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M TALIAGE'S SERMON. MEDICINE FOR ALI ILLS. Text: 'The disciples wont out and told Jesus/'?St. Matthew, xiv.12. An outrageous assassination bad taken place to appease the wrath x>f a revengeful woman, iierod had ordered the death of that noble, self-sacrificing Christian man, John the Baptist. They were in consternation and great trouble. There was no one to whom they could appeal. Hut sorrow if it find no human sympathy, will cry aloud to the winds, and the woods and the waters. Yet there was an ear that couid hear. What beauty of pathos. What simplicity of power in the words of my text: '"They went and told Jusus!" There He stands. His face shadowed with Ills own sorrows, surrounded by a group of people in consternation and with violent gesticulations and outcries of woe. Here was one ready to help them, ready to comfort them, ready to sympathize with them. Raphael, the master painter, never put on wall of palace pictuio of Bible story so thrilling and so graphic as this picture, made by the p ain hand of the evangelist, when he says: "They went and told Jesus!" The Gotlies and the Vandals came down from the nortli <,f Kurope, and they upset the gardens and they broke down the altars, and thoy swept tii-.' country with thebe;om of destruction* And so in every man's life there are times when trouble comes as a despoiler, as a crusader, and blasts and plucks up,and plunders and de-.troys. If I should ask all those people in this audience who have never had trial, or misfortune, or bereavement, or disorder, to give signal, there would ba no signal. If 1 should ask those who are sitting to rise up, or those who are standing to lift the hand as a signal of the fact that they have never had any misfortune, any heartbreak. any trouble, not one would rise and not one hand would be lilted. There is not any cavern so cleit in the mountains that it can hide one from worldly misfortune. Swiftest coarser has not fleet foot enough to take us out of the swift pursuit. Thoso arrows brought to the string fly with unerring dart, and we fall pierced and stunned. ?So that while I speak cn one subject I feel it is only appropriate for one class, ami speak on another subject it is appropriate for another class. This morning 1 speak upon a subject that addresses itself to every woman and child in this assemblage, and I am going to --- ? - ??.u?i.\ <,11 ;n, ?n give <X wat'ivuvvii ivi ?*** Aiio, iui an iiiisfortunes and for all trials. 1 am going to tako ail your troubles?1 do not caro what they have been?and put them in one bundle, and with a spark from God's altar set them abla/.e, and they shall be destroyed under the power of Christ's consolation. The same soothing power that came to the disciples in the text will come this morning to all your hearts, l?od helping us. In the first place, I commend the behavior of th .se disciples in the text to all thos? who realize they are sinful and unpardoned. There comes a time in the life of every sensible man, every thoughtful man?1 do not refer now to imbeciles?there comos a time in the life of every honest, thoughtful, sensible man. a time when he realizes he is a sinner and he ought lo have pardon. That thought may not have heft enough to fell him, but "to get rid of it ono man will fly to prayer, another will stimulate himself with ardent spirits, another will plunge into greater secularises, and you cannot wonder that when a man finds out that his eternal destiny isswinging on the pivot of an uncertainty, you cannot wonder that that man does something violent or something immediate to get rid of the impression. It cannot be. for instance, that a man this morning, should by the power of the Ho y Ghost realize that he has a cancerous si:i m his soul, and that Christ, the divine surgeon stands right by him ready to take the cancer out and it shall never return, and he shall De cured for time and cured for eternity?it cannot be possible that a man shall reaiize that and not take some action? So that hour probably has come to a great many 1-ere, and the question is what to do. Go and teli Jesus. "Why," you say, "then to me you propose to cure one sorrow by making another; you proposa to cure the wound of sin by the wound of conviction." You are righr. In all styles of medicine that is the process. The physician comes. Ke finds your ranking wound. It has bee n thore for months, perhaps for year?. W hat does he do? He cauterizes it. By caustic he burns it out, an { (li re comes health a;ain to those parts o: the body. And here is the old sore of sin. A\'e all have it. It may have b.vn there for ten vears, for twenty years, for forty years,for sixty veal's. n^,i kv : ?o A i.,,. 1.. , .I. vvu *- iiiv-1 *jj "w A-xiiiiiguij giUt'C illlU HO burns ii out by tlu> power of conviction, and the llesh comes again as tho Hesli of a little child. "Well," says every man in this audience, "that is right, that is reasonable, that is according to all schools of medicine. I mean to have my soul cured of sin some day." When? "Oh," you say, "it is only a matter of time." But, my brother, when? "Well." you say,. "some time I will attend to it."" That is not satisfactory to your own soul; it is not satisfactory to me. Let me fix some time. Alfred, the king, before time-pieces wero invented, use I to measure the day by three wax candles, aild each wax candle burned einht "nours. w nen one wax candle was burned down eight hours had passed, when two wax caudles sixteen hours, when tho three wax candles had burned down the whole day was departed?twenty-four hours. Oh, my friend, I wish you and I, instead of measuring our days and nights and years by ear:hly time-pieces, would measure t'lem by the mercies and the opportunities that an? burning down and burning out, never again to be relighted, lest at last we awake to the discomfiture of the foolish virgins. savins: "Our lamps have gone out." Again: I commend the behavior of the disciples in the text to all the tempted. I have heard people say, "I am never tempted. 