' THE-
Official Organ of Washington County.
FIRST OF ALL THE NEWS.
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PLYMOUTH, N. C., FRIDAY, JUNeJ$ 1899.
NO. 38.
. VOL. X.
i THE FLOWER
A Niffht of Desnair and
ij . :
4 . BY J. F.
"You are as good as dead," said the
doctor, looking steadily at Anatole.
Anotole staggered. He had come
to pass a cheerful evening with his
old frieud, Dr. Bardais, the savant
whose works in poisonous substances
are so well and favorably known, but
one whose excellence of heart and al
most fatherly kindness Anatole had
been able to appreciate more than any
one. And now all of a sudden, without
regard for his feelings, without being
prepared to hear it, the terrible prog
nostic is uttered by so great an au
thority. "Unfortunate fellow," continued
the doctor, "what have you done?"
".Nothing that I know of," stani
jjnerert Anatole, greatly troubled.
4( . "Try to recollect. Tell me what
you have drank, what you have eaten
and what you have breathed."
The last word spoken by the doctor
was a ray of light to Anatole. That
rery morning he had received a letter
from one of his friends who was trav
eling in India. In this letter had been
a flower plucked ou the shores of the
Ganges by the traveler a flower, red,
warped and of bizarre shape, the odor
of which, he remembered well now,
had seemed to him strangely penetrat
ing. Anatole searched in his pocket
book and took therefrom the letter
and flower in question, which he
shoAved to the savant.
"Without doubt," exclaimed the
doctor, "it is the Pyramenensis Indica
the fatal 'flower, the flower of
death."
"Do you really think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"But it is not possible. I am only
25 years old. I feel myself full of life
and health."
f "When did you open that fatal let
ter?" "At 9 o'clock this morning."
"Well, tomorrow morning at the
same hour, indeed at the same mo
ment, you will feel a sharp anguish
at the heart, and it will be all over
with you. "
"And do you not know any remedy,
any means of "
"None," said the doctor, and hiding
his face in his hauds he sank back
ward in an armchair, choked with
grief.
From the emotion displayed by his
old friend, Anatole realized that there
was no hope. He departed in a dazed
manner.
With beads of cold perspiration on
his brow and his thoughts confused,
Anatole moved along unconscious of
what was passing arou id him and not
even suspecting that tae streets were
becomiug deserted. He wandered a
long time thus, but at last," coming to
a bench, he sat down.
The rest did him good. Until then
he had been like a man who had been
struck on the head with a club. The
effects of the shock were disappearing,
and he began now to collect his vagrant
thoughts.
"My plight," thought he, "is that
of a person condemned to death. Yet
I can still hope for mercy. By the
way,how much longer have I to live?"
He looked at his watch.
"It lacks three hours of 9 morning.
It is time I was in bed. I go to bed,
indeed! To devote the last sad hours
of my life to sleep! " No. I can cer
tainly do better than that. But, what?
Pavbleu! I have it I will draw up
my last will and testament."
A restaurant which remained open
all night was near by. Anatole en
tered and sat down.
"Waiter, a cup of coffee and a bottle
of ink."
He took a sip and looked at his
jf writing paper, reflecting: "To whom
Bhall I leave my GO00 francs income?
f I have neither father nor mother a
A fact which is lucky for them. And
among the jersons who interest me I
nan think onlv of one Nicette. "
Nicette was one of his forty-second
cousins, a charming young girl of 18
years, with fair tresses and large, black
. eyes. Like himself she was an orphan,
and this community of fate had loug
ago established a bond of sympathy
between them. His will was speedily
drawn up. He left everything to
Nicette.
"Poor Nicette," thought he. "Her
guardian, who knows little of the
world except his class, which he teaches
to play on brass instruments at the
, conservatory, lias bethought nimseit
jt to promise her hand to a brute, a sort
V of bully, whom she detests, because
she loves another, As she hns avowed
to me. al though with reticence and an
embarrassed air. Who is this happy
mortal? But he must be worthy of
her, since she has fixed her affection
on him. Good, gentle, comely and
affectionate Nicette deserves an ideal
husband. Ah, how well would she
have suited me for a wife. It is an
infamous tyranny to spoil her life by
giving her to a brute. But why should
I net be Nicette's champion? I have
laid it now, and tomorrow morning I
will vbegin to act.' But tomorrow
tnoriyrig it -iU be too late. Now is
the ti!oo tJ be?in, if at all. The hour
k a litiia mal a pivpos to eeo people, ;
OF DEATH.
its Jnvful Morninir.
