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. * y.'. ' ? I f lunlTm || OF I A CHILD OF by b. l. f ^ , .. V/- -\fS ' CHAPTER II. / Continued. Mr. Cleaver opened his eyes wide, Rnd then, with a broad grin, gently laid the forefinger of his right hand on the right side of his purple nose. "Polly," he shouted, "here's Mr. Dexter wants to know how you are!" "Oh, I'm all right," said Polly, making her appearance at the door, and looking down upon the two men. "And how do yer find yourself, Mr. Dexter ?" In Ns confusion Thomas Dexter replied: "I'm as well as can be expected. [Polly." An answer which sent her into fits of I' - laughter. JNOW Tills JKU&iiltrr n<*:> sweet muo*v in Thomas Dexter's ears, and Polly ?& Cleaver a vision of loveliness in Lis ?1"' eyes. Her hair -was hanging loose, her boots were down at heel, and she was in a general stale of untidiness, but Venus herself in negligee could not have more completely enthralled him. Polly continued to laugh, holding her eides, and presently tottered down a step or two, and cried: "Ketch me, Mr. Dexter, or I shall fall." f'_ , ' He nothing loath, caught her to his heart, which went a thousand a minute. Polly had not laid in his arms as Jong as she could count three before ?he knew what was the matter with him. These inspirations of knowledge are woman's peculiar gift. "I thought," she simpered, looking up into Thomas Dexter's face, without attempting to release herself from his '*L embrace, "that yer might be going to ask me to go to church with yer." "That's just, what I should like to ask tyer. Polly," said Thomas Dexter. "Well, then," exclaimed Mr. Cleaver, E .while Polly laughed immoderately, "arsk her, and we'll get the wedding dress made?if you give us the money ' for it." Something like match-making, this. : Striking the nail on the head; no shilly- 1 ehallying. '' Sudden as it was, it accorded with 1 Thomas Dexter's humor. "I don't mind doing that," he responded, holding Poliy tight. "What f,: do you say, Polly?" "What do you say, Mr. Dexter?" < asked Polly, fencing. j She was inclined t? look upon the ( 1 .whole affair as a joke, though the prospect of the present ol' the wedding , dress had caught her fancy. , "I say, will ycr have me, Polly?" j "I don't mind," answered Polly, gaz- ( ' A ' - ?J x l ~ A ,1 5ng in wonaer ax ner aruem iu>ej., u?u- . ing quickly, "if you're not joking with . me." "He'd better not" said Mr. Cleaver, < spitting in the palm of bis right band and rubbing that and the palm of bis i .left together?an action which every ; Briton understands. "If he makes a fool of my Tolly I'll have it out of him." ] "You shut up, father," exclaimed Polly. "I'm old enough to take care ; of myself." i "What!" cried Tnomas Dexter, point- , 5ng to Polly, who bad released herself sind was' now standing a little apart . from hiip. "Make a fool of a gal like ihat! What do you take me for?" ! "Wait a bit," said Polly; "I'm con- j sidering." There "was the new dress; 'there was , Jthe excitement of a wedding; there was the novelty of getting married. Although she had had sny number of lovers, not one had ever asked her to marry him. "Do you mean." inquired she, planting her two lists in her sides, "without any gammon, that yer want ter marry me?" "That's the way to put it," said Mr. Cleaver, with approving nods. "It's exactly what I do mean," said Thomas Dexter, in an imploring tone, as though scarcely daring to hope that ?uch bliss could fall to his share. "If you say yes 1 shall be the happiest man in Clare Market." "I'd like to the man as'd disnute it," said Mr. Cleaver. "Whoever sets % my Polly gets a treasure." "'You needn't shove your spok^ in, father. Mr. Dexter knows all about me; he -wasn't born yesterday." "That's true, Polly," said Thomas Dexter, somewhat ruefully. ' I'm a good bit older than you." 4,Oh, that don't make no difference," said Polly, scratching her head. "Yer rwon't cry off, will yer? You'll give me a dressV" "I'll give yer two," said Thomas Dexier, eagerly. "I'll take 'em; I ain't proud. And as you're serious as all that about it I'll nave yt?r. uive us a kiss. Lr He gave her a ilozen, and while this ,was going on Mr. Cleaver sat on the stairs and shed tears, which he considered to be the regulation duty of a father, especially of the father of such a girl as Polly. "There, that's enough," said roily, pushing Thomas Dexter away. "You're rumpled me all over. You'll best make yourself scarce, you and father, while I tidy myself a bit." "Son-in-law," said Mr. Cleaver, dabibing his eyes with a colored handkerchief, "you've got the price of a pint about yer. The proper thing to do is lo wet the match." ( "I've no objection," said infatuated Thomas Dexter. "Come along, then." said Mr. Cleaver, seizing Thomas Dexter and hurrying Jiim downstairs; "we'll drink Polly's health." "Stop a minute." cried Polly: "n< jiiie yer. If anybody ougbt to be in tins it's me." Hon many times they drank Polly's L<aJtb and bow tcar.y healths thev diauk after Polly had been sufficient!}ioastcd is not easy to s:iy. (F_RFI IFVF I YJ? UL-L.1L- X J_w W THE SLUMS. j arjeon. :::::: ||| "What Thomas Dexter had good cause to remember was that he rose the next morning with a splitting headache, and that three weeks afterward he and Polly Cleaver were married. They lived together for just two months, and then they parted. The plain truth is that Poliy ran away. When Thomas Dexter awoke from ' ' V?