1 fo right on and attend to my work in l"?don't feel these temptations you talk about. When a man says that to me I know be lias never tried to get free from the power of sin and temptation and the deviL If a man be bound band and foot, lying down in a prison and he have handcuffs on and hopples on and he makes no struggle, he is not aware of the power of the chain, but just let him try to get up and get loose, then he feels the power of the iron, then he feels the strength of the manacle, and if, my brother, you have never felt temptation it is because you have not struggled to break from these" temptations. to be free in the liberty of the sons and daughters of the Lord God "Almighty. It is easy enough to float down stream. We just lie upon the oars and just as fast as the river goes just so fast we sail on, lloat on down. No trouble about that. But suppose we want to go the other way and we head up stream? Then we have to use the oars and pull ami pull, and perhaps make no headway. Well, just ns long as wo go down with the current of evil inclinations'; just as long as we go along with the temptations of sin and the devil, wegeton quite fast, quite rapiidly; but suppose we turn to go the other way, and head u:> toward God and Christ and heaven. Oh, what a struggle it is, awful struggle,omnipotent struggle, be?ause God comes in on our side. And if )rou do not know, my brother; if you do not know the p >wer of temptation, it is becau-e you have not tried to resist it, and you have not tried to be free trrkm i*. flio rflArinna oni 51 t.ion fif the gospel. Well, now, when the temptations of life come upon you, what are 3*ou going to do? How are you going to rereive them? "When the wavo daches clear over tho soul, the wave of temptation, , have we nothing to hold on to? S'xtus w.sa cardinal and he wanted to sit in the pontifical chair. and he protended to be very lame, and he came on crutches, and he said: "You appoint me to the pontifical chair, I will not live long anyhow, and then some one else will follow me; it is only for a little while; you see I can't live long." He came on crutches and took the chair. Then he threw away the crutches and said: "When I was looking for the keys of St. Pet r I had to atop, and now that I have found the kevs of St. Peter I don't have to stop '' And he threw away his crutches; he was well. Oh, how suggestive this is of temptation. It seems wan ana weax ana cripoieu, out ^ace get the throne, and oh, how it grinds the body and prints the soul?this awful master. this awful tyrant. Is there no help for those who are in temptation? Must wo go into this battle with the world, the flesh and the devil all alone? No. I have the prescription of the text to announce to my own soul and to your soul: go and tell Jesus. In the 8\*es that w^pt for the Bethany sisters I see hop*. In that voice that broke the silence of death so that 1 he widow of Naiii got back her lost boy, stupendous grief waking up in the arms ot' rapture?in that voice 1 hear the command and the promise: "Cast thy burden upon the I>rd, He will sustain thee." Tempted in all points like as we are. Go and tell Jesus. Again I commend the behavior of the dis? rir-'ts in the text to all who are persecuted. They know that Hero<l had taken the head of J dim titf Eajttiit; fcbay tiid uot know vvlwu their turn would coma. Every John has his Herod. There are people who do not think I overmuch of you. Your misfortunes are j honeycomb to thm. They hiss at you through their teeth. The misinterpret your action;}. They would like to see you upset. They would be the most cheerfully submissivo mourners at your funeral. No.oue escapes. Some slander after awhile, horned and hoofed and tusked, will corno after you lo gor^ you and trample yo i into the dust. If you say. "1 haven't an enemy in the world," j fn, ot.T> frtct.ifvin<r to tho fa-t. vou are demon* I stratins the fact that you have not done all j your duty. Any man that goo? on and does his whole duty challenges wrath and hell, and persecution and scorn and misfortune will corno just as certain as you sit there and I stand hero. No escape. Sometim s it como3 in early Jife, sometimes it comes in midlife, sometimes it comes in old age. One would think that if any man would ever escape it would be George Wiiitefield, he who brought souls to God by the thousands, and yet the learae l Dr. Johnson wrote of White.'ieU, "he is only a mountebank." Robert Hall, they say, used to preach about heaven until the glories of the better country slu wn in his face, and yet good John Fester wrote of Robert Hull, "he is only an actor, and the smile you see on his "face when he speaks of heaven, is onlv the reflection of his own vanity!" John Wesley, who did so much to reform the chur h and save the world, was pictor'ally on the board fences of London, and ho was the target for all the wits nnd punsters of his day. and there were some who howlea at him as he went through the streets, yet he was the founder of Metho lism, and his nann with many is the mightiest name save orse. the name which is above every name, the name j of Jesus. One would have thought that those ! men would have escaped misrepresentation : and persecution and trial, and if they could . not escape neither can you. neither can you, ; neither can you. But what are you to do when you are slandered or abused.' Go out ! ana nunc uown me ii?: t?imo j making an explanation in regard to one false- | ho d. there will ba fifty people that have just j heard of that particular falsehood. While j you ought to use a'l lawful means for the purpose of setting yourself right, I want to tell you men and women who are slandered and abused and persecuted. I want to tell ; you of one who had many insulting things! said about Him,whose sobriety was disputed, j whose mission was scoffed at, whose compan- ! ionshipwas denounced, and who was pursued j as a bale and spit upon,'as a man, and howled ! at after He was dead. Just go to Him. Look i up in His face and say: ''Oh, Lord Jesus, I ! see t!:e wounds on thy brow, the wounds on j thy hands, tha wounds on thy feet, the j wounds in thy side, and by all these wounds i I beg Thee to pity me, ana help me, and res- ! cue me." Oh, abused soul, go and tell i Jesns. Again, I commend the behavior of the dis- j ciples in the text to all the bereft As I look j off upon the audience to-day, how' many ! signs of mourning! GJod has his own way of ; taking apart the families of the