E. F. YOUNG, Manager.
"LIVE A.jN 13 LET LtYE,
C. K. GRANTHAM, Local Editor.
VOLUME r.
DUNN, HARNETT CO., N. Ce, THUESDAY. APRIL 23, 1891.
NUMBER 9.
(Cftc (Central; - CCtmc. !
i. Published Every Thursday
E. F. Toflfli aiii G, K. Grantliam.
SUBSCRIPTIONS IN ADVANCE:
Om Year, - - $1.00
Sir, Months,
"Tlure Month,
ADVERTISING RATES:
tnc Column, One Year, - - $7:C0
i " " " . - - - 40.00
i " " " - 20.00
One Inch, " " .- - , ' 10.00
,?r-?yContract anyerlisetiicats taken at pro
portionately 1iw rates.
I.nl notions, 10 cenf,s a line.
?s&ICnU-rr,l pt thr l'u.-t'fficf in Jhinn, X. C
r.i- ysa-iji'l-tt'i? in liter. .
The New York Neus predicts that this
will be au exceptional year for immigra
tion. The figures for a recent month in
dicate a larger influx of foreigners by
twelve or fifteen thousand than we had
during the same period in 1890. The
Italians predominate'.' '
A citizen of St. Louis makes a good
living by renting turtles to restaurants
for advertising purposes. He gets $2
per day for each, and they are always in
demand. They are left outside the door
the day before turtle soup is served, and
create a run the next day for the soup,
but they are not in it.
A recent writer suggests that the
sciences might receive new names that
would be self-explaining. He would
i;ivc us birdlore in place of ornithology;
tishlearning instead "of ichthyology;
pjantlore for botany; starlore for as
tronomy, etc. Some of these are occasion
ally used already, and there is no good -reason
why wc should not adopt all !of
thcni. " -
A New Orleans paper reminds" the
Italian press that twenty-two English
and American tourists have been cap-;
hire I . by brigands in Italy during the
List fifteen years, and of this number
. nine were murdered because they could
piy no ransom. The Italian Govern
ment moved not a hand in any one
:cas, nor did. England or America make
aiiv threats.
Herbert Spencer opposes socialism be
cause he says that it turns back progress
and is a foe to personal freedom. Com
pulsory co-operation, he thinks, would
.result in a society like that of ancient
Peru, where the people in groups of
10. 50, 100, 500 and 1000 were ruled by
fiiccrs, tied to their districts, superin
tended in their work and business , and
made hopeless toilers for the support pf
the Government.
The British Medical Journal, in an ar
ticle commenting on a case of hypnotism
k'5cribed iu a New York 'paper, insists
that England shall pass laws to prevent
the reckless practice of hypnotism in
Great Britain.' The article expresses re
gret thai reliable information is at hand
that several physicians of standing are
traveling in England under assumed
names and practicing hypnotism upon all
applicants, regardless of risk to health
and life. ,
An English engineer of high standing
in a recent paper on cir new navy said
'that in general workmanship and in many
details the new ships built in this country
were equal to England's best, and that
the armament of the battle-ships were :
more powerful than that of any ships of
the same class built in Europe. In con
cluding his address he declared that the
work of the American contractors was
worthy o! study by all Englishmen in
terested in the subject
The German press is not allowed a
special rate on its telegraphic corre
spondence, the Government making no
discrimination. In all other countries
press dispatcher are transmitted &i
greatly reduced rates, but Dr. Stephen,
Direct.:? of the German Telegraph, rc
centlv declared that he saw no reason
whatever for favoring the newspapers
thus. As a result of his illiberal policy,
notes the Chicago Pott, the press
messages of Germany constitute . only
14 per cent, of the total traffic, and the
German newspapers are among the dullest
on earth.
A groom's right to wear a moustache
has been tried in England, with the
court's decision in his favor. " When
Mrs, Grimshaw's-groom was engaged he
was smooth shaven, but after a cold he
grewva moustache by his doctor's ad
vice, whereupon Mrs. Grimsfft'V ordered
him to shave or go without notice. The
Judge held that the demand was un
reasonable. If he had been a house
servant, wearing powder and white silk
stockings, suggests the Boston Tran
irript, he might have been required to
shave; but a graom was au outdoor ser
vant, nd a moustache was a natural
protection against the weather. The
plaintiff got 25 damages.
LIGHT.
What dees the blind man, blind fmm in
fancy, i
Note in the vistas of his sleeping dream?
Living in darkness 'neath light's glowing
stream, ,
What can dreams show him that rcT'd
lovely be?
Loud would he sing, joy-brimming, suddenly
To know the blessing of day's faintest
gleam
"Brighter than bright dream pictures then
would Beam 1
Life's radiant b?auties iu his vision free.
And would not we, reposing in the gloom,
Dreaming ia shadow, reft by death o
-right,
In awe-struck joy and wonder wake to see,
Like the day breaking into sulden bloom,
About us burst the roiling sea of light
That gilds the white shores of eternity?
K. Munkittrick, in, the Century
MISS DILLOWAY.
BY CABBIE A. GBIFKIN".
Miss Dilloway locked the back door
of her small house, and hung' the key in
plain sight near the kitchen window,
How far the safety of her goods and
chattels was ensured by this simple uct
she never stopped to consider; but noth
ing would have induced her to leave the
door unlocked.
