wretch stammered forth, "There must be some mistake. My name is a--
is a--is a Smith--Smith--John Smith."

"John Smith, is it?" growled the proprietor. "Well, all I have to
say is, John Smith, if not the biggest is the most numerous rascal
in the city. John, come along to the police station."

And John went, billows of trouble rolling over him as the waters of
the Red Sea closed over Pharaoh. Vain the effort to recall
consolatory texts pertinent to the occasion! He was sorely
chastened indeed, but the stripes were inflicted not in love but in
wrath. He mourned, yet whence could he look for comfort?

To avoid a worse fate, the prisoner revealed his identity,
exhibited the correspondence from "Ragem & Co.," and made a full
statement of the facts. The painful news reached the church
shortly after the return of the pastor, when his pulpit career came
to an ignominious end. He soon removed to the far West, hoping to
bury his disgrace in the shades of the primeval forest.

The fall of Rev. Zachariah Sapp sounds a note of warning not
without its lessons. The only safety in dealing with temptation is
to repel its insidious approaches from the outset. Whoever listens
in patience to the siren whisper is half lost already. Human
experience abundantly confirms the divine wisdom of the command,
"Get thee behind me, Satan," as the one sole safe way of meeting
evil advances. At the close of well-spent, useful lives, myriads
can thank a kind Providence, not that they have been stronger than
others who have turned out differently, but that they have been
tried less. Walking among unseen perils, none can without danger