earth. The j fact is that the emigration of the human race from this world to the next is such a vast enterprise t iat God only can conduct it. But that emigration from time to eternity keeps three-fourths of the families of the earth in desolation. The child, the babe that lay so near the mother's heurt, is laid away in the cold and the darkness. The laughter freezes to the girl's lip, and the rose scatters. The boy co.nes in Irom the harvest fields of Shunam and says, "my head, my head!" and dies in the lap of his mother. Widowhood has struct into the pallid cheek the tragedv of j woe anu orpnanage cries iu vum iui iaium ; and mother. Oh, the grave is cruel! Is there i no help, no consolation, no allienation, no | rescue? There is; aye, there is. When we are in misfortune our friends come in and try to help us and they do help us to a certain extent, but they cannot disentangle our finances, they cannot cui e our sick, they cannot raise ourdead. They do the best they can and we are ! glad to have them. But Christ can do all the j work. He counts all the tears, He counts all ! the groans. He saw the tears as they started : ; and He saw the hiding-place of cur sorrow, j i Bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh,Anguish of j our anguish. As long as He remembers Lazarus1 tomb He will stand with us in the cemetery. As long as He remembers His own heartbreak He will be with us in the lacerations of our affection. When He forgets I the footsore, and the weary mind, and the I exhausted body, and the awful cross, and j His solemn grave, then Ho will forget you, j but not until then. When we have trouble | we send letters to our friends tolling them to j come right away, or we send telegrams f ay- j ing, "take the first train; come immedi- j ately;" but it may be hours, it may be days ; before our friends get to us. But Christ "is j always present. He is before 3*0:1. ! He is on the right ha-id j He is on the left hand, He is under you, Ho I is over you, He is within you. Nearer than | I the staff on which you lean. Nearer than the j cup which 3*011 press to ycur lips. Nearer I than the handkerchief with which ycu wipe I away the tears. I preach Hirn f.his morning, j an ever present Christ. Blessed be God the Savior to whom those disciples went has all j pow^r in heaven and on earth, and the last j sword will leap from the scabbard of om- I nipotence, and the last resource of ihe infinite j God be exhausted before He will ailow one of | His children to cry for help and not get ; it. A child went with her father, a ! sea captain out on the ocean, and when the first storm cam*, in the midnight, the child awakened in groat fright. She said: "Where's father? where's father*" "Oh," they said, "your father is watching the storm: he is on deck; he is guiding the ship." "Well, 'sai l the child, "if father's on deck and he's guid- | ing the ship, its all right. So I'll go to sleap j again," and she slept ami I the howling of the j tempest. Oh, men and women, tossed in the j storms of this life, cyclone aftir cyclone, euroclydon after euroclydon: let me tell you that the Lord is guiding the ship, your Father is on deck, and He will take you safely through into the harbor. All is well. All is well. Go and ? ? 1 Cell Josil3. mis moment, m unw emuost i prayer, tell Him all about it. You were j never so willing to receive your child when ! he got wounded in the street as your God is j ready this moment to receive you. Oh wounded soul. Do and tell oesua. What will be the history of this science? How many of you will surrender yourselves to the .Lord who redeemed you? If you will not take your own pardon and extirpate the consequences, of your own sin. r tell you, my brother, plainly, your life will be a failure, ami your death disaster, and j'our eternity a calamity, liut if you just start for Christ this moment, your feet will strike the upward path and the shining messengers who report above what is done here will make the arches of God resound with the tidings that you went and told Jtam Soon all this scene will bo gone. Where will we be a thousand years from now? Where will we be a million years from now? Where will wo bo a quadrillion years from now? We will bo living somewhere. Where will we be a quintrillioii years from now? Xerxes had an army of ?men?it was probably the largest army ever marshaled?and on) day he rode along tbo lino and reviewed the troops. Th-.-re was a great huzzah as he went along the Jinos. Then he took his position on a hill and louke 1 off upon the host and burst into tears, ana one or nis scan outers saiu: -wuyuu you we;p in this time of triumph and exultation when you ought to be full of joy?" "Ah," said Xerxes, "I weep be^auso I realize thatsoon all this host will he gone." And I realize it, and you realize it that soon all this assemblage will bo gone?will hi gono from the church, and will he gone from the home, and will be gjne from thi streets and will b3 gone from the earth, and will be gone forever, and whither? whither. 1 saw averse or two of very weird rhythm. I do not know who was the author, but it is very beautiful, as well as strange and uniquo: 'lis not for man to trifle, Life is brief and sin is here; Our ago is but a falling leaf, A dropping tear. Not many lives, but only ono Have we one, only ono; Hew sacred should that ono life be? Ibat narrow span. A Sailor. "Are you a sailor?'-' asked Babster's bright boy of Spook the other evening. "No, my son," replied Spook, "a seafaring life ha9 no attraction for me." "But you are a sailor," said young Babster. "No, my child, you are mistaken." "Well, at any rate, mother said she had seen you 'half seas over more'n a hundred times.' "?Lynn Union. There are 243 more females than males in Southbridge, Mass., but the Journal office is not for sale. Bachelor editors must start a Lew paper to be on the ground. God Providctli for the Morrow, Take therefore no thought for the morrow; for the morrow shall tuko thought for the thing- of itself."