CAPTURING A BOOMSLANGE. S
A BY A. R. O'REILEY. 4
4/%
At Grahamstown, South Africa, In
1878, I had a large collection of living
Bnakes which I kept in glassfronted
cages for the purpose of studying their
habits, temperaments and intelligence.
They were all caught by my own
hands. Out in the country, on the veldt
and in the bush, I had watched them
as much as possible in their native
State, and now supplemented this study
by keeping them afterward under my
eyes at home. This work I had car
ried on Bince September, 1875, so that
I had acquired a pretty extensive
knowledge of the snakes of southern
Africa.
All the venomous kinds were already
In my collection, and of the harmless
snakes I had over 30 different species.
There was, however, a much desired
Dne still wanting to me, one of the larg
est, most interesting, most graceful and
beautifully colored of all the snakes of
the African woodland —the famous
tree-snake, Bucephalus capensis, the
"boomslange" or tree-snake of the
Dutch settlers. Miles of bush I hunted
through, but could never find a boom
slange.
One day I had strained my foot, and
It pained me so much that I declared
at the breakfast table that until it was
better I did not propose to do any
walking, but would give my foot a rest.
Before we rose from the table, a
Kaffir boy came to the door with a
letter from Tidmarsh, the director of
the Grahamstown Botanical gardens,
which said: "Come down here as
quickly as you can. I have a large
boomslange In the oak trees over the
avenue."
Up I jumped from the table, seized
my hat and stick, and away Iran on
the strained foot. Now it didn't pain
me. How could I think oi pain, while
the much-desired boomslange was
waiting for me?
At the other side of the town lay the
Botanical gardens, but the distance
didn't matter; in a few minutes I was
there. Panting, I rushed in at the
gate; voices rang out; a dozen men
called me. They were gazing upwards
Into the trees, evidently watching the
snake. Tliey stood in the middle of
the avenue, each side of w.Hich was
bordered by a line of leafy oaks so
branching as almost to meet over the
roadway.
When I got to where the Kaffirs
Were gazing upward, they pointed out
to me the snake aloft in the tree-tops.
1 looked sharply, but no snake could I
see. "He's a big one." said they. "He's
six feet long." But size didn't ma\ce
him easy to discern among the leaves.
Strain my eyes as I might, I couldn't
get a glimpse of him.
One of the men threw up a stone and
then he moved, and as he moved I saw |
him. And as I saw him. 1 ran eagerly
to a tree and began to climb. "Keep
your eyes on him now, every man of
you!" I shouted. "I can't watch him
and climb at the same time."
To take one's eyes from him for a
moment would be to »ose him, so
closely did his colors harmonize with
the greenish leaves and purplish gray
branches and twigs among which he
lay.
Shinning up the tree, I was soon
among the limbs, and began to make
my way toward where the boomslang
was watching the group of upturned
Kaffir faces beneath. As I was now
among the foliage, I could not see
him, and had to let the Kaffirs from
below direct my progress through the
leaf-clad branches. It was difficult
work, for the long snake-stick which I
took with me hampered me by running
foul of the branches!"
"I/pward—now over your left
Bhoulder!" shouted the Kaffirs; and
accordingly upward over the left
shoulder I climbed.| Soon I was near
the snuke. I could see him coiled part
ly, and partly stretched out, at the tip
of a branch. HU tail was well lashed
around it, his body half hidden by the
ledves. while his long slender neck
ami bulldog head were thrust out a
foot and a half in uiy direction.
Evidently 1 was not taking him at
all unawares, for ills eyes, exceedingly
large and bright, ware Intently watch
ing my efforts to reach hlin, and his
Inquiring tongue every moment shot
firth its trembling, double-pointed
tips, menacing me, as I thought, for
Intruding in his leafy dominions.
Otherwii-e he was as motionless as the
branch on which he lay.
I clral'i'd toward hiui until my face
came within six feet of him, but still
lie never stirred. fXcept for that quiv
ering. double pointed tongue, which
now almost continually vibrated Its
line thread like extremities in th<' air.
The warm sun was shilling full upon
hi in and his great brght ey«s seeim d
tn glitter with malice, but still he re
mained motionless; and yet. I believe,
he was fully as animus aud as nervous
as I was.
