HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-11-1, Page 9THE OARSMAN DEFEATED,
TIIE MEN ROWED irAED.
linage Points out the Helpless -
Dees of Man, and Contrasts with It
the 1sower and Willie guess or Christ
Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is still absent
Qu his round -the -world. toar, has selected
as the subjecb of to -day's sentient, through
the press : "The Garman Defeated," the
text chosen being Jonah 1: 13, 14: "The
men rowed hard to bring it to the land ;
but they could not; wherefore they cried
unto the Lord."
Navigation in the Mediterranean Sea
•alwaye was periloas, especially so in
early times. Vessels were propelled
aearely by sail and partly by oar. When,
by reason, of great sbress of weather, it
was necessary to reef the canvas or haul
it in, then. the vessel was entirely depend-
ent upon the oars, sometimes twenty or
thirty of them on either side the vessel.
You would not venture outside your
• harbor with such a craft as my text finds
Sonah sailing in; but he had not much
choice of vessels. He was running away
from. the Lord, and when a man is run-
ning away from the Lord he has to run
very fast.
God had told Jonah to go to Ninevale
to preach about the destruction of that
city. jonah disobeyed. That always
makes rough water, whether in. the Medi-
terrartean, or the Atlantic, or the Pacific,
or the Caspian Sea. It is a very hara
thing to sears sailors, I have seen them,
when the prow of the vessel was almost
under water, and they were walking the
deck knee-deep in the serf, and. the small
boats by th.e side of the vessel bad been
crushed as small as kindling wood,
whistling as though nothing had hap-
pened; bat the Bible says that these
mariners of whom. I speak were frighten -
•ed. That which sailors call "a lump of
a see," had. become a blinding, deafening,
swanaping fury. How mad the wind can
gat at the water, and the water can get
at the wind, you do not know unless you
have been spectators. I have in ray
house a piece of the sail of a ship, no
larger than the palm of my hand; that
piece of eanvass was all that was left of
the largest sail of the ship Greece, that
went into the storra two hundred miles
off Neerfoundland. Oh, what a night
that was! I suppose it was in some such
storm as this that Allah was caught.
He knew that the tempest was on his
account, and he asked the sailors to
throw hun overboard. Sailors are a gen-
erous-heartea race, and they resolved to
fr make their escape, if possible, without
resorbing to such extreme measures. The
sails are of no use, and so they lay hold
of their oars. I see the long bank of
shining blades on either side of the ves-
sel. Oh ! how they did pull, the bronzed
seamen, as they laid back onto their oars.
But rowing on the sea is very different
from rowing upon a river; and as the
vessel hoists, the oars skip the wave and
miss the stroke, and the tempest laughs
to scorn the flying paddles. It is of no
uss, no use. There comes' a wave that
crashes the last mast, and sweeps the
oarsmen from their places, and tumbles
everything in the confusion of impend-
ing shipwreck, or, as my text has it,
"The men rowed hard to bring it to the
land; but they could not; wherefore
they cried unto the Lord."
This scene is very suggestive to me,
and I pray God I may have grace anel
strength enough to represent it intelli-
gently to you. Years ago I preached a
sermon on another phase of this very
subject, and I got a letter from Houston,
Texas, the writer saying that the read-
ing of that sermon in London had led
him to God. And I received another
letter from South Australia, saying that
the reading of that sermon in Australia
had brought several souls to Christ. And
then, I thought, why not now take an-
other phase of the same sabject, for per-
haps that God who can raise in power that
which is sown in weakness may now,
through another phase of the same sub-
ject, bring salvation to the people who
shall hear, and salvation to the people
who shall read. Men and women who
know how to pray, lay hold of the Lord
God Almighty, and wrestle for the bless-
ing.
Bishop Latimer would stop sometinies
in his sermon, in the midst of his argu-
ment, and say, "Now, I will tell you a
tale;" and to -day I would like to bring
the scene of the text as an illustration of
raost important religious truth. As
those Mediterranean oarsmen trying to
bring Jonah ashore were discomfited, I
have to tell you that they were not the
only men who have broken down on
their paddles, and have been obliged to
•call on the Lord for help. I want to say
that the 'unavailing efforts of those Medi-
terranean oarsmen have a counterpart in
the efforts we are making to bring souls
to the shore of safety and set their feet
on the Rook of Ages. You have a father,
or mother, or husband, or wife, or child,
or near friend who is not a Christian.
