The Cumby Rustler. (Cumby, Tex.), Vol. 24, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, December 10, 1915 Page: 3 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Hopkins County Area Newspapers and was provided to The Portal to Texas History by the Hopkins County Genealogical Society.
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THE CUMBY RUSTLER
a»HD M5T
A TALE OF CIVIL 5TDITE
Sp RANDALL PARRISH
LUSTRA!!*
COf>Y/*/Gfir
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ONS &-C.D RHODES
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SYNOPSIS.
—-15—
Confederate Sergeant Wyatt Is sent
as a spy to his native cpunty on the
Green Briar. He meets a mountaineer
named Jem Taylor. At a house beyond
Hot Springs they meet Major Harwood
Taylor murders Harwood and escapes.
Wyatt changes to U. S. .uniform, escapes
to the Green Briar country and goes to
Harwood’s home, where he finds Noreen
Harwood. He Introduces himself as Lieu-
tenant Raymond. Parson Nichols comes
to the house and Wyatt forces him to
confess that he has been sent in advance
of Anse Cowan, who proposes to marry
Noreen at once, and so quiet title to the
land In dispute between the Cowans and
Noreen’s dead father. Anse Cowan and
his gang arrive. Wyatt tells Noreen who
he Is. They force the preacher to silence
Unable to escape while the gang Is on
the first floor and around the house.
Wyatt proposes to marry Noreen and
protect her from Cowan. She accepts and
Wyatt forces the preacher to marry
them. Cowen’s gang is driven off by
Federal troops, one of whose officers Is
the real Lieutenant Raymond. Wyatt is
trapped, though Noreen attempts to de-
fend him. Wyatt Is taken to Lewlsburg
for trial as a spy. The camp comman-
dant and Captain Fox visit Wyatt in his
cell in the courthouse basement. He re-
fuses clemency In return for information,
and uses his boyhood’s knowledge of the
building to escape to the attic and thence
to the sheriff’s office by means of a dis-
used. old-fashioned chimney. He washes
■Off the soot and changes clothes In the
deserted washroom, and reconnoiters. He
surprises Raymond and the camp com-
mandant. holds them up, and with the
-assistance of Noreen. gets out of the
courthouse. Noreen decides to accompany
him in his flight. They obtain horses and
escape from Lewlsburg.
CHAPTER XXI.
The Fight In the Cabin.
Benton’s cabin had been burned six
months ago, Noreen told me, and the
clfl man was believed to be dead. Few
others ever used this cut-off, or had
occasion to pass this way, and the
weeds had quickly taken possession. I
was obliged to feel for the worn trail,
as It wound here and there along the
slope of the hill, and then finally down
a shallow depression toward the river
tank. The horses stepped cautiously,
pressed closely together In the narrow
rut, and the only noise was the occa-
sional stumble of a hoof. Thus we
■came down to the shore. My memory
Of the spot was hazy and uncertain.
“Have you ever crossed here?” I
asked doubtfully. “I scarcely remem-
tar where the ford lies.”
”Yes,” she replied, leaning forward,
“with my father a year ago.”
“We’ll ride together, but keep your
feet free In the stirrups."
“I am not In the least frightened.
Don’t worry about me,” and she held
otat her hand. “You’ll not find me a
bad soldier.”
“I am certain of that—not If you
ere still the same girl I played with."
Her hand was In mine, and was not
Withdrawn.
• “1—hardly think I am,” she an-
swered soberly, a little catch in her
voice. *T am not a girl at all any
more, hut I keep something of the
seme spirit, I hope.”
I have never understood what spell
there was about her to keep me silent.
1 had never before lacked audacity,
yet I dare not speak the words that
were on my lips. The thought had
taken firm possession of my mind that
she was the victim of circumstances;
A Big Fellow With Ragged, Un-
trimmed Hair and Scraggly Beard.
that she accompanied me merely to
encape from threatened danger. I
knew. I loved her; the touch of her
hand sent a wild thrill through me.
and my heart throbbed to the memory
that she was actually my wife. But 1
dare not permit her to even guess the
truth, for 1 felt that she regretted the
weakness of that moment find would
resent the slightest reference to it.