*o mictflfcp iiis ureuiu uuu uiatu?cicu be tried to make the best of it. He remonstrated and argued "with Tolly, but his remonstances were thrown away upon her, and her argu-. ments were stronger than his?consisting of anything in the hardware line she could lay her hands on. She was at once incorrigible and honest. "I was never cut out for a married woman," she said. She had old acquaintances whom she would not give up "for the best man that ever wore shoe leather." Among these acquaintances was Holy Joe/a costerinonger, so called because he was in the habit of making an open scoff of religion. "I've made a bad bargain," sighed Thomas Dexter. He did not mourn long. Now that his eyes were opened, his fear was that Polly would come back from time to time, and make his life intolerable. Her father made many efforts to induce her to extract money from her husband, but she would not listen to him. Then Mr. Cleaver endeavored to ol>tain a hold on Thomas Dexter by going to him and reviling Polly, but Mr. Dexter would have nothing to do with him. The end of Mr. Cleaver was that he died of a day's work. In the course of two or three years Thomas Dexter almost forgot Polly entirely, almost forgot that he had ever been married, almost forgot that he Lad ever been in love. He could undoubtedly have been released by law from the yoke of matrimony had he sued for a divorce, but tie would not trouble himself. From that time forward he thought qo more of women. A seal was put upon his romance, in its sentimental ispect, which was never to be removed. ? CHAPTER III, ^ : A Little Pretender. As much as is necessary to be known )f Thomas Dexter's early history beng disclosed, Little Make-Believe claims attention. Come, then, into the light, flower of the gutter, and show yourself to unaccustomed eyes. Those that are in the laabit of seeing you take so little notice af you tnat tne ciouot may -wen arise whether, as a study, you are in any way interesting. You are so familiar l figure that, like the rising of the sun, but small regard is paid to you. A grand simile. Little Make-Believe; be proud of it, if in your humble soul jrou can find room for pride in anything. But here and there, young child, there beats a pulse of tenderness for you which may one day be of benefit to your sister flowers, of whom there are myriads. Come, and let the light shine on you. To grace such as you by comparing vou to a flower may excite ridicule. A very weed in appearance, whose appearance mars the loveliness of the garden. Nevertheless, you began as great souls began, and there were in you possibilities of worthy things which might one day have ripened into beauty. No time, however, for idle speculation. In the midst of a world of shams you stand clearly out, a stern fact. It is the fashion with many to call you a problem, and though you will hardly believe yourself to be of importance, you are, in the aggregate, a most formidable figure in the social system of to-day. At all events she was not an indolent creature; she worked, being, like Thomas Dexter, a general 'dealer. But her business was much more circumscribed than his, and lay in quite a ditferent direction. She dealt only in one article, being brimstonely conservative; that article was matches. One half-penny a box. Or a farthing. Or anything you chose to give her. A gentleman once gave her sixpence for a box. and when she said, with a shake of her head, "I ain't got no change, sir," he told her that he did not want any,, and walked away. This was so wonderful an event that she taiked of it for months afterward, una wuuiu uiie.u uuiijuie up sixpences for imaginary feasts. Sometimes she had no matches to sell. Then she went about pretending. But, as you already know, she did that at other times, as well. She had a father, who was such a favorito with publicans and policemen that they very rarely let hinx out of their sight. They played with him as they would have played at trap, bat and ball. From publican to policeman, when the publican was done with him, and from policeman to publican, when the policeman was done with him, was as regularly to be depended on as the changing of day into night and night into day. . Which suggests a comparison be tween Little Make-Believe s ratner ana the earth, the observable difference being that when Little Make-Believe's father turned round on his axis it was with a more eccentric motion than we attribute to the earth. Generally in his movements, and especially when the publican passed him on to the policeman, mathematical niceties were conspicuous by their absence. When the policeman passed him back to the publican he exhibited a more improved method, which, as a lule, lasted no longer than an hour. Speaking in a comDrebensive sense, r y it' with a wide application in view, putv licans and policemen would be very badly off vrpre it cot for Little MakeBelieve's father. Half of them would have to shut up shop, for it is a fact that, under Providence, he is the princi- j . I pal means of supplying mem their daily bread. If they have a spark of gratitude in them they ought to go down upon their knees every night of their lives and