?Matthew vi., 34. Lo the liliea of the field, How their leaves instruction yield; Hark to nature's lesson given liy thu blessed birds of heaven! Kvcrv hush and tufted tree Warbles sweet philosophy; Mortal, llee from doubt and sorrow; God providctli for tlio morrow! Saj-, with richer crimson glows The kingly mantle or the rosV/ Say, have kin^s more wholesome faro Than we poor citizens o! air? Barns nor hoarded g ain have we, Yet wc carol lnetiiiy. Mortal, (lee from d? ul?t t.nd sorrow, God providelh for the morrow! One there lives whose guardian eyo Guides our humble destiny; One there lives who, Lord of all, Keeps our feathc.s lest they fall; Pftss we blithely then, t'l1? ! ne, Fearless of the snare and lia.n; Free from .loubt und faithhss sorrowGod provideth lor the monow! ? Hcber. RELIGIOUS READING. The Cross. And now the cross of Christ is up lifted as an ensign to the nations. No symbol or watchword invented by men in any part of the world awakens such faith and hope, such joy and peace, as the cross which id sacredly associated with his blo*<oJ name. By his cross is meant 110 mere material image or hallowed sign, touched by the hand or visible to the eye of man, but the shame he endurv.l, the death he died, and the doctrine of salvation through his prr !ous bluod, his accepted sacrifice. In the cross of Christ, so nnilprsfoml nnd felt, all true Chris t.ians continually glory; while they seek and hope through him who died on the cross to bo crucified to the world, and to win the glorious and incorruptible crown of eternal life. As we gaze, then, with the enlightens! eye of faith on him who was lilted up from the earth on Mount Calvary, let us feel and own the attractive power of his cross, and be drawn unto him, an:l joined indissolubly unto him, along with multitudes of men over the whole world who have felt the preciousness and the power of his atoning blood.?Rev. James Dodd of Dunbar. A People's Power Over Their Pastor* Much has been said and written on the power of the ministry and the responsibility arising therefrom. Quite as much might be said and written on the power of the people over their minister and the responsibility arising therefrom. It is a moral power exerpicfd nvpr t.hfl sniritunl exnerience of the pastor. The earnestly tender expression in the sixth verse of John's third epistle where he says: "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth," indicates the existence of this power and also its nature and mode of exercise. It springs out of the intimate relation which a pastor sustains to his people. lie is their father; they are his children. The Romish church has eagerly seized on this Scripture truth and magnified and perverted it. Every priest is called father this, or father that. Indeed, the Roman church has one great father; the Papa or Pope. But because Rome has perverted a Scripture truth, we may not therefore discard it. It is a spiritual '-'I 1 1- -11 4-U^. nr.,J lclUlttuiuuu; uuii an unc icunuga nuu duties which properly belong to the natural relation, are transferred and adapted in thought and reality to this spiritual relation. While the relation which a minister sustains to all his people is very intimato and tender, that which he sustains to tho.se in whose conversion he has been instrumental is specially so. They have seized his presentation of the gospel. Thev have followed his guidance. They rellect his inner life. For in Christ Jesus he has begotten them ' through the gospel. They have therefore a peculiar and startling power over him. They are near to his heart, and help or hinder his joy. It is the gospel which has created this relation, and which renders the exercise of this power possible. The pastoral relatiou which grows out of J the scheme of redemption is incon-1 ceivable except in connection with the scheme. Whenever the relation is entered into on selfish principles, it is * % ? . j. _ .1 i. T neuner lasungnor auvautiiguuus. xudeed whenever the relation is trunformed, self is of necessity ruled out. The relation originates not in natural desire, but in divine command; not in physical necessity, but in moral want. | The power of a people over their minister is exercised through their action toward the gospel, which is re' ? ? J ? ~ -1 waaai'tta/I in ifa ctimnlinif vt : IjUUCH fcu uc icccucu iu ilo ouiijdi^uj ;md obeyed in its purity. A people may have power to call a minister, and to compel his resignation; to give and withhold his hire; but ! in this consists not their real power. To be instrumental in deepening their I pastor's Christian character, inenrichI ing his Christian experience, in helpI ing his joy, in tins consists the power | of a people. It is quite as important ! for a minister to inquire concerning I the spiritual life of a people who have I called him to be their pastor, as for a ' people to inquire concerning the spirij ttial life of a minister whom they are i about to call. Many a young man has j been brought into pastoral relation i with a people who have, by their inj difference to spiritual thing-, effectuI ally quenched his youthful zeal for | Christ, and brought him down to the , low level of their own spirit| ual life. If the churches wish to ex: ercise a noble power over their minisI ters, and have joyful and efficient pastors, let them "walk in truth." Many nowadaj's doubt the scripturcs, despise the church and profane the Sabbath; but let "the children" walk in "the srood old wav."?Observer. Tompcranco ?V'ojcs. ' A true nnd noble boyhcod "w ill make a ninnj hood line; : Then shun the. wicked cider, tobacco, aleaiu1. | wine. According to the New York Examiner, etatislics recenUy gathered in that city show that ninety-three per cent, of the inmates of the House of Industry were sent there for crimes resulting from the use of liquor; also that of the 8,000 liquor sellers of the city. (>,43S have been confined in jail or prison. And yet they are certified to be reputable citizens when licensed. ' TEMPERANCE DEPARTMENT. I Wish Ton a ITTerry Christmas. I wish you a merry Christmas, My brother temperance mon, Who every day are strivinc Intemperance tide to stem. We've spent a happy Christmas Without strong drink before; And this year, without the monster, We hope to spend one more. I wish you a merry Christmas, Dear readers, one and all, And this can be obtained, we know, Without King Alcohol; For he doth cause continually Distress and many a sorrow, Make wounds upon a Christmas day And headaches on the morrow. I wish you a merry