DAVIDSON.
but as I shall be dead in five hours I
don't care a sou for conventionalities.
Yes, I'll do it my life for Nicette."
It was 4 o'clock in the morning
when Anatole rang the bell at the
house of Nicette's guardian, M. Bou
Bard. Badly frightened and wearing
his night-cap, he answered the door.
"Is the house on fire?"
"No, my dear M. Bousarfl,' replied
Anatole, "I have come for achat."
"At this hour?"
"I am at all hours pleased to see
you; but you are not dreased, M.Bou
sard. Are you going back to .bed
again?"
"That's what I am going to do.
But I suppose monsieur, that to dis
turb me in this manner you must have
something very important to say to
me."
"Very important, M. Bousard. It is
necessary that you give up your plan
of marrying my cousin Nicette to M.
Capendac. "
"Never, monsieur, never."
"But I say, yes."
"Monsieur, my resolution is taken.
The marriage will take place."
"It will not."
"We'll see about that. And now
that you are acquainted with my
answer I will not detain you longer."
"That is not altogether polite. But
I am as good-humored as I am tena
cious, M. Bousard. I am not offended
at your procedure, and I will remain."
"Remain if you like. I consider
yon as gone, and I will not converse
further with you."
And M. Bousard turned toward the
wall, grumbling, "Did one.ever see the
like; to disturb a peaceful man, to
rouse him from his sleep, for the pur
pose of listening to such nonsense."
Suddenly M. Bousard made a
bound from his bed. .
Anatole had taken up one of the
trombones of the professor, into which
he blew with might and main, madly
moving the slide. Infernal sounds
were emitted by the instrument.
"My cherished trombone, given me
by my pupils! Leave the instrument
alone, monsieur."
"Monsieur,1' said Anatole, "you
consider me as departed. I consider
you as absent, and I am amusing ray
self while waiting for your return.
"Um-pa! TJm-pa! What dulcet mel
ody!" "You will cause me to receive notice
to leave the house. My neighbors
will not tolerate the trombone after
midnight." .
"Then all I can say is they have no
love of music iu their souls. Z-z-z-z!
Wow! Tootle-too! Um-pa! Um-pa!"
"Stop, for meroy's sake."
"Do you consent, then?"
"To what?"
"To give up the marriage."
"But monsieur, I can't do it."
"Then, um-pa!"
"M. Capendac is a terrible man. If
I affront him thus ho will kill me."
"Does that reason influence you?"
"Ye, and others besides." '
"In that case leave all to me. Only
swear to me that if I ebtaiu the con
sent of M. Capendao to the breaking
of the match my cousin shall be free."
"Yes, monsieur, she shall be free."
. "Bravo. I have your word. Permit
me to retire. But where does this
Capendac live?"
"Number 100, Rue des Denx-Enees. "
"I will go there. Good-by." ."
"As for you," thought M.- Bousard,
"you are putting your head in the
lion's mouth, and yon will be taught
a lesson that you deserve to learn,"
Meanwhile Anatole hastened to the
address indicated. When he arrived
there it was 6 o'clock iu the morning.
"Ting-a-ling-a-ling. "
"Who is there?" said a deep voice
from within.
"Open. I am the bearer of a very
important message from M. Bousard."
He heard the noise of a safety chain
being displaced and of a key with
which three locks were successively
opened.
"Here is a man well defended,"
thought Anatole.
Finally the door was opened. Ana
tole found himself in the presence of
a gentleman with a large, curled mus
tache, who wore a fencing costume as
his night-dress.
"Always ready, you see. It is my
invention."
The walls of the ante-chamber were
hidden by suits of armor. Iu the little
parlor into which Capendac conducted
his visitor he saw only weapons galore;
ataghans, poisoned arrows, sabres, one
and two-handed swords.pistols.lauces;
there was plenty there to make a timid
heart quail.
"Bah," thought Anatole, "what do
I risk now? Two hours and a half at
the most. Here goes. "
"Monsieur," said Anatole,"you are
going to marry Mile. Nicette?"
AYcs, monsieur."
"Monsieur, you shall not marry
her."
"Blood and thunder, and who will
hinder ine?"