thank God for sending them Little Make-Believe's father. She had no mother. Perhaps she ought to have thanked God for that. Notwithstanding the fondnes of pub* licans and policemen for her father, j Little Make-Believe did not live alone. | She had a sister, a year and a half younger' than herself. This sister's | name was originally Sarah Anne. Now, by a singularly happy twist, i Little Make-Believe had invested this j sojpewhat plebeian name with quite j an aristocratic flavor. She -called her sister Saranne. Boat that, if you can, you Smiths and you Swythes. It is a fact that Little Make-Believe was always pretending and living for a great portion of her time an inner life, as it were; she did not envy the Queen. There was one advantage in having | - T4- HotTrtirpd on him to pro- | a iitiiici. *?. v.v-. vide a home for his children. This home, in the matter of rent, cost him on an average about eighteen pence a week, which he sometimes paid and sometimes didn't. Generally didn't. It was invariably either at the very top or the very bottom of the house; never in the middle. Now it .was a i garret, now a cellar. At the present time it was a cellar. Having provided this home,' he provided nothing else. That was Little Make-Believe's affair. He hired a roof for his daughters to sleep under, and then, metaphorically. he washed his hands of them, j Otherwise, he seldom washed his hands. But, although he gave his children a roof, by a strange oversight he did not give them a bed. The builder did tbat ?the bare boards. Saranne was a beautiful child, with a lovely mouth, curly hair, large, gray, j wistful eyes, and a skin as smooui as new velvet. When she was a baby, another baby, a few months older than herself, who was fond of carrying her about, let her fall downstairs, and she had hurt her spine. * She grew up very delicate and was nearly always lying on the boards of the cellar, or the garret, as the case happened to be, resting herself into strength. This was Little Make-Believe's strict^ injunction, the inspiration of which she had derived from a friend, who had been kind to her for a little while, and who might have remained her friend had not death claimed- him. He was a doctor who, on a missioB of charity, had found his way into her neighborhood. She waited for him outside the house in which he was engaged, and when he appeared she went close to him and touched his arm. He looked down and saw this small j morsel of humanity looking pleadingly j up at him. He saw the strr.ggle in her eyes, iD i which trembling courage was striving | to conquer her. It was no light task ! this little girl had set herself; he was sfc> high, she so low; he was so rich, she so poor; he was so great, she so insignificant. N . But when the chord of a sweet hu manity is struck and finds its way to the heart these contrasts merge into a heavenly equality. '"You are the great doctor, sir?" inquired Little Make-Believe. "I am a doctor, child," he replied, kindly. "I hardly dare to arsk yer, sir,'-' said Little Make-Beleive, '"but I've got a little sister with a weak back and il you'd come and see her there's nothing I wouldn't do for ye?. It ain't fur, sir, jest around the corner " He looked at his watch; he had ten minutes to spare. He opened the door j of his' carriage and Little Make-Be- I lieve clung to the skirts of his coat,! fearing that he "was about to leave her, j ' I will see your little sister," he said. "Jump in.'' "Oh," cried Little Make-Beliere, "the kerridge can't get up our court! It'e only a stone's throw, sir." "Walk quickly, then," he said; "J have but a few minutes I can call my i own."' To be continued. Often. Far too much abuse is leveled at the ' medium for lack of results, when it is j the advertisement itself that is faulty, j ?Newspaperdom. The only lithotype in existence is J UJ IUC AUWMiv* - ? | claimed that he has issued volumes j from it. Printing from aluminum sur- : faces on the principle of lithography , is now an established success, though the art is only several years old. Aluminum, it was found, has a texture which enables it to act the same as a lithographic stone, and it is less expensive and vastly lighter to handle. As in lithography, the letters or designs are simply traced on the surface of tbe aluminum, in a greasy ink, and : not raised as in type printing. The surface is inked for printing with rollers in the usual way. Tbe ink adheres to tbe face of the letters or designs because of tbe affinity of the grease for tbe ink. The rest of tbe surface is not inked. A sheet of paper pressed against xne msw |iimt m iuc , usual Tvay thus receives a printed im- I pression. Xc^vel Opera <il?SBe*. In the modish engraved gold there are novel opera f'asses. That is, the oiu-.t case is of engraved gokl. This case is shaped like a pocset, like the ordinary frame of an opera glass, that is, only it is very flat. So flat that one does not suspect its real purpose. At first sight ouo "would fancy it a dainty, flat, little gold bag that might hold a filmy mocchoir and perhaps a bonbonniere. Just turn a spring and it opens like a clam. Turn another spring and 1 lie glasses pop into place, and there you are with nothing to do but to place the erstwhile bag before your eyes. When one is done using them, by turning the