Here I was face to face with him 111
the tree top What til do, I ktteW Hot
Was he venomous* Were they true- •
thowe tales I had heard of tils virulent
poison, those stories of lingering
tliroiilc «,r s caused by his bites,
where the bitten part scaled off year
after year ami sloughed away* I
thought of these things uo* and wa»
frightened
I kit - * that he had Hot the elal»orete
puisou appai atus of the deadly put
adder and vubra; but still. I had s>« u
In the d«ad ones whi«b I bad 4t*eecled
awd «*amlit"«4 that the ISSWIIISIII Was
a '<toubif .il snake that Is, that he
had iarg" > !>«.ut»eii»d <M 4«uu»«d letlfc
at the posterior end of each outer dental
row, and that outside each upper jaw
there was a small gland beneath the
skin. What was this gland for, if not
to secrete venom? And why was the
tooth channelled, if not to convey ven
om into the wound made by it. These
thoughts troubled me, and made my
heart beat fast with apprehension.
How was I to catch him with safety?
Seize him with my naked hands, as I
was in the habit of seizing the sankes
that were decidedly harmless. Hardly
this. At any rate, I could not dare to
grab him while he faced me, as he now
did, ready to spring and grab at me.
No; I would try to make him move, to
follow him, and then suddenly snatch
him by the neck, as he glided along
some branch.
Accordingly I climbed nearer to him.
I got within four feet of him. I could
seize him now, but it would never do
to risk those channelled teeth. There
fore I got myself in position to poke
him with my stick, so as to make him
move. I meant to try to grab him as
he started off. Little did I dream how
he would surprise me.
I poked him with the stick, but he
did not glide away—not he! He got
ready to fight me. His anger, or fear,
or whatever feeling possessed him,
transformed him in an instant. Ho
became terrible to look at I drew back
three or four feet from him. I feared
him.
He was now *io longer the graceful
thin-necked tree snake of speckled
green and greenish yellow. His head
was flattened out, and his neck had
swelled to an enormous size in com
parison with the thickness of his body.
It was bloated up with the air with
which he had inflated himself. The
color of the bloated part was entirely
changed. It was now a purple, the
skin being stretched so that the scales
were far separated and appeared like
little green spots scattered over its
surface.
Very clearly, he was ready to bite
me. But as I knew that snakes, when
disturbed with a stick, will bite rather
at the stick which touches them than
at the hand that holds it, I did not
hesitate a moment, but poked him
again.
As I did so, he made a dash at the
stick, and then darted away through
the leaves, so suddenly that I could
not tell whither he had gone. The
rapidity with which he disappeared
startled me. If he should always move
as quickly as that, I could have no
chance to catch him in the trees.
Nevertheless, 1 determined to follow
him. The men running along on the
ground below and holding him in
view directed me.
He was now farther up the avenue,
lodged in the second tree from that
which he had left. The oaks grew
l-tetty close together, so that their
b-anches more or less interfaced.
Tl-.us he glided from one to the other,
anrt I, without descending would fol
low him in a persistent chase, hop
ing, sooner or later, to catch him. It
was no easy work—this rapid, mon
key-li'te progress from tree to tree,
swinging and springing from branch
to bra.tch; and still it was not alto
gether new to me, for I and my broth
ers had often gone thus quickly, pur
suing each other for great distances
to and fro through the trees around
our boyh'xid home. The worst of it
was that I could not see the snake.
I had to to entirely by the direction
of those upon the ground beneath.
By and by I came in sight of him
again. He was lashed in one of the
topmost branches. When I approach
ed close to him he swelled out his
neck und faced me, as if to spring at
me. But I did not get so near to him
on this occasion, for I was still eight
feet away, and was just getting ready
to poke him with the stick, when he
darted off afresh in the same direc
tum.
Over and over again he repeated
this running and halting. Perhaps he
thought he could tire tne out. If so,
he was mistaken. I was too deter
mined to gut him. I dropped the
stick, so that I could go faster. On I
went after him in a mad rush, crash
ing through the branches. When he
would hult, 1 would sneak gently
through the leaves, so as to get close
to him.
