading cause in 31 per
cent., and a sole cause in 16 per cent, of
the cases.
Some, however, can only be made to
view intemperance through the pocket, and
even in this aspect it is something awful.
The value of the liquor produced annually
in this country is over $200,000,000. Not
less than $1,000,000,000 of capital is em
ployed in the business. A revenue of near
ly §200,000,000 is collected annually from
the business. To cap all, no less than
1.800.000 persons directly derive their sup
port from this neiarious business, which
is ruining the lives here of their lellow
beings and destroying their hopes of happi
ness hereafter. Most sincerely might all
wish that both persons and money might
far otherwise be employed.
Notwithstanding the undeniable statistics
adduced it is asserted by some that pov
erty is not so much an effect of intemper
ance as it is a cause of intemperance.
This is simply a baseless assertion scarcely
worthy of serious consideration. There
must in the first place be something radi
cally wrong with the man or woman who
"flics to drink" to drown sorrow or other
trouble. There must not only be a weak
ness. but an inherent desire in the indi
vidual for liquor, otherwise he would not
adopt that mode of dulling his memorv in
preference to another, or rather than fight
against it as becomes a man. In those
who thus "take to drink" we think there
can be traced not only n weakness, but a
decided tendency to insanity, which is sim
ply stimulated and hastened by liquor.
He has but the semblance of man who
would thus seek oblivion from trouble in
unconsciousness. He is worse than the
poor ostrich that seeks to evade its pur
suers by simply hiding its head in the sand
while all the rest of its bodv is exposed
to view. The man's troubles like the bird's
pursuers are still there, and his evil, of
whatever nature it may be. is simply ag
gravated and made worse by drink. By
drowning his consciousness and acquiring
a drinking habit a man is but removing
the brake which prevents his going rap
idlv down hill to destruction.
The committee say that in their opinion
the evil of drunkenness is decreasing in
this country, and there are few outside
the "trade who will not rejoice to hear
it. In some measure the decrease is doubt
less due to the fact that the complicated
nature of modern industries necessitates
perfect sobriety in the employes—numer
ous processes requiring to be performed
with the utmost exactness and precision.
It would seem likely that with the rush
and hurry of modern life the habit of
drinking to excess will be driven out by
sheer necessity.—Presbyterian Banner.
Total Abstinence anil Soldiers.
According to official reports nearly 4000
of the men who have gone to South Africa
on active sen-ice are members of the
Army Temperance Association. Lord
Koberts. in commenting on this report,
added that he had been struck by the re
turns from India, which showed a remark
able difference between the convictions re
corded in IS9B among abstainers and non
abstainers. Among the former only 4.12
in 1000 had been court-martialed, 'while
among the non-abstainers the figures were
30.8 in 1000. In 1897 the figures were much
the same. The admissions into hospitals
were also largely in excess in the case of
non-abstainer#. It appeared that <luring
the Tirah war 2000 men went through the
whole campaign without taking a drop o£
alcohol.
This new and significant tendency in the
army appears to be the result not so much
of any religious or moral enterprise as of
a growing conviction that a free use of
alcohol interferes with the efficiency of the
troops. General Kitchener prohibited all
drinks containing alcohol in the Sudan -
campaign, except the few that were pre
scribed by the medical officers, and after
a little preliminary grumbling the men dis
covered for themselves that the Comman
der-in-Chief was right when he emptied
out into the desert a cart of Scotch whisky
that had been smuggled into Berber for
sale to the troops. In the Ashanti war
and the Kaffir war the good health of the
troops was also ascribed to the suspension
of the rum ration.—lndependent.
The Crnsade In Brief.
Respect yourself, your parents, brother*
and sisters, shun the company of topers,
and never darken the door of a saloon.
One immutable truth is that, whether
alcohol be fuel food or not, it is BO dan
gerous that it would be better to live most
abstemiously than to depend on it for any
portion of sustenance where anything else
can be obtained.
An Ohio woman has just been given :
verdict for S6OOO against two saloon keep
ers who sold liquor to her husband, which
caused him to become helpless, and he lay ,
out«ide and was badly frozen. His hand
had to be amputated. The case was bit- j
terlr fought by the saloon men.