There have been times when you have
been in agony about their salvation. A
minister of Christ whose wife was dying
without any hope in Jesus, walked the
floor, wrung his hands, cried bitterly,
and said, "I believe I shall go insane, for
know she is not prepared to meet God."
And there may have been days of sick-
ness in your household, when you feared
it would be a fatal sickness; and how
-closely you examined the face of the doc-
tor as he mine in and scrutinized the
patient, and felt the pulse, and you fol-
lowed him into the next room, and said,
"There isn't any danger, is there, doc-
tor?" And the hesitation and the un-
certainty of the reply made two eterni-
ties flash before your vision. And thea
you went and talked to the sick one
about the great future. Oh, there are
-those here who have tried to'bring their
friends to God They have been unable
to bring there to the shore of safety.
They are no nearer that point than they
were twenty years ago. Yon think you
have got them almost to the shore, wheu
you are swept back again. What shall
you do? Put down the oar? Oh, no I
do not advise that, but I do advise you to
appeal to that God bo whom the .Medi-
terraneen oarsmen appealecl—the God
Who could silence the tempest and bring
the ship in safety to the port, I tell you,
my friends, that there has got to be a e
.good deal of praying before our families
are brought to Christ. Ah! it is an awful
thing to leave half a household on one
side of the line, and the other part of the
household on the other side of the line!
Two vessels parb on the ocean of eternity,
one going to the right and the other to
the left—farther apart, and farther apart
—until the signals oease to be recognized,
and there are only two specks on the
horizon, and then they are lose to sight
'torever I
I have to tell you that the unavailing
efforts of these Mediterranean oarsmen
have a counterpart in the efforts some of
us are making to bring oar children to
the shore of Safety. There never were
so many temptabions fon young people as
there are now. The literary and soeial
influences sewn to be against their spirit-
ual interests, Christ seems to be driven
almost entirely from the school and the
pleasurable •conoeurse, yet God knows
how anecioue we are for our children. We
cannot think of going into heaven with-
out them, We do not want to leave this
life while they are tossing on the waves
of temptation and away from God. From
which of them could we consent to be
eternally separated? Would it be the
sou? Would it be the daughter? Would
it be the eldest? Would it be the young-
est? Would it be the orse that is well'
and stout, or the one that is sick? Oh, I
hear some parent saying to -night, "I
have tried my best to bring my children
to Christ. I have laid hold of the oars
until they bent in my grasp, and I have
braced myself against the ribs of the
boat, and Lhave pulled for their eternal
rescue, but I can'tget thena to Christ,"
Then I ask you, to imitate the men of the
text and cry mightily unto God. We
want more importunate praying for chil-
dren, sueh as the father indulged in
when he had tried to bring his six sons
to Christ, and they had wandered off in-
to dissipation. Then he got down in his
prayers and said, "Oh, God! take away
ray life, if through that means my sons
may repent and be brought to Christ;"
and the Lord startlingly answered the
prayer, and in a few weeks the father
was taken away, and through the solem-
nity the six sons lied unto God.. Oh,
that father could afford to die for the
eternal welfare of his children ! Be rowed
hard to bring them to the land, bat could
not, and then he cried unto the Lord.
There are parents wno are almost dis-
couraged about their ehildren. Where
is your son to -night? He has wandered
off, perhaps, to the ends of the earth. It
seems as if he cannot get far en,ough
away from your Christian counsel. What
does he care aboat the furrows that some
to your brow, about the quick whitening
of the hair; about the fact that your
back begins to stoop with the burdens?