At last he reached the upper en I
of the avenue, and so, panting and
breathless, did I. Ha crossed to the
trees oil the Western side of the road
way, and 1 did the same, Down the
western side he now came, but he
made far fewer and shorter halts than
before. I was coming on fast behind
him. Frotu ou> bram h to auother I
ofte|| had to jump. Hometlliles, Where
the IIinb?» were far apart, a springing
(tough beneath uie would serve to u»
sist the leap by throwing me forward,
till I would alight with cnnging hands
on auother farther on. Ome I swung
uiyself on a yielding bram h over a
wide vacant spate, where the break
IIIM of the bough would have prev imi
tated Uie to death Hull this clase
through the biamhes was perhaps
easier, than a continual ascending
and descending of the trees.
When the hunted boouialange had
got three fourths of the way down tin
w ostein side of the avenue, he stopped
once moie and showed light, but after
a vigorous shaking of the bram lies
he datUd away, eud croselug the
avenue upon the overlapping bram h
mi made another bail on the eastern
| »lde, In the Very tree liuHl which the
• base had sunUd uteri? half an hour
I befuf*
Lflte him I tried to cross the avenui
upon the interlacing branches, but
their twig-like ends, although stout
enough to bear him, were not suffi
cient to support me. So I descended
from the trees, crossed the roadway,
and climbed again on the side where
he was. Here I found him at bay,
lashed in the very tip of a branch.
I had failed so often in trying to
grrJ) him as he glided along the
branches, that I now resolved to try
another plan, namely: to snare him
by passing a running noose over his
head. Consequently I called for my
long stick, which was passed up to me
with the noose fastened to the end of
it. Then I slowly climbed toward
him.
As usual, he faced me. By moving
very cautiously I succeeded in get
ting within six feet of him; but when
I pushed out the stick, with the noose
dangling from the end of it within a
foot of his nose, off he darted. I
dashed the stick among the leaves in
front of him, and back he turned.
I was desperate. I could not grab
him, for he was on the very outer
ends of the branches.
Two were so far apart that there
was an open space of perhaps four
feet or i»ore between them. Across
this open space he darted, and wTiile
he was passing, down came my stick
on his back, not striking, but pushing
him downward. Just what I intended
happened. He lost his hold and down
to the ground he tumbled; for not a
branch was beneath for him to catch
upon.
I could see him as he alighted oa
the grass, and down I dropped after
him. As I touched the earth 1 rolled
over, for the height was probably
20 feet. I saw the snake. He was
only a few yards from me, but he
was gliding away at a great rate over
the short lawn grass. The shouting
Kaffirs were pointing him out to me.
Picking up my stick, 1 rushed after
him as fast as my legs could carry
me. Forty or 50 yards, perhaps, he
ran. Then I overtook hint. Suddenly
he turned and faced me. The excited
Kaffirs, well in the rear, yelled out
directions, praises and warnings, but
I heeded them not.
There before me was the long-de
sired boomslange, a picture of beauty,
coiled to strike, with the fore part of
his body raised after the manner of
a cobra. His head was flattened out,
his inflated neck purple, the bifid
point of his tongue quivering in the
brilliant sunlight. Now I was his mas
ter, for I was swifter than he was
upon the ground. But I lost no time
admiring him, for I was ready to sink
from exhaustion.
I got my stick across the middle of
his back to keep him from getting
away again. As it touched him he
turned and bit it savagely. By a
quick movement I shifted the stick,
and got it close to his head. Then I
grabbed him with my fingers round
the throat.
He was a furious captive. To and
fro he lashed himself, his long body
and whip-like tail striking me all over
my body, legs and face, so that 1 had
to drop the stick and hold him with
the right hand at the middle, to keep
him from breaking his own neck by
his struggles.
Within half an hour I had him in a
cage in my room; and within an hour
after that he had lost his fear of me,
and I had lost my fear of him to such
an extent that I allowed him to glide
along my shoulders and around my
neck.
Beautiful, gentle and harmless, he
was now the gem of my collection,
and I treated him as one entitled to
unusual privileges; for while the
other snakes were confined to their
cages, the boomslange was a prisoner
at large. He lived on some branches
suspended from a wire half-way be
tween the ceiling and the floor. On
these branches I would put chamelons,
and the boomslange would catch and
swallow them as contentedly as if he
were still free in the wild bush. —
Youth's Companion.
Removing a Mountain M lift Water.
