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IMMAGE'S mm THE EMPTY PLACE. Text: ''Thou shalt be missed, because th at -will be empty."?I Samuel, xx. 13. Bet on the table tho cutlery, and chase silverware of the palace, for King Saul vri five a State dinner to-day. A distinguishe place is kept at the table :or his son-in-law, celebrated warrior, David by name. Tfc guests, jeweled and plumed," come in an take their places. Wh.-u ] ejple are invite to a King's banquet they are very apt to gi But before the covers are lifted from tt feast, Saul looks around and finds a vacai teat at the table. He says within himself, t perhaps audibly: "What does this mean Where is my son-in-law i Where is Davie the great warrior ? I invited him. I e: pec ted him. What ? A vacant chair at King's banquet!" The fact was that David the warrior ha been seated for the last time at his father ii law's table. The day before Jonathan ha coaxed David to go and occupy that place a the table, saying to David in the words c my text: 4'Thou shalt ba missed, becaus thy seat will be empty." The prediction was fulfilled. David we missed. His seat was empty. That one y? nuit ohair sm ke luuder than all the occuDie chairs at thw banquet In almost ever house the articles of furniture take a livin personality. That pic ture?a stranger woul not see anything remarkable either in its d< sign or execution, but it is more to you tha all the pictures of the Louvre and the Lui embourg. You remember who bought it an who admired it. And that hymn-book?yo remember who sang out of it. Andtht cradle?you remember who rocked it. An lhat Bible?you remember who read out c it And that bed?you remember who slep in it And that room?you remember vrh died in it But there is nothing in all you house so eloquent and so mighty-voiced i the vacant chair. I suppose that before Sai and his guests got up from this banquet ther was a great clatter of wine-pitchers, but al that racket was drowned out by the voic that came up from the vacant chair at tb table. Many have gazed and wept at Joh Quincy Adam's vacant chair in the House c Representatives, and at Mr. "Wilson's vacac chair in the Vice-Presidency, and at HemClay's vacant cbair in the American Senate and at Prince Albert's vacant chair in Wine sor Castle, and at Tbiers's vacant chair in th councils of the French nation; but all thes chairs are unimportant to you as com par e< with the vacant chairs in your own house hold. Have these chairs any lesson for yoi to learn? Are we any tetter men and wome: than when they first addressed us? 1. First: I point out to you the father1 vacant chair. Old men always like to sit i tha an mo tWapa nnri in t,h? sarnA r?h?ir. Thft' somehow feel more at home, and sometime when yon are in their place and they com into the room, you jump up suddenly an say: "Here, father, here's your chair." Th probability is it is an arm-chair, for he i not so strong as he once was, and he need a little upholding. His hair is a little frosty his gums a little depressed, for in his eaii days there was not much dentistry. Perhap a cane chair and old-fashioned apparel, fo though you may have suggested some ixr proveinent, father does not want any of you nonsens?. Grandfather never had much ac miration for new-fangled notions. I sat a the table of one of my parishioners in former congregation; an aged man was a the table and his son was pre iding, and th t&tbsr somewhat abruptly addressed th ?on and said: "My son, don't now try t show off because the minister is here!" You father never liked any new customs or mac ners; he preferred the old way of doinj things,and he never looked so happy as whei with his eyes closed he sat in the armchair ii the corner. From wrinkled brow to the ti] of the slippers, what placidity! The wav of the past years of his life broke at the foo cf that chair. Perhaps, sometimes, he was i little impatient, aud sometimes told the sam story twi e; but over that old chair hov many blessed memories hover! I hope yoi did not crowd that old chair, and that it di< not get very much in the way. Sometime the old man's chair gets very much in th way, especially if he has been so unwise as to make over a!l his proparty to his childrei with the understanding that they are to tak oare of him. I have seen in such cases childrei crowd the old man's chair to the door, am then crowd it clear into the street, and thei crowd it into the poorhouse, and keep oi crowding it until the old man fell out of i into his grave. But your father's chair was a sacred place The children us?d to climb ud on the runsr of it for a good-night kiss. The longer h stayed the bettor you liked it. But thatchai has been vacant now for some time. Th furniture dealer would not give you fift cents for it, but it is a throne of influence i: your domestic circle. I saw in the Freuc palace and in the throne room the chair tha Napoleon used to o.cupy. It was a beaut ful chair, but the most significant part of was the letter "N," embroidered into th back of the chair in purple and gold. Am your father's old chair sits in the tbron room of your heart, and your affec tions hav embroidered into the 1 a?k of that chair ii purple and gold the letter "F." Have a! the prayers of that old chair been answered Have ail the counsels of that old chair bee practiced? Speak out, old arm-chair! His tory tells us of