. On her way down the narrow gravel
walk she stopped to pull a weed here
and there
from the flower-bed. and to f
pick up aa obnoxious piece of paper
which had someho.w found its way into
the midst of the flowers. She straight
ened a young Balm of Gilad tree, and
tied it more securely to the small stick
which served as a prop; then, closing the
gate carefully behind her, she walked
briskly down the village street.
She had walked rather timidly along
the platform of the little railroad sta
tion, and was about to enter ,the waiting
room when she was accosted by a man
standing near, who was checking a soli
tary trunk.
"Wal, wal, Miss Dilloway! Coin' on
a journey?' .
"Not much of a one,' she answered,
curtly.
"Wal, go right in, and I'll be in. in 51
minute."
He soon appeared at the ticket-office
window, curiosity written all over his
face. Miss Dilloway noted iU
"I want a ticket to Preston. How
much is it?" she said.
"Oh, to Preston! Eighty-five cents.
"Let me see; got any relations up that
way?"
"No. Can you change five dollars
. ,
'Oil rps twpntr.firp i if von mv sn'
it you say so
move up Pres
Wal, didn't Ezry's folks
j v. ..
ton way, or nigh there?"
"No; they moved to Clar'mout
How
soon'll the train go?"
Old Mr. McQuestion leaned forward
ntl looked out through the office
window at the clock on the wall.
"In 'bout fifteen minutes. Set down;
set down over there in the rocking-chair,
and make yourself comfortable. 'Taint
every depot that's got a rocking-chair.
Ahem! Gom' to be gone long?"
"No," answered Miss Dilloway, with
a slight smile, ratner enjoying the anything about his parents r
situation. "Yes. They were very nice people.
"No? H'nv h'm! Wal ' The father died only eight months ago,
But the good man's curiosity was not and the mother was so affected by his
to be gratified that morning. A call i death that she never rallied after the baby
from the baggage-room necessitated his i came. The little fellow seems to be
hurrying away, and the ten o'clock j wholly alone in the world."
accommodation soon bore little Miss Miss Dilloway's mind was made up
Dilloway out of sight and hearing. from that moment, and early in the af-
In two hours' time she was standing noon Mr. McQuestion, for the first time
before a large brick building, over the in his life, lost his voice -as little Miss
massive door of which were the words: Dilloway got off. the train with a baby in
"Home for the Friendless." She trembled her ai ms. -
a little as she ascended the granite steps, Of course the people. of Rentham were
and waited a little time before she rang surprised. It seems a very amusing thing
the bell. j to some ,of them that Miss Dilloway
A white-capped servant showed her,; should adopt a baby, but those who
into a small reception-room. It stemed knew her well and loved her, commend
as if her nervousness increased with every ed her worthy act and rejoiced-in her
moment's waiting, and when a tall, hew happiness for happy she certainly
serious lady came slowly into the room, was.
Miss Dilloway wished very much indeed It was certaiqly a beautiful sight to
that she were safe at home. see Miss Dilloway with the baby in her
"You came to see our little ones?" arras. The child crowed, cooed and
said the lady, with a smile which drove was unmistakably very iond of his foster
all the stern lines from her face. parent.
" Ye-es ; I did come to get one to i Donations of slips, stockings and
ad6pt ; but now't I'm here, I don't j sacks for baby's wear came in almost
know that I'd ought to." j daily. One thoughtful neighbor sent a
Perhaps jyou can tell better after I cradle. Children came'hx with toys in
... . .1
seeing. j numeraoie.
' Yes, yes, I suppose I can. You see ! Miss Dilloway held council with the
I made up my mind rather suddenly, i mothers in the neighborhood as to the
3Ir. Thornton, our minister I come merits of anise and the demerits of
from Rentham preached a most power- soothing syrup. Advice was freely
ful sermon last Sunday, from, the text, given, but often of such a contradictory
Whoso shall receive one such little nature that poor Miss Dilloway was
child,' and that sermon tas been haunt- puzzled. Nevertheless, baby grew and
ingmc ever since. He had just come prospered, and made sunshine in the lit
from a visit to Bostn, where he saw an tie old lady's heart.
orphan asylum; and he said it made his One day, about three months after
heart ache to see so mauy little children baby's advent in Rentham, a very un
who never knew what it was to have a j usual sound rang through Miss Dillo
mother's kiss on their foreheads." J way2's dwelling. There were one, two,
Miss Dilloway wiped a tear from her three clangs of the brass knocker on the
eye, and went on1 ' , I seldom used front door.
"And then he said, if the Lord was When, with baby in her arms, she
going to ask us by anc by what use w-e J opened the door, she faced a tall, well
had made of the" taUnts He had given j built man ,of substantial appearance in
us, he didn't see why He shouln't ask j more senses than one, with streaks of
us what use we'd madu of our homes, es- gray in his hair.
pecially those folks -who had been given I The man glanced at the baby and
houses bigger than tney neeaed. lie
asked them if the pople didn t thmk it
wasn't burying room, as the man buried
the talent, to keep them shut up; and
he urged them to o n their hearts aud
homes to be mothers and fathers to
some little waif who didn't have auy
parents.
"Then he capped it all by saying that
he and Mrs. Thornton had just adopted
a five-year-old boy from that very asy
lum. They've got feven already! But
that's like 3Ir. Thornton; he always
practises what he preflches.