Why, he would not care much if be
heard you were dead! The black -edged
letter that brought the tidings he would
put in the same package with other let-
ters telling the story of his shame. What
are you going to do? Both paddles
broken at the middle of the blade, how
OEM you pull ashore? I throw you one
oar now with which I believe you can
bring him into the harbor. It is the
glorious promise, "I will, be a God to thee,
and to thy seej after thee." Oh, broken-
hearted father and mother, you have
tried everything else, now make an ap-
peal for the help and omnipotence of the
covenant -keeping God! and perh.ape at
your next family gathering—perhaps on
Thanksgiving Day, perhaps next Christ-
mas day—the prodigal may be home;
and if you crowd on his plate more
luxuries than on any other plate at the
table, I am sure the brothers will not be
jealous, but they will wake up all the
music in the house, "because the dead
is alive again, and because the lost is
found." Perhaps your prayers have been
answered already. The vessel may be
coming homeward, and by the light of
this night's stars that absent son may be
pacing the deck of the ship, anxious for
the time to come when he can throw his
arms around your neck and ask for for-
giveness for that he has been wringing
your old heart so long. Glorious reunion!
that will be too sacred for outsiders to
look upon; but I would just like to look
through the window when you have all
got together again, and are seated at the
banquet.
Though parents may in covenant be.
And have their heaven in view;
They are not happy till they see
Their children happy too.
Again, I remark that the unavailing
effort of the Mediterranean oarsmen has
a counterpart in the effort which we are
making to bring this world back to God,
His pardon, and safety. If this world
could have been saved by human effort,
it would have been done long ago. John
Howard took hold of one oar, and Carey
took hold of another oar, Adoniram Jud-
son took hold of another oar, and Luther
took hold of another oar, and John Knox
took hold of another oar, and they pulled
until they fell back dead from exhaus-
tion. Some dropped in the ashes of
martyrdom, some on the scalping -knives
of savages, and some into the plague -
stuck room of lazaretto; and still the
chains are not broken,and still the des-
potisms are not demolished, and still the
world is unsaved. What then? Put
down the oars and make no effort? I do
not advise that. But I want you Chris-
tian brethren, to understand. duet the
church, and the school,and the college,
and the missionary society are only the
instrumentalities; and if this world is
ever done at all, od must do it, and He
will do it, in answer to our prayer.
"They rowed hard to bring it to the land,
but they could not; wherefore they erred
unto the Lord."
Again, the unavailing effort of these
Mediterranean oarsmen has a counter-
part in every man that is trying to row
his own soul into safety. When the
Eternal spirit flashes upon us our condi-
tion, we try to save ourselves. We say,
"Give me a stout oar for my right hand,
give me a stout oar for ray left hand, and
I will pull myself into safety." No. A
wave of sin eonaes and. dashes you one
way, and a wave of temptation comes
and dashes you in another way, and
there are plenty of rocks on winch to
founder, but seemingly no harbor into
which to sail. Sin must be thrown over-
board, or we 3:east perish. There are men
'who have tried for years to become Chris -
tient. They believe all I say in regard
to a future world. They believe that re-
ligion is the first, the last, the infinite
necessity. They do everything but trust
in Christ. They make sixty strokes in a
minute. They bend forward with all
eaxnestness, and they lie back until the
muscles are distended, and yet they have
not made one inch in ten years toward
Heaven. What is the reason ? That is
not the weer to go to work. You might
as well take a frail skiff and put it down
at the foot of the Niagara, and then head
it up toward the chinning thunderbolt of
waters, and expeet to work your way up
through the lighning of the foam into
alm Lake toe, as for you to try to pnil
yourself through the sorf of your sin
into the hope, and pardon, and placidity
of the Gospel.. You can not do it in that
way.Sin is a 'rough sea, and the long-
boat, yawl, pinnacle and gondola go
down unless the Lord deliver; but if you
dry to Christ and lay hold of divine
mercy you are as safe from eternal con-
demnation as thoughfrou had, been twenty
years in heaven.
wish t eould put 'before My empardort-
ed readers their own helplessness. No
human arm Was ever strong' enough to
unlook the door of heaven. No foot was
ever stroag enough to break the shaelele
of sin. No pampan swarthy enough to
row himself into God's harbor, The
winene againetyou, The tide is against
you. The law is against you, Ten
thousand corrupting infieences are
against you. Helpless and undone, Not
so helpless a sailor on a plank, mid-
Atlantie. Not so helpless a traveller
girded by twenty miles of prairie on fire.
Peeve it, you say. I will prove it. john
6; 14 --"No man can some to Me except
the Father which hath sent Ile draw
him."