two springs they havp again disappeared, 3eavii?s' only the taut little bag. < THE PULPIT.; AN ELOQUENT SUNDAY SERMON BY THE REV. W. M. BRUNDACE. Saoject: True Mission of the Church. Brooklyn. X. Y.?For the first sermon of his pastorate of the Unity Unitarian Church the Rev. W. M. Brundage took for his subject Sunday morning '"J'h'f True Mission of the Church." The text was from I. Timothy iii: lo: "The church of the living God." In the course of a strong sermon, listened to by a large audience, he said: From the conditions whiea prevailed a few centuries ago, when the church was without a rival to contest its authority. to its present condition, when it must contend with numerous competitors for the very right to exist, humanity has taken a long stride forward. Freedom has come to be more than a mere^name. Multitudes of people have seriously begun to think and act for themselves. Less and less is the church able to live upon its record - J'- Yync if >ro. in me pa si; muxt: uuu uvic ua& ? . ; come manifest that it must justify its continued existence by tbe work tbat it does, by tbe service that it renders to society. Unless our churches of every name can be brought into vital and helpful relations to the real life of the people, they are doomed to perish. Tbe traditions of tbe past cannot save th?m. Thsir service in the past, great though it has been, cannot justify their present existence. Do they minister in an essential manner to,the best life of to-day? An affirmative answer to this question constitutes their only justification. Brotherhoods, clubs, philanthropic associations without number are competing with them; libraries, newspapers and periodicals, and educational institutions are doing much of the work which they once did. work that was formerly left exclusively to them. We find nothing in the origin of the church that entitles it to claim a divine right to persist. If it persists it will be because it does a better work for society than any other institution can dq. What is this work that the churches are qualified to perform better than other institutions? Can they feed the hungry, clothe tbe naked, visit and comfort the sick and sorrowing, care for those who are in prison, minister to tbe orphan and the outcast, in fine, engage in all sorts of strictly philanthropic activity better than multitudes of existing benevolent institutions? Certainly the churches will continue to do such work as this, because they are organizations of those who love and serve tt^eir fellowmen. But clearer and clearer does it become manifest that other institutions can do most kinds ofphilanthropicworkaswell as, if not better than, the churches. On the whole, the great fraternities everywhere established in our times can do it oetter. xne orgamzeu charities of onr cities, the prison reform associations, the humane societies and others can do it better, more economically, more effectively. Can the churches, however, continue to maintain -themselves as centres for the propagation of great dogmatic systems, or, on the other hand, as centres of mere protest against the dogmatic systems of the past? I do not believe that they can. The forum for the discussion of such systems is being rap idly started rrom rue puipu 10 iue press. The great magazines and re: views and religious newspapers of our time afford a more favorable field for their discussion, while the masses of the people tare less and less for them. Incidentally the churches will continue to urge upon their people what they believe to be a true philosophy of God. of the universe and of man, but this work alone cannot justify their continued existence. Neither as purely sacramentarian institutions can the churches long retain their hold upon any large number of the people, because with the growth and extension of new knowledge the claims of sacramentarianism are rapidly becoming discredited. What is called "the high church reaction" so widely known is after all but a reaction and cannot be permanent in its influence. It is but a return to the childhood of religion, and the thinking world demands the religion of a man. Can the churches, however, continue to maintain themselves as social clubs, as organizations of congenial people who romc together to enjoy- one. an other's companionship? But when there are so many social clubs in every community, membership in which can be restricted to people of congenial tastes and kindred pursuits as membership in even Ihe mofet exclusive church cannot be, .1 do not believe that the churches can long justify their existence as the mere competitors of these clubs. Has the church then outlived its usefulness and is it about to pass away?Certainly not,'if it arouses itself and, becoming conscious of its true mission, resolutely devotes itself iJ ? its distinctive work. This, I believe, is what the churches can do better than any other 'institution?they can and do, in multitudes of instances, act as great inspirational centr.s ministering to the life of the spirit, to the life of the ideal, to the life of God in the soul of man. They come into vital md helpful relations with the people j j\st so as they inspire to high thinking and feeling and loving, in just so far as they inspire and quicken the religious life of the community. Let the churches, therefore. cea:3 regarding themselves as authoritative ecclesiastical institutions, authoritative sacrnmentarian or dogmatic institutions. and become free democratic religious societies for the propagation cf pure and undefJed religion, for in-, spiration to high and worthy iilenls, for actually helping men "to do justly and love merr-y, and to walk humbly with their Goq." The churches that !