V Well, when I sat down that afternoon
with my Bible and hyjin-book, I couldn't
get my mind off that sermon.. When I
heard it, it didn't ceem as if 'twas meant
for me, but formarriei folks; but some
how the thought of Abby's chamber up
stairs Abby's my sister who died last
yar kind of worked its way into my
mind, and I wondered if the Lord would
say to me, 'Cynthia Dilloway, have you
kept that room of yours hid in a napkin?'
"Then I thought of the cellar' full of
provisions, and mote than enough in the
bank to take care of me if I lived to be a
hundred; and before I knew it, I'd said
aloud, 'I'll do it! I'll give one of those
poor things a home, and I guess I can be
a kind of a mother to it, if I am an old
maid !'
"It's surprising how much company
just the thought of having a Jrttle .girl
arouud has been, for I made up my mind,
oi course, it snouia be a
then I've been kind of cettinar ready
and well, here I am!"
By this time little Miss Dilloway was
wiping the perspiration from her face.
She had talked au unusually long time
for her.
"My friend," said the matron, who
had been listening with interest to her
story "I am sure you-will be blessed in
sharing your heme with one of God's un
fortunate ones. Come with mc and let
me show you my 'family.' "
She led the way up a broad flight of
stairs. Miss Dilloway soon found herself
in a large room, which contained so
many children that the first sight of
them almost'iook her breath away; "She
had expected to see a dozen or twenty,
perhaps, but here were surely a hun
dred. How could she choose from
among so many.
Over in the corner' one of the older
jrirls was trotting a baby. Miss Dillo-
; way-was very fond of babies, and she
! stopped instinctively to speak to this
j one.
It looked up into her sweet face con
fidingly, and then held out her small
arm toward her. She took it eagerly,
and pressed the little form close.
"1 do love babies so!" she said half
apologetically, to the matron, who was
looking on with a smile. "1 often say to
the folks at home that I don't envy them
their husbands, their big houses, or their
rick-rack, as they call their ornaments
nowadays; but I do envy them their
babies.. They seem to think it's queer,
I don't see why old maids shouldn't
love babies as well's married folks."
"Why not adopt a baby."
' Miss Dilloway had intended to adopt
an older child, and the suggestion that
the should take an' infant took her so
much by surprise that she hastily re
turned the baby to its young nurse, and
sat down in a chair. Then a strange
thing happened ; the baby's lip began to
quiver ; tears, gathered in its eyes, and
"its arms were held out again appealiugly
to Miss Dilloway.
She took it instantly, and askech the
matron : . .
"She ain't more'n six months old, is
she?"
"He was just sevcu months'old yester
day." ' " .
"He! Is it a boy?" she. almost
screamed, looking at the child as if he
were to blame for not being a girl.
The baby seemed to realize that an
important moment in his young life had
arrived. He patted Miss Dilloway's
cheek with his fat palm and then snuggled
close to her side.
Miss Dilloway cleared her throat.
"Well, I never liked boys vet y much
after they're grown up, but if I should
take this one, I guess I should
to his ways before that j time.
get used
Do you
f said, witnout ceremony
'I guess I've struck
the light place.
I'This is 3Iiss Dilloway, ain't it?"
Tremulously, holding the baby very
tight, and with an awful foreboding at
her heart, she auswered : "Ye es. Will
you walk in?"
"Well, yes, I reckon I will, seeing
I've come all this distance to see the lit
tle fellow. There, now, don't get
scared! I've no notion of taking him
from you. . I shouldn't "know what to do
with him if I had him."
Miss Dilloway's face continued to ex
press astonishment.
"Well, well," said the man, "I guess
I'd better introduce myself, I'm Reuben
Russell, late of -Minnesota, at present of
nowhere in particular. I got to Preston
three days ago, and "went to work the
first thing to hunt up my niece Clary. I
didn't know she was dead until I reached
the place where""1 she used to board. I
hadn't heard from her for over a year,
and I was pretty well taken aback when
if
they told me ot her death, and her huii
band s, so nigh together -jj
"But I was more taken aback when
heard she'd left a baby, and that it hai.
been sent to an asylum. Clary Dayton
baby, my nevvy or grand-nevvy- -in aa
asylum ! '
"I traveled pretty quick to the place
and I don't know whether I was' glad oj
sorry when I heard it had been adopted.
Anyway, what I catoe here for's to se's.
the little chap look round here;
sonny and to make some arrangement
with you about his board or whatever
you call it; I don't want Clary's cbil
to be living on charity."1
"But it isn't charity, sir, it isnt
charity!. You see-it belongs to me.;'
Miss Dilloway said this "with a half-vinl-dicative
air. ' "I had the papers regu
iarly made out." . f
"Well, by and by, when lie giowsurf,
he'll have to be educated, and clothes
bought for him. I'll start him a ban$
account. What's his name?" ' . jj
"I I've alway3 called him 'Baby.' !I
haven't thought of any name yet," an
swered Miss Djlloway, notf just likirr
this "look ahead," when this bit of hu
manity in her arras would need education
and boy's clothes. -4 r
"Land o' liberty ! Clary's baby with
outatiame! Well, well. Ahem! Wh-4--what
do you say to calling him aftej
me Reuben?" .