"I will." ...w
Capendac looked askance at AnatoTe,
who was not a large man, but who
seemed very determined.
"Ah,young man," said he.at length,
"you are lucky to find me in a pleas
ant humor. Profit by it. Do yo
know that I have fought twenty dneJs in
which I had the misfortune to slay five
of my adversaries and to wound the
other fifteen? Once more I warn you
to retire."
"I see," replied Anatole, "that you
are an adversary worthy of my steel,
and my desire increases to measure
swords with a man so redoubtable.
Let us see. Suppose we fight with
those two swords by the chimney, or
these cavalry sabres, or these oi
what do you say to these curved
ataghans. You don't decide? Why do
you hesitate?"
"I was thinking of your mother and
the grief your death would cause her."
"I am an orphan. Do you prefer
the carbine, the pistol or the revolver?"
"Young man, do not fool with these
firearms."
"Are you afraid? You tremble."
"I tremble? Nonsense, it is the
cold."
"Then either fight or renounce the
hand of Nicette."
"I like your pluck. The brave
should always be in harmony with eacb
other. Do you wish me to confess some
thing to you?"
"Out with it."
"For some time past I have wished
to free myself from this betrothal, but
I did not know how to go to work
about it. I would conseut very willing
ly to what you desire of me, but you
must understand that I, Capendac, cau
not have the air of yielding to threats.
Now you have menaced me."
"I withdraw the menace."
"Then it is agreed."
"Will yon write and sign your re
linquishment of Nicette?"
"I have so much sympathy for you
that I can refuse you nothing."
Furnished with the precious paper,
Anatole hurried back to the residenc
of M. Bousard. He reached his dooi
at 8 o'clock.
"Ting-a-ling-a-ling."
"Who is there?"
"Anatole."
"Be off to bed," cried the professor,
wrathfully.
"I have the consent of M. Capendac
Open, or I will have to break the
door."
M. Bousard opened it. Anatol
showed him the paper and going tc
the door of Nicette's room called out;
' 'Cousin, rise, dress yourself quickly,
and come down."
Some minutes after,Nicette,fresh a?
the dawn, came into the little parlor.
"What is the matter?" she inquired.
"The matter is," answered M. Bou
sard, "that your cousin is cxazy."
"If that be so there is at any rate
method in my madness," exclaimed
Anatole. "This very night, my dear
cousin,! have achieved two things. M.
Capendac has renounced his claim tc
your hand, and your excellent guardian
consents that you shall marry whom
you please."
"Really and truly, my guardian, am
free to marry Anatole?"
"Ha!" exclaimed-Anatole.
"Then, I love you, my cousin."
At that moment Anatole felt his
heart beat rapidly. Was it by reason
of the pleasure which the unexpected
avowal of Nicette had caused him'
Was it the pang predicted by Dr.Bar
dais? -Was it death?
"Wretch that I am!' exclaimed the
poor fellow. "The cup of happiness
is at my lips, and I am going to die
without tasting it."
Then feverishly taking Nicetto's
hand he told her all; how he had re
ceived the letter which contained the
flower whose fragrance he had inhaied
and of the prognostic oi Dr. Bardais;
how he had made his will iu her favor,
the steps he had subsequently taken,
and the success with which his efforts
had been crowned.
"And now," sighed he, "I must
die."
"But it is impossible," said Nicette;
"the doctor is deceived. Who is he?"
"A man who is never wrong in his
diagnosis, Nicette Dr. Bardais."
"Bardais, Bardais!" cried M. Bou
sard suddenly, bursting out laughing.
"Hear what the morning paper Bays:
" 'The learned Dr. Bardais has just beec
suddenly stricken with mental alienation.
The mania from which he suffer? is of a eci
entiflc character. It is well known that the
doctor made a special study of poisonous
substances. He believes now that ail whom
he meets are poisoned and endeavors to per
suade them that such is the case. He was
removed at night to the madhouse.' "
"Nicette!"
"Anatole!"
The young couple had rushed into
each other's arms and were locked in a
fond embrace.
They Had Not Been Introduced.
The Stella disaster furnished an in
cident typical of Englishmen beyend
everybody on earth. Three drenched
survivors, after riding for fifteen hour
across an upturned boat, were picked
up and sent to their destinations. Tho
reporters chanced to meet one and got
his story. They asked for the names
and homes of his companions and he
answered : "I do not know. I did
not ask. We hadn't been introduced."