>"*? most truly and profoundly religious lorces will best justify their existence in the twentieth'century. To foster and develop the distinctively religious life -of humanity, this is the true mission of the churches. They must bo light-givers and lifegivers. They must be spiritually alive in order that they may impart life, for life is what most counts. The outward activities of the churches must be the natural expression of what 1 h av rp The methods for the expression of this religious life will be varied hecause the dispositions of men vary. This or that particular form of activity is unessential. A longer or a shorter ritual of worship is unessential, provided the light and power of religion are present. Faitli. worship, aspiration. loving human service, these are the essential elements in religion and the forms in which they embody thcsnselves will be vital. The living, inspirational church that is savin? men from worldliness and practical materialism, that is helping them to see the unseen and eternal, that is helping- them to worship in the noblest sense of that word?that is, to. attribute supreme worth to the lofty ideals of justice, truth. Jove, which are only another name fur God, to love and revere thene ideals, and to devote themselves with perfect consecration to their realization in human societysuch a church is fulfilling its true mission. by whatever name that cbi.rch may be called, and is in no danger of being discredited in our modern life. In such a church there will be no distinction between classes, between the rich and the poor, no lingering caste spirit, no recognition of a difference of rank and dignity between ministers and people: in the conscious presence of the All Father there will be perfect equality between the worshipers. In such a church there will be no spirit of j;olemn gloom miscalled reverent awe, an inheritance from a primitive religion of fear, but a spirit of radiant hope, of abounding joy, of genuine human sympathy, the spirit of a larger home. The themes of the pulpit of such a church will be closely related to tue actual needs of the people, selected from every quarter, but selected solely that their consideration may minister most effectively to personal and social righteous character. Membership in such a church will be unrestricted, free to all who share a common spirit and are seriously working toward a common ideal end. In fcuch a church there will be no jealous rivalries between the members, but in place of these a generous spirit of emulation to serve one another and ,the common cause. As I said before, the practical activities of such an inspirational church will not be artificial and forced; they-will be the perfectly natural expression of the vigorous religious life of minister and people. In Wiser Handr. A lady, who had been three or four years away from her childhood's home and settled in one of her own, was taken seriously ill. Her mother, iwith all a mother's solicitude, was anxiou^ to be with her daughter at once, an^ hastened to her bedside. She found skilful physicans in attendance and a trained nurse in charge; there was really nothing for her to do?nothing that she could be permitted to do. Day after day she made brief, silent visits to the sick room (even her presence could not be allowed long) and went away powerless to aid. The ministering was in wiser, more efficient hands than hers, and she could not be trusted with it?would not have dared to trust herself with it. "But it seems strange." she said, sadly, one day. "that even I, her mother, can only stand aside and do nothing. There never before wasn't a time when 'mother' wasn't the one to help and comfort; it seems as if it ought to. be so still, and yet I would be afraid to do anything but keep hands off and trust, to a knowledge and strength that is greater than my own." ... ' It is the same in many a spiritual crisis through which we see our dear nno? nnss. We lonsr to lift the burden. to lighten the trials, to bestow the covered Rift; but the Great Physician holds the precious soul in His hands, the hands that will make no mistake, and we can only stand aside and trusr Him.?Forward. { The Thins Worth "While. I know that many of you are puzzled to know in what direction you can start to help Christ to help the world. Let me say this to you in that connection: * Once I came to a crossroad In the old life and did not know in which direction God wanted men to help hasten His kingdom. I started to read the Book to find out what the ideal life was, and I found that the only thing worth doing in the world was to do the will of God; whether that was done in the pulpit or in the slums; whether it was done in the college or class room, or on the street, did not matter at all. "My meat and drink," Christ said. "Is to do the will of Him that sent Me," and if you make up your mind that you are going to do the will of God above everything else, it matters little in what direction you work. Thpre are more nost's waiting for men than there are men waiting for posts. Christ needs men in-every community and in every land; it matters little whether we go to foreign lands or stay at home, a.