an old man whose three son were victors in the Olympic games, and whe t.hov ranin l-ftnfc. tlirpA with t.h?i farlands, and put them on their father1 row, the old man was so rejoic ed at the vie tories of his three children that he fell d< a in their arms. And are you, 0 man, goiu to bring a wreath of joy and Christian us< fulness and put it on to your father's brow or on tbe vacant chair, or 011 tha memory o the one departed ? Speak nut. old arm chaii rr itn rererenca to your father, the words c my text have been fulfilled: "Thou shalt b missed, because thy seat will be empty." II.?I go a little further on in your hous and I find the mother's chair. It is very ap to be a rocking-chair. She had so man cares and troubles to soothe that it mus have ro: kers. I remember it well. It wa an o'.d chair, and the rockers were almos worn out, for I was the youngest, and th chair had rocked the who'.e family. It mad a creaking noise as it moved: but thero wa music in the sound. It was just high enoug to allow us children to put our heads int her lap. That was the bank where we d< posited all our hurts o 1 worries. Oh. wha a chair that was! It as different from th father's chair; it was entirely different. Yo aske me how? I cannot tell; but we all fel it was different. Perhaps there was aboil this chair more gentleness, more tenrlei ness, more grief when we had don wrong. When we were wayward fathe scolded, but mother cried. It wa % very wakeful chair. In the sick days c children othor cha rs could not keep awake that chair always kept awake, kept easil awake. That chair knew all the old lulls bies and all those wordless son<rs whic mothers sing to their sick children?songs i which all pity and compassion and symps thetic influences are combined. That ol< chair has stopped rocking for a good man years. It may be set up in the loft or th garret, but it holds a queenly power ye1 When at midnight you went into that grog shop to g?t the intoxicating draught, did yo nnt. hpar a voifB that, sad: uMv son. whv 2 in there?" And lou !er than the boisieroi encore of the plae of wicked amusement, voice saying: "My son. what do you hjrei And when you went into the house of sin voice saying: "What would your mother d if she kn?w ycu were here;" And you were provoked with yourself, an you charged yourself with superstitiou an fanaticism, and your hpad got hot with yoi own thoughts, and you went home and yc went to bed, and no sooner had you touche the bed than a voice said: "What a praye less pillow! Man, what is the matter?" Thi You are too near your mother's rockinj chair. "Oh, pshaw!" you reply: "there nothing in that. I'm five hundred miles o from where I was born. I'm three thousac miles off from the church whose bell was tl first music I ever heard." I cannot he] that; you are too near your mother's roi ing-chair. "Oh," you say, "there can't 1 anything in that: that chair has been vacai a great while." I cannot help that; it is a tne migntier ior mas; n< is onimpuwui, in; vacant mother's chair. It whispers; speaks; it weeps; it carols; it mourns; prays; it warns; it thunders. Ayouugma went od' and broke his mother's heart, at while be was away from home his moth* died, and the telegraph brought the son, at he came into the room where she lay an looked upon her face, and ho cried out: "Ol mother, mother! what your life could not t your death shall effect This moment I gii my heart to God." And he kept his promis Another victory for the vacant chair. Wit re'ereuco to your mother the words ofn text were fulfilled: "Thou shalt be misse because thy seat will be empty." Some one said to a Grecian Genera "What was the proudest moment in yoi life.-" He thought a moment and said: "Tl proudest moment in my life wa3 when I sei [word borne to my parents that I had gained the victory." And the proudest ana most brilliant moment in your life will be the moment when you can send word to your parents that you have conquered your evil habits by the grace of God, and become eternal victor. Oh, despise not parental anxiety! The time will come when you will have neither father iv nor mother,and you will go around the place where they used to watch you.and find them id gone from the house,and gone from the field, 11 and gone from the neighborhood. Cry as d loud for forgiveness as you may over the a mound in the churchyard, thay will not le answer. Dea 1! Dead! And then you will d take out the white lock of hair that id was cut from your mother's brow ju?t a. before they buried her, and you will ie take the cane with which your father it used to walk, and you will think and >r think and wish that you bad done just aa . i they wantel you to, and would give the I, world if you had never thrust a pang c- through their dear old hearts. God pity the a young man who has brought disgrace on his father's name! God pity the young man d who has broken his mother's heart! Better i- if he had never been born; better if in the d first hour of his life, instead of being laid it against the warm bosom of maternal tender>f ness, he had been coffined and sepulchred. ie There is no balm powerful enough to heal the heart of one who has Drought parents to is a sorrowful grave, and who wanders about i- through the dismal cemetery, rending the d hair and wringing the hands and crying: y "Mother I Mother!" Oh, that to-day by all g the memories of the past and by all the hopes d of the future, you would yield your heart to s- God! May your father's God and your n mother's God be your God forever! 