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The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, April 23, 1897, Image 7

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CHAPTER XXIV. (Costisued.)
"Oh, yes, my young lady. I'll tell
Kou all about It; and Indeed, It warms
up the old man's heart to see that
pleasant smile of yours again so much
that I can tell It briskly. You remem
ber the terrible night there, there, I
won't talk oL it! I won't say a word
more than I can help, it makes me
shiver myself. We servants were half
frightened to death, such of us as were
not in that wretch of an M. Pierre a
plot, and we huddled together, not
knowing what to do. for they wouldn t
let us fly away from the chateau. We
guessed what terrible thing was hap
pening, but couldn't get near you to
see, until the new band came, the
masked men, which drove M. Pierre s
folks away. Then, while they were
fighting outside, I crept into the chapel.
My old blood quite froze in my veins
at the sight I saw, I thought you were
an vniPfi t wns Mine to try to bring
a little life to those who showed no
a mue me 10 muau
wounds; but I heard some one coming
through the broken window, and I ran
away as fast as I could; 1 tnousm
should be killed for being there, so
ran and hid away till everything was g0 away and that I was going to Jour
quiet. When I came out I found most ney wtn ner to Calais. I dressed her
,.t , onrvantu trnne! OUt lucie la)
poor Victoria's body right in the cor
rifl'rtr
"The masked men were most of them
outside, keeping guard, I thoug u, an
outside, Keeping guaru, i i.iwo---
some were getting together blankets
. l Inin VlQ Q I
trun onrl nillnET them IntO baS
OUU 1WU, MUM '
hnpv noftlv and looked in
tho "hnnpi A tall man in a mask
was mere giving u"- - , ,
burying the bodies. He seemed to feel
was there e ving airecuuu-
rfvonfifiiliv About: tne muruci,
ui cauiuu; till
curse he uttered against that villain
- - .,mni
curse ue uuereu usiwn. "
ous Pierre made me feel sure he was
... i onnidn't see
rrinrtiv to vnnr family. I couldn t see
anything of my young mistress, and
this man kept asking wnere sue
One of his men said that they must
,., hoi- nfr and then he start
H4f u vainvu v t it
fast as he could go
The men followed him. and so I hurried
in and took my last look, as i expen
r rioor miKtress. While I was
hendine over her. I saw a little flutter
kAAilnff at nor throat. I put my
III UCUltUg M V
whiv tn her heart: it was a min
i.tA Mm i rmild make sure, then I
knew she was not dead. I stood a mo
ment wringing my hands, not knowing
An- then some itood saint put
it into my head to think of Victorie
u-in. fw.,.A hphii i tore out imo iuc
iiini.' nnn liroueht the body in
changed the ornaments and mantles,
and put the long training silk skirt
of the countess on the dead girl, and
the peasant cloak I wrapped around
my mistress.
"The masked people came and car
ried the poor Victcrle to the grave in
stead of her mistress. They seemed
expecting M. Pierre every moment, and
paid no attention to the rear door.
Taking my mistress in my arms, I ran
off through the darkness, on that side,
and got safely to my cottage. I could
not trust a soul, but telling my daugh
ter it was Victorie, I laid her on a bed,
and irnvp her the best cordial I could
find. She laid so all the next day, Just
breathing a little, enough to show she
was not dead, but never opening her
eyes.
"I went over the spot where the
chateau had stood the next day. It
was a terrible sight, that smoking ring
of charred ground; but my heart was
too full of the fear of the knowledge
of what I had done getting to M. Pierre,
to feel so badly as 1 ahould have done
any other time.
"I found out from the other servants
that it was M. Pierre who struck Vic
torie, because she begged the mistress'
life, but none of "cm seemed to know
she' was dead. Perhaps some of his
men gave the last blows which made
the face so none could have told who
il was.
"He came up to me, and asked me
it I knew what had become of the
vnnmr mistress. I could answer inno-
cent enough there, and I pointed to
Uie grave.
"Nn nn' said he: 'there are two
bodies missing. The old woman is
dead fast enough, but the other has
escaped,' and with a terrible oath he
warned me not to harbor her.
"I shook like a leaf with fear, and
asked meekly enough if he cared about
my keeping Victorie, that she was at
my cottage sick.
" "Keep her as long as you like,'' said
he, 'but mind you, keep clear of any
other.