<; long as we are sure we' are where God puts us.?Henry Drummond. "The Loving Look." Some years ago we witnessed a public examination of a class of little giris at the ^nd of the school term. The distractions of much dressing and much company operated pretty severely on the fickle memories cf the children. One little friend lost herself in confusion and stammered to a dead stop in her recitation. Just then her mother moved from out the crowd and took a seat iu full view of the little one. The loving look of that silent face brought order out of confusion. Mind and tongue immediately resumed their function.'!, everything was lost sight of and the iessons all came back in perfect order. The examination was fin ished in triumph. Many a time f-ince then as we have seen some struggling benrt confused by the world's noise and temptation we have felt like bidding it look up into the familiar face of the Heavenly Father and be reassured that all is well. Not only is there life in a look at the beginning, but there is assurance and confidence all along the way. Brought Twelve Hundred to Christ. Mr. Alexander, the associate of Dr. Torrey, is not simply a singer and\a leader of singing. He is an enthusiastic personal worker. He believes individual work to be the Christian's duty; he is constantly at it. and has personally won hundreds for Christ by hand to hand, heart to heart work. "I knew," he SRid- recently in LiverpooJ to an interviewer fpr the Sundayschool Times, '"a youth in America, who was i/> orar.t When it came to every-day books; brit when it came to God and the Bible he was well edu/t.+o/i Tn ftvtk. votirs ho ivns thf? means of bringing twelve hundred souls to Christ. In his own rough way he classified one hundred and eighty-five difficulties in personal work and met them by chapter and verse iu the Bible." Here is a good suggestion to all personal workers. Keep a record of the best Scripture passages for meeting individual iweds. I'ruytU for Six Ye?rs. At a revival meeting in Wales a man spoke from the gallery: "I have bec-u praying for six years for the salvation of thirty of my mates at the colliery, " 1 o lief s\f thom thnt T ttliu X Uii v C c* JJCU * might not forget them before Gbd. I ain glad to be able now to say tbat twelve of them have been converted."' \fhat will it mean if every Christian wiil follow the same plan in 1905? God'8 Way. It is one tbing to take no thought for want of thought, and another to take no thought from sufficing thought, whose flower is confidence. The one way is the lovely way of God in the birds, the other His lovelier way in His men and wain en.?George Macdonald. ' v\ *" ' "I ?" THE SUNDAY SCHOOL international lesson comments i-un ?rmi_ t, | Subject: Jesns, the Good Shepherd, Jolio x? 7-18?Golden Text, John x., 11? Memory Verges, 17, 18?Commentary ou the Day's Lesson. I.1 The shepherd and the sheep (vs. ; 3-6). In these verses Jesus lays the | foundation for the discourse which was '.to follow. With the external drapery j of this parable the hearers of- Jesus ! were perfectly familiar. Theirs was ! a sheep-growing country; flocks were their main dependence. II. Christ the door (vs. 7-9). , 7. "Then said Jesus." Jesus was talking directly to the men who had excommunicated the former blind man, and the application of His words was to them as spiritual thieve^ snd robbers. They had reviled a poor man instead of protecting him. "Verily, verily." This emphasized the importance of what He was about to say. Jesus now proceeds to explain the illustration He had made use of in verges 1-6. "I am the door." The sheep-folds of the East are mere enclosures surrounded by a wall of loose stones with thorn-bushes upon the top, but usually an effectual barrier against theVolves.. There is only one door. "The shetp." True Christians. 8. "Before Me." Those who came pretending to be pastors or guides to the people. The scribes and Pharisees I'juimeu iu ue liisiructurH oi me yeupjei claimed the right to regulate the affairs of religiOD; whose only aim was to promote themselves and oppress the people. "Thieves and robbers." These false teachers, who rejected Christ and who were devouring the sheep. "Did not hear." Many did hear and follow these false prophets, but "the sheep" ?those with true spiritual insight?detected' their hypocrisy. 9. "Enter in." Through faith in Christ we enter into the fold?the visible church. "Shall be saved." Safe from the robbers that seek to destroy; safe from false teachers; safe from the sins that would ruin; safe from the troubles, dangers and temptation$ of life. "Go in and out." We must "go'in" to trust, to rest* to think, to pray, before we can "go out" to do effective work for the Lord. "Find pasture;" Satisfaction for every need of the-soul. III. The thief and the hireling (vs. 10-13). , 10. "Thief." Any opposer of the Gospel. "To steal/' etc. False teachers steal the hearts and affections from Christ. Their heresies kill and destroy I all spiritual life. "Life?abujidantty" j (R. V.) "Christ is able to give His peo; pie abundant life. Many are seeking "more" life; what such need is "life"? j the Christ life, the abundant life. U,. I See on verses 14, 15. 