'I don't know that there's any objecj
tiori," said the little woman, somewhat
meekly. - ) ,
"Well, you think it over.. I've got'i
little business do.wn this way that needj
looking after, so I shall probably bjjb
round here for a day or two, and I'll
come in again." ; - '
Mr. Russell'? business must have re
quired more "looking alter" than he at
first supposed, for it detained him 11
Rentham more than a week. Thefi
seemed to be an hour or two in each
day, however, when it did not require!
his attention, and these were spent in.
"looking in to see how Clary Vbaby wqs
getting on."
It would not have got on at all if Mik
Dilloway had not been present to inter
fere, when gingerbred horses and highly
colored sugar soldiers found their wa3r
from Mr. Russell's pockets . to babya
mouthi Something, was brought for
baby's amusement at every visit 4a
jurnping-jack, a rattle' or . a woolly
sheep until Mr. Russell ar his
small grand-nephew became very gooil
friends. Mr. Russell returned to Pres-
ton, and was gone just two weeks. At
the end of that time he might have been
seen one afternoon going toward Miss
Dilloway's residence, boldly pushing a .
handsome baby carriage before him.
He was" hardly seated in Miss Dilh
way's small sitting-room before he clearest
his throat and began: II
"I've been thinking a good deal since
I left here a fortnight ago, Mlss Di-:
way, and I found I'd become a -good del
attached to to the baby; and ahem!
it struck me that, as you're alone ii
the woild, and I'm alone, and as tle
baby seems to kind o' belong to both f
us, it wouldn't be a bad idea to made oifs
family. What do jou say?" -"
Perhaps what one of the neighbors saigl
a short time after may throw some ligHt
on Miss Dilloway's. answer. 1
'. "She's sixty, and he's sixty-five if hefs
a day; and it's too ridiculous to sc
them together with
that baby"ij-
Youth's Companion.
, : . I
Pineapple Juice for Diphtheria.!
"Nature has her own remedy for diph
theria," says a Chicago man. "It Is
nothing more nor less than- pineapple
juice. I declare that I have found it o
be a specific. It will cure the worst cate
that ever mortal flesh was afflicted with.
I did not discover the" remedy. The
colored people of the South did tha.
Two years ago I was engaged In lumber
ing in Mississippi. One of my children
was down with diphtheria, and the ques
tion of his death was simply the prolen
for a few hours to determine. An old col
ored man, to whom my wife had shojvtr
some kindnesses, called at the house, an,st
faying be" heard of my little oq,e's ilj
uess, urged me to try pineapple jie.
The old fellow declared that in Louisian,'
where heeatwe from, he had seen it tried
a million times, and that in each caset
had proved effective. So .1 .secured'!
pineapple and squeezed out the juie..
After a while we got some of it down time
boy's throat, and in a short time he wjs
cured. The pineapple should be tho
oughly ripe. The juice is of so corrosive
a nature that it will cut out the diph
theric mucus. I tell you it is i"sujre
cure." L-
A Curions Blunder.
On most of the maps in use in otr
schools and offices may be found, in the
northwest part of the State of Colorado
a settlement indicated, called Golden
City. Some of the maps .even have m
road leading to , it. This, 'says Got$U
thieaile'a Geographical Magazine, is a
curious instance of the blunders tht
get into maps and stick there. Asa
matter of fact there is no settlement in
the whole region for miles around. t
is in -the midst of the Colorado Bad
Lan3s, an uninhnbited wilderness. Whn
this region was first explored some oe
dabbed this spot Goblin City on account
of the weird and fantastic shapes of the
rocks in that remarkable country. Sone
careless mapmaker altered the name jfo
Golden City, 'presuming, possibly, thjjtt
it was a mining camp, and Golden Cifjy
it remains to this day.
f
Manhattan Sold. for $25.
According to popular tradition the
Island of Manhattan was sold in 165?4
for the sum of 25. The conclusion oe
.would naturally jump to would be tht
in the light of subsequent events the sulfn
was a ridiculously small price. But lt
us suppose. that 25 had been placed otft
at seven per cent, interest in the ye$r
1624 and had been allowed to compound
up to the year 1884, how much wouldt
then have amounted to? Something in tte
neighborhood of 1,600,000,000. Is te
Island of Manhattan worth much raojre
than that to-day? Pharmaceutical Er.
I
BBT. .DB. TMAGE.
The Eminent Brooklyn Divine's Sun
day Sermon.
. .
Subjects "The Plague f Crime."
kxt: "AU the water thai were in the
rxverpere turned to bloody Exodus vit.
Among all the Egyptian plagues none could
nave been worse thn this. The Nile is the
wealth of Egypt. Its flsi ths food, its waters
the irrigation of garden and fields. Its con
dition decides the prosperity or the doom of
the empire. What happens to the Nile hap
pens to all Egypt. And now in the text that
great river is incarnadined . It is a red gash
across an ecftpiro. In poetic license we speak
of wars which turn the l ivers into blood.
But niy text js not a poetic license. It was
a fact, a great crimson, appalling condition
described. The Nile rolling deep of blocd.
Can you imagine more awful plague?
The modern plague which nearest corre
sponds with that is the .plague of crime in
all our cities. It halts not for bloodshed.