New York Sun.
It is estimated that about 2,000,000
bicycles have been made iu Europe
and America.
ART IN AMERICA.
Growth That Promises to Make Thll
Country the "Louvre of Nations."
It does not seem to be commonly
realized that America that is, the
United States is on the way to be
come the Louvre of the nations, re
marks a writer in the Nineteenth Cen
tury. From year to year the public
galleries have been enriched with
masterpieces of all the modern schools:
and by purchase, bequest, or gift,
many valuable and some great pic
tures by the older Italian, Flemish,
and Spanish masters have been added
to the already imposing store of na
tional art wealth.
In New York preeminently, but
also in Boston, Washington. Phila
delphia, and in other large cities from
New Orleans in the south to Chicago
in the north, and from Baltimore in
the east to San Francisco in the west,
there is now so numerous, and, in the
main, so distinguished a congregation
of pictures, of all schools and periods,
that the day is not only at hand, but
has arrived, when the native student
of art no longer needs to go abroad in
order to learn the tidal reach and
high-water mark in this or that na
tion's achievement, in this or that
school's accomplishment, in this or
that individual paiuter's work. In
time, and probably before long, the
great desideratum will be attained
the atmosphere wherein the creative
imagination is sustained and nour
ished. At present the most brilliant
American painters must follow the
trade flag of art, and that banner
flaunts nowhere steadily but in Paris
and London.
There are now in America more
training schools, more opportunities
for instruction, more chances for the
individual young painter to arrive at
self-knowledge than were enjoyed of
Did by the eager youth of Fkinders, of
France, of Spain, even of Italy. But
the essential is still wanting, without
ivhich all these advantages are merely
as stars among the branches. There
is no atmosphere.6f art in America at
large.
In the great majority of towns
throughout the States there . is no at
mosphere at all. But every few years
the radical influences at work are
brausmuting these conditions,) and
ihough neither Boston, nor Washing
ion, nor even New- York are yet art
;eutres in any way comparable to Lon
ion, or Paris, or Munich, the time is
not far distant when the inevitable
must happen.
In actual respect of art treasures
:he great cities of the States are al
ready beyond our own provincial cities
md towns,- among which only Liver
pool and Glasgow stand out pre
eminent. New York, naturally, has become
the art metropolis of the States. Al
ready the art wealth of this great city
;s almost incalculable. Boston comes
next, then Washington. But notwith
standing the general idea to the con
trary, the finest private collections are
aot in New York. There is no pri
vate collection in New York or Bostou
r Washington to compare for a mo
ment with that of Mr. W. T. Walters
t Baltimore. Of all the "homes of
irt" to be seen in America, .Mr. Wal
lers' is pre-eminently "the House
Beautiful."
Within the last ten years the Metro
politan Museum of Art in New York
iias become the most interesting of
ill national art collections.
First '!li Story of the Year.
John Willard Northrop is one of
Chicago's most enthusiastic fishermeu,
ind when he makes a big catch he al
ways brings something home with
him by way of evidence. As his lat
est piscatorial prize he is bringing
home the head of a devilfish which he
caught while tarpon fishing in the
Gulf of Mexico oft' Punta Easa, Fla.
The monster before dismemberment
was 22 1-2 feet long 18 feet wide,
3 1-2 feet thick and had a tail the
shape of a billiard cue and about twice
as long.
It was while fishing from a launch
that Northrop sighted the. devilfish.
One of the guides suggested that if
Mr. Northrop would risk a fight with
the monster he would try to harpoou
him. There were two harpoons on
board, and it was deemed best to have
the guide use one and Northrop the
rther. Northrop threw first for a
fairly good hold, which the guide
"cinched" with auother. Then tere
was a fight At times the vessel was
able to go ahead; at other times the
devilfish was towing it. In the mean
time the crew fired shot after shot at
Ihe prisoner, and finally it was killed.
Small holes were cut into each side
of the fish, into which shark hooks
were inserted. Then the devilfish
was towed to f-hore and "bleached."
Chicago-Times Herald.
Bonaparte's Sugar Howl.
A Hampden (Me.) woman, Mrs. E.B.
Maddoeks, has ia her possession a
sugar bowl which was once the prop
erty of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was
given to her mother in 1S12, when
Napoleon was in camp at Stausberg.