But while I have shown your helpless-
ness, 1 want to put by the side of it the
power and 'willingness of Christ to save
you, I think it was in 1686 a vessel was
bound for Portugal, but it was driven to
pieces on an unfriendly coast. The cap-
tain had his son with him, and with the
crew they wandere& up the beach, and
started on the long journey to find re-
lief. After a while the son fainted by
reason of hunger and the length of the
way. The captain said to the crew,
"Carry ray boy for me on your should-
ers." They carried hini on., but the
journey was so long that after awhile the
crew fainted from. hunger and from
weariness, and could carry him no long-
er. Then the father rallied his almost
wasted energy and took up his own boy,
and put him on his shoulder, and marled
him on mile after mile, mile after mile,
until overcome himself by hunger and
weariness he, too, fainted by the way.
The boy lay down and died, and the
father, just at the time rescue same to
him, also perished, living only long
enough to tell the story—sad story, in-
deed! But glory be to God that Jesus
Christ is able to take us up out of our
shipwrecked and dying condition, and
put us on the shoulder of His strength,
and by the omnipotence of His Gospel
bear us on through all the journey of this
life, and at last through the opening
gates of heaven! He is mighty to save.
Though your sin be long and black, and
inexcusable, and outrageous, the very
moment you believe I will proclaim par-
don—quick, full, grand, unconditional,
uncoraproraising, illimitable, infinite.
031, the grace of God! I am overwhelm-
ed when I come to think of it. Give nis
a thousand ladders, lashed fast to each
other, that I may scale the height. Let
the line rim out -with the anchor until
all the cables of earth are exhausted, that
we easy touch the depth. Let the arch-
angel fly in cixeuit of eternal ages in
trying to sweep around this theme. Oh,
the grace of Godi It is so high. It is
so broad. It is so deep. Glory be to
God, that where man's oar gives out,
God's arm begins! Why will ye carry
your sins and your sorrows any longer
when Christ oilers to take them? Why
will you wrestle down your fears when
this moment you might give up and be
saved? Do you not know that every-
thing is ready?
Plenty of room at the feast. Jesus has
the ring of His love all ready to put upon
your hand. Come now and sit down, ye
hungry ones at the -banquet. Ye who
are swamped:by the breakers aroundyou
cry to Christ to pilot you into smooth,
still waters. On account of the peculiar
phase of the subject, I have drawn my
present illustrations, you see, chiefly from
the water. I remember that a vessel
went to pieces on the Bermudas a great
many years ago. It had a vast treasure
on board. But the vessel being sunk, no
effort was made to raise it. After many
years had passed a company of adventur-
ers went out from England, and after a
long voyage they reached the place where
the vessel was said to have sunk. They
got into'a small boat and hovered over
the place. Then the divers went down,
and ehey broke through what looked like
a limestone covering, and the treasure
rolled out—what was found afterward to
be, in American money, $1,500,000, and
the foundation of a great business house.
At that time the whole world rejoiced
over :what was called the luck of these
adventurers. Oh, ye who have been row-
ing toward the shore, and have not been
able to reach it, I want to tell you to-
night that your boat hovers over infinite
treasure! -ell the riches of God are at
your feet. Treasures thatnever tail, and
crowns that never grow dim, Who will
go down now and seek them? Who will
dive for the pearl of great price? Who
will be prepared for life, for death, for
judgment, for the long eternity P See
two hands of blood stretched out toward
thy soul, as Jesus says: "Come unto me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest."
BO N JIBE'S LEGS.
IS name was Eudore, and he
found it a good one till it
came to painting it in let-
ters a foot long over the
froiat of the grocery store;
which was why the inhabit-
ants of Rue Bonaparte be-
held the new sign abbreviated to "E.
Bonjard., Successor to Ris Father."
Eudore, too, by all the bonnes of the
neighborhood, was considered. personally
a fine-looking fellow. Why, it would be
hard to say; women have odd tastes, and
in the grocery business, as in others,
there are reputations whose source is as
mysterious as that of the Nile.
Eudore, as others saw him --with the
aforesaid ladies of the sixth arrondisse-
ment of Paris—was merely a brawny,
broad -shouldered bourgeois, with red eye-
lids, huge hands, and an air over -bear-
ing and rough.
The Bonjard store, as stated, was situ-
ated in the Rue Bonaparte, immediately
facing—a fact that has an important
bearing upon this story—the Boole des
Beaux Arts. It was there that the Ecole
des Beaux Arts students purchased their
black soap to cleanse their brushes, the
sardines and sausages of their frugal
lunehes—everything, indeed, that was
not too dear in the grocery goods line.