It-shrinks from no carnage. It bruises and
cuts and strikes down and destroys. It re
vels in the blood of body and sou, this plague
of crime rampant for ages, and never bolder
or more rampant than now.
The annual police reports of these cities as
I examine them are to me mora 1 suggestive
than Dante's Inferno, and ail Christ:an people
es well as reformers need to awaken to a pres
ent and tremendous duty.: If you want this
"Plague of Crime" to stop there are several
kinds of persons you need to consider. First,
the public criminals. You ought not to be
surprised that these people make up a large
portion in many communities. The vast
irajority of the criminals who take ship from
Europe come into our own port. In 1809, of
tie forty-nine thor.Fand people who were in
carcerated ia the prisons of tihe country
thirty-two thousand were of foreign birth.
Many of them were the very desperadoes of
society, oozing into'the slums ot our city,
waiting for an opportunity to' riot and steal
and debauch, joining the large gang of
American thugs and cut-throats. V
There are in this cluster of cities New
York, Jersey City and Brooklyn four
thousand people whose entire business m
life is-to commit suicide. That is as much
their business as jurisprudence or medicine
or merchandise is your business. To it they
bring all their energies of body, mind and
soul, and they look upon the intervals which
they spend in prison as so much unfortunate
los 8 of time, just as you look upon an attack
of influenza and rheumatism which fastens
you in the house for a few days. It is their
lifetime business" to pick pockets and blow
np safes and shoplift and ply the panel game,
and they have as much pride of skill in their
business as you have in yours when you up-,,
set the argument of au opposing counsel, or
Cure a gunshot fracture which other sur
geons have given up, or foresee a turn in the
market as yoa buy goods just before they go
-up twenty per cent. It is their business to
commit crime, and I do not suppose that
once in a year the thought of the immorality
strikes them.
Added to these professional criminals,
American and foreign, there are a large
class of men who are more or less industrious
in crime. In one year the police m this
cluster of cities arrested ten thousand psople
. for theft, and ten thousand for assault and
battery, and fifty thousand for intoxication.
Drunkenness is responsible for much of the
. theft, since it confuses a man's ideas of
property, and he gets his hands on things
that do not belong to him. - Rum is responsi
ble for much of the assault and battery, in
spiring men to sudden bravery, which they
aust demonstrate though it be on the face
of the next gentleman.
- Ten million dollars' worth of property
stolen in thi3 cluster of cities' in one year !
You cannot, as good citizens, be independent
of that fact. It will touch your pocket, since
I have to give you the fact that these three
cities pay about eight million dollars' worth
of taxes a year to arraign, try and support
the criminal population. You help to pay
the board of every criminal, from the sneak
thief that snatches a spool of cotton up to
some man who swamps a bank. . More thjan
that, it touches your heart ill the moral de
pression of the community. You might as
well think to -stand in a closely confined
room where there are fifty people and yet
not breathe the vitiated air, as to stand in
a community where there is such a- great
multitude of the depraved without some
- whatteing contaminated. What is the fire
that burns your store down compared with
the conflagration which consumes your
morals W hat is the theft of the gold and
silver from your money safe compared with
the theft of your children's virtue?
We are all ready1 to arraign criminals.
We shcut at the top of our voice, "Stop
thief!" and when the police get on the track
1 we come out, hatless aud in our slippers, and
assist in the arrest. We come around the
bawling ruftiap and hustle him oft to justice,
and when he gets in prison what do we do for
him? With great gusto we put on the hand
cuffs and the hopples; but what preparation
are we making for the day when the hand
cuffs and the hopples come off? Society
seems to say to these criminals, "Villain, go
in there and rot," when it ought to say,
"You are an offender against the law, but
we mean to give you an opportunity to re-:
pent; we mean to help you. Here are Bibles
and tracts and Christian influences. Christ
died for you. Look and live."
Vast improvements have been made by
introducing industries into the prison; but
we want something more than hammers
and shoe lasts to reclaim these people. Aye,
we want more than sermons on the Sabbath
day. Society must impress these men with
the fact that it does not enjoy their suf
fering, and that it is attempting to reform
and elevate them. The majority of crimin
als suppose that society has a grudge, aga inst
them, and they in turn have a grudge against
society.
They are harder in heart and more infuri-
' ate when they come out of jaiL.than when
tney went m. Many or the people wno go
to prison go again and again and again.
Some years ago, of fifteen hundred prisoners
who during the year had been in Sing Sing,
four hundred had been there before. In a
house of correction in the country, where
during a certain reach of time there had
been five thousand people, more than three
thousand had been there berore, feo, in on a
case the prison, and in the other the house of
correction, left them just as bad as they were
before.
The secretary oi one of the benevolent
societies of New York says a lad fifteen years
of age had spent three years of his Hie in
prison, and he faid to the lad, "What have
tbey done fcr you to make you better f
VJtelV replied the lad, nhe first tim? I
ij as - brought up before the judge he Eaid,
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.' And
tben,l committed a crime again, and I was
brought up before the same judge, and be
jaid, Yoo rascal T And after a while I
committed some other crime, and I was
.brought before the same judge, and he said,
You ought to be hanged.1 " That was alt
they had done for him in the way of reforma
tion and salvation. "Oh," you say, "these
people arc incorrigible." 1 suppose there
are hundreds of persons this day lying in the
prison banks who would leap up at the
prospect of reformation if society would
only allow them a way into decency and
respectability.