Christmas, But :midst our joys let's think How many hearts are desolate THrougn uiai accurseu anun. I wish you a merry Christmas, And friends around shall see, Without the fiery water, How happy we can be. I wish a merry Christmas To every child and man, Indeed, to every woman, too, Who practices our plan. In such a godly warfare Right onward let us steer; So 1 wish you a merry Christmas And a happy cominjj year. ?Rev. W. E. Churchill, in Temperance Banner. Why Canon Farrar Became a Total Abstainer. Canon Farrar, in a speech made by him at the recent reception given in his honor in New York city by the National Temperance society and the Church Temperance socicty, said: ? ? T *?nf "About ten years ago or mum x mow became a total abstainer because I was easily convinced that the use of alcohol was not a necessity, and a great deal turns upon that. I saw, for instance, that whole nations had not only lived without it, but had flourished without it. I believe that the human racc had existed and had flourished a considerable time beforo it was discovered. I 3aw the remarkable fact that there were some twenty thousand persons in England, and that though many of them had made themselves mere funnels for drink; though they had been accustomed to drink from their childhood; though most of them had been brought to prison, either directly or indirectly, through drink, yet the very day that they entered the gatss of the prison all drink was entirely taken from them, and yet there was not a single instance on record in which any one of them had suffered in consequence. On the contrary, men who have entered the prisons sickly and blighted, have been made compulsorily sober by an act of parlia {, ?? frtTtr mnntln lpffc nrison LLKJLIL, auci a ju 11 >uv>u...v .... f hale and strong and hearty; and women who had been put into prison perfectly horrible and hideous in their loathsomeness and degradation, after a short period of deprivation from the source of their ruin left prison with the bloom o^ health and almost of beauty. "Then, again, I saw in the carefullyprcparcd statistics of insurance societies that total abstinence, as an indisputable fact, contributes to longevity. Then I saw that, so far from alcohol being a necessity for great feats of strength, many of the greatest athletes in the world, from Samson downward, whose drink was only the crystal brook, had achieved without alcohol feats far more - - . . _ u :ui? mighty that tney couju puasiuij achieved with it; and, as far as intellectual exertions are concerned, great writers, though they have not always said with Pindar that water ia best, have yet constantly drawn from temperance a far better inspiration than they could possibly have produced chemically from the fumes of wine. Then I found that a great number of our most eminent physicians had declared most positively that in hundreds and thousands of cases alcohol was the prolific source of disease, even those who took it in quantities conventionally deemed moderate; and, on the other hand, that other physicians who were opposed to total abstinence as a general rule still confessed that the young and the healthy, all who eat well and all who sleep well, can do without it and are better without it. "All these proofs and many others convinced me very speedily that it was not necessary for me to continue to touch any form of alcohol; and I gave it up the more readily because I bslieve that the abandonment of it was one element in that very needful simplification of life which gets rid of all artificial wants and which is peculiar^ desirable in an age of luxury like this.1' A Good L'usinevs to Ar a?don> An East Douglass, Ma<-s., licensed liquor dealer issues a business card with the following unusual notice printed thereon: "To whom it may coucern. Know ye, that by the payment of $225 I am permitted to retail intoxicating liquors at my saloon in this town. To the wife who has a drunkard for a husband, or a friend who is unfortunately dissipated. I say emphatically, give me notice in person of such a case, or eases, in which you are interested, aud all such shall be excluded from my place. Let mothers, fathers, sister*, an 1 brothr1r> .md tlw?ir rpnnesfc will be J * kindly regarded. I pay a heavy lax foi the privilege of selling liquors, and 1 want it distinctly understood that I have no desire to sell to drunkards, or minors, or to the poor or destitute." This it good as far as it goes, but it by no means relieves the kindly disposed liquoi dealer of his gravest responsibility. Tc pay his license fee. and make a profit from his business, he will sell liquor tc those who are not now hopeless drunk ards, whom, when notified, lie will ex elude from his saloon, but who are, ai his patrons, forming the drink habit, and steadily coming under the driufc bondage. Ilis is the preliminary stasri of liquor selling, devastation, and ruin. It is a good business for a kindly dis posed person to abandon, altogether.? Natioual Temperance Advocate. The Young "Woman's Christian Temperance Union of Minneapolis maintained four charity schools, four kitchen garden schools, a flower mission, and a boys' whistliDj: school. I BASKETRT. The Art of UfaUinc' Baskets by Indian Tribes. The Encyclopaedia JJritannica, which is the only one having anything particular to say about basketry, begins its article by this remark: "The process of interweaving twigs, reeds, and leaves is practiced among the rudest nations of the world; and it is one of the most universal of ar.s, so also does it rank among the most ancient industries, being probably the origin of all the textile arts of the world, for basket-work is literally a web of the coarsest materials." The article then summarizes the practice of the art in classic antiquity,and sneaks of houses, boats, shields, window-screens, furniture, carriage bodies, and other extraordinary articles as made of basketw/Nflr nnniunf Ar m/\f1/?rr? fimnQ flip materials for which (osier?, etc.), form an important element in the agriculture of many countries. There remains unnoticed, however, a large department of oa3ket making lore in the work of barbarous peoples, to whom this art serves manifold purposes, and has sometimes reached great perfection, as can be seen by an examination