The principal railroad of Costa Rica,
now about 117 miles long, is being ex
tended to reach from San Jose to the
Pacific coast. The general manager of
the road, iu speaking of the enterprise
recently, said;
"There is one place or. the road
which has given the engineers a great
deal of trouble, and which has cost
many thousands of dollars every year
since the road wus built. Thisjdaee is
about 4Ti miles from Port Linton, and
Is called Hluemud.
"For about f«oo feet the track runs
along a ledge on the side of a moun
tain with the river Iteventa /oil below.
The mountain Is composed of a bluish
clay, which turus Into mud during the
rainy tseusoh and keeps constantly slid
ing down on the tracks. We havo to
keep a tdg gang of men at work day
and night cleaning the road of this
blue mud, and when the rains are
very heavy traffic has to lie suspended
In July so much of the mud slid down
over the roadbed that we could UOl
run train* there for three weeks.
"To add to the difficulty there l.i a
lake buck of the mountain and (he
water from this lake percolate*
through the mountain and keeps it
c iunliiiilly v.et. The lake was drained
by the engineers, but they discovered
that It wa* fed by spring* aud still tlu
mountain was kepi tu a wet statu aud
tn» mud kept sliding dowu over th*
track*.
"At last they ohtnined what it
kiiowfu lu California as a liviraulii
giaut. and which throw* a very power
ful stream of water with great fine*
They rigged up (hi* hydraulic giant
aud w ben I I-it Cue!a idea they wert
wash lug the mountain away With l»
miu the rh<,r." t'Melsud Plait
I Oe.lfcJ
08. TALM AGE'S SERMON
tUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
Subject: Oaten Are Wide Open No Man
Is Barred From Receiving God's
Grace Christ's Sheepfold Contal'*«
Flocks of All Denominations.
[ Copyright 1901.]
NEW YOKK CITY.—On the occasion of
the twentieth anniversary of the Bowery
mission, Dr. Talmage preached to a vast
tudience nt the New York Academy of
Music. Ministers of nil denominations
were present. The text was, John x, 10,
"Other sheep I have which are not of this
lold."
There is no monopoly in religion. The
jrace of God is not a little property that
we may fence off and have all to our
lelves. It is not a king's park, at which
tve look through a barred gateway, wish
ing that we might go in and see the statu
>ry and the deer and the royal coiu-erva
tor.v. No; it is a Father's orchard, and
everywhere there are bars that we may
let down and gates that we may swing
open.
In my boyhood next to the country
irhoolhouse there was an orchard of ap
ples owned by a very lame man who, al
though there were apples in the place per
petually decaying and by scores and scores
of bushels, never would allow my of us to
.'ouch the fruit. Sometimes the lads of the
school, in the sinfulness of a nature in
herited from our first parents, who were
mined by the same temptation, invaded
that orchard, but thev soon retreated, tor
the man came after them at i speed reck
less of making his lamenjss worse and
?ried out, "Boys, drop those apples or I
will set the dog on you."
Well, my friends, ther» are Christian
men who have the church under sever?
iruard. There is fruit in this orchard for
the whole world, but they have a rough
and unsympathetic way of accosting out
siders, as though they had no business
there, though the Lord wants all to
come and take tho choices; and the ripest
fruit on the premises. Have you an idea
that because you were baptized at eight,
months of age and because you have all
your life been under hallowed influences
you therefore have a right to one whole
side of the Lord's table, spreading your
self out and taking up the entire room? I
tell you no. You will have to haul in
your elbows, for we will place on either
side of you those whom you never ex
pected would sit there; for, as Christ said
to His people long ago, so He says to you
and to me. "Other sheep I have which are
not of this fold."