But they were not always so prompt as
they should have been in settling the
bills, which, very naturally, created. a
lack of sympathy between Eudore and
his artist clients. He treated then tart-
ly, not to say disdainfally, when they
came to his shop, not unfrequently
thezn to repeat their demands
twice before stopping to serve them.
Sensible enough to recognize the barrier
created between them by nature and art,
the students, all the same, harbored
malice for his rudeness, and Eudore, on
his side, returned the hatred with inter-
est.
"Those animals of artists,". he called.
them, "living by the hand of established
people !P
The cashier, clerks, porter and parcel
boys, one and all, knew for Certainty
they had heard them often enough, the
grocee's sentiments in this roped and
believed them unchangeable. Judge
then of their eurpmse as time woe° on
to observe a store of weeleening or modify-
ing of Dudore's harsh opinion of his
young neighbors, "Animals they were
still, yes, lent some of them °tune of hop»
orable families and haa fathers in trade;
too, or so he was told."
Intelligent, well to do, Nee creator of
the "Bonjard Piekles andSauees," bend-
ing his passion, always to the yoke of his
principles, who would Italre believed that
vanity would open. the road to (toupees
the downfall of this man? But great
events are often evolved from the simpl-
est incidents.
One day Eudore, reclining with superb
eoatposure upon a keg of prunes his arms
crossed on his loreast, his heed thrown
bask, his left leg outstretched ou a soap
box on the floor, chatted idly with a,
student waiting the moment while they
tied up for him his purohaae of a bottle
of sour wine,
Su.ddenly the student began to regard
Eu.dore attentively:, to turn round and
round him, squinting his eyes, wrinkling
his brow, exhibiting, in short, every
known symptom of amazed and respect-
ful admiration, Recalled to himself at
last by the voice of tb.e master of the
house demanding what ailed him, the
young artist cried. out, with a deep breath
of emotion:
" Zounds, M. 33onsard, but you should
pride yourself upon your build! What
a leg
And taming to go, walking sidewise,
his eyes still glued. to Euaore's extrem-
ities, he murmured ones more, "What a
beg!"
To say that this incident seriously or
unduly impressed Bonjard fibs, would be
unjust, though once he did say to the
cashier, seeking to fix a date in his mem-
ory, "Dams! stupid., that day—that day
—you know, when that paiater was so
taken with the shape of ray beg!"
Another time Eadore found himself
the object of a flattering scratiny on the
part of a young sculptor, also a student
of the Ecole des Beaux Arts, a quiet,
generous young fellow, of whom, as yet,
the house of Bonjard had no reason to
complain.
"Your pardon, mousier," saidhe to the
grocer, observing him watehing him,
"but really you possess the most marvel -
lois leg that I ever saw in my life, and I
know a masterpiece when I see it, There
isn't in the Academy of Antiques a
statute with limbs of as pare and noble a
mold as yours."
"A fact, monsieur!" Eudore respond-
ed, affably, "that has been noticed be-
foree'
"Parbleu! I believe you! They are
superb! Ah, M. Bonjard, if the School
of Design would but give us models like
you!" •
And the sculptor withdrew, leaving
Eudore more moved than he eared to ap-
pear. Daily, too, after this, he rubbed
and swelled out the muscles of his calves,
had his trousers' legs altered to fit skin
tight, and event to the length of discard-
ing his protecting apron the better to
display his form.
A month later the youngsculptor ems
again, this time anorapanied by a com-
rade. He had chosen an hour when the
rush of business had calmed a little and
M. Eudore Bonjard was lunching with
his subordinates. Be was sorry, very
sorry, to interrupt the repast, but the
urgenay and importance of his errand
must excuse him.
"You cannot have forgotten, Mon -
said he, "the impressionrecently
produced upon me by the perfection of
your form, judging by what I saw of it.
I could not refrain from mentioning it
to my comrades, who unanimously unite
with me in regretting that you cannot
pose for us in the atelier---'
"Sir," interrupted Eudore, doubtful
as to how he should receive these words
"Unanimously regret," resumed the
sculptor, "but we should n.ever, all the
same, have dreamed but for the insist-
ence of the class from whom we come in
the name of art, of proposing such a
thingto a man of your position, of de-
manding of you a similar favor."