1 released her hand, venturing upon
no reply, and we rode down the steep
bank. The sullen sweep of the water,
out of the darkness above, into the
darkness below, and the brooding
silence, lay hold on my nerves. We
drew in under the shadows of the
wooded bank, pushed our way through
,to the top of the rise, came suddenly
to an open space, where a dozen acres
'had been cleared, and rode out boldly
across the open field to the Hot
Springs pike, clearly visible beneath
the soft gleam of the stars.
1 know not how long we rode, or
how far, for my mind had drifted into
a review of the night’s adventures,
and a plan for the morrow. We met
with no one, heard no noise except the
steady pounding of our horse’s hoofs.
A little later the sky to the east be-
gan to lighten in the promise of dawn.
We climbed a long hill, our horses
slowing to the ascent, and by the time
we attained the summit the gray light
revealed our faces. I looked across
at her, and her eyes, uplifted sud-
denly to mine, smiled.
“You are worn out,” I said.
“I—I am tired,” she confessed. “I—
I have been two days and nights with-
out sleep. If 1 could only rest for aa
hour—”
“You shall—all day long. We will
find a place in which to hide down
there In the valley.”
The road led winding down between
rocky banks into a narrow valley,
hemmed in by great hills, and watered
by a small stream. As we paused to
let the thirsty animals drink, the in-
creasing daylight gave me glimpse of
a bridle path skirting the edge of the
stream along the west bank. The
path turned sharply to the right, and
as we mounted to the slightly higher
ground we could see the cabin perched
on a little knoll, against the black hill
behind.
Surely nothing about the shanty, or
Its immediate surroundings, indicated
present occupancy. Yet when I finally
advanced it was with caution, and a
strange sense of expectation. Noreen
followed closely behind, treading al-
most In my footsteps, as noiseless as
a fawn, her skirts held close about her
limbs. At the edge of the woods she
stood motionless as I went crouching
forward. The cabin was not deserted,
in spite of its desolate outward ap-
pearance. Opposite me was an open
fireplace, an Iron kettle sitting in the
ashes, while a short-barreled rifle
stood upright in a comer. On one of
the. stools lay a broad-brimmed hat,
and a pair of ragged corduroy trousers
hung on a wooden peg beside the un-
barred door. 1 motioned to her to
join me. In spite of the lines of weari-
ness in her face the light of the dawn
revealed a beauty that caused my
heart to throb. Her eyes silently ques-
tioned me, and I explained quickly
what discovery 1 had made.
“But the man may return," she said
doubtfully.
“Ot course, although I imagine he
has disappeared for the day. If he
is hiding out he may not dare to re-
main here in daylight. Anyway you
can rest safely, for 1 am not in need
of any sleep. I napped in my cell
yesterday, and just a short doze will
serve me. But you are terribly tired—
it is in your eyes.”
“Yes,” she confessed, "I must sleep
somewhere.”
“Then come; we’ll find a bite to eat
and a place for you to lie down.”
I opened the door noiselessly, al-
though I took no special precaution,
and held it wide, while she stepped
across the threshold, and stood look
ing curiously about. Then I closed It
behind us, and we were In a sort of
twilight, amid which objects appeared
rather indistinct.
“Ah,” I said, “the fellow’s cupboard
must be over yonder. I hope he keeps
it well stocked.”
I stepped across In front of her, with
no other thought than that of explor-
ing the larder, when she gave vent to
a startled cry, and I stopped suddenly,
sweeping my eyes about to learn the
cause of alarm. The ragged quilt was
on the floor, and a man leaped across
the room and grasped the rifle in the
comer. I saw the swift movement,
realized the purpose, yet had scarcely
time to draw a revolver from the belt,
before he had hand on the weapon,
and whirled savagely about, facing us.
For the instant the gloom disfigured
his face—all I knew was that he was
a big fellow, with ragged, untrimmed
hair and a scraggly beard. 1 stepped
forward and flung up my arm.