"I went home, trembling you may be
lieve, but the saints seemed to help me.
My lady never came to herself for
three long, dreary weeks, so as to know
anything, I mean, and I managed to
keep everybody out, and my daughter
and I took all the care of her. They
were such wild times folks had enough
to do to manage for themselves, with
out meddling with their neighbors' af
fairs. M. Pierre came to the cottage
once, but he only glanced into the
room where he supposed Victorie was
sick. He kept a guard around my
place, I know, so no one should come to
. .1 t. a I
me, and he had me watched wherever
I went; but he never thought I had
ber all the time in my cottage.
"When my lady woke up to know
herself, she was like a little child. I
had dreaded it not being sure but
the shock would kill her; but when she
asked for her daughter, I told her she
was safe (the saints know I meant In
Heaven), and she was so feeble, she
asked no more. I waited till she was
strong again, and that wasn't for
months, before I let her know what
tai happened, and sorry enough was
I. that I didn't go on cheating her; I
thought she would just die after all
my saving her, for lack of trying to
live. When she was able to go about,
we fixed up Just such a patch as Vic
toria would lmvo hnil to wear, and
thore she lived in my cottage, no one
mistrusting but it was Victorie, ana sne
never stepping her foot out or that
room, except at midnight. I made up
a storv that Vintnrlp wan so hurt at
her scarred face she wouldn't allow
any one to see her; and the poor wench
had been such a proud-spirited piece
they all believed it. I was dreadful un
easy, though, expecting every day that
something: ' would hannen to let M
Pierre know of the truth. Many's the
night I've laid awake planning; but I
never should have got the chance if
M. Pierre hadn't suddenly taken him
self off to Paris. Something very queer
had happened at the Little Forest,
which he had been guarding night and
day, and he went off In wrath, vowing
""-
vengeance on everybody, they said
"Tlinn T nrnn A wxwlr In no ft! Dct T
I got all the money I could, and gave out
I I iYini ri.ttA.-lA ItArl taL-pn n Tl fit inil tfl
an up, and put a thick veil on, so mey
could only see the great patch, and my
lady and I set off on foot. Wo had a
terrible tlni? of It: it was only now
and then we got a ride In a cart or
uuu men l; BUl a. nuc - v v .
on a donkey; bnt after sleeping in sheds
.3 1 t . . m J I ..ll,,nln nrA
and lieEeine for dogs' victuals, we
made our way to Lyons. There I stop
ped a good while, because of the
troubles we heard of all about Paris.
"".- "c uca.u ui
i got BOme WOrk. and we just kept from
starving, wcause 1 uau iu tax uj
. .
enough to help her to a passage to
tu5u i" h--i m a. panada
England, if ever we could get to the
Aoot "
coast
"Noble, faithful Jeannot!" exclaimed
Felicie, catching his hand, and kiss-
ing jt fervently
Noble, indeed; he has not told you
half the self-sucriflce and devotion!"
echoed the countesti.
CHAPTER XXV.
OOR old Jeannot
tried to conquer
the sudden weak
ness that came over
him at this earnest
gratitude, but the
tears came pouring
over his wrinkled
cheeks, and his
voice broke down
entirely.
Jules had stood gazing blankly, from
one to another.
"Monsieur Emile," said he. sudden
ly, as a momentary silence ensued; "I
don't understand this at all. You told
me that Chlotilde was your niece; I un
derstood that she was of peasant
birth."
Emile smiled proudly.
"I adopted her for my niece when I
believed her friendless now her
mother has returned she must go back
to her true name. Will it matter to
you, who asked me for my niece,
though I warned you of my peasant
origin, that she conies from a noble
family?"
"Ah, not to me, who looked upon her
while Chlotilde as the peer of our
proudest duchess; but I am penniless,
stripped of everything her mother
may object."
"I see you are still mystified; but
what does the lady say herself?" and
he touched the hand of Lady Felicie
gently.
She smiled, blushed and then, look
ing up with tears still sparkling in
her eyes, she answered:
"I say I would rather remain Chlo
tilde, always if another name will take
me from the love of Jules, or his be
trothal vow."
Then turning to the countess, she
said eagerly:
"My mother surely will not consid
er It any hindrance, that ho I love has
no claim to noble birth, when his na
ture has proved to be. thoroughly hero
ic and grand."