"A favor? What, messieurs?" said
Eudore, with a dignity that Louis XIV.
might have envied.
ow us to mold your legs.''
" Eh ? What did you say?"
"To mold your begs; to copy them in
plaster, to serve us as a model."
"Like those—those members that I
see carried to your school once in a
while?"
"Precisely, only far more beautiful.
We'll give you, moreover, some of the
castings, and you e.an sell them at a
handsome profit."
" Truly?"
" Truly ; but see you, M. Bonjard, do
not refuse us; it will be such a favor,
and you will earn our eternal gratitude.
Think, too, how your name will pass
down to posterity; how, a hundred years
from now, students of art will be copy-
ing and modeling from the Bonjard.
leg !"
That settled it. Eudore now only
sparred for time.
" Will it—will it take very long, mes-
sieurs?" said he.
"Hall an houronaybe. You will do
it, then? You will lend us your legs?"
" Mon Dieu! how can I say no when I
see you so set on it? I have always
helped workers to the measure of my
means, and,as it assists your studies,
when, messieurs, will the operation take
place ?"
"To -morrow, between noon and one
o'clock. My friend here will take charge
of the work."
• • 1
•
That night Eudore slept badly, tossed.
restlessly on his couch and rose next
morning with a grave face and gesture
of a general about to engage himself in a
decisive battle. Prompt to the hour
named he saw enter his back shop the
visitor of the day before, surrounded by
a horde of assistants, one carrying a hod
or mortar -box, another a sack of plaster,
a third a trowel, a fourth a pick, a fifth
a pound or two of loose nails, a debris of
broken hicks, bits of stone and ruined
statues—enough material, in short, to
have built a cottage, and of the most
amazingly varied character.
Eudore was surprised a,na far from at
ease, seeing these preparations, but a
word or two of flattery from the artists
restored his confidence, and he set hims
self to bare to the eye of the public the
limbs so coveted by tut.
Meanwhile a corps of zealous workers
had been mixing a copious mortar, whicb
they proceeded to apply, and apply liber-
ally, leg et a time, to the majesbie mem-
bers. Then upon the mortar they heaped
a layer of tails, broken bricks and bits
of stone, and on that again another layer
of mortar, and so coa layer Man. layer,
till they had built upon and erouna
Eudora s legs and loins a yard thick of
masonry, for the solidity of whieh they
would lee able to answer,
" o nob sten now, monsieur, please,"
said the direetor of the work, " the plas-
ter Mlnit Set aad, harden, you see, or the
oast will be epoiled, ,es. half hour, at
most, and we'll' ceme to deliYer you,
Behold the paper to read till our return;
the time will Seern less long."
And they departed, carrying their
tools with them, but leaving a debris of
sroaoleubriesah tialista,
eimortar npon the freshly
4. quarter of an hour passed ; Eudore
began to feel oxi. bit flesh a light Com-
pression, a gentle, tingling. warmth,
rather soothing then otherwise. Basle
nese, too, had recemmenced in the shop:
the culinary ladies had begun again their
comingglibtand going, and calling for pepper
iyeee.aaopftourir..
cehattles. Elidore heard them
and tacks, salt and spices, Interlarding
th.eir demands, from time to time, with
astonished eoraments upon the eondition
building, you have workmen
in the house?" asked one of them pres-
ently.
"Workmen ? Oh, no, mademoiselle;
it is only the stuff left over frora the pa-
tron's operation."
Stuif ! Operation! That was too
mueh. Blame cried out angrily :
"No, not Mlle. Phrasie, Joseph is
wrong; he as a goose; it isn't an opera-
tion, but molding that he means. Pene-
trate here and you'll understand,"
Mlle. Phrasie "penetrated.," but un-
rdiearsintaeand.ing as Mae as ever Redone ex-
" He had lent himself to the artists,
the Boole de Beaux Arts artists, you.
know • they had begged so hard; he had
feared' to refuse; it was certain, mbre-
over, that nowhere else could they have
found such legs as his."