"Drop it!” 1 said shortly. “Lift that
gun and you’re dead!”
At first I thought him crazy enough
to take the chance of my fire; then
the big fingers relaxed, and the rifle
fell clattering to the floor. To my sur-
prise, the fellow laughed.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he chortled
"you here?”
He threw back his head, and 1 rec-
ognized him—Jem Taylor, old Ned
Cowan. I drew a quick breath, my
teeth clenched, my arm steady. This
encounter was going to prove no boy’s
play.
“Put down yer popgun, boy. an’ take
it easy—the blame thing mout go off
I reckon as how we all hav’n’t got
nuthin’ ter fight fer, hav’ we? How
ther Sam Hill did yer ever git yere?
“Now wait," I broke in coldly. “You
stand just where you are. I am not
sure whether you know me or not;
but I know you, Ned Cowan—I know
what you did at Hot Springs, and how
you took me along so as to make oth
era believe I was guilty—”
“Shucks, lad; 'twas no more than
a fair fight.”
"It was cold-blooded murder, Cow-
an!" I exclaimed indignantly, “the cul-
mination of a feud.”
“Huh who told yer that?”
I stepped aside, but still held him
under the muzzle of my revolver. The
change in posture brought the nran
face to face with Noreen; I saw him
lean forward and gaze at her; then
recoil, as though he viewed a ghost.
She never moved, never spoke.
“Good Lord!” he muttered. “Is that
Harwood’s girl? Why, Anse’s out
huntin' after her now—"
He stopped, cursing fiercely to him-
self. His eyes shifted their gaze from
the face of the girl to mine. They
were narrow cat eyes, cruel and cun-
ning.
“I reckon I ain’t seen ol' Harwood’s
gal afore in maybe five year,” he said
slowly, “but she has sure growed up
fine. Anse took after marrying' her
furst jist ter spite Harwood, but since
he seed her a while back he’s sorter
took a notion he wants her hisself.
I reckon I don’t blame him. Thet’s
why he wouldn’t wait, but set out ter-
night. No, I don’t reckon, young fel-
ler, it’s no particular risk. Yer a sojer
an’ don’t jest understand how we fight
out yere in the mountings. We jest
strike quick, an’ then git away. ’Tain’t
so much of a trick Anse is a-playing
at over at Lewlsburg. Sure thar’s five
hundred Yanks thar; an’ if thar wus
five thousand it wouldn’t make no
great difference the way the guard is
“Dead! You—you killed him?”
“No; it must have been your shot.
I had no chance; you—you two fought
like madmen—then—then he just let
go of you, and fell back. 1 was afraid
to come—I thought at first he bad
killed you.”
“My shot! why the revolver just
went off,” 1 muttered, scarcely com-
prehending. “See! the bullet burned
me across the chest, and there is
blood there. And you say it struck
him? Lord! I never knew. Help me
to sit up. Noreen.”
With the aid of her arms I found
support against the table. The blue
coat I wore showed clearly the mark
of the bullet, and blood discolored the
burned cloth. I ran my hand within,
touching the flesh.
“A mere scratch.” I said lightly, “re-
quiring a little water. Don't cry, No-
reen; there is no harm done; I’ll be
all right in a minute. Are you sure
Dowan Is dead?”
“Yes; he—he hasn’t moved since;
but—but 1 didn’t kill him.”
“Of course no, and I’m glad I did.
This is part of my trade, and I’ll not
lose any sleep over it. Ah! 1 can get
up alone, and the first thing 1 am
going to do is to bar that door."
I Ran My Hand Within, Touching the
Flesh.
sot. The whol’ blame caboodle Is
camped in the courthouse yard, an’
the only picket is at the main ford o’
the Green Briar. Yer never saw no-
body, did yer, gittin’ out yere?”
“No,” I admitted, realizing his inti-
mate knowledge. “The camp is poorly
protected.”