The bowl is made of eartheuware and
is silver-plated and is considered no
less valuable because of a nick in the
jover of the bowl, as the story runs
that Napoleon was passing it to a
friend one day when he accidentally
dropped it on the floor, . leaking the
DE. TALMAGESJSERMON.
SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BYTHE NOTED
DIVINE.
6ubject: "You Can't Cheat God" He Will
Weigh Our Act With Perfect Balances
Opportunities Measured Against Sins
Personal Responsibility For Errors.
Copyright, Louis KJopscli, 1899.
Washington, D. C In these days of
moral awakening this pointed sermon by
Dr. Talmage on personal responsibility be
fore God will be read with a deep and sol
emn Interest; text, Daniel v., 27. "Thou
art weighed In the balance and found
wanting."
Babylon was the paradise of architecture,
and driven out from thence the grandest
buildings of modern times are only the
evidence of her fall. The site havingbeen
selected for the city, 2,000,000 men were
employed in the rearing of her walls and
the building of her works. It was a city
sixty miles in circumference. There was a
trench all around the city, from which the
material for the building of the city bad
been digged. There were twenty-flve
gates on each side of 'the city; between
every two gates a tower of defense spring
ing into the skies; from each gate on
the one side, a street running straight
through to the corresponding gate on the
other side, so that there were fifty streets
fifteen miles long. Through the city ran a
branch of the river Euphrates. This river
sometimes overflowed its banks, and, to
keep it from ruining the city, a lake was
constructed into which the surplus water
of the river would run during the time of
freshets, and the water was kept in this
artificial lake until time of drought, and
then this water would stream down over
the city. At either end of the bridge span
ping this Euphrates there was a palace
the one palace a mile and a half around,
the other palace seven and a half miles
around.
The wife of Nebuchadnezzar had been
horn and brought up in the country, and
in a mountainous region, and she could
not bear this flat district of Babylon, and
so, to please his wife, Nebuchadnezzar
built in the midst of the city a mountain
400 feet high. This mountain was built out
into terraces supported on arches. On the
top of these arches a layer of flat stones,
on the top of that a layer of reeds and bi
tumen, on the top of that two layers of
bricks closely cemented, on the top
of that a heavy sheet of lead, and on
the top of that the soil placed the soil
so deep that a Lebanon cedar had room
to anchor its roots. There were pumps
worked by mighty machinery, fetching
up the water from the Euphrates to
this banging garden, as it was called,
so that there were fountains spouting into
the sky. Standing below and looking up,
it must have seemed as if the clouds were
in blossom, or as though the sky leaned on
the shoulder of a cedar. All this Nebuchad
nezzar did to please his wife. Well, she
ought to have been pleased. I suppose she
was pleased. If that would not please her.
nothing would. There was In thaj city
also the temple of Belus. with towers one
tower the eighth of a wile high, in which
there was an observatory where astrono
mers talked to the stars. There was in
that temple an image, just one image,
which would cost what would be our $50,
000,000. Ob, what a city! The earth never saw
anything like it, never will see anything
like it, and yet I have to tell you that it is
going to be destroyed. The king and his
princes are at a feast. They are all intoxi
cated. Pour out the rich wine into the
chalicesl Drink to the health of the king!
Drink to the glory of Babylon! Drink to a
great future! A thousand lords reel intoxi
cated. The king seated upon a chair, with
vacant look, as intoxicated men will with
vacant look stared at the wall. But soon
that vacant look takes on intensity, and
it is an affrighted look, and all the
princes begin to look and wonder what is
the matter, and they look at the same point
on the wall, and then there drops a darkness
into the room that puts out the blaze of
the golden plate, and out of the sleeve of
the darkness there comes a finger a finger
of the fiery terror circling around and cir
cling around as though it would write, and
then it comes up and with sharp tip of
flame it inscribes on the plastering on the
wall the doom of the king: "Weighed in
the balances and found wanting." The
bang of heavy fists against the gates of the
palace is followed by the breaking in of
the doors. A thousand gleaming knives
strike into J000 quivering hearts. Now
death ia king, and he is seated on a throne
of corpses. In that hall there is a balance
lifted. God swung it. On one side of the
balance are put Belsbazzar's opportunities,
on the other side of the balance are put
Belshazzar's sins. The sins come down.
His opportunities go up. Weighed in the
balances found wanting.