Mcponald. the Scotchman, h,i« thou
sands of head of sheep. Some of them are
browsing on the heather, some of them
are lying down under the trees, some are
strolling over the mountains, some of
them are in his yard. They are scattered
all around in many places. Cameron, his
neighbor, comes over and says: "l see you
have thirty-six sheep. I have just counted
them." "No," says McDonald, "I have a
great many more sheep than you found in
this yard. Some are here, and some arc
elsewhere. I have 4000 or .WOO in my
flocks. 'Other sheep I have which are not
of this fold.' " So ( hrist says to us. Here
is a knot of Christians, but they make up
a small part of the flock. Here is the Epis
copal fold, the Methodist fold, the Luth
eran fold, the Congregational fold, the
Presbvterian fold, the Baptist and the
Pedo-Baptist fold, the only difference be
tween these last two being the way in
which they wash the sheep, and so thev
are scattered all over. And we come with
our statistics and say there are so many
thousand of the Lord's sheep, but Christ
responds: "No, no; you have not seen
more than one out of a thousand of My
flock. They are scattered all over the
earth. 'Other sheep 1 have which are not
of this fold.' "
Of all the merciful institutions which
bless this city not one more thoroughly
enters into the spirit of the text than does
the Bowery mission, whose twentieth anni
versary we to-day celebrate. During the
past year 3000 souls have been saved
through its instrumentality, and during its
existence it has put its temporal and spir
itual benediction upon hundreds of thou
sands of the poor and suffering and lost.
W ith the bread of this life in one hand
and the bread of eternal life in the other,
it is doing a stupendous work, and to all
its patrons Christ is saying: "I was hun
gry, and ye fed Me; naked, and ye clothed
Me; sick and in prison, and ye visited Me.
Inasmuch as ye did it unto Me, one of the
least of these, ye did it to Me."
We need, :w churches, togo into sym
pathy with the great outi ide world and let
them kaow that none are so broken heart
ed or hard beset that they will not be wel
comed. "No," says some fastidious Chris
tian, "I do not like to je crowded in
church. Do not put any one in my pew."
Mv brother, what will you do in heaven,
when a great multitude that no man can
number assembles? They will put tiftv in
your pew. What are the peopl • assembled
in Christian churches comparer with the
mightier millions outside? Sor.ie churches
are like a hospital, that should advertise
that its patients must have nothing worse
than toothache or runrounds, but no bro
ken heads, no crushed ankles or fractured
limbs. Bring there for treatment moder
ate sinners, velvet coated sinners and sin
tiers with a gloss on.
It was us though at a great battle there
were left 10,000 wounded and dying on the
field, and three surgeons gavo all their
time to a half dozen patients in II barn hos
pital. The Major Genc'rul comes in and
say* to the doctors: "Com* out here and
look at the 10,000 dvug for lack of surgical
attendance." "No," say th* three doctors
standing there tanning their patients, "we
have a half dozen important cases here,
and we art attending to them, and when
we are not positively busy with their
wounds it takes all our time to keep the
(lies oft."
In this awful battle of sin and sorrow,
where millions have fallen on millions, do
not let us spend all our time in taking rare
of a few people, and when the command
comes, "(io into the world," say practi
cally, "No, I cannot go; I have u few
choice cases, uud 1 am busy keeping off the
files."
We need, as churches, to stop bombard
ing the old ironclad sinners that have
been proof against thirty years of Chris
tian assault and take aim in other direc
tions.
Years ago I visited a New England fac
tory village I went up to the door of »
factory, and I saw on the outside the
wold*, "No admittance" Of course 1
went in. mid coming to the second door I
law the wonW. "Na admittance " (Jetting
eli u on Into the factory t saw they wer*
making pins, useful PUIS, and nothing but
puis So I think there is sometime* an
collusiveness uiuoug some of th* churches
The outside world conies up ami look*
at the door aud there is something which
seeuis to »*y, "No admittance," and the
world comes up to the pew duor and sees
written over it. "V> admittance," ami
look* at the pulpit aud there is something
there which srelus to say "No adluit
tame," while we >taud inside of the same
churches hammering out out little niceties
of religious lieliel making plat
Oh. lor dee|ier appreciation d tiu wuti
no ut of my lest, "Other *heep I have
which are Mot ut this fold "
I have to remark that the heavenly
Hiephvtd will lilld many cheep amid t ie
uou chuichgovr* I here at* • ougregitioit*
where iheiesi e all Chi tslialts, aud they see u
to lie completely ttuialied aud thev remind
one id the skeleton leaves which by cheui
ICS I plel .nil Ii haw I. . I ill (lie gltel.
B> •11 1 vi i lull taken <rt them aud ale
kit to-4 an 4 white aud deb ate, nothing
wanting but a plan* ease to put over them.