“I reckon it is, and Anse knows
that just as well as you do. An’ he
knows the gal yere had a room at ther
hotel. Thar is where he went, aimin’
fer ter raid the shebang just before
daylight.” He laughed again mirth-
lessly. “By God, but Anse will be
some mad when he finds out w'hut has
happened. I reckon he’ll ’bout cut yer
heart out.”
“He will have to get me first.”
“Oh, don’t yer ever worry none
’bout thet, young fellar. Anse will
sure git yer; he knows every bridle
path ’cross these mountings, an' I
wouldn’t give a continental damn
fer no chance you’ve got fer ter git
away. He’s a tiger cat on a trail,
Anse is—an’ besides the blame fool
wants the gal. He ain’t no Cowan if
he lets you beat him outer her.”
He glanced quickly across my shoul-
der toward the door. Perhaps she
moved; perhaps it was all imagina-
tion, but I thought I heard a noise, and
wheeled partly around, my eyes for
an instant deserting old Cowan’s face.
It was his one chance, and he took it.
I sensed the spring, even as Noreen’s
cry of warning broke the silence, but
not in time to escape the grip of the
old man’s iron fingers. His body
crashed against me w’ith such force
that I staggered and fell; one hand
closed like a vise ou my throat, the
other gripped the stock of my re-
volver, crushing my fingers lifeless. I
struck the edge of the table, strug-
gling vainly to keep my feet. It went
over with a crash, bearing us both
along, old Ned atop, clutching fiercely
to keep his hold, his eyes blazing
madly down Into mine. As we struck
1 wrenched my hand free and pulled
the trigger. The shot seemed to blaze
across my own breast, burning like
fire, and, the next instant, the man’s
knee crushed my wrist to the floor,
and the revolver fell from my be-
benumbed fingers.
1 seem to recall little of what fol-
lowed; only a confused recollection of
desperate struggling amid the legs of
the overturned table; of oaths, blows,
of eyes glaring revengefully into mine.
I seemed to lose all knowledge, all
consciousness, under the merciless
throttling of those hard fingers. Then
suddenly they relaxed—1 caught
quick, reviving breath, another. Every
nerve in me throbbed; I could see
again, hear, feel. That was Noreen'?
face I looked Into—ay, and the girl
was actually dragging the fellow off
me! 1 took another breath, a long
one, moving so that the inert body
rolled over on its side; then 1 rose up.
supporting myself on one arm, and
stared about, sobbing in the first ef-
fort to gaio control.
“Noreen!” the name choked in my
throat.
“Yes; It’s all right now—Cowan Is
[dead.”
CHAPTER XXII. ,
We Understand Each Other.
Noreen had drawrn away from the
body of the dead man, and stood
against the farther log wall, with face
hidden in her hands. Cowan lay tit
full length, one arm thrown across his
eyes. 1 bent over him, touching his
flesh with my fingers. The ball had
penetrated his abdomen, and how the
fellow ever fought so fiercely after
receiving his death wound I can never
understand. I think that in his mad
ferocity he was scarcely aware that
he was hurt. I turned him partly over,
and drew out from the inside pocket
of his blouse a handful of papers con-
cealed there. One was a buff packet,
which had been roughly torn open—
the one taken from Major Harwood
the night of his murder.
The packet contained several official
papers, but the principal paper was a
carefully prepared list of irregulars
operating throughout the mountain
country, with names of the better-
known leaders, the estimated strength
ol each separate gang, the region in
which they hid, and the side they
espoused, if any. This had evidently
been carefully prepared by some staff
officer, undoubtedly Major Harwood
himself, as the letter referred to him
as having been detailed to such duty,
and was full and complete. I found
therein this mention of the Cowans;
Father and two sons; probably con-
trol fifty or more men, with headquar-
ters near Union in Green Briar
mountains; raid indiscriminately;
have attacked our forage trains; re-
fuse to co-operate, and continue to ter-
rorize a large section; raided Lewis-
burg before it was occupied by troops,
killing several, and looting the shops.
Is considered the most dangerous
gang operating in Green Briar and
Monroe counties; reports of atrocities
received almost daily, many too hide-
ous to repeat.”
