"you and your men have covered yourselves with glory."
My Soldier replied:
"Not all the glory in the world, General Lee, could atone for the widows and orphans this day has made."
(2813)
SACRIFICE, VICARIOUS
Among the Tsimshean Indians of Alaska
is the following curious superstition: Some
boys had "shamed" a salmon; that is, offended
its dignity. They caught it, cut a
slit close to its fin and put gravel and stones
in the wound so that it could not use its
fin, and then let it go. The poor salmon
wriggled and suffered trying to swim, but in
vain. This made the god of the mountain
angry, and he spewed out fire which ran
down the mountain-side into the river, making
it sputter all around. But a god of another
mountain, near by, thought it was too bad,
so he rolled down a big rock, and stopt the
fire stream. The people, coming together,
consulted as to the best way to propitiate the
irate mountain-god, and the salmon as well
who was "shamed," and came to the conclusion
that the naughty children had to be
killed. The mothers, hearing of this, would
not allow the sacrifice. The people compromised
the matter by agreeing, instead, to
kill the dogs of the village, which were there-*upon
all sacrificed and burned as a peace-*offering
to the "shamed" salmon.
Man has "shamed" his Maker but He
has become our propitiation by a nobler
sacrifice. (Text.)
(2814)
SACRIFICIAL MEDIATION
H. M. Stanley, in Africa, had much trouble
with his men on account of their inherent
propensity to steal, the results of which
brought upon the expedition much actual
disaster. At last Stanley doomed to death
the next man caught stealing. His grief and
distress were unbounded when the next thief,
detected in a case of peculiar flagrancy, was
found to be Uledi, the bravest, truest,
noblest of his dusky followers. Uledi had
saved a hundred lives, his own among the
number. He had performed acts of the most
brilliant daring, always successful, always
faithful, always kind. Must Uledi die? He
called all his men around him in a council.
He explained to them the gravity of Uledi's
crime. He reminded them of his stern decree,
but said he was not hard enough to
enforce it against Uledi. His arm was not
strong enough to lift the gun that would
kill Uledi, and he would not bid one of them
to do what he could not do himself. But
some punishment, and a hard one, must be
meted out. What should it be? The council
must decide. They took a vote. Uledi must
be flogged. When the decision was reached,
Stanley standing, Uledi crouching at his feet
and the solemn circle drawn closely around
them, one man whose life Uledi had saved
under circumstances of frightful peril, stood
forth and said, "Give me half the blows,
master." Then another said in the faintest
accents, while tears fell from his eyes, "Will
the master give his slave leave to speak?"
"Yes," said Stanley. The Arab came forward
and knelt by Uledi's side. His words
came slowly, and now and then a sob broke
them. "The master is wise," he said; "he
knows all that has been, for he writes them
in a book. I am black, and know not. Nor
can I remember what is past. What we saw
yesterday is to-day forgotten. But the master
forgets nothing. He puts it all in that
book. Each day something is written. Let
your slave fetch the book, master, and turn
its leaves. Maybe you will find some words
there about Uledi. Maybe there is something
that tells how he saved Zaidi from the
white waters of the cataract; how he saved
many men—how many, I forget; Bin Ali,
Mabruki, Kooi Kusi—others, too; how he
is worthier than any three of us; how he
always listens when the master speaks, and
flies forth at his word. Look, master, at
the book. Then, if the blows must be struck,
Shumari will take half and I the other half.
The master will do what is right. Saywa
has spoken." And Saywa's speech deserves
to live forever. Stanley threw away his
whip. "Uledi is free," he said. "Shumari
and Saywa are pardoned."—Christian At Work.
(2815)
SAFEGUARD FOR DRUNKARDS
Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, has an ordinance
requiring the photographs of known habitual
drunkards to be placed in all the saloons in
the city, with a notice forbidding saloon-*keepers
to sell liquor to them, on penalty of
losing their licenses.
This new sort of rogues' gallery is growing rapidly, but one addition to it was made voluntarily. It is the photograph of a poor fellow who begged to have it placed with the others, as his only chance of freedom from the tyranny of strong drink.
Set off against this pathetic story, how in-