"Heaven forbid ! sinswered the coun
tess, earnestly, "but I am perplexed "
"So are we all. Let me unravel a
little of the mystery. Jules, allow me to
introduce you to the bride who can now
claim your heart as well as nuptial
vow. Gentle hearted, devoted little
maiden, willing to waive so generous
ly the claims or hlrth and iortune,
know who In truth Is this Jules you
have promised to love and cherish with
a wife's tenderness. Lady Felicie
Languedoc, the Marquis Edward Jules
Do Berri. I hope you duly appreciate
each other's claims."
And Emile. his face glowing with
happiness, clasped the two youthful
hands together.
They stared at each other In amaze
ment. "The marquis I dreaded and feared,"
uttered Felicie.
"Tho Lndv Felirie I so thorouchly
detested!" stammered Edward Jules.
Emile smiled joyously, and bending
rinu'n tn tha nmtntpaa hpsnn a whlsoer-
cd explanation.
iir .i
"I knew that they were prejudiced
against each other; I saw It was your
wish they should be united, w hen i
found the young marquis was only
stunned by the blow on his head, I
knew I must keep them together in my
secret retreat, and I formed this plan,
foreseeing how it would end."
"Our benefactor " and preserver al
ways," said the countess, softly; "alas!
we have no reward to give In return."
Emile opened his lipa eagerly, and then
closed them again, murmuring, as he
turned away:
"It is no time now; I can aord to'
wait."
Edward, leading the smiling Felicie,
came to the countess.
"Dearest mother, will you give us
your blessing, though I com stripped
of coronet, fortune, estate; et every
thing except a devoted love, a strong
arm, and resolute will."
"A thousand times more Joyfully, ray
dear boy, than I could have done in the
Chateau Languedoc on that fatal even
ing; you will give my Fcllclo the price
less offering It was not then in your
power to bestow, a loving and appreci
ating heart," answered the countess.
"As regards tho fortune," observed
Emile, "the package of diamonds re
mains untouched, Just as your hapless
father secured it in readiness for leav
ing France. I have kept it on my per
son day and night through maa7 perils
and vicissitudes, but It is safo, and bo
are all the valuable gems of the Lan
guedoc family. You may lack the
grandeur of the old days, but poverty
you will never need to fear."
"Noble, generous Emile!" echoed one
and all; "you have done all for us, noth
ing for yourself."
He smiled dreamily.
Lady Felloie drew his stately head
down to her lips, and whispered some
thing in his car.
He smiled again, kissrd her fondly,
and turned away hastily.
"What did you say, my child?" asked
the countess.
"I made him a promise; sometime I'll
tell you what it was. Oh, mamma,
mamma, how can we be thankful
enough for this joyful ending of our
troubles!"
The other passengers had discreetly
retired. Jeannot had retreated after
Emile, and now Edward Jules discov
ered it were judicious for him also to
leave the agitated mother and daugh
ter to themselves. It was a long and
perfectly open conversation which en
sued. And the good ship sped on her way,
and bore them all safely to the friendly
English shore.
They found a pretty country seat a
little distance from the seashore, but
whose cupola gave a glimpse of the
blue waves stretching toward their
poor, distracted, but still dearly be
loved France, and thither l hey all went.
Jules and Felicie were lo be marrltd
at once, in the most private and un
ostentatious manner. Emile was very
grave, and very restless after the day
was actually fixed upon.'
Lady Felicie had watched him anxi
ously, and one morning she suddenly
seized his hand, and with an arch
smile, though a dewy eye, she led him
to the easy chair where her mother sat
looking out thoughtfully into the sunny
garden.
Her new found happiness, and cloth
ing becoming her station, had wrought
a marvelous change in the appearance
of the countess. A soft color restored
the youthful outline to her face, the
peaceful look In tho dark eyes, the be
coming head dress, all had restored as
If by magic, her olden beauty.
"Try, dearest Emile, and remember
that I have promised it," cried Felicie,
and ran hastily away.
What followed was too sacred for
Felicie even to inquire about, much
more, then, for me to give to pen de
scription. But in a little more than an
hour, they came out to the garden
where Felicie and Edward were wait
ing in painful suspense.
A single glance showed the young
couple what had happened.
What a serene peace deepened the
tints of Emile's eagle eyes, what a
sweet content nestled around the lips
of the countess!
"Felicie," said Emile, "my child in
deed; we will have a double wedding."
Felicie kissed them both in extrava
gance of delight.