There has been a great deal of cheating
In our country with false weights and
measures and "balances, and the Govern
ment, to change that state of things, ap
pointed Commissioners, whose business it
was to stamp weights and measures and
balances, and a great deal of the wrong
has been corrected. But still, after all,
there is no such thing as a perfect balance
on earth. The chain may break or some
of the metal may be clipped or In some way
the equipoise may be disturbed. You can
not always depend upon earthly balances.
A pound is not always a pound, and you
may pay for one thing and get another,
but, in the balance which is suspended to
the throne of God, a pound is a pound and
right is right and wrong is wrong and a
soul is a soul and eternity is eternity.
God has a perfect bushel and a per
fect peck and a perfect gallon. When
merchants weigh their goods in the
wrong way, then the Lord weighs the
goods again. If from the imperfect
measure the merchant pours out what pro
tends to be a gallon of oil, and there Is less
than a gallon, God knows it, and He calls
upon His recording angel to mark it, "So
much wanting in that measure of oil." Tht
farmer comes In from the country. He
has apples to sell. He has an imperfect
measure. Ho pours out the apples from
this imperfect measure. God recognizes
it. He says to the recording angel, "Mark
down so many apples too few an imper
fect measure." We may cheat ourselves,
and we may cheat the world, but we can
not cheat God, and in the reat day of
judgment it will be found out that what
we learned in boyhood at school lseorrect;
that twenty hundredweight makes a ton,
and 120 solid feet make a cord of wood. No
more, no less, and a religion which does
not take hold of ihis life, as well as the life
to come, is no religion at all.
But, my friends, that is not tho style of
balances! amtospeak of to-day;that is not
the kind of weights and measures, I am
to speak of that kind of balances which
weigh principles, weigh churches, weigh
men, weigh nations and weigh worlds.
"What!" you say. "Is it possible that our
world is to be weighed?" Yes. Why, you
would think if God put on one side of the
balances suspended from the throne the
Alps and the Pyrenees nd the Himalayas
and Mount Washington and all the cities
of the earth they would crush it. No, no!
The time will come when (Jvd will sit down
on tbe white throne to see the world
one Biaa will be the
world's opportunities and on the other sld
the world's sins. Down will go the sins
and away will go the opportunities and
God will say to the messengers with the
torch: "Burn that world! Weighed and1
louna wanting!" , i
So God will weigh churches. He takes a,
great church. That church, great accord
ing to the worldly estimate, must be
weighed. He puts it on one side the bal
ances and the minister and the choir and
the building that cost Its hundreds of thou
sands of dollars. He puts them on one
side tbe balances. On the other side of the
scale He puts what that church ought to
be, what its consecration ought to be, what
its sympathy for the poor ought to be,
what its devotion to all good ought to be.
That is on one side. That side comes
down, and the church, not being able to
stand the test, rises in the balances. It
does not make any difference about your
magnificent machinery. A church is buUt
for one tting to save souls. If It saves a
few souls when it might save a multitude!
of souls, God will spew It out of His mouth.'
Weighed and found wantingl i
So we perceive that God estimates na
tions. How many times He has put the
Spanish monarchy into tbe scales and
found it insufficient and condemned itt
The French empire was placed on one side
of the scales, and God weighed the French
empire, and Napoleon said: "Have I not
enlarged tbe boulevards? Did I not kin
dle the glories of the Champs Elyees? Have
I not adorned the Tuilcries? Have I not built
the gilded opera house? Then God weighed
the nation, and He put on one side the
scales the emperor and the boulevards and
the Tuileries and the Champs Elysees and
the gilded opera house, and on the other
side He puts that man's abominations,
that man's libertinism, that man's selfish
ness, that man's godless ambition. This
last came down, and all the brilliancy of
the scene vanished. What Is that voice
coming up from Sedan? Weighed and
found wanting!
People say there Is a day of judgment1
coming. My friends, every day is a day of
judgment, and you and I to-day are being
canvassed.'inspected, weighed. Here are the
balances of the sanctuary. They are lifted,
and we must all be weighed. Who will
come and be weighed first Here is a
moralist who volunteers. He Is one of the
most upright men In the country. Ha
comes. "Well, my brother, get in get
into the balances now and be weighed."
But as he gets into the balances I say,'
"What Is that bundle you have along with,
you?" "Ob," he says, "that is my reputa
tion for goodness and kindness and charity
and generosity and kindliness generally!"