I glanced up at Noreen, and her eye3
met mine inquiringly.
“Is this your father’s handwriting?”
I asked, holding the paper toward him.
“Yes; what is it—important?”
“Not very complimentary to Cowan
here. A report to General Halleck, at
Washington, of conditions in western
Virginia. I wonder how the old vil-
lain ever learned that such a paper
was being forwarded?”
“It is not likely he did,” she an-
swered thoughtfully. “It may have
been mere accident which put the
document in his hands. See, here Is a
letter that father wrote,” and she
stooped and picked it up from the
floor, uttering an exclamation of sur-
prise. “Why, it—it is addressed to
Ned Cowan at Union! What could
he possibly have written this man
about?”
“Let me see,” and I took it from her
hands. “We may find here an expla^
nation of the whole affair.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Mbnational
SWSOiOOL
(By E. O. SELLERS, Acting Director of
Sunday School Course of Moody Bible
Institute of Chicago.)
(Copyright 19X5, Western Newspaper Union.)
LESSON FOR DECEMBER 12
JEHOVAH YEARNS OVER ISRAEL.
Finnish Characteristics.
The Finn thoroughly enjoys bathing
and shares with the Japanese the cus-
tom of both sexes bathing together.
Finns predominate in the country
north of the Duna, or Dvina river.
Here they are agriculturists. Further
north they are Russia’s fishermen,
trappers and hunters. They catch for-
ty or more kinds of fish ki the lake
district, the best of which they send
to the big markets to the South.
Their own diet consists almost entire-
ly of fish and coarse bread. They
mix stale fish with their flour and
make a flat cake, to enjoy which the
stranger first needs considerable ex-
perience and resolution.
Haiti a Rich Island.
The republic of Haiti occupies
about one-third of the island of Haiti.
It is one of the richest islands in the
Caribbean world. That part which
composes the republic of Haiti is a
land of mountains and valleys, a little
larger than the state of Massachu-
setts. It presents an astounding va-
riety of climate and vegetation, vary-
ing all the way from tropical jungle
near the coast to high mountain
ridges covered with forest not unlike
that of Maine and Canada.
Japs Pay Higher Prices for Food.
Imported foods, on the average, cost
in Japan from 10 to 15 per cent more
than before the war. Increases in
freight and insurance are chiefly
blamed for the rise. Imported butter
has xisen 20 per cent, and is still
mounting, largely due to the fact that
the belligerent powers in Europe h^vq
prohibited the export of butter.
LESSON TEXT-Hoaea 11:1-11.
GOLDEN TEXT—I drew them with
cords of a man, with bands of love.—
Hosea 11:4.
A contemporary of Isaiah and Amos,
Kosea continued to prophesy after
the first captivity of the northern
kingdom. His style is abrupt and fig-
urative. Israel is Jehovah’s adulter-
ous wife, repudiated, but finally to be
purified and restored. This lesson is
a part of the second section of the
book (4:1-13:8), which is a descrip-
tion of the sinful people.
I. “The Perverse Child,’' vv. 1-7.
The “remnant” (ch. 6:1-3) had cried
out for relief. (See Isa. 1:9; Rom.
2:5). Jehovah’s reply (begins 6:4) is
a severe arraignment of Israel’s back-
sliding as contrasted with his grace.
To understand this lesson read the
entire book repeatedly. In verse 1 of
the lesson Jehovah recalls to the na-
tion the days cf its childhood. Be-
cause of his great lcve (Deut. 7:7)
he called them cut of Egypt, the land
of bondage, into Canaan, the land of
blessing and liberty. Yet Israel sensed
not its duty nor Us obligation of grati-
tude. We are living under a greater
obligation because of the greater re-
demption God has provided for ue in
the person of his Son. Gcd here calls
Israel “my son” (Ex. 4:22); we have
the right to call ourselves sons (John
1:12; I. John 3:1-2). Matthew’s gos-
pel applies these words to him who
alone was fully and in the true sense
God’s son. Jesus is the summary of
the whole nation in that he alone fully
realized God’s purpose in Israel (Matt.