And so both members of the haughty
count's family parted with the proud
name of Languedoc. Neither ever re
pented it. They lived in England in
peace and quiet, until tranquillity re
turned to France, when they sough
again hei- beloved shores.
The End.
ANIMALS KILLED BY TRAINS.
Fok-h untl (twin Oflrn till) let Inn -l.uri'il
liy Fint'H.
The report printed a few days age
that a buck deer had been killed by s
train near Sayvllle. L. I., reminded
sportsmen of many similar tragedies
of the animal world. When the buffa
loes ronined across the plains ihey not
infrequently compelled trains to stop
until the herds had passed. Antelopes
were killed quite often by the locomo
tives. The glare of the headlights al
night seems to stupefy birds and beast;
that cross railroad tracks. Owls ftr
killed frequently, as well as many otflei
birds, during the migrating season. -An
engineer on a New Jersey railroad,
while passing through the pineries on
night, heard a faint crash of glass
above the roar of the train. Instantly
the headlight went out, and the fire
man went forward to learn the caOse.
A short-eared owl had flown Into the
glass, broken It, broken the chittvnej
of the lamp, and lodged against the re
flector, a dead bird. The fox, in spin
of its craft, is cne of the animals most
frequently killed by trains. Th
chances are that most of the foxes kill
ed are young and Inexperienced. In
England foxes, closely followed by a
pack of hounds, have been known to
run in front of a train along the track,
then Jump off again .before the train
came up. The dogs would follow aftei
in full cry and a dozen or more would,
be killed. One pack ran under the
wheels of an oxpregs in their eagerness
to get the fox. Rabbits, wild turkeys,
skunko, partridges, quail, squirrels,
wild ducks and geese, and many other
kinds of animals that abide near rail
road!, have been killed bv the train
TALM AGE'S SERMON.
"A RESURRECTION MISTAKE"
EASTER SUNDAY SUBJECT.
l'runi tlin Trxtl "Slip. SiippiiKliijt lllm
to li I lie Uurdtmor, Sultli t'nlo lllmi
Toll M When) Thou Hunt l.itlil lllm unit
I Will Tali lllm Awiiy" .lolin SO: I JI.
ERE are Mary
Magdalen and
Christ, just after
Yt I u roulirlTMInn.
For four thousand
years a grim and
ghastly tyrant had
been killing people
and dragging them
into his cold palace.
He had a passion
for human skulls.
For forty centuries he hud been unhin
dered in his work. He had taken down
kings and queens and conquerors, and
ihoso without fame. In that cold pal
ace there were shelved of skulls, and
pillars of skulls, and altars of skull3,
and even the chalices at the table were
made of bleached skulls. To the skele
ton of Abel had been added the skeleton
of all the agf-s, and no one had disputed
his right until one good Friday, about
eighteen hundred and sixty-seven
years ago, as near as I can calculate it.
a mighty stranger came to the door of
that awful place, rolled back the door,
and went In, and seizing the tyrant
threw him to the pavement and put
upon the tyrant's neck the heel of tri
umph. Then the mighty stranger, exploring
all the ghastly furniture of the place,
and walking through the labyrinths,
and opening the dark cellars of mys
tery, and tarrying under a roof the
ribs of which were made of human
bones tarrying for two nights and a
day. the nights very dark and the day
very dismal, he seized the two chief pil
lars of that awful palace and rocked
them until it began to fall, and then
laying hold of tho ponderous front gate
hoisted It from its hinges, nnd marched
forth crying, "I am the Resurrection!"
That event we celcbrato this Easter
morn, Handellan and Beethovean mira
cles of sound added to this floral deco
ration which hns set the place abloom.
There are three or four thlnga which
the world and the church have not no
ticed in regard to the resurrection of
Christ. First, our Lord in the garden
er's attiro. Mary Magdalen, grief
struck, stands by the rifled sarcophagus
of Christ, and turns around, hoping she
can find the track of the sacrilegious
resurrectionist who has despoiled the
grave, and she finds some one in work
ing apparel come forth as If to water
the flowers, or uproot the weeds from
the garden, or to set reclimbing the
fallen vine some one in working ap
parel, his garments perhaps having the
sign of the dust and dirt of the occupa
tion. Mary Magdalen, on her face the raiu
of a fresh thower of weeping, turns to
this workman, and charges him with
the desecration of the tomb, when lo!