And while Bonjard talked and. talked,
and Phrasie and her friends, who lead
"penetrated" with her sought to under-
stand, the pressure of the plaster had in-
creased and become importunate. The
legs ached and drew like a furious booth -
ache, and, the mortar having hardened,
were as immovable as the slabs of the
Egyptian pyramids.
A. vagae uneasiness was fast settling
upon Eudore's spirits, when a cohert of
students returned, demanding:
"How it felt now?"
"They burn," said the grocer, "ache
and burn like fire; my legs. I can't stir
them either!"
"Wait, lotus see ; the mortar has set,
doubtless," and they began,the traitors,
to thump and prod, with wise looks and
nods, the ffinty monument in which they
had half entombed Eudora.
"Yes, it had set eplendidly, perfectly,
hard as a rock ! The cast would be a
marvel; they would run to the atelier
for the tools to release him—it wouldn't
take a minute—and then they would
thank, as he deserved., the generous man
to whbra art owed so much :7'
A minute, they had said.; an hour,
two hours had fled, and no one came; the
Ecole des Beaux Arts had closed for the
night, and besides, if it hadn't, the stu-
dents had given no names; Eudore did
not know for whom to call.
He rayed, he cursed, swore that he was
dying, and shrieked alternately for a
priest and the polies. The police came,
and with the police the commissaire in
his scarf and a crowd that wedged—full
as a box of his own. matches—the Rue
Bonaparte from end to and.
But, to abridge useless details, a mason
had at last to be summoned to demolish
the construction that made Eudore a
martyr. A demolition that required
some time to accomplish and skinned the
victim. Literally skinned him, for the
torburers had used cement hauler than
iron instead of plaster, and also carefully
refrained from greasing the cuticle.
To -day the Rue Bonaparte, the house
of Bonjard, stands with closed and bolted
doors. Eudore, unable to support the
double ignominy of the three trouserless
weeks on a hospital cot and the close
proximity of that odious Ecole des Beaux
Arts, has moved his legs, his soaps, sar-
dines and sauces to a safer quarter.
S PARTY
"Don't you wish, mother, we were rich
enough to give parties and to get invited
to some in return?"
Mattie Howard had closed the book she
was reading with a dissatisfied sigh, and
looking dreamily out of the window, ad-
ded "to go to Florida -winters?"
"It would. be nice, dear," answered leer
mother.
"We needn't have to be rich to have a
party," said her brother, Melville, who
was placing a nuzzle together on the
floor. "I can get you up a s'prise party
next week if you say so. Ohl I forgot, I
must not tell you when it will be 'cause
you are to be s'prised about it."
"You need not bother yourself one bit,
Mell Harwood. I would not be guilty of
having a horrid old surprise party where
all bring their owu cake and. peanuts.
It seems a very cheap way of entertain-
ing one's friends, I say."
"It's better than not entertaining them
any."
"There, children, don't quarrel. You
are both partly right and partly wrong.
I have often thought that you need some
lesson in receivingcompany of your
i
very own if only to nvite a boy or girl
in to tea."
"Tea parties are for girls. I don't
want any part in it."
"I don't think this house is fit for a
party of any kind. It is too old and we
haven't any china, silver or servants,"
said Mettle, glancing contemptuously
around the big, old fashioned sitting
MOM.
"Well, Mettle," said her mother de-
cidedly, "you must make up your mind
to be contented with what you e,annot
help and make the most of your situa-
tion. You will make yourself and every
one around you unhappy by having too
high ideas. Emerson, that grand -Ails
osopher, said: 'Don't hitch your wagon
to a star.' Now, my dear, think not that
because you cannot provide elegant en-
tertainment you won't offer any. Simply
do the best you
Mrs. Harwood waited. lentil the evening
lamps were lighted, the dishes washed,
and Mattie had heard Melville recite his
spelling lesson for the third -time.
""Now we will talk SOMA more about
the party."
Mettle felt in better humor this even-
ing, for her papa had brought a pearl
pocketknife home with him, telling Mate
tie that it was for his Sunbeam to use at
scbool when she sharpened leaapenoils.
So she gave him a loving kiss and then
wound her arra's about her mother's
neck, saying: "I know it cannot help
being nice if you have thought about
"Thank you, dear; but as you said,
we haven't any silver."
"Don't say it, meenme. I'm sorry."
forgive you, but let us see what
our resourees are, What have we that
fow in tOWil. poesess?''