"Ob," you say, "I have no patience with
these rogues." I sk you in reply, bow
much better would you have bjen under the
same circumstances? Suppose your mother
bad been a blasphemer and your father a.
sot, and you had started life with a body
itufled with evil proclivities, and yoa had
spent much of your time in a cellar amid
obscenities and cursing, and if at ten years
of age yon had been compelled to go out and
steal, battered and banged at night if you
came in without any spoils, and suppose
your early manhood and womanhood had
been covered with rags and filth, and decent
society had turned its bark upon you, and
iilt you to consort with vagabonds aud
wbarf rats how .much better ,won!d yoa
have been? I have no sympathy with that
executive clemency which would let crime
rud loose; or which would sit in tha gallery
of a coort room weeping bscause some hard
hearted wretch is brought .to justice; but I
do say that the safety and life of the com
inanity demand more potential influences in
behalf of public offenders.
In some of the city prisons the air is like
that of the Black Hole of Calcutta. I hava
visited prisons where, as the air swept
through the wicket, it almost knocked me
down. No sunlight. Young men who had
committed their first crime' crowded in
among old offenders; I saw in one prison a
woman, with a child almost blind, who had
been arrested for the crime of poverty,- who1
was waiting "until the slow law could take
her to the almshouse, where she rightfully
belonged; but she was thrust in there with
her child amid-the most abandoned wretches
of the town. Many of the offenders in that
prison selpt on the floor, with nothing but a
vermin-covered blanket over them. Those
people crowded and wan and wasted and
half suffocated and infuriated. I said to the
men, "How dos you stand it heref "God
knows," said one man, "we have to stand it."
Oh, they will pay yovi when they get out.
Where they burned down one house they
will burn three. They will strike deepar the
assassin's knife. They are this minute plot
ting worse burglaries.
, Some of the city jails are! the. bast placss I
know of to manufacture footpads, vaga
bonds and cutthroats. Yale College is not
s well calculated to make scholars, nor. Har
vard so well calculate! to make scientists
nor Priucaton well calculated to make
theologians, as many ,of our jails ar.a calcu
lated to make criminals. All that those men
do not know of crime af tar they have beau
ia that dungeon for soma time. Satanic
machinationcannot teach them. In the in
sufferable stench and sickening surroundings
of such places there is nothing but disease
for the body, idiocy for the mind, ani death
for the soul. Stifled air and darkness and
vermin never turned a thief into au honest
man.
We want, men like John Howard and Sir
Wnliam Blackstone aud women like Eliza
beth Fry flfcclo for the prisons of the Units!
States whar those people did in other davs
for the prisons of England I thauk God
for what Isaac T. Hopper and Dr. Winss
and Mr. Harris" and scores or others have
done- in the ,way of prison reform, but we
want something more radical before will
come the blessing of hiin who said, "I was in
prison, and ye came nnto me."
- Again, in. your effort to arrest this plague
of crime you need to consider untrustworthy
officials. "Woe unto thee, O land, when thy
king is a child, and thy princes drink in the
morning." It is a great calamity to a city
when "bad men get into public authority.
Why was it that in New York there was
such unparalleled crime between and
1,87 1 ? It was because the judges of police in
that city at that time for the most part were
as corrupt as the vagabonds that came before
them for trial, Those were the days of high
carnival for election frauds, assassination
and forgery. We had all kinds of rings.
There was one man during those years that
got one hundred and twenty -eight thousand
dollars in one year for serving tha public.
It is no eompliment'to public authority
wh'en we have iu all the cities of the country,
walking abroad, men and wome'n . notorious
for criminality unwbippad of justice. They
are pointed out to you in the street day by
day. There you find what are called the
"fences," tha men who stand between the
thief and the honest man. shelterinz the
thief, and at a' great price handing over the
gooas to the owner to whom they belonged.
There you will find those who are ealledbe
"skinners," the men wbo.bover around Wall
street, with great sleight ot hand in bonds
and stocks. There you tin i the funeral
thieves, the people who go and sit down and
mourn with families and pick their pockets.
Aud there you find the "confidence men,'1
who borrow money of yon because they
have u dead child in the house and want to
.bury it, when they never "had a house or
family; or they want to
Kll
get a large property there, and they want'
you to pay tneir way ana they win send tne
money back by the very next mail.
Thsre are the " harbor thieves," the
"shoplifters," the . "pickpockets," famous
all over the cities. Hundreds of them with
their faces in the Rogues' Gallery, yet do
ing nothing for tha last five or ten years
but defraud society and escape juntice.
When these people go unarrested and un
punished it is putting a high premium
upon vice and saying to the young crimin
als of this country, "What a safe thing it
is to be a great criminal!" Let the law
swoop npon them. .Let it be known in
this country crime will hive no quarter;
that the detectives are after it; that the
police club is being brandished"; that the iron
door of the prison is being opened; that the
judge is ready to call on the case. Too great
leniency to criminals is too great severity to
society .