The minister of Christ has nothing to do
with such Christians but to come once a
week and with ostrich feather dust off the
accumulation of the last six days, leaving
them bright and crystalline as before. But
the other kind of church is an armory,
with perpetual sound of drum and fife,
gathering recruits for the Lord of Hosts
and saying to every applicant: "Do you
want to be on Ond'B side, the safe side
and the happy side? If so. come in the
armory and get equipped. Here is a bath
in which to be cleansed. Here are sandals
to put on your feet. Here is a helmet for
vour brow. Here is a breastplate for your
heart. Here is a sword for vour right
arm. and yonder is the battlefield. Quit
yourselves like men."
I remark a«ain the heavenly Shepherd
is going to find a great many of His sheep
among those who are .now rejecters of
Christianity. Some of the mightiest advo
cates of the gospel were once skeptic*.
Thomas Chalmers once a skeptic, Robert
Hall a skeptic. Christmas Evans a skeptic,
Charles G. Finney a skeptic, J'atil, the
apostle, once a skeptic. But when once
with strong hand they laid hold of the
gospel chariot thev rolled it on with what
momentum! I do not know how you
came to reject Christianity. It may have
been through the infidel talk of some
young man in the store or shop or factory.
It may have been through the trickery of
some professed Christian man, who dis
gusted you with religion. It may be that
thirty years ago you lost all faith by what
happened in an oil company which was
formed amid the petroleum excitement.
The company owned no land. or. if they
did, there was no sign of oil produced.
But the president of the company was a
Presbyterian elder and the treasurer an
Episcopal -estrvman and one director was
a Methodist class leader and the other
officers prominent m»~>hers of Baptist and
Congregational churches. Circulars were
got out telling what fabulous prospects
opened before this company. The circu
lar had all the hues of earth and sea and
sky. The letters flamed with all the beauty
of gold and jasper and amethyst. Inno
cent men and women who had a little
money to invest and that little their all
said, "I do not know anything about this
company, but so many good men are at
the head of it that it must be excellent,
and taking stock in it must be almost as
trood as joining the church." So they
bought their stock, and perhaps received
one dividend to keep them still. But after
awhile they found that the company had
reorganised and had a different president,
a different treasurer and different direc
tors. Other engagements or an overcoming
modesty had caused the former officers of
the company, with many regrets, to resign,
and all the subscribers of that stock had
to show for their investment was a beauti
fully ornamented certificate. Sometimes
that mnn, looking over his old papers,
comes across that certificate, and it is so
suggestive that lie vows he wants none of
the religion that the president and direc
tors of that oil company professed.
Rut 1 do not stop now to know how you
came into rejection of Christianity. You
frankly tell me that you do reject it.
You do not believe that Christ is a divine
being, although you admit that He was a
very Brood man. You do not believe that
the Bible was inspired of Ood. although
you think tuere are some very fine things
in it. You believe that the Scriptural de
scription of Eden was only an allegory.
There are fifty things that I believe that
you do not believe, and yet you are an
accommodating man. Everybody that
knows you says that of you.
If I should ask you to do a kindness for
me. or if any one else should ask of you a
kindness, • u would do it. If when you
are ill I should come to you with a phial
of medicine and say, "This kind of medi
cine has cured fifty people who were just
as badly off a- you are. Take it,"and you
replied. "I do not want to take it. I have
no confidence in it." I would say, "Take it
to oblige me," and you would say, "Well,
if it will accommodate you I will take it."
Now, you have fount! that this world is
insufficient, and you are sick of sin. I
come to you with a gospel medicine. It
lias cured hundreds and thousands and
millions. Will you take it? "So," you
say. "1 have no confidence in it." Take
it, then, to oblige me. I tell you of a phy
sician who has cured more blind eyes and
bound up more broken hearts and healed
more ghastly wounds than all the doctors
since the time of Aesculapius. Be obligmg,
and just make the experiment.
If you are not acquainted with the ordi
nary modes of prayer, say in substance:
"Oh, Lord Jesus, this is a strange thing
for me to do. I know nothing about the
formulas of religion. These Christian peo
ple have been talking so long about what
l'hou canst do for me. I am ready to do
whatever Thou commandest me. If there
be any power in religion, as these people
sav, let me have the advantage of it."
Will you not try that experiment?