2:15).
As contrasted with what a son is
or should be verse 2 gives a picture
of Israel’s wandering. The whole his-
tory of the nation is one of going after
false gods. (I. Sam: 8:7-9 and many
other references.) In those childhood
days (v. 3) Jehovah taught them hew
to walk, and healed their hurts, “hut
they knew not”—God, as a tender Fa-
ther, had watched over, taught, guid-
ed and healed (Ex. 19:14; Isa. 46:3;
63:9). Even so, in this present age
God is a God of mercy and long suf-
fering (Rom. 2:4), yet the mass of
men “know not” what God is doing
for them. In. verse 4 the child has
grown older and as mothers often
tether a child lest it run away, so Je-
hovah endeavors to draw Israel to
him with “cords of love.” His cord
of love now is the mighty power of
Calvary (John 12:32). Jehovah not
only drew but even sought to entice,
for he “laid meat unto them”—Jesus
will deliver us, for he bore our yoke
(Matt. 11:28-30) and is fer us the
Bread of Life (Jchn 6:35, 58). Lcve
does not mean that the backslider
Shall be free from punishment. “Be-
cause they refused to return . .
the sword shall abide” (v. 5-6 and Heb.
12:6). Even so God did net permit
them to go back to Egyptian bond
age (v. 5). Israel was “ bent to back
sliding.” In spite of the constant call
to worship and serve him none "would
exalt him.”
II. The Pleading Parent, vv. 8-12.
None can fathom the depths of the
cry, “How shall I give thee up, How
shall I deliver thee” (v. 8). Israel
would persist and still Jehovah pleads
that perchance they would heed his
cry (Jer. 9:7; Lam. 3:33). Admah
and Zebcim were irretrievably over-
thrown with Sodom and Gomorrah
(Deut. 29:33), shall Israel likewise
perish? No! (v. 9) for “I am God, not
man.” God does not, like man,
change—his covenants are not “scraps
of paper,” his love is everlasting (Nu.
23:19). It is not God but man who is
responsible for his destruction. The
“Holy One in the midst of thee” is
there to save, not as an avenger. God
has not come into our midst in wrath
—God’s passionate desire is to save
not to destroy. His purposes are
those cf love and redemption and as
with Israel of old, so in this age, he
will carry out these purposes in spite
of cur tacksliding (Rom. 11:28-29).
Verses 10 and 11 are prophetic of the
ultimate repentance and restoration of
Israel—judgment shall pass upon their
foes (Jcel 3:16) and those of the dis-
persion (see parallel Isa. 11:11-16)
shall gather, as “doves to their win-
dows,’’ and be once more “in their
houses,” i. e., set up as a nation in
their God-given land. Ephraim (v. 12)
sought to rule without or by casting
off Jehovah (I. Cor. 4:8).
In Judah was the legal priesthood
and the legitimate king, tut the apos-
tasy of Israel was more culpable be-
cause of the example of Judah which
he had set at nought.
III. Premised Deliverance. In a
most striking way Hosea flashes a
note of hope and love through the
cloud of gloom which hung ever the
nation as it drew closer to its doom,
because the people refused to repent.
Amos delivered his warning and re-
turned to Judah.
Hcsea was a part of the nation
which emphasizes such verses of his
prophecy as the following: 6:1, 4:6,
11:4, 11:6, 6:4, 6:6, 2:15 a»d 10:12,
which sound the message of hope like
Dulletins from the battle’s front.
Verse 9 is the final summary for
Israel and for us as well.
The Common
Salvation
By REV. B. B. SUTCLIFFE
AinfUat Superintendent ef Men, Moody Bible
hutitute of Chicago
TEXT—The common salvation.-—Jude 3.
Each word of this text Is important.
Let us think of them, taking the last
one first,
1. Salvation. —■
We have space to
mention only
three things sug-
gested by t h i s
word. Salvation
means a saving
from a sickness
and restoration
to health; for sin
is a disease. A
common biblical
symbol of sin is
leprosy, an incur-
able and loath-
s o m e disease.