Again in your effort to arrest this plague
of crime, you need to consider the idle popu-.
lation. Of course I doivot refer to people
who are getting old, or to tli. sick or to those
who cannot get work, but I tell yon to. look
out for those athletic men and women who
will not work. ' When the French nobleman
was asked why he kept busy when h? had so
large a property, he said. "I keep-on engrav
ing so I may not hang myself' I do not
care who the man is, you cannot afford to be
idle. It is from the idle classes that the
cnminaiVcJaP8es are male up. Character,
like wat
iKerata mitriti if if crones cH!l tnsi
long.
10 can wonder that in this world,
where th
eis so much to do, and all the
hosts of
arth and heaven and hell are
plunging iflto the conflict and angels are fly
ing and God is at work and the universe is
a-quake with the marching: aad counter
marching; that Gcd lets His indignation fall
upon a man who chooses idleness
I have watched these do-nothings who
spend their time stroking .their beard and
retouching their toilet and criticising in
dustrious people, and pass their days and
i.ihts in barrooms and ciub houses, loung-
rns
and smokinz ani chewing and card
playing! They are not only melKabut
they are dangerous. How hard, it is for
them to while away the hours ! Alan, 'for
them! If they do not know how to white
away an hour, what will they do when
thev have all eternity on their hands?
These men for a while smoke the best cigars j
and wear the best clothes and move in the
highest spheres, but I have notice! that
very soon they come down to the prison, the
almshouse, or stop at the gallows.
The polics stations of this cluster of cities
"uruish annually between two and three hun
dred thousand lodgings. For the most part
these two and three hundred thousand lodg
iags are furnished to able bodied men and
women people as able to work a.s you and I
are. When they are received no. longer at
one police station because they are "repeat
ers" they go to som other station ani o
they keep moving arouud. They get their
food at house door?, stealing what they can
lay their hands on in the front basement
while the servant is spreading the bread in
the back basement. They will not work.
Time and again, in the country district,
they have wanted hundreds aa.l thousands
of laborers. These men will not go: They
do not want to work. I have tried them. I
have set them to sawing wood in my cellar
to see whether they wanted to work, I of
fered to pay them well for it. I have heard
the saw going forabont three minutes, and
then I ent down, and !o! the woo i, but no
saw ! Thev are the psst of society, and they
stand in the war of the Lord's poor who
who ought to be helped, and must be -helped,
ani will be helped.
While there are thousands of industrious
men who cannot get any work, these men
who do not want any work come in and
make that plea. . I am iu favor of the res
toration of the old fasdiioned whipping pos-t
for just this one cla of men woo will not
work sleeping at night at public ex
pense in the station bons?; during the day
getting their food at your doorstep. Im
prisonment does not ere them . They
would like it. Blackweirs Island or Sing
Sing would be a comfortable home for them.
They would have no objection to the alms
house, for they like thin soup, if they can
not get mock turtle.
I proposd this for tuemi On one side of
them put some healthy work; on the other
side put a rawhi H aud let them take their
choice. 1 like for that class of people the
scast Mil of far d that Paul wrote ont for
the Thessalonianl loafers, "If any work not,
neither should he eat." By what law ot
God or man is it right that yon and I sboold
toil day in and day out, until our hands ar
blistered and our arms ache and our brain
gets numb, and then he called upon to sup
port what , in the ITnitsd States are about
two million loafers. . They are a very danger
ous class. Let the public authorities keep
thsir eyes on them. '
Again, among the uprooting classes I piaoe
the oppressed poor. Poverty to a certain
extent is chasteninjr, but aftar that, when it
drives a man to the wall, and he hears his
children cry in vain for bread, it sometimes
makes him despjrata. I think that there arts
thousands of honest men lacerated into vaga
bondism, Thera are men crushed under
burdens for whicn they are not half paid.
While there is no excuss for criminality ,
even in oppression, I state it as a siaiple.fact
that much of the scoundrelism of the com
nmnity is consequent upon ill-treatment.
There are many men and women battered
and bruised and stung until the hour of de
spair has come, and thev stand with ths
ferocity of a wild beast which, pursued until
lit can run no longer, turns nuni. foaminz
and bleeding, to fight the hounds..
There is a vast underground New York,
and Brooklyn lif j that is appalling and
shameful, ft wallows and steams with ptitre
faetiom You go down the stain, which are
wet and decayed with filth, and at the bot
tom you find the poor victims on the floor,
cold, sick, three-fourths dead. Blinking into m
still darker corner under thj gleam of the
lantern of the police. There has not been a
breath of fresh air in that room for five
years, literally. The broken sewer empties
its contents upon them, and they lie at night
in the swimming filth. Thera they are, man.
women, children; black, whites; Mary Mag-
daleii without her repentance, and Lazarus
without his God. These ara "the dives" into
which the pickpockets and the thieves go, as
well &i a great many who would like a differ
ent life but cannot get it.
These places are the sores of the city,
which bleed perpetual corruption. Tbey are
the underlying volcano that threatens us
with a Caraccas earthquake. It rolls and
roars aud surges and heaves and rocks and
blasphemes and dies, an 1 there are only two
outlets for it the police court and the Pot
ter's field. In other words, they must either
go to prison or to hell. Ob, yoa never saw
it, you say. You never will see it until on
the day when -those stargerine wretches
shall come up iu the light of tua judgment
throne, and while all hearts are being
vealed, God will ask you what you did
help them.
1 here is another layer of poverty and des
titution not so squalid, but almost as belp-
1. "r.. 1 . n, 1 . 4. :i;
bread and clothes and fire. Their eyes are
sunken. Their cheek bones stand out. Their
hands are damp with slow consumption.