I do not now say there is unything in re
ligion. Do not take my counsel or the
counsel of any clergyman, for you may dis
like clergymen. Perhaps we may talk pro
fessionally. Perhaps we may be prejudiced
in the matter. Perhaps our advice is not
worth taking. Then take the counsel of
some very respectable layman, us John
Milton, the poet; as William Wilberforce,
the emancipator; as Isaac Newton, the as
tronomer; us Robert Boyle, the philoso
pher; as Locke, the metaphysician; as
Morse, the telegrapher; as Washington,
the statesman.
They never pnmched, or pretended to
preach, yet, putting down one his telescope
and another his parlimentarian's scroll and
another his electrician's wire, came forth
anil commended the religion of Christ an
the best thing for the cure of the world's
woes. If you will not take the recommen
dation of ministers of the go-ipel, take the
recommendation of highly respectable lay
men.
<>h, men, skeptical and struck through
with unrest, I peg you to come off that
great Sahara desert of doubt into the
bright ami luxuriant land of gospel hope
and peace. Yoi do not want your children
to come up in that skepticism. If you do
not believe in anything else, you believe in
love a father's love, a mother's love, a
wife's love, a child's love.
Then let me t«-11 you that God loves you
more than all these together. The great
heart of Christ actus to have vou come in,
and He looks into your eyes this moment,
saying. "Other sheep I tune which are not
of tin. fold "
Again, I remark that the heavenly Shep
herd IS going to tiixl a great many of the
sheen among tin we who have been full of
evil nahit. They were all cheated into sin.
The sintler does not i..iv to the tlv, "Come
into the wfli where I kill insects.' Oh. no
The Spider savs, " I Vareft tly, come and
take a morning walk with me on this sus
pension bridge of g>>»famer, glittering with
diamond* of dew." I*' not be hard on
thane gone a«tray It makes me sad to see
Christian people give up a prod gal aa lost.
People tell us th tt if a man has deli
rium tremens twice tie cannot IK- re
claimed; that if a woman has sacrificed
her integrity she c.inn. t Iw restored The
lliiile has distinctly intimated that the
l-ord Almighty is ready to pardon tUU
tunes Why do I »av 41" times* lleeau»e
the Hible says "Seventy tunes seven."
Vow figure that out V"U d • not think s
man can fall four times, eight time*, ten
times, twenty time*. I" 1 times. times
and yet he saved. Kour hundred ami nine
ty tunes' There are men left.re the throne
of IJod aho hate wallowed ISI everv kind
of ain, but. saved Iv th- grace of Christ
slid washed in His b|o-> I they stand there
reliant now There ate th.iee who plungt I
into the very lowe»l depth* of the shims
.11. 1 wiiii have fut hundreds of tine * * ■ i*
lifted up, and ftnail). by th« grace «•! I 'd,
they stand in heaven glornmsi* re« u d
by the giu.e (ifuliosed to the thie! ui « l*
Iter*.
THE GREAT DESTROYER
SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.
Voices of the New Year—A Noted Physi
cian Pulls Hack the Curtain of Se
crecy and lteveals the Awful Work of
Hum In a Ilepectable Home.
I am but young, yet I am heir /'
To all the thought, as well as carc #
Of all the ages past;
So listen to my words, and they
More than fine gold will you repay, I
If you will hold them iu3t.
To those who feed the appetite for
drink,
I cry aloud —you stand on ruin's brink!
They who would pleasure have, must
pleasure give;
Who do most good, know best what 'tis
to live.
"Bright is the wine cup," poets sing,
But every cup conceals a sting.
"We can control ourselves; let those who
can't abstain,"
Abstain ere you have lost control, else all
is vain!
If Temperance is not everything, it tends
To guide all good things to their noblest
ends.
Report exc'.aims "Life in the bottle lies,"
Echo more wisely gives the answer—
Lies!
" 'Tis little" is the drinker's boast,
But little leads to more and most,
If you should plead your influence is
small;
Tor Temperance, then, make sure to use
it all.
There is no time for evil deeds.
All time is fit for killing weeds.
"'lie quickest wav to get a sober nation
is to promote the Temperance Reforma
tion.
Hefore you take another drop of drink,
Draw back your hund and set your mina
to think.
Give not your votes to the great idol
Beer,
For votes above the bar of God appear:
—Temperance Advocate.
A Hoctor's Story.
"You TTiiow nothing about intemper
ance," said a noted physician. "I could
write volumes that would amaze you."
"Write one," I said.