12."A.n hire1 ling." The hireling itf the one who j labors simply for his wages, :with no love or concern for the work. "The | wolf." The wolf is the enemy of souls ' in any of his manifold disguises, such | as persecution, xieresy, wonuiy jiving, j or a low standard of morals. 13. "Car! eth not." To him the welfare of the sheep is nothing; he is chiefly solioitobs ; for his own safety, his.'own gaii and | worldly honor. ' r IV. Christ the good Shepherd (vs. j 34-18). 14. "I am the good Shepherd." ' Jesus, as the good Shepherd, was foretold by. God in the prophets. His char! acter was that of a divinely appointed shepherd. His purposes, His teachings, ! His works, His miracles, His methods j of work, all were those which must | belong to a good shepherd of God's 1 people. "Know My sheep." In the i East in a flock of hundreds each sheep ! would have and would know its own name. So Chrl6t knows us. and loves us as individuals. "Am known of mine." There is a mutual affection between the shepherd, and the sheep. There is a mutual affection between the Father and the Son; one is parallel j with the other. As the Father knows the Son, so does the Shepherd know the sheep; as the Son knows the Father, so do the sheep know the Shepherd. 15. "Lay down My life." The Ori: ental shepherd must face storms, hardships and dangers for his sheep; he i must find them when lost and must ' often fight with wild beasts and robbers in protecting them. Our Shepherd i gives up His life for us (John 3:16; i Titus 2:14; John 4:10). 16. 'Other j sheep have I." The Gentiles who were ! soon to be brought into His1 church. | The good Shepherd sweeps the world j with His thought. Here is the univeri sal relation of Jesus to sinners of all | nations and tongues. "Shall become i one flock" (R. V.) One flock not in i creed or name, but in what is far more I essential?one in Christ. One in he"' , one in purpose, one in the servic jf ' God and man. 17. "Because I Jay down."* Not bei cause I have laid it down, as though I the love of the Father were caused by. the earthly love and sacrifice of Christ, ; but because I lay it down. That is, bei cause Christ's Spirit is one of self-sac! rificing love, manifested by, but not I alone embodied in, the incarnation, He i is loved by the Father (see Phil. 2:9; I Heb. 1:9). "Take it again." His ris , | JLlg Jruui nit? uf?u was ?a lictcssiuj ua j His dying, for by His resurrection He i secured the fruits of His death (eomI pare Rom. 4:2.1). Christ died in order ! to rise to a more complete life, and to j raise men with Him. This purpose ! evoked the love of the Father .(compare | 32:32: Phil 2:0; Heb. 1:9). 18. "No man." His death was entirely volun] tary. Men killed Him, but He had full power to escape from them had He I wished. No one imposed upon Him the I duty of leaving Heaven, of coining to the world, suffering and dying. He chose to do it, that He might save men. "Have 1 received." While He did it voluntarily, it was in accordance with His Father's expressed will. This is the divine law of salvation. Iture Optical Operation. One of the most delicate operations known to eye specialists was successfully performed a few days ago at the i Hahnemann Hospital, in Philadelphia, ! It was that of grafting tbe thin skin j of a rabbit's eyeball onto the injured J of f-ieht-vpar-old Francis Smith. j Young Smith went to the hospital J with the sight of his eye nearly gone as i a result of being struck with a baseball i covered with lime. Dr. Thomas sugj gested the delicate and nnusual op^ra: tion. and a rabbit was secured. The ; operation was successful from the first. JBud News Kills a Woman. Prostrated by ihe announcement that her daughter. Mrs. Charles Fraver, had been brutally murdered by her husband, who hail also killed himself, j at Dayton, Ohio, Mrs. John tJerrich, | ninety-seven years old, is dead at her I home, near Littleslown, Adams County, j She was never sick a day in her life, still sbe did her owe ttouseworfc. License to Smoke. ' In Formoii a man must have ft license before be is allowed to smoke OpiUm. : . ; I PAYINC THE FARE. B| ST T*COI>ORE Tm CCTLZB, D. ?. H ' When Jonah took it into his fooll6b . head to run away to Tarshish "from the presence of the Lord," he went on board au outward-bound vessel, and ''paid, tb* fare thereof." That was an expensive excursion. He lost the api provai of his conscience and smile of < God. He would have lost his life but for a miraculous rescue, and he reiturned to Joppa a sadder and -wiser ' man. When anyone attempts to run ; away from God he is surely overtaken, and when anyone chooses a seductive path of sin, he pays deadly for the folly. I see it annouced in the daily jourI nals that a certain heart-broken young wife has been divorced from a worth i less husband for "cruelty and deserI tion." It -was all in; vain that her ' parents bpsought her. not to intrust her heart and her happiness t<J on? "who I had a rotten character behind a handsome face and polished manners; she took the reckless risk, and has paid the fare thereof;- In all my lifelong observation I have never known a mai* 1 riage contracted in