Their flesh is puffed up with dropsies. Their
breath is like that of the charnel house. -
They hear the roar of the wheels of fashion
overhead and the gay laughter of men and
maidens and wonder why God gave to others
so much and to them so little. Some of them
thrust into an infidelity like that of .the poor
German. girl who, when told In the midst of.
her wretchedness that God was good, said :
"No; no good God. Just look at me. No
good God."
In this cluster of cities whose cry of want
I interpret there are said to be, as far as I
can figure it up from the reports, about
three hundred thousand honest poorwhoare
dependent upon individual, city and State
charities. If all their voices could come up
at oucb it would be a groan that would shake
ths foundations of tha city and bring all
earth and heaven to the rescue. But for the
most part it suffers unexpressed. It sits in
silence gnashing its teetlv. aud sucking the
blood of its own arteriesx waitinz for the
judemcnt day. Oh, I should not wonder; K .
on that day it woura be found out thatsohwr. r
of us had some thinzs that belonged to them. '
go tO England andft8me excra garnieni, wnicn nngui, uaveuiouj
-- . .... ,
thrust into the ash barrel that might have ap-"
peased their hunger for a little while; some
wasted candle or gas jet that might have kin
dled up their darkn?ss; some fresco on the
ceiling that would have given them a roof;
some jewel which, brought to that orphan
girl in time, might have kept her from beiog
crowded off the precipices to an unclean life;
some New Testament that would have told
them of Him who "came toseek-that which -
was lost." " f
Oh, this wave of vagrancy and hunger ani '
nakedness that dashes against our front
door step 1 If the roofs of all the houses of
destitution could be lifted so we could look
down into them just as. God looks, whose
nerve.? would be strong enough to stand it? - .
And yet there they are. The fifty thousand
sewing women in these three cities, some of
them in-hunger an 1 cold, working night
after night, until sometimes the bloo J spurts ;
from nostril and lips. ' 1
How well their grief , was voiced by that
despairing woman who stood by her .invalid
husband and invalid child, and said to the
city missionary: "I am down hearted.
Everything's against us; and then there are
other thing." "What other things?" said
the city missionary. 'Oh," she replied, "my
sin." "What do you mean by that?" "Well,' .
she said, "1 never bear or see anything good..
It's work from Monday morning till Satur
day night, and then when Sunday comes I
can't go but, and I walk the floor, and it
makes me tremble to think that I have got
to meet (iod. Oh, sir, it'a so hard for us.
"We have to work no. an I then we have so
much trouble, anc? then We are getting along
so poorly; and we this wee little thing grow
in" weafeer ana weaker; and then to. think
i we are not getting nearer to uoJ, rmt float
ing away from Iimi. Oh, sir, l co wnn 1
was r.eadv to diel" '
I bhonld not wonder if they had a good
deal better tirasthan we in the luture. to
make up for the fact that they had such a
bad time here. It would hi just like esus
to say : "Come up and take the highest seats.
You suffered with .Me on earth; now be
glorified with Me in heaven." , Oh, thou
weeping One of Bethany! Oh, thou
dying One of ths cross ! Have mercy on the
starving, freezing, homeless poor of these
great cities!
I have preached this sermon for four or
five practical reasons: Because I want you
to know who are the uprooting classes of
society. Because I want you to be more'
discriminating in your charities. Because
I want your hearts opjn with generosity,
and your bands open with charity. 'Be
cause I want you to be made the sworn
friends of all city evangelization, and all
newsboys' lodging house?, ami all children s
aid societies, and Dorcas societies', under the
skillful manipulation of wives and mothers '
and sisters and daughters; let the spare gar
tnents of your wardrobes be fitter! to the
limbs of the wan and shivering. I should
not wonder if that hat that you give should
come back a jeweled coronet, or if that gar
ment that you hand out from your wardrobe
should mvsteri'rtisly be whitened, and some
how wrought into the Saviour's own robe, ,
so in tho last day He would run His hand
over it and say, "I was naked and ye clothed.
Me." That would be putting your garments
to i lorious uses. "
But more than that, I have preached the.
sermon because I thought in the contrast '
you would see how very kindly God had
dealt with von, and I thought that thou
sands of you woakl go to your comfortable
homes and sit at your wei!-fiUed tables and
at the warm registers, and look at the round
faces of your children, and that then you .
would burst into tears at the review of God's
goodness to you, and that yoa would go to
your room and lock the door and kneel down
and say: I ,
0 Lord, I have been an in grate; make
me Thy child. O IrJ, there are so many
hungry and uncial ana nnsneicereu wut,
thank Thee that all my life Thou bast taken
such good care of me. O, Lord, there are so
many sick and crippled children to-day, I
thank Thee mint are wellsome of them on
earth, some of them in heaven. Thy, good -n
n I-nrd breaks ma down. -Take me
once and forever. Sprinkled as 1 was many
years ago at the altar, while my mother held
me, now I consecrate my soul to Thee Jn a
holier baptism of repenting tears. .
For sinners, Lord. Thou cam'st to bleed.
And I'm a sinner vile Indeed:
Lord. I believe Thy grace in free,
O nugoilj that grace to me."
I
'fe
s
(1