the stranger responds, flinging his
whole soul into one word which trem
bles with all the sweetest rhythm of
earth and heaven, saying, "Mary!" In
that peculiarity of accentuation all tho
incognito fell off, and she found that
instead of talking with an humble gar
dener of Asia Minor, she was talking
with lllm who owns all tho hanging
gardens of heaven. Constellations the
clusters of forget-me-nots, the sun
flower the chief of all, the morning sky
and the midnight aurora, flaring ter
races of beauty, blitzing like a summer
wall with coronation roses and giants
of battle. Blessed and glorious mis
take of Mary Magdalen. "She suppos
ing him to be the gardener." What
does that mean? It means that we
have an every-day Christ for overy-day
work in every-duy apparel. Not on
Sabbath morning in our most seemly
apparel are we more attractive to
Christ than we are In our every-day
work dress, managing our merchan
dise, smiting our anvil, ploughing our
field, tending the flying shuttles, mend
ing the garments for our household,
providing food for our families, or toil
ing with weary pen, or weary pencil,
or weary chisel. A working-day Christ
iu working-day appare! for us in our
every-day toil. Put it Into the highest
strain of this Easter anthem, "Suppos
ing him to be the gardener."
If Christ had appeared at daybreak
with a crown upon his head, that, would
have seemed to suggest especial sym
pathy for monarchs; if Christ had ap
peared in chain of gold and with robe
bedlamonded, thut would have seemed
to be pspecial sympathy for the af
iluent; If Christ had appeared with sol
dier's sash and sword dangling at his
side, that would have seemed to imply
especial sympathy for warriors; but
when I find Christ In gardener's hablf,
then I spell it out that he has hearty
and pathetic understanding with every
day work, and every-day anxiety, and
every-day fatigue.
Roll It down In comfort all through
these aisles. A working-day Christ In
working-day apparel. .Tell it In the
darkert corridor of the mountain to the
poor miner. 1 ell it to me factory mala
in most unvcntllated establishment at
Lowell or. Lancaster, Tell it to the
clearer of roughest new ground lu the
western wilderness. Tell it to the sew
ing woman, a stitch in the ..iOe for-j
every stitch In the garment, some of j
their cruel employers having no right
to think that they will get through the
door of heaven any more than they
could through the eye of a broken
needle which has just dropped on the
bare floor from the pricked r.r.i bleed
ing fingers of the consumptive sewlng-
Sirl. Away with your talk about hy
postatic union, and soteriology of the
Council of Trent, and the metaphysics
of religion which would freeze practi
cal Christianity out of the world; but
pa an along the gardener's coat to all
nations that they may touch the hem
si
of it and fool the thrill of the Chrlstly
brotherhood. Not supposing the man
to bo Caesur, not supposing him to be
Socrates, but "supposing him to be the
gardener."
Oh, that 13 what helped Joseph
Wedgwood, toiling amid tho heat and
the duat of the potteries, until he could
make for Queen Charlotte the first
royal table service of English manu
facture. That was what helped James
Watt, scoffed at and caricatured, until
he could put on wheels the thunderbolt
of power which roars by day and night
in every furnace of the locomotive en
gines of Americn. That is what helped
Hugh Miller, toiling amid the quarries
of Cromarty, until every rock became
to him n volume of the world's biog
raphy, and he found the footsteps of
the Creator in the old red sandstone.
Oh, the world wants a Christ for the
office, a Christ for the kitchen, a Christ
for the shop, a Christ for the banking
house, a Christ for the garden, while
spading and planting und irrigating
the territory. Oh, of course, we want
to see Christ at last In royal robe and
bediamoned, a celestial equestrian
mounting the white horse, but from
this Easter of 1897 to our last Easter on
earth we most need to see Christ as
Mary Magdalen saw him at tho day
break, "supposing him to be a gar
dener." Another thing which the church and
the world have not noticed in regard
to tho resurrection of Christ is that he
made his first post-mortem appearance
to one who had been tho seven-deviled
Mary Magdalen. . One would have sup
posed he would havo made hla first
posthumous appearance to a Woman
who had always been illustrious for
goodneus. There are saintly women
who have always been saintly, saintly
in girlhood, saintly In infancy, always
saintly. In nearly all our families
there have been saintly aunts. In my
family circle it was aunt Phebe; In
yours saintly aunt Martha or saintly
aunt Ruth. Oue always saintly. But
not so with the one spoken of in the
text.