"Oh, my brother, we cannot weigh tbatL
We are going to weigh you you. Nowj
stand in the scales you, the moralist.1
Paid your debts?" "Yes," you say, "paid1
all my debts." "Have you acted In an'
upright way In tbe community?" "Yes,1
yes." "Have you been kind to the poor?
Are you faithful in a thousand relations in1
life?" "Yes." "So far, so good. But now,
before you get out of this scale I want to.
ask you two or three questions. Have your
thoughts always been right?" "No," yoo
say; "no." Put down one mark. "Have
you loved the Lord with all your heart and
soul and mind and strength?" "No," you
say. Make another mark. "Come now, be
frank and confess that in 10,000 things you
have come short, have you not?" "Yes."
Make 10,000 marks. Come now, get me a'
book large enough to make the record of
the moralist's deficits. My brother, stand
in the scales, do not lly away from them. JG
put on your side the scales all the good'
deeds you ever did, all the kind words you
ever uttered. But on the other side the
scales I put this weight which God says I
must put there on the other side the scales
and opposite to yours I put this weight,
"By the deeds of the law shall no flesh liv
ing be justified." Weighed and found want
ing! Still, the balances of the sanctuary are
suspended and we are ready to weigh any
who come. Who shall be the next. Weil,
here Is a formalist. He comes and be gets
into tbe balances, and as he gets in 1 see
that all his religion is in genuflection and
in outward observauces. As he gets into
the scales I say, "What Is that you have in
this pocket?" "Oh!" he says, "that is a
Westminster assembly catechism." I say:
"Very good. What have v.u in the othei
pocket?" "Oh!.' he says, "that is the
Heidelberg catechism." "Very good.'
What is that you have unier your arm,
standing In this balance of the sanctuary?"
"Oh!" he says, "that is a church record."
"Very good. What are those books on your
side the balances?" "Oh!" he says, "those
are 'Calvin's Institutes.'" "My brother,
we are not weighing books, we are weigh
ing you. It cannot be that you are de
pending for your salvation upon your
orthodoxy. Do you not know that the
creeds and the forms of religion are merely
the scaffolding for the building? You cer
tainly are not going to mistake the scaf
folding for the temple. Do you not know
that men have gone to perdition with a
catechism in their pocket?" "But," says
the man, "I cross myself often." "Ahl
that will not save you." "But," says tbe
man, "I am sympathetic, for the poor."
"That will Dot save you." Says the man,
"I sat at the communion table." "That
will not save you." "But," says the
man, "I have had my name on the'
church record." "That will not save you."
"But I have been a professor of religion
forty years." "That will not save you.
Stand there on your side the balances, and
I will glrfe you the advantage I will let
you have all the creeds, all the church rec
ords, all the Christian conventions that
were ever held, all the communion tables
that were ever built, on your side the bal
ances. On the other side the balances I
must put what God says I must put there.
I put this 1,000,000 pound weight on the
other side the balances, 'Having the form
of godliness, but denying the power there
of.' " Weighed and found wanting!
Still the balances are suspended. Are
there any others who would like to be
weighed or who will be weighed? Yes;
here comes a worldling. He gets into the
scales. I can very easily see what his
whole life is made up of. Stocks, dividends,
percentages, "buyer tea days," "buyer
thirty days." "Get in my friend, get into
these balances and be weighed weighed
for this life and weighed for the lite to
come." He gets in. I find that the two
great questions in his life are. "How
cheaply can I buy these goods?" aud "How
dearly, can I sell them?" I find he ad
mires heaven because it is a land of gold,
and money must be "easy." I find, from
talking with him, that religion and the
Sabbath are an interruption, a vulgar in
terruption, and ho hopes on the way to
church to drum up a new customer!
All the week he has been weighing
fruits, weighing meats, weighing ice,
weighing coals, weighing confections,,
weighing worldly and perishable commodi
ties, not realizing the fact that He himself
has been weighed. "On your side the
balances, O worldly! I will give yo:i full
advantage. I put on your side all the
banking houses, all the storehouse?, alt
the cargoes, all the insurance companies,
all the factories, oil ths silrer.all the gold,
all the tnonev vaults, all the safe deposits
ail on your side. But It does not add
one ounce, for at the very moment we ars
congratulating you on yoar fine houso and
upon your princely income God and the
angels are writing in regard to your soai;
'Weighed and found wanting!' ,. J