of the very large and complete collection of basketry brought together in the National museum at Washington. A study of this series of specimens shows that some of the best makers are to be found among our North American Indians, the most skillful of whom are those dwelling on the northwestern coast. The Makahs, for example, who live on Cape Flattery, at the entrance to the Strait of Fuca, turn out a wide variety, adapted to many purposes. The largest, which will hold a bushel ar so, are made of spruce roots, or of cedar twigs, woven quite loosely, and much lar?er at the top than at the wedge like bot\om?a form assumed in order to facilitate carrying in them a load held well up on the shoulders by a strap passing across the forehead. Small baskets ?re made of bark and grass, dyed with native vegetable extracts, or, more latel}', with glaring aniline colors, which never equal the artistic excellence of the older work. Into some are woven designs intended to represent birds or animals; into others, eimnid r>hppifs Small ones are made of """r'v - bark, and of a species of eel-grass that bleaches brightly white. The miking of mats ot rushes and shredded cedar bark (ont of which, also, are knit handsome water proof cloaks, no.v growing very rare and costly) forms a large part of the winter work of the squaws. The queer conical hats of the women, upon which they gaudily paint their family to'ems, arc made of spruce roots splic into fine fibres, and so plaited as to be impervious to the ra:n. None are twilled. Within a few years these Indians have found it profitable to cover with basket-work bottles and flasks for the toilet-table or the pocket, finding good sale for the\n at Victoria and the other tourist-visited towns of that region. Fancy boxes, circular, square and oddly-shaped, are also made for sale, and are extremely pretty and durable. The native races of Oregon and California appear to have been almost equally expert basket-makers, though their productions are decidedly unlike those of the British Columbian and Alaskan people just noticed. From willow twi<r3 and pine roots thoy weave large round mats for holding acorn flour: various-si/ed, iiattish, squash shaped baskets,water-tight: deep conical ones to be carried on their backs; and others to be ued at pleasure as drinking-cups or sku'?-l caps by the squaws, the men going bareheaded. The Yurok of Northern California* are among the cleverest workmen. They ornament their Laskcls with some ingenuity by weaving in black rootlets or bnrk in squares, diamonds and zigzag lines, but they never attempt the curve, which, it has been said, marks the transition from barbaric to civilized art. "In carrying her baby," writes Stephen Powers, "or a qantity of acorns, the squaw fills the deep conical basket, and suspends it on her back by a strap which passes loosely round it and athwart her forehead. She leans forward, and so relieves her neck." The baby, whenever carried, is loose in the basket and liable to fallout. This carelessness among the coast tribes is greatly in contrast with the sentiment of the Modoc women around Klamath Lake, who, with conspicuous painsI wrnim o rrfirv nrpt.tv trouah laftIUS, "VW.W v. . w._, I J 0shaped baby-basket of fine willows, intended to be set up against the wall or to be carried on the back. The infant i* lashed perpendicularly in it, and his head covered by the concave upper end of the basket, which overhangs like a small parasol, and in some cases is gayly decorated. "J.et a mother blacken her j whole face below the eyes, including her nose, shining black, thrust a goosequill three inches long through the septum of her nose, don her close-fitiing skull-cap, and start to town with hor baby basket lashed to her Inck, and she feels the pride of maternity strong within her. The 1 ittlo fellow is wrapped all around like a mummy, with nothing visible but his head, and someit _ i _ i. ? times that is Danaagea uaciv ugu^, su that he may sleep standing." The Pah-Utes nf the Uiah and Xevada dry lands likewise make great use of basketry. 3rajor Powell describes, in his animated way, the service of the conical baskets to be seen in the collection from that locality: "The women carry them on their backs, suspended from their foreheads by broad straps, and with a smaller one in the left hand and a willow woven fan in the right, they walk amon? the grasses "and sweep the seed into the smaller basket, which is emptied now and ihen into the larger, until it is full of seeds and chatf; then they winnow out the chad and roast the seeds. They roast these curiously: they put the seeds, with a quanity of red hot coals, into a willow tray, and by rapidly and dexterously shaking and tossing them, keep the coals aglow and the seeds and tray from burning." Everywhere from the southern Rockies to the Pacific, occur the jars and bowls of varied shape made of willow tightly woven and pitched so as to be water - - ? *- -_i~ ?? tight Tiiese are not omy iiwuiuuic ua canteens, but cooking is done in man}' of them. Regular baskets are elsewhere used as cooking utensils, water being boiled in them by the immersion of heated stones, [or by being held over a fire out ot reach of the blaze. The jMicmacs of Nova Scotia made kettles of birch bark, and the Kutchin tribes of the Mclvenzie river, out of tamarack roots, ornnmentcd with porcupine quills. A basket of exceedingly close weaving from British Guinua is so set in a frame-work as to serve the purpose of a dish; but all the savages along the Orinoco and Amazon make water-tight baskets. Some similar jar?, once belonging to Apache (Arizona) families will hold tenor fifteen gallons of water, and were buried in the ground. The baskets of the Zunis and Moquis are rude bent-twig affairs, as might be expected of so good potters as they. The close resemblance between the native American basketry and that of foreign lands (except in the prevalence of bamboo as a mateaiul abroad) will excite remark; and the practice of carrying basket panniers over the forehead, and of making water-tight jars and even boats of wicker-work, can be traced ail round the globe. Thus it is stated in Marsden's History of Sumatra that the number of baskets seen hanging in a native's house is a token of the owner's wealth; for in them his harvests of'rice and pepper are gathered and brought home. ''They are made of slips of bamboo connected by means of split rattans; and are cariied. chiefly by the women, on the back, supported by a string or band across the forehead."