"A cow ?" askea Mettle,
"I know," answered Mall, "we heRe
the best law, of anyone in this part ef
the town. I was peeking eurrants one
day leet summer, and 1 Saw tWO neele
driviug by. They looked like ride old
fellows too, 404, they 'Were thiVing $0
$101V 1 Wild Most see their eyes wink.
Oue of them Said., ‘That'e the prettieet
situation for a house I've seen in this
sellvfllngea
that lawn and those trees are
u lalahri
i tettyahcineeaway t of Wonder
thaeWY4°ann'tcl. In"e
thagt s
lot to some one who can alfora Us put up
respeetable residence.' 77
At this they all laughed.
"We can have our tarty out doors,
that is what you mean, Isn't it, marama?
Why didn't I thiale of it? A gard.en
party it will be, and that sounds SO
t7show This 19ow Mattie's garden party
happened to be planned, eeren if it was
now windy March weather. Never,ahl the
spring seem so long or the grass so slow
about growing green to impatiexitMattio
Mrs. Harwood. planted flower -seeds in
boxes, that the gardens might have an
early start, Grandpa and. Mell trimmed
up the trees and shrubs. It was deeided
to have the garden party the Lest week
of the summer vacation. The in.vitations
should be given to the members of Mat -
tie's and Mell's class, including also some
six or seven boys and girls in their irarae-
diets neighboorhood. Grandpa, who had.
always been. "handy with tools," made
threiee.long tales which he said would be
nice to lend when ch.urch folks had a
pion
"Now, if we only had a piano or
organ !" exclaimed. Mattie the day before
the party, as she was making lovely
bouquets for the tables indoors and out-
doors, "It seems as if we ought to have
some music," she added, forgetting her
resolve to be ccattented,
"That's so, dearie " piped a shrill voice
which belonged to Miss Sallie Perkins, a
little woman who lived alone. "I've
heard a good deal 'bout this garden party
an' come to offer my services. Your ma
will have her hands full, I reckon. See
here how will this do for music? It
will
hero;
liven things up a bit to set
this agoing." Here Miss Sally quickly
turned the cran.k and comically skipped
around. the room with her music box
playing a lively tune. "Lor sakes! I
should. be dreadful lonesome if it wasn't
for this. Why can't you ask Charlie
Day to bring over his cornet and play a
tune for ye s? Lor sakes! You needn't
be without music if ye haven't a piens,"
"Thanks for the music box; I am glad
you thought of it and of Charley's cor-
net. I think he will:oblige us. And, 0
mother, we might have Mell drum oc-
casionally for us!"
The next morning Nettie woke very
early to see if the dreaded rain -drops
lurked in the sky. She was happy to find
the sun shining brightly. There was yet
a lot of work to do that afternoon, but
Mettle had proved herself quite a help.
Even Mellie had beaten eggs and cream-
ed butter and. sugar for cake. He was
also to pound the ice and turn the freezer
for the ice cream. At the hour xaention-
ed in the note of invitation Meade and
Mellie stood at the garden gate ready to
reeeive their guests. Mamma was sitting
on the bit of piazz ready to give them the
second word of greeting. The boys and
girls at once entered into the enjoyment
of the afternoon, some selecting swings,
ha,mraoeks or croquet mallets. Mattie,
who had dreaded some awkward move-
ments at first, felt greatly relieved. She
did her best to make all have a good
time and see that none missed a share in
the games. At 6 o'clock the tables were
ready, and very tempting they looked to
the forty-six; hungry children, whose
healthful games in the pure air bad
given excellent appetite. To Mattie's
surprise, there were served things on the
table that she had not heard planned in
the menu. But a few kind neighbors
had insisted on. sending something that
would help Mrs. Harwood. "feed that
troop of hungry children, as they could
never undertake such a task alone.'''
Then grandpa, like others bearing that
dear name, wanted to do his part, and
quietly ordered a quantity of fruit and
bonbons from the city.
"I'm glad we thought to have a garden.
party, mamma," said Mattie after the
last one had gone. "I mean to have an-
other next year, don't yon, Mellie ?"
"Of course I shall. I mean we shall., if
mother will let us."
"I hope you will dears," said. Mrs. Bar -
wood., never once hinting how very tired
she was.
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