1X1. 1 go on a little further; I come to the d invalid's chair. What? How long have you u been sick? "Oh, I have been sick ten, it twenty, thirty years." Is it possible? What d a story of endurance! There are in many >f families of my congregation these invalid it chairs. The occupants of them think ihey o are doing no good in the world; but that inir valid's chair is the mighty pulpit from which is they have been preaching, all these years, il trust in God. One day, on an island just off e from Sandusky, Ohio, I preached, and there 11 was a great throng of people there; but the e throng did not impress rneWD much as tho e spectacle of just one face?the face of an inn valid who was wheeled in on her chair. I M ZA 1 l,A?. )I 5aiu IAJ liCl aitci na;U. xuauaui, uun xvii? it have you been prostrated?" for she was lying y flat in the chair. '-Oh," she replied, ?, "I have been this way fifteen years." I- I said: "Do you suffer very much?"' "Oh, e yes." she said; "1 suifer very much. I suffer e all the time; part of the time I was bliud. I i always suifer." "Well," I said, "can you >- keep your courage up.!" Oh, ye3," she said, n u am nappy, very fiappy indeed." Her lace q showed it She looked the happiest of any one on the ground. Oh, what a means of 8 frace to the world, these invalid chairs! a On that field of hurran suffering the gra~e y of God gets its victory. Edward Payson, the 3 invalid, and Richard Baxter, the invalid, e and Robert Hall, the invalid, aad the ten d thousand of whom the world ha3 never heard, e but of whom all heaven is cognizant. The s most conspicuous thing on earth for God's s eye and the eye of angels to rest on is not a throne of earthly power, but it is y the invalid's chur. Oh, those men a snd women who are always suffering but r never complaining?tbese victims of spinal i- disease, and neuralgic torture, and rbeur matic excruciation, will answer to the r.illl call of the martyrs, and rise to the martyr's it throne, and will wave the martyr's palm! a But when one of these invalid chain belt como vacant, how suggestive it is! No more e bolstering up of the weary head. No more ? changing from side to side to get an easy a position. No more use of the bandage, and r the cataplasm and the prescription. That i- invalid's chair may be folded up or taken * apart, or set away, but it will never lose its a queenly power; it will always preach of trust a in God aud cheerful submission. Suffering p all ended now. With respect to that invalid e the words of my text have been fulfilled: t "Thou shalt be missed, because thy seat will % be empty." e IV. I pass on and I find one more vacant r chair. It is a high chair. Ii is (he child's n chair. If that chair be occupied, I think it i ' is the mo.^t potent chair in all the household. 3 All the chairs wait on it; all the chairs are turned toward it. It means more than David's 0 chair at Saul's banquet. At any rate.it makes a more racket That is a strange house that e can be dull with a child in it. How that child a breaks up the hard worldliness of the place. 1 and keeps you young to sixty, seventy and n eighty years of age! If you have no child of a your own, adopt one; it will open heaven to t >*oursoul. It will pay its way. Its crowing I tn tne morning wm give me aay a cueeiiui i. starting, and its glee at night will give tbe 3 ! day a cheerful close. You do not like children? e I Then you ha 1 better stay out of heaven, for r > there are so many there they would fairly e ! make youciasy! Only about five hundred y million of them! The old crusty disciples told n | the mothers to keep the children away from h | Christ "You bother Him,'' the}- said; "you it ' trouble the Master." Trouble him! He "has L- filled heaven with that kind of trouble, it A pioneer in California says that for the e first year or two after his residence in I Sierra Nevada County, there was not a e single child in all the reach of a hundred e miles. But the 4th of July came, and the n miners were gathered together, and they II were celebrating the 4th with oration and ? poem, and a boisterous brass band; and n while the baid was playin?, an infant's !- voice was heard crying, and all the miners s were startled, and the swarthy men began to n think of their homes on the Eastern coast, r and of their wives and children far away, a and their hearts were filled with homesickness as they heard the babe cry. But the d music went ont and the child cried louder g ana louder, and tue Drass nana piayea louaer >- and louder, trying to drown out tbo in, fantile interruption, when a swarthy miuer, if the tears rolling down his face, got up and *! ihook his fist, and said: "Stop tbat noisy >f oand, and give the baby a chance." Oh, >0 tiiere was pathos as well as good cheer in it! There is nothing to arouse, and mole, e and subdue the soul like a child's voice. >t But when it goes away from you the high y chair become3 a higher chair, and there is >t desolation all about you. In three-fourths ts of the homes of my congregation there is a >t vacant high c'uair. Somehow you never get e over it. There is no one to put to bed at e night; no one to ask strange questions about is God and heaven. Oh, what is the use of h that high chair? It is to call you higher, o What a drawing upward it is to have chilJ dren in heaven! And then it is such a prdit ventive against sin. If a father is going 0 away into sin ho leaves his living children u with their mother; but if a father is going It away into sin what is he going to do with his it dead ch.ldren floating about him and hovering over his every wayward step? Oh, speak e out, vacant high chair and say: "Father, r come back from sin; mother, come back from s worldliness. 