?Harper's Bazar. HOTEL ROBBERIES Cncsu Who Are Often Plundered by Tlicms elves. "There are lots of these so-called hotel robberies, and I've kept house long enough to size them up for about their value," remarked the proprietor of the American house the other evening to a reporter of the Denver Republican ; "and tnat anair at tne Aioany is one 01 mem. Not only I, but any other hotelkceper, can relate any number of instances where people have lost their money of an evening at gaming or had their pockets picked when 'full,' or returned to their rooms in a 'happy condition, to hide .their valuables in the mattresses, under the carpet, or some other place, tumble into bed, forget all about it, and then go down to the hotel office in the morning to swear they have been robbed. But they don't fool me, not much. A man put up in this house during the Grand army meeting who came in one night somewhat mellowed, and, thinking to put his purse in a safe place, cut a slit in his cot mattress and shoved it in there. Well, in the morniug he came down to the office with a face as long as Jack's historic beanstalk, ana with the doleful story of his being robbed. He had put h:s purse, he said, containing his return ticket and what money he possessed, under hi* pillow when he retired, and now he could not lind it anywhere. He thought I ought to make it up to him, and linally wanted to borrow enough money to get home. I knew well enongh that he hadn't been robbed in the hotel, though he might have lost his money truly enough; and under the circumstances I let his hotel bill slide. The fellow finally raised enough money to get home on. Well, sir, in two months, when the cots were being put up for the winter, the chambermaid happened to tip the particular cot this fellow had slept on, and the purse fell out through, the slit in the mattress on to the floor. And there it was, just a3 he had left it, railroad tick. et, money and all. If the cot had been * - ? i J tipped the other way, tne purse wouia have gone further in, where ifc would have remained iiko enough till the mattress was worn out. I sent the man his purse, aud he was grateful enough to get it back. "A guest came in one night pretty full, but had sense enough to hand over his money to be put in the hotel safe. Then he tumbled up-stairs and into bed as best he could. In the morning ho ;ame down-stairs just roaring mad and swearing he had been robbed, and demandod restitution. He acted so that I thought I'd let him sweat awhile, lie kept on threatening to advertise the house from A to Z, and would warn all his friends to steer clear of the place, i Well, he rammed around f:>r two or three days, until 1 got tired of his noise, and then called a number of the guests . * ./Minri tn cno fViB fun Tn the evenini?. j C* UliUVl IV tfw KMV ^ ( as soon as be had come in, I beckoned to him to come up to the counter, and, taking his package from the safe, told him I was the thief and here was the 'stuff.' When he saw the money he took the whole thing iu, and a more sheepish, foolish, crestfallen man you never saw. lie reached out his hand for the package. 'No you don't,' says I; 'you are the man who was going to advertise my house from A to Z, were you, as a good place for travelers to get robbed? Now that you have had so much to say I want some apology.' Well, he did apologize, and more; he would advertise the house > as the best hotel in the country, while the guests thronged round tD enjoy the scene. Finally I gave him his money, and he went away one of the most pleased men I ever saw. 4 "A guest at the St. James, in a fit of absent-mindedness not long ago, put a roll of bills amounting to $70 iu his sock before he went to bed, and in the i morning he sent the sock off with other | soiled clothes to be washed. Then he ' wendeied where his money had gone. Fortunately for him the Chinamen was - ?? n f- flifl Honest, or was iuu uuuij auaicu ?*? vuv 1 thought that the money might be traced I to him and he sent to jail, so he brought it back, to the owner's joy." ___ j Dramatic Scene at a Murder Trial. I Some months ago Newton Chance, an aged itinerant preacher from the Indian Territory, was arrested at Sherman, j Texas, charged with the murder of E. I Junius Foster in that city in 1863. Foster ! was editor of a newspaper. The killing j caused intense excitement throughout i the State. At the trial of Chance a sen! sation was produced in court by tho ' voluntary testimony of James Yc'Jing, j who swore that it was he who killed I Foster. "I killed him." said Young, because he published in his paper the lying assertion that the murder of my father was j the best thing that ever happeued to ; northern Texas. j The State attorney, to rebut this coni fession, produced an old affidavit signed i by James Young, wherein he swore j he was 100 yards from the spot when Foster was shot, and did not know who fired the bullet. The jury rendered j a verdict of "not guility," and the aged prisoner, Chance, was released in the midst of demonstrations of great joy. I The old preacher wept like a child as ! the people crowded around him. He 1 stood trial fur his life twenty-two years j after the crime with which he was charged was committed. How Dead Ilorscs Were Utilized. i Among other contractors of high and | low degree at or about Washington dur; ing the war was one who had purchased, | as the highest bidder, the dead horses of I the army of the Potomac, for which he ! paid .$1.70 each, delivered at his 4kestabj iishment." They averaged, in the : winter, fifty a day, and were thus disposed ' " ?i. -flp'ii of: First, the shoes were puiieci on; men the hoofs were cut oil; then i the manes and tails were sheared. The | animal was then skinned,the carcass was : boiled that the tallow might be ex! tracted, the best of the bones were sold ; for knife handles, and the remainder to I be ground for fertilizers. The total re' suit was th.it these different parts of the j dead nag were worth, when prepared for market, at least $25 a head, and the profits of the contractor were consequently very large.?Ben: Pcrley Poore. Sixty million people speak the German language, 43,000,000 the French and ! 