There is m u c h
similarity between
this and sin. For instance; there are
many so-called remedies for leprosy
but none can be found to really stop
its spread. The sinner too has many
remedies for his sin but nothing that
men can do can arrest its progress.
Again, leprosy becomes painful and
distressing. Sin acts the same way.
Hence we are told that “the kicked
are like the troubled sea when it can-
not rest, whose waters cast up mire
and dirt. There is no peace saith my
God to the wicked.” ’ Sin begins quiet-
ly but ends, like leprosy, with bitter
pain and distress. Again, leprosy is
fatal to the one afflicted. It might
well be called a living death. It Is
thus with sin. Many are today well
and sound of body, but sorely afflicted
by sin. As far as their souls are con-
cerned they are in a living death- The
difference between the leper and the
sinner is that the former gets rid of
his trouble at death, but the latter
must take his pain and distress with
him. But salvation means the saving
from sin to perfect health. Man alone
can find no cure for his sin but Christ
can and has. It is found in his own
blood which “cleanseth us from all
sin.”
In the second place salvation means
a saving from punishment; for sin is
a crime as well as a disease. Salva-
tion brings to the sinner a full and
free pardon for every crime against
the law of God; such a pardon that
every trace of the evil committed is
wiped from the sinner’s record. With-
out such salvation the punishment tor
each sin must fall upon the sinner.
And the punishment of sin is an awful
thing; described as being torment and
anguish and that eternal. But in this
common salvation there is found relief
from all the guilt, and pardon for ev-
ery crime. “Let the sinner forsake
his way and the unrighteous man his
thoughts and let him return unto the
Lord and he will have mercy upon him
and to our God for he will abundantly
pardon.”
In the third place salvation means
the saving from death which is the re-
sult of the disease and the reward of
the crime. It means the exchanging
of eternal death tor eternal life. “The
wages of sin is death, but the gift of
God is eternal life through Jesus
Christ our Lord.” If any should en-
quire how this health instead of sick-
ness, this pardon instead of guilt, and
this life instead of death can be ob-
tained, the apostle answers, “Believe
on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou
shalt be saved.”
2. Common.—The “common” salva-
tion suggests its wideness and means
that it is shared by all alike. God is
no respecter of persons and when he
provided the common salvation he pro-
vided it to be shared by all alike.
Whether white or black, moral or im-
moral, learned or illiterate, cultured
or vulgar, all share alike in this “com-
mon” salvation. Again, this word
means that the salvation Is a univer-
sal thing. It is provided for every
member of the human race. This is
what the apostle means when he says,
“whosoever will call upon the name of
the Lord shall be saved.” And, the
last chapter of the Bible says, “Who-
soever will, let him take of the water
of life freely.” The common salva-
tion means that which Is needed by
all, provided for all, brought to all ^nd
offered to all, including the reader of
these lines. j
3. The.—This word speaks of the
narrowness as “common” speaks of
the wideness. It is not “a” salvation,
but “the. ” It is not provided by man,
nor can it be. It is just here that sin-
ners go wrong and think they can
evolve some scheme whereby they
can cure themselves of the disease
and do enough good deeds to counter-
balance the evil and so avoid the pun-
ishment due to sin. But it we would
have the salvation that saves from the
disease of sin, and the pardon that
covers the crime of sin. we must come
to the Lord, with whom salvation is
to be found. “God so loved the world
that he gave his only begotten Son
that whosoever believeth on him
should not perish but have everlasting
life.” And when the Son came to be
the Savior of men “he gave himself
for us, that he might redeem us from
all iniquity.” He took the sin and all
its consequences, the crime and ail
Its punishment, and gives to all who
will receive It “the common salva-
tion” in their place.
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The Cumby Rustler. (Cumby, Tex.), Vol. 24, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, December 10, 1915, newspaper, December 10, 1915; (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth770324/m1/3/?q=%22%22~1: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Hopkins County Genealogical Society.