1 am wat-hing you. I am wait a mg lor you." vv itn respect to your c uiia tne '! words of my text have t.oeu fulfilled: l,Thou y shalt be missed, because tby seat will be i- empty," h My hearers, I Lave gathered up the voices n of your departed friends, and tried to intone i- them into one invitation upward. I sot in d array all the vacant chairs of your homes, y and of your social circle, and I bid them cry l? out: "Time is short. Eternity is near. Take t. my Saviour. Be at pence with my God. Come up where I am. We lived together on u oarth; come let us live together in Heaven." o We answer that invitation. We come.. Keep a seat tor us, a? Saul kept a seat for David; * but that seat shall not be empty. When we are all through with this world, and we have a shaken hands all around for the last time, and all our chairs in 110 home circle, and in the outside world, shall be vacant, may we be worshiping God in that pla.-o from which u we shall go out no more forever. I thank ir &od there will be no va?ant chairs in heaven. >u id s" NOON. Full summer, and at noon; from a waste bed ff Convolvulus, musk-mallow, poppies, spread id The triumph of the sunshine overhead. le i? Blue on the shimmering ash-trees lies the m neat; ? It tingles on the hedgerows. The young wheat ^ Sleeps, warm in golden verdure, at my feet, it it The pa'e, sweet grasses of the hayfield bliuk to The heath-moors, as the boes of honey drink l(* Suck the deeD bosom of the day. To think jr > Of all that beauty, by the light deficed, h, None share my vision! Sharply on my mind 1? Presses the sorrow:-fern and flower are 'o0 blind. ' ?Michael Field. DQ The advice "always aim a little higher than the mark" scarcely applies to kissing. Nobody would want to kiss his at best girl on the nose.?Philadelphia Call. RELIGIOUS READING. A Boy's Hymn. " Juat a* I am," Thine own to be, Friend of the yonng, who lovest mo; focOTlsoorate myself to thee, 0 Jesus ?hirist, I come. In the glad morning of my day; My life to give, my vows to pay, With no reserve and no delay, With all my heart I come. I would live ever in the light, I would work ever for the right, I would serve thee with all my might, Therofore, to Thee I come. " Just as I am," young, strong and free, To be the best that I can be For truth and righteousness and thee, Lord of my life, I come. With many dreams of fame and gold, Success and joy to make me bold, But dearer still my faith to hold, For my whole life, I come. And for Thy sake to win renown, And then to take my victor's crown, And at Thy feet to cast it down, 0 Master, Lord I come. Watching. A general after gaining a great victory was encamping with his army for the night. Ho ordered sentinels to be stationed all around the camp a3 usual. One of the sentinels as he went to his station, grumbled to himself, and said, "Why could not the general let us have a quiet night's rest for once, after beating the enemy? I'm sure there is nothing to be afraid of." The man then went to his station and stood for some time looking about him. It was a bright summer's night, with a harvest moon, but he could sec nothing anywhere, so he said, "I am terribly tired, I shall sleep for just five minutes, out of the moonlight, under the shadow of this tree." So ho lay down. Presently he started up dreaming that some one had pushed a lantern before his eyes, and he found that the moon was shining brightly down on him through a hole in the branches of the tree above him. ' na-vf. minnfo an arrAW TMMAfid J his ear, and tho whole field before him j seemed alive with soldiers in dark green coats, who sprang up from tho ground, where they had been silently creeping onward, and rushed toward him. Fortunately the arrow had missed him, so h? shouted aloud to give the alarm, and ran i back to some other sentinels. The armj ! was thus saved; and the soldier said, ! shall never forget as long as I live, thai when one is at war, one must watch." j Our whole life is a war with evil. Jusj I after we have conquered it, it sometimes j attacks us when we least expect it. Foi example, when we have resisted thi ! temptation to bo cross and pettish and disobedient, sometimes we are thinking I ''how good we have been!" comes another sudden temptation, and we are no! ; on our guard, and do not resist it. Je bus says to us, "Watch and prny, that ye enter not into temptation." Drifting. "We be Abraham's children," said the proud Jerusalem Pharisees, when the Lord spoke to them of their sins, and on. j t&at plea they expccted to gain an enj trance into Abraham's heavenly home. But they were plainly told by Jesns thai : they were children of the devil, and ! would die in their sins. It often happens that the young peopk j of a Christian home, even before they ara converted, grow into a habit of counting themselves as belonging to God and His people, and expect just to drift