100,000,000 the English. * ' . " : -.'-rS* ; \ . ' ; * '. ^ ^ ^ BUILDING UPON THE 8AND. ' -T& 'Tis -well to woo, 'tis well to wed, For so the world has done Since myrtles'grew, and roses blew, And morning brought the sun. : , But have a care, ye young and fair, Be sure ye pledge with truth; Be certain that your love will wear Beyond the days of youth. For if ye give not heart for heart, As well as hand for band, You'll find you've played the "unwise part>$ And "built upon the sand." 'Tis WaII fcn mva 'Ho wall f/> >1 flVA A goodly store of gold, And hold enough of sterling stuff? For charity is cold. But place not all your hopes and trust! In what the de?p mine brings, We cannot live on yellow dust Unmixed with purer things. And ho who piles up wealth alone Will often have to stand Beside his coffer-chest, and own 'Tis 1 'built upon the sand." ? 'Tis good to speak in kindly guise, And soothe wbate'er we can; For speech would bind the human mind, And love link man to man. But stay not at the gentle worda, Let deeds with language dwell; riio one who pities starving birds Should ssatter crumbs as welL ', The mercy that is warm and true Must lend a helping hand; For those who talk, yet fail to do, But ''build upon the sand." ?Eliza Cook. ['-jH PUNGENT I'AllAf RAPHS. J Bogus butter?A goat without horos. ?Roc/ievtcr Post. A vested interest?a waistcoat in pawn.?Boston Globe. A well preserved mnn is not neces- *./; sarily always in pickle. If you cannot lick a man be lenient with his faults.?Picayune.. Even a rich man occasionally borrows trouble, although there is no reason why he should. ? Gall. Shakespeare was mistaken when he said that a rose by any other name would smell as wheat.?Hatchet. A shoemaker may be poor all his life, but if he will work he is sure to make money at la3t.?Newman Independent. Call & "Welcome is the name of a S, Western firm. They believe in the value of advertising.?Burlington Fret Press. The cannibals have an easier time of it than the man who eats shad. There are only 240 bones in the human body. ?Boston Post. "Plenty of room at the top," remarked a dealer as he opened an apple barrel and fouud it only half full.? Danville Breeze. Farmers, to make money, should raise nirornthinn JlflTT Kllf. f Vl OTf Uf Wl jmiug bUVJ VVUUUUAVJ WWV VUWJ should not consume everything they raise. ?Picayune. A Californian has discovered that no man can keep over 5,000 hens with any profit to himself. If you have a hen too many eat her.?Detroit Free Press. A Chinaman has just published a book, in which he says, "Woman doea not require study to make herself perfect; she is born perfect."?Pittsburg Telegraph. A new comedy is called "The Girl with a Tin Heart." Nearly all the girls have a tin heart when a young man comes around with a soft solder.?Louisville Courier-Journal. "Feed cabbage after milking," advises a farmers' paper. This is good aa far as it goes; but" what we want to know is what a man should feed to his cabbages after he milks them??Puck. King Humbert's face is said to wear an habitually sad expression which puzzles his friends. Perhaps his majesty's liver is out of order. \Ve merely offer this as a suggestion.?New York Graphic. It now turns out that the flute was invented by Lydians about 1,200 years b.c. This is too long to hold resentment, and we shall accordingly draw the slugs from our horse-pistol.? Yonkers Gazette. An exchange says: "What are saucers made of?" That depends upon circumstances. If you break one you will find it is made of very thin china, but if you try to buy one to replace it, you will find it is made of solid gold.?New Yorh Graphic. Some appreciative person has presented President Cleveland with a photograph of Tom Moore's harp. The inmates of the White House should rejoice that the present was not the harp itself. The President can't play on the photograph. ?NorrUtown Herald. It makes the averago woman shout And dance and jump and shriek, When she finds the note In her husband's coat That she gave him to post, and he carried it about In his pocket for more than a week. ?Puck. ""Who is that old duffer?1'asked a new groceryman of the milkman, as a ???> n n TT/in b }\XT Via WCU'UIVSICU UIUU nvut uj. TI , _v is one of our most trusted citizens," was the eloquent reply. "How do you make that out? "He has been owing me a bill ever since I came here." "That's just how we made it out," laughed the milkman gleefully, and the groceryman scratched his head till he caught on.?MerchantTraveler. A pompous fellow was dining with a country family, when the lady of the house desired the servant to take away the dish containing the fowl, which word she pronounced fool, as is not uncommon to Scotland. "I presume, madam, you mean the fowl," said the prig, in a reproving tone. "Very, well," said the lady, a little nettled, "be it so. Take away the fowl and let the fool remain."?Public Opinion. Hunting a Deer with a Steamboat. While the steamer Everglade was onmincr down the river at Beresford. a ^ o ? big buck was seen half a mile ahead, swimming across the St. John's river, j The crew and all on board were anxious for a chase, and the steamer shot forth toward the fleeing animal, which was j paddling for dear life. After uearing the deer, its turning and dodging proved ! a little too much for the big steamer, so | a small boat v/as lowered, with Mate l Peters in charge and two deck hands at ! the oars. They gave chase, and the first j effort of the mate to capture the wild : animal resulted in his tumbling headlong ! into the river. The object of the chase i was not lost sight of, however, by this ! premature baptism of the mate. Tho bucfc was seized by the tail, but he soon broke the hold, and, amid the whoop3 and shouts of those on the steamer, the i fight continued unabated between tho j oarsmen and the buck, while the mate ! fought the waves, which were tossing j him to and fro. Finally, after the men ! and deer were about fagged out, a well1 directed blow on tho buck's nose conj qucred lrim, and he was brought on ! board a victim.?Florida Herald.