"It would be a breach of honor. A phy
sician. like.a Romish priest, may not be
tray the confessional.' After a moment
he added: "Our profession takes us into
homes. And lives and hearts that seem
ail brireht and happy ;v e often dark an I
miserable from sickness of the soul.''
"There must be some scenes that it
would be proper for you to tell me," I
urged; "please think of some."
"] was called to the wife of a distin
guished gentleman. Her husband sat by
her bed fanning her, and a lovely bou
quet of flowers was on the stand by her
side. Two little girls were playing quietly
in the room. It was a charming picture
of love and devotion.
" 'My wife fell down stairs,' said her
husband, 'and I fear has hurt herself se
riously.'
"I examined her shoulder. It was swol
len and black, and one rib was broken.
" 'How do you find her?' asked her hus
band. anxiously.
" 'I will ask the questions, if you pleas>e.
How did you so injure yourself? •
" 'I fell on the stairway.'
"I hesitated. I was not in a paddy
shanty, but in the houie of a well-known
and unstained man. I re-examined her
side.
" 'When did she fall?' I asked.
" 'Last night,' he said, after a second's
pause and a glance at her.
"Mv resolve was taken.
" 'Please show me the place on the
stairs where she struck,' I said to the hus
band, rising and going out. He followed
Die.
" 'I was not with her when she fell,' ho
said.
" 'The injury was not from a fall, and it
was not done last night. Never try to de
ceive a doctor.'
" 'She begged me not to tell you the
truth.'
" 'Then get another physician,' I said.
" '1 will tell you the whole truth. Night
before last I had been out to dinner.'
"'I saw your brilliant speech in the
paper. Was it wine-inspired?'
" 'Partly. Most of the after-dinner
speeches are to a degree. I came home
excited by the fine dinner, wit, wisdom
and wine of the evening, and went, not to
bed, but to the closet and drank heavily.
My wife heard me and came down, hoping
to coax me up stairs, as she had uono
many times. But she was too late. My
reason uid manhood were gone and I
pounded her and left her. She tried to fol
low me, but fell 011 the stairs. After *
time she crawled, she says, up stairs, and
went into the nursery and slept with the
little girls. I slept, and woke with a fierce
headache, and went out at one*, thinking
no breakfast and the out-door air would
clear my head for my morning engage
ments. I pledge you my honor t had for
gotten [ struck mv wife. When I came
back last night I found her suffering, but
she would not permit a physician should
be sent for lest it should disgrace me. I
think she really tries to believe that sho
hurt herself, more or less, when she tell.'
And with an honest quiver of the chili he
added: 'She is an angel and wine is a
devil.'
" 'What are winebibbers?'
"'Own children of their father. Is my
wife seriously hurt"
" I cannot tell yet. I fear she is.'
"More absolute, untiring devotion no
man ever gave a wife than he gave her
while she lived and suffered When her
noble, true, loving heart ceased to throb
he was inconsolable. His lovi' and devo
tion were the theme of every lip, and the
Providence that so :tfllioted him was called
'strange' in a tone of semi-censure! On
her tomb is cut. 'lleloved wife" He ha*
gone to her now, 111 that lund of no li
cense.
"No one but myself ever knew the
truth " Sch . ted In New York WitncM.
I.atior and Temperam*.
Work 111 men, bv agreement, are doing
a gr« «t dial of good practical twnperatu*
work. At Toledo the or* handler* and
'longshoremen entered into an agii-t-ni-*nf
with the dock operators along Like Kiin
port* that no intoxirant* •■hall be used by
the men during working hour*. It iiivaita
the saving of htiudruds of thousand* of
Hollars lo the men.
Th» I'rusad* lu Itrtrf.
The key to sobriet) Sign the pledge,
lb alio drinks t.. drown hi* de»|utir i»
trvmg to extinguish hell with fuel
Cheerfulness 1* the bright weatlnr of
tin heart; "strong drink" wither* it.
'I lie only trade that •lol'iinut, degia.h*
mid unmake* a man 1* the "ktronn drink"
trade
Never withhold jour livid from any
I' I work, uor let it t.aieh the mi.moat
ing nip
>r« distilled Spirit* *re «Sported trom
11. 1 .unit Jto to. matt) than U> «U) oliw r
luftitfit tvufetr)-