opposition to the I wishes of loving parents that has not ( turned out badly. * The wages of filial i disobedience "are apt to be death tohappiness Not long ago I met a man whom I had known in his better days; he was : Reeling along under the escort of-a policeman toward the station-house. Poor creature! He was paying the toll on the devil's turnpike. The hearts less salodnfeeeper who sold hita the poison will be required' to pay his, when h reaches tbe Judgment bar of & righteous God. Let the young under-, stand that every pathway of sensual indulgence?whether it leads'to Impure books, or to salacious Scenes In * theatre, or to any gratification of sensual lusts, will sooner or later encounter a tollgate of retribution. Can any young man or maiden take hot coals of, fire into 4)ae bosom trtid not be* scorched? Koads to. gross ?ins that pollute the body and soul are not the only perilous ones. There is a patbwny>to political preferment, into which bright and ambitious young men are pushing: if in name for the service of the people, yet too often ojifv v.Y<fr*fo?Hy1 9F self ad"vancement. The "fare" they pay ]9 constant fro~rry~fi temptation to tritfk and intrigue, a*i%aflWies-to descend tit y character in order *o ascend Into high office, and a wretb^'hed demoralization "of conscience. Civil office ought to be accented as an honorable apd sacred trust, but unfortunately, the atmos pnere 01. "practical pontics m our country is. so contaminating that few clean men stay In long yithout a smirch on their reputation's, Whoever chooses that road: of ambition, let him count his cost. Out in yonder city streets to-day are thousands of, men mad to get rich. That appetite grows by what ft feed? on. "He.that loveth silver-shall not be satisfied wit> silver," and" they who i determine at all hazards that they | wiH win Wealth must-pay-the penalty. | Gold is an excellent servant when held i in trust for God'Had good' men; it i? I a cruel monster"when' it ewxis its posI sessor. "How *do "you. /efil to-day?" I wais asked a millionaire, who at four! score was tottering along1 feebly for an. airing. - "I feel better," was the pitiful j reply; "I feel better to-day? stocks are up!" xThe rich mart almost in sight of eternity; yet he was hugging his moneybags as a drowning man hugs a plank. Whoever travels the thronged road of covetousness must "pay the fare thereof." T />nnUl rrmltinlv illnatrations: but they would all poinfcto the one great IS solemn truth that sin Is about the cost* H liest thing in God's universe. How- H ever smooth its tongue and bewitching Hj its promises, the wages. it exacts is H death! It always,,"finds us out," and H Christians need to remember this as I much'as the most worldly-minded slave H of mammon, or the most Inlpure slave H of sensual appetitel r l? one of H God's prophets who fed from the path H of duty into the path of inclination, U and paid the "fare thereof." Even H some ministers have been- overtaken H on the road to Tarshish, and lave been H glad to get back penitently to their H right field of. labor in Ninevab. "The H meek will be guided in this way." jn Is not a life of godliness costly, too? H , Yes, but quite in another "way. The'M straight road leads toward Heaven by H the redeeming love of Jesus Christ, hath a "fare thereof" also. Repent- H ance and faith are demanded at the Ha entrance gate. ffig "If thou wilt enter life," says Jesus, H "keep My commandments. He that H| would come after Me, let him deny H himself and take up his cross and H follow Me." All the richest grace?, H j aw tne nomest ueeua tu wve mi _| all the grandest achievements for tbeH glory of our blessed Master are costly. H Crosses are the price of unfading H crowns.?Sabbath Heading. H learned From Experience. H A poor young man saw on a scrap of H newspaper the sentence: "Push with^B energy: plod with patience; endure ^B with pluck; and you can do anythingHp that God approves." The words had BB been written by the President of Wal-|H den University. With three nickels his pocket he plodded to Walden Uni-Hj versity. He earned his first do'lar^B cleaning up the cellar of a warehouse. ^B He did it ,so well that he never lacked work, and graduated from college aud^H seminary with credit. He had a goa^^B and pressed forward to it. ^fl Gems brili'onjht. HK Self-compiaisancy is tbe fog throngb^B which many run on the rocks of se!f-H| destruction. HBD True power lies in the wisdom of Spirit, and not in the wisdom of tbe^H schools.?United Fresbylerinn. jflj There is no saner way to nt ourselves^H for earth than to prepare ourselves 1'ojBc Heaven.?United Presbyterian. So the time* are going 40 b? veryBj prosperous: but are the hearts of the^H people going t ? l*? con,espondingl.yMS largo and g'.'nvrous:?Congr.'sationai?^B Cricket* Eat the Crops. !Sm Crickets are so numerous in some^B parts of the West, particularly in rc-^H ifions adjoining arid foothills, as to be^H a serious menace to cultivated crops.^Hj The pest has been kept off ciijtivate<lM| lields by the use of irrigation ditches^B and bv driving. *3 Valuable Blackberry Patch. SBH For loss of the blackberry patch, ; burned by a spark from a locomotive,M| the West Jersey Railroad has pai<lH| Postmaster Wrangle, of Aicona, N. KfiOfi dnmacM. i. . Km | Twvv wv.^v,Dvv,. ' :- -