into a religious life, because father and mothei are Christians. In some communions I this mistaken belief is fostered bv a fatal i habit of trusting upon young pecplo ol | a certain age the solemn vows of conse! cration, without looking for any sign ol j renewed hearts. Now in one sense it is j true that the children of Christians "belong to the church"; they arc th? church's to teach and train; the privileges of the church, its sweet and helpful influences, are theirs, and the God ol the Covenant waits to be their God. But this is not enough; this is not salvation; these are all chanccs in yout favor, but your salvation depends upon whether you make good use of youi chance?, for the drift of things is the other way! If you do not act, if you do not lay hold of Jesus as the Saviour of your : own sins, if you do not confess Him be fr?rn mon. if vou do not rejrulate voui ~ 1 J O W lives by His word, if He is not youi Lord and Master, your Christian birthright will no more avail you than then Abraham ancestry did those Jews of old. "Ye shall die in your sins" will be youi awful fate as it was theirs. And now is your time for action; every day that you delay makes youj safety more doubtful and difficult; lei yours be the part of the poor ignorant man, blind from his birth, who, as soon as he knew Jesus for the Son of God, fearlessly confessed Him in the face ol his angry accusers, aud showed his faith by his acts. "Aud he said, Lord, I bolieve; aud he worshipped Him."?Elizabeth P. Allan, in Morning Star. I find these two truths a stay to mj soul: the efficiency of the atonement, and the stability of tho promise. Just now | this seem3 my all, and enables me to look I up ta God as my father, although I am | ilis sorrowing child; for as I think oi my sips and sinfulness, it almost seems as I must sorrow even in the land where sorrow shall be no more known. ?Evans. The late William G. Hunt, at a reception one evening, heard a young man express a desire for a drink of whisky. "It's the worst liquid, my friend," said he, "you can take into your stomach, and I will prove it to you." He then obtained a piece of raw beef nnd put \t in a glass of whisky. In half an hour or so he took the"piece cut and naked his friend to feel of it. It was almo3t as tough as v leather. . TEMPERANCE DEPARTMENT. The Fount of Health. ^ Ths fount of health springs glad and free, And points to heaven above; Strives all to win toward lake or lea Through her abounding love For her the clouds plume snowy folds And laugh in rainbow hue; rej For her groans ward drinks torrent3 up . And sparkles in the dew. "Come drink of me, come drink of ns.e, on Nor taste the blood-red wine; mi 'Tis life I offer unto thee; to He, death to thee and thine." cj. Come worship at the fount of health, be Ye lads and maidens fair; di] 'Twill give you many joy-fraught hours W{ And save you grief and care Ah! in the air her music list, fl J While pleading o'er and o'er ?e For all to come and share her wealth ari Now and for evermore. # in "Come drink of me, come drink of me, ne Nor tasto the blood red wine; , 'Tis life I offer unto thee: 01 Ho, death to thee and thine." ftr< ?Cornelia Sherman, in Temperance Ban- th< ner. sb Cc Drunken Hottontotg. Gresswell's "South African Empire" gives the following account of drunkenness among the Hottentots: y? ar! "Any chance visitor to Cape Town wj should take a walk from "Wynberg to the w] vineyards of Constantia on a Saturday st( afternoon to fully realize to what an ex- Cl( tent this social blot exists, even in the en centre of South African civilization. ce: Troops of Hottentots, men and women, tif come reeling along in all states of to< th drunkenness, fresh f, om the visit to some ^ neighboring cantcen. Frequently they j0, are brandishing in their hands bottles of frc that fiery stuff procurable at a shilling a bottle. Not being allowed t) get ?? I rvmmiaoo iVif.rr aifc r?rv-wrn Kir uiuua vu wug |/* vmvj ., M qq the roadside and hold their uncouth nn Bacchanalian rites. Excited by these th orgies, and maddened by the poison they imbibe, they commit all sorts of crime, fr? and are brought up before the magistrate si? on the following Monday morning, evi sadder if not wiser being}. an It has been calculated that fully threequarters of the crimes cflmmitted owe their beginning to drunkenness." fl0 The Hottentots thus furnish another eif illustration of the fact that alcohol 13 no th respecter of persons. ? Temperance A(llocate. u? of ag The Drunkard's Grand March. he "Out they march?60,000 of them a fai year?into drunkards'grave?. St. Louis su< has 1,800 barrooms; Chicago and-Cin- ^ cinnati, 3,000 each. Cincinnati, with ^ its 3,000 barrooms, can alone make the wj 00,000 drunkards?that would be only twenty to the barroom. The old dog era died drunk, but they say he died of ^ apoplexy, heurt disease, or something of that sort. They always lie about it. ou Nobody can say he died drunk. They thi will hutch up a 'sun-stroke' if they stil . wa can't find anything more plausible?that jot is, if he has any family. You can tell de absolutely nothing from the statistics. I But you know what that barroom is. an' rac It is the recording office of hell! And rei is sustained by the voice of the com- a munity! Sixty thousand go down into fus drunkards' graves this year. They go C1C^ into your family for recruits to