While you are not to confound her
with the repugnant courtesan who had
made her long locks do the work of
towel at Christ's footwashing, you are
not to forget that she was exorcised of
seven devils. What a capital of de
monology she must have been. What
a chorus of all diabolism. Seven devils
two for the eyes, and two for the
hands, and two for the feet, and one for
the tongue. Seven devils. Yet all
these are extirpated, and now she Is as
good as once she was bad, and Christ
honors her with the first posthu
mous appearance? What doth that
mean?
There Is a man seven-deviled devil
of avarice, devil of pride, devil of hate,
devil of indolence, devil of falsehood,
devil of strong drink, devil of impuri
ty. God can take them all away, sev
en or seventy. I rode over the new
cantilever bridge that spans Niagara
a bridge 900 feet long, 850 feet of
chasm from bluff to bluff. I passed
over It without anxiety. Why? Be
cause twenty-two locomotives and
twenty-two cars laden with gravel had
tested the bridge, thousands of people
standing on the Canadian side, thous
ands standing on the American side to
applaud the achievement. And how
ever long the train of our immortal in
terests may bo we are to remember
that God's bridge of mercy spanning
the chasm of sin has been fully tested
by the awful tonagc of all the pardoned
sin of all ages, church militant stand
ing on one bank, church triumphant
standing on the other bank. Oh, it
was to the seven-deviled Mary that
Christ made His first post-mortem ap
pearance. There is another thing that the world
and the church have not observed in
regard to this resurrection, and that is,
it was the morning twilight.
If the chronometer had been invent
ed and Mary had as good a watch as
som ot the Marys of our time have,
he would have found it was about
half-past 5 o'clock a. m. Matthew says
it was in the dawn. Mark says it was
at the sunrlaing; Luke says it was very
early In the morning; John says it was
while It was yet dark. In other words,
it was twilight. That was tho o'clock
at which Mary Magdalen mistook Christ
for the gardener. What does that
mean? 11 means there are shadows
over the grave unllfted, shadows of
mystery that arc hovering. Mary
stooped down and tried to look to the
other end of the crypt. She gave hys
teric outcry. She could not see to the
other end of the crypt. Neither can you
see to the other end of the grave of
your dead. Neither can we see to the
other end of our grave. Oh. if there
were shadows over the fnmily plot be
longing to Joseph of Arimathea, is it
strango that there should be some
shadows over our family lot?' Easter
dawn, not Easter noon.
Shadow of unanswered question!
Why were they taken away from us?
why were they ever given to us if they
were to be taken so soon? why were
they taken so suddenly? why could they
not have uttered some farewell words?
why? A short question, but a whole
crucifixion of ngony In it. Why?
Shadow on the graves of good nies and
women who seemed to dio before '.heir
work was done. Shadow on all the
graves of children because we. ask our
selves why so beautlfiil a craft launch
ed at al; if ic whb to be wrecked
one mile outside of the harbor? But
what did Mary Magdalen have to do
In order to get more light on that
grave? She had only to .wait- After
a while the Easter sun rolled up, and
the whole place was flooded with light.
What have you and I to do in order
to get more light on our own graves
and light upon the graves of our dear
loved ones? Only to wait.
After Christ's interment every cellu
lar tissue broke down, and nerve and
artery and brain were a physiological
wreck, and yet he comes up swarthy,
rubicund and well. When I see after
such mortuary silence such radiant ap
pearance, that littles it that whatever
should bnconio of the bodies of our
Christian dead, they are going to conm
up, the nerves restr ing, the optic nerve
relllurninod, the ear drum u-vlbrate. thn
whole body lifted up, without. Its weak
ness and worldly uses for which lhcr
Is no resurrection. Come. U it not al
most time for ua to go out to meet our
reanimated dcud? Can you not hear
tho lifting of the rusted latch?
Oh, the glorious thought, the glorious
consolation of this subject when I find
Christ coming up without any of the
lacerations, for you must remember Ho
was lacerated and wounded fearfully
In the crucifixion coming "P without
one. What doo.i that muke mo think?
That the grave will get nothing of im
except our wounds and Imperfections.
Christ went inta the grave exhausted
nnd bloodless. All the currents of HU
life had poured out from His wounds.
He had lived a life of trouble, sorrow,
and privation, and then He died a lin
gering death. 1:1s onlirn body hung on
four spikes. No invalid of twenty
years' suffering ever went into thn
giave so white and ghastly and broken
down as Chris, nnd yet hero He come:-,
up so rubicund and robust site supposed
Him lo be t he gardener.
Ah! all tho side-aches, and the head
aches, and the bnck-nchos, and the leg
aches, nnd the lwart-nrhes we will leave
where Christ left His. The ear will
come up without its heaviness, the eye
will come up without Its dimness, the
lungs will come up without oppressed
respiration. Oh, what races we will
run when we become immortal ath
letes! Oh, what circuits we will takii
when all earthly imperfections sub
tracted and all celestial velocities ad
dod we shall s?t up our residence in
that city which, though vaster tbau alt
the cities of this world, shall never
have one obsequy!
Standing this morning round Hid
shattered masonry of our Lord's tomb,
I point you to e. world without hearse,
without muffled drum, without tumu
lus, without catafalque, and without a
tear.' Amid all the cathedrals of the
blessed no longsr the '.nead March in
Saul," but wholo libretti of "Hallelujah
Chorus." Oh, imt trumpet to lip and
finger to key, and loving forehead
against the bosom of a risen Chris;.
Hallelujah. Anion. Hallelujah, Amen!
CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR.
The Junior Society of Christian En
deavor was thirteen years old on March
27. On March 20 there were enrolled
on Secretary Baer's books 31.537 so
cieties, with 316,110 members. The first
society was organized iu Tabor, Iowa,
by Rev. John W. Cowan. The first
signer of the Junior pledge is now ;
clergyman.
"She hath done what she could." The
members of the Christian Endeavor so
ciety in the Indiana state prison at
Michigan City have no money to con
tribute toward state Christian Endeav
or work, but the other day the state
treasurer received from this society fifty-two
stamped envelopes. One of
these envelopes Is issued to each pris
oner every two weeks and an extra one
is given instead of a ration of tobacco.
By abstaining from the luxury of cor
respondence, and from the use of to
bacco, tho men were enabled to fulfill
their pledge.
An endeavor after apostolic fashion
is recorded of a native Christian En-'
deavor society in Shaingay, West Af
rica. The young men of the society set
out, two by two, to preach the gospel
throughout, all their district, a region
forty by seventy miles In extent. They
held 238 services and reached 4,572
hearers, and all without a penny of ex
pense. The young men had many in
teresting experiences. One of them
philosophically remarked, when de
terred from crossing a river by the al
ligators in the atream, "The Ixrd sent
us to preach the gospel, not to feed
these fellows."
A company of Endeavorcrs from the
Broadway Baptist church, Cmnbrldge
port, Mass., hold weekly meet'ngs In a
rescue mission in Boston, providing a
free lunch for the men, in opposition
to a free lunch saloon in the neigh
borhood. These meetings have result
ed in many conversions, and in several
accessions to tho church. The Eudeav
orers make It a practice to secure em
ployment for the converts When possi
ble. The Endenvorrrs iu the State of
Washington have made earnest efforts
to secure temperance and Sabbath ob
servance legislation. A temperance bill
was recently before tho legislature and
the Endeavorers prompted prominent
representatives to personally visit the
capitol, while about five hundred tele
grams were sent from all parts of the
state to the senators and representa
tives. Mass meetings were also held in
many districts, all with the aim o
properly influencing legislation.
The first year of Christian Endeavor'
In Tremont Temple Baptist church.
Boston, has been a fruitful one. Sev
eral members of the society have unit-
ed with the church. One of the Art,,
deeds of the society was the publication
of a sermon on baptism by Dr. lx)ri-
mer. Two more of the pastor's ser
mons were published during the year.
a total of eight thousand copies. The
Instruction committee of the society
has maintained a Bible history class
under the direction of the - assistant
pastor, and It" has also" provided two
courses - of university extension lec
tures! Since Tremont Temple Jri very
peculiarly situated in the business dis
trict, the society has made -every efTort .
to apply business enterprise to its
methods, and at the beginning of the
year kit issued for general distribution
a neantirui caienuar. advertising, -the
church and society and time of meet
ings. As a recognition of the good work
done by the Salvation Army in Detroit
in relieving distress among, the poor,
the citizens have contributed 74,0OO
to purchase the building used by the
army as headquarters.

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