keep , gt^ the ranks of this army of drunkards ret full. Your John, William, or Henry cv< they inveigle into it. dei "If men will make and sell and drink ^ whisky, let them hide and skulk in the ers mountains, and let it bo known that every qui man involved in the infamous business itii is a criminal. You say, 'We will de- ^ fend ycu; our laws defend you aud sustain you in all you say.' Now, this is Nc the ve:*y question. Your laws forbid in* whisky men selling li ,uor to minors. cei That i;i a lick at the whisky business. Tour license laws forbid selling liquor by on election days. This is an abridgment ant of the business. There is a snake. It is an( n r? i biting the race. You believe in hitting it on the tail or bods*. I don't. I think you ought to cut lt3 head off. I don't r carc anything about its tail. If I have a hci right to strike its tail, I will strike it hard, and I will strike to kill. I want jn to locate its head and cut it oil forever, wh "The reason we drink is that we can- thn not control ourselves. Go to the hogpen and pour out com. Say to one hog: ^ 'You take six grains of this corn and Wa no more.' To another hog: 'l'ou take for ten grains.' That is 'tcmperance,' aud . ' temperance with a vengeance. I might ^ say: 'i'ou take three drinks a day,' and tjie soon you will be taking ten before break- Afo fast, ten before dinner, and lie drur.k all night. You will have drunkards as long a3 you have these young dram-drinking ' bucks growing up here. I am agaimt ma whisky eveiy time the issue comes up. I "tl am in favor of every measure that w op- Lei posed to it. I don't care how imperfect the method and the letter may bi, when- J*! ever the question of whisky is raised I ( you will have my voice and my vote tur against it. When I fall on my knees, mV when I get up off my kneesi, I am going ^ to pray against it. I am going to work pr( against it. I am going to live against it, is 1 and I am going to die fighting whisky. ' I have drank to almost my eternal ruin, but God being my helper, I can now w0 say, here is one man that will die sober. Tai I will drink no more, ancl, when I get is to where nothing but whisky will save me, get me a shroud and a coffin ready, jg for I am going to die sober.?Rev. Sam. sle< Jonci. the wil no: Shameful. aw The WeiUrn Christian Advocate men. the tions that "it is said that the saloon ing kept by the United States at the Sol- ^u diers's Home, Dayton, sells more than ?ee twenty barrels of beer a day," and that gaj the government "makes a hnndsome its profit on the beer." For the United be States Government to go into the busi nesa of beer-selling under any circum- mo stances is deplorable, but to thus main- sor tain a beer-saloon in connection -with the the Home, supposed to be of benevolent i intent, to provide shelter and protection |)0] , for homeless and disabled soldiers, is 0f shameful in the extreme. There should frc , be protests against it loud and long till *? it is abandoned.?Temperance Advocate. j WOMAN'S WORLD. CjBASANT literature fc feminine readers. Penalty of Being a BeJle. Tc be a belle, with all it implies, illy arduous labor. It means devoti everybody and to everything exce e's self, with no quiet moments; ?ansto live in the glare of public li have every action noticed and cri sed. No wonder the term "professioi auty" came up in London! P, is a m< fficult "profession" to follow, to be lys at one's best, never to obtrude p te griefs or joys, to be always unri d. How few who are really beautil 2 capaoie ot oeing so proies3ionau other words, of really making a bu ss of it. And then the constant die eclipse; newer and younger beaut ; coming upon the scene every day, a e heyday of an attractive woman is ort as the life of a butterfly.?Hurtfo want. Frescoed Women. It is a relief to see a woman, be s ung or old, whose complexion is r tificial. Time was when the worn lose face was powdered and rouge lose lips were painted and eyebro snciled, was viewed with social sus] >n and mentally placed where she ubt properly belonged. It is diff< t now, very different. Parisian ? rtainly beautifies the face, but the i icialty is detected simply because it j beautiful to be natural. It is argu at the dissipations of fashionable li: e round of gayety, late hours, luxi is eating, inadequate exercise ai ;sh tiir prematurely destroys youth ai ?shness of face, rendeiing recourse smetics necessary. No doubt this le, and mores, the pity, and one c ly conjecture what manner of fac ist be hid behind the masks seen e piazza, at the table d'hote and in t rlors. Saratoga and Long Bran ound in these frescoed -women, an >m a certain standpoint, they are fht to see. It is all in keeping, ho er, with Vanity Fair.?New York M> d Express. A Plucky Widow. Down on Chartrea street there is urishing factory, running an engine jhteen-horse power and employii irty five men, women and boys, tb s been established, built up aud is 11c Qer the sole direction and supervisi a clever, plucky woman. Ten yes o this lady's husband died, leavii r utterly unprovided for, with a lar niky of children to support. In ji ch desperate circumstances has ma: mother had to face the world, b ere are few, unfortunately, who ha e energetic determination of this litl dew. Her husband had been a boxmak* iploying a number of Northern hand >m whom his wife had learned eve partment of the trade, little guessii len she sat up at night to help the gii t in the work given them by the pie it this same knowledge would one d ind hnr in such good stead. But so is, for after failuro in business and lg illness the husband died, leavii bt instead of money to his family. Something had to be done, she snj d that done quickly, for there was n >ney enough ahead to pay even the : it for the attic in which they live brave heart and high courage, that r led to be daunted, helped her to d le on turning her knowledge of bo iking to practical account, and way u irs, in the flat-roofed, crowded gi , she began her work, making hersi jry variety of paper box the mark mands. She went around to the wholesale co tioner3, druggists, shoe 6hops, milli , every business house that used lar< antities of these packing cases, soli i? t>atronaf?e and meeting wi .rked success, being another" grat woman to testify to the unive courtesy, kindness and good w w Orleans people show to the war I class, fc-'o many orders did she r ve that in a few months she wa? ab double the space occupied and d nded one story. Another year w.-j and the trade having grown to Ian 3 flour'shing proportions, warrantii )ther increase, the third floor w led and this factory was no longer i Deriment, but an establishment of re ition. Hie successful manngcr traveled f house, getting orders from all par Louisiana and going on drummi: irs through Texas that always result* a large increase of patrons. A fact < ich she seemed to be most proud wi it when she once secured a custom y were hers always. Two lar< ises she mentioned here in the cil t had first given her work had nevi vcred; she made hundreds of box them to-day. rhree years passed, and at last the cai LAO Il^nvA JU IT 11V> 1 i/uaiuvdo 0 uui i*u w v. \ ling the fourth and ground floor i three others, now too crowded.>jo Orleans Times-Democrat. Advice to the Girls. Jirls, if your skin be dark, be satisfk be in the category of the nut-brow idens, if for no other reason than th. le leopard cannot change his spots, ; the sun kiss the dusky cheek and ad it the ruddy glow that belongs to tl k skin, and which the rouge pot cai ; supply. )f course you can't change your fes es. But you needn't trouble yoursc ch on that score. Some person hi (1 that if our Mary could put some < beauty of feature into real every-di sttiness she would be loved where si iow admired. Hie towering-nosed maiden amor : proud daughters of the Nile was tl luty of Solomon's day, as was tl man with no nose at all in the time < mcrlane. In the land of the free thei n? et<inr?nrH of h?nntv on the noSi istion. The American nose is a tyj tj itself. But at all events your no: a foregone conclusion, and all ti L'ping in clothespins to pinch dow ( too prominent nostrils, or strokin :h the lead pencil to subdue the ol tious bump, is so much labor throw ay. But when it comes to the moul i would-be beauty has a more promi [ subjcct to deal with. Althoug ! shape of the feature cannot ( cred, if the lip* be kept fresh and tl th in perfect condition, very much ined. If the spot where love sea vows be of an exaggerated size, don constantly on the grin, as that kee] s muscles on the stretch. Cultivate ;sic repose of feature. Keep tl uth shut when asleep, for more rei is t' an one. Don't snore. Never bi s lips to make them red, or for ar icr reason. Bathe them occasional water, with a little dissolved alum < ax, and apply glycerine and tinctui benzoine. This will keep the li] sh looking. The only harmless wj keep them red is by contrast with tl th, which should be milk white. \. good tooth beautifier is powders ulphur, which is also an excellent toot preserver. Thi9 may be used daily. Fc occasional use, say once a week, the fol >R " good: Pumice stone, on ounce; bicarbonate of soda, on^-hal ounce; powdered tale, one-half ounce Fresh-looking lips, clean, white tcetl and a breath Like swcetfrankincense, alo is and myrrh will make up for many a de oa ficiency in feature. ipt If the ear be big and obtrusive, a loos it arrangement of the hair or a few curlei fe locks brushed carelessly back will hel til the objectionable organ wonderfully ial Never comb the hair tight back from a: jst ugly ear. aj_ As for the eyes, better leave ther ri_ alone. Trimmed lashc3 often refuse t grow again. Da k eyebrows and lashe ful are a great promoter of beauty, and i ly. your3 happen to be lighter than you hair, especially if that is red, I thin ad 1 y?u might just touch them lightly wit ieg a sponge dippsd in black walnut bar n(j boiled in water with a little alum, o as apply simple walnut juice. The ey< ,r(l brows may be given a slight arch am the fine line so much sought by simpl; pinching the hairs together between th fingers several times a day. , But it is through the complexion tha ? you have the greatest scope for beautifj ing. If every pore in your skin is stuffe* a.n full of "lily white," you must expec ? those dreadful pimples and horrid blac w.a specks. To the girl with the ugly ski Pl* I say, you must tuke a two or three mil walk every day; you must wear shoe !r" big enough for perfect comfort, and, i irt the skin be thick and oily, you must es *F* chew fats and pastry. In the spring it would be well to tr P the sulphur remedy, and at the sim te> time you may rub sulphur in a littl glycerine on the face at night, washin 1(* it off in warm water and a few drops o ad ammonia in the morniuor. . A little camphor in the water will re 18 move all shine. And remember, girb an all face powders are snares and delusion; :es ?St. Louis Chronicle. on k? Fashion Notes. ch a Venetian beads in great variety ar a coming in favor. w- Fashionable dress collars remain a iil close and high as ever. The moonstone grows in favor fc brooches and hairpins. The newest yellow shade of lettuc a green is called salad green. Short plumes tipped with pearls ar no revived for millinery purposes. at Lavender is effective and fashionabl >w combined with either pale or deep greet irg A new afternoon dress shows mauv< D ? colored canvas combined with dahlia vel ge ve*ist Plain velvet is even more employe ny than usual on the new fall bonnets an ut hats. ve Ostrich plumes and tips are the lead tie ing garniture of imported bonnets an hats. fr? Baltique and telephone are the name ls> given to the new steel or electric shad( ry of blue. J? Trimming of crochet and of braid d( ce signs with lace st'.tches will be muc ay worn this autumn. it Long shell hair-pins are worn straigl: a across the back of the head under th in. nointed hats and bonnets. -o r Crossed keys studded with pearls an rs, horseshoes surrounded with pearls ai ot favorite designs for brooches. ^ Dark blue is fashionably combined wit marigold or orange yellow, and white o |e" cream color is similarly treated. For wear with low shoes there is noth " ing more elegant than plain black sil stockings with clockings of the same, jlf Gray and mode shades in glove3 ar ;et newer than tan and for the moment ar given the preference over the yello; n- tones. n- The hair is still worn high on the head jc the compact Mikado puff across the head c- starting from a French twist, growing ii th favor. :c" Wide gauze ribbons tied about th |r" throat with a large bow, the ends fallinj M to the bottom of the dress, are preferre< to lace boas on warm days. , TUe Spanisn como introduced m sum mer millinery i9 a feature of autumn bon * nets. It is to be found in jet, shell, cop " per, bronze and in blu?, iiidescent an< =e cut bteel. ig ag Reports say that there has never beei a greater variety of feather garnitur p. than will be displayed during the open ing of the fall season, popularity beinj or predicted for both plain and fancy styles ts Tinsel is rapidly disappearing from al ig dress materials and wearing apparel ii ;d general, much to the credit of genera of taste, as the glittering effect has beei is much overdone during the last two sea er sons. A bronze felt walking hat, with rolling ty brim turned up high on one side, i w trimmed with a large bow of deep rec 23 ribbon and a cluster of bronze and rec feathers, among which two bird clawi ll* are placed. A capote of dark brown embroidered creije has the brim covered with bronz< ~ velvet leaves. A cluster of purple aster and richly tinted nutumn leaves, arrangec in front, form the trimming. The strings are of velvet ribbon. Enameled butterflies with the mark ? ings in diamonds are mounted upon del ? icate spiral springs, so that the wingf ' have the tremulous motion of its living prototype. These ornaments are espe ie cially favored for hairpins. A bonnet of grayish blue straw ha3 the brim bordered with beads of the same I* tint. Full loops of velvet, arranged cor l9 onet fashion, and held in place by an iridcscent steel comb, form the trimming. IV The wide strings which tie under the j*e chin are of velvet. <r A Fiery Yonng Lady. ie In the country, not more than fifteen ie miles from Modesto,resides a young ladj )f who has developed into a perfect electric re battery. The first evidence to that effect e- that the young lady bai, preseuted itsell )e to her a few evenings ago. She was je about to retire, and extinguished the ie light in her room, and with a quiet mo n tion rolled back the bed eovcriag, when ig lo. and behold! the bed immediately was D- turned into a sheet of fire. The young n lady,much frightened, screamed "Fire!" h and" at the same time grubbed the bed s- covering in her army. "When the othei [h members of the family arrived at the dooi )C of the room, they found her standing ic ie the middle of the room in the midst ol is what 9cemed to be a flatne of fire, but nc Is sooner had the bed clothes been taken 't from her arms than the flames disapis pearcd. Experiments made by the young a lady siuce have proved that she has be1<J come possessed of a vast amount of eleC' a- tricity, which shows itself at every opto portunity. The young lady is not at all iy satisfied with the phenomena, as it rely quires the greatest caution on her part tc Dr keep from starting up a 9mall bonfire bj re the slightest movement of her hands.? is Modesto ( Cal.) Republican. iy - ie Jamaica is said to ' jntain about 50C species of ferns, or oue-sixth of the ferni id of the whole world. / / --.- a.vsas . . - b! WORDS OP ITISDOK. i j Everything good in a man thrives beat j when properly recognized. j. The blow from a knife may be easily i* cured; not so a blow from the tongue, e Our happine 8 in this world depend* i* on the affections wo are enabled to inspire. ? A man who cannot command his tem^ per should not think of being a man ot x F business. Enmities are more attractive tban friendships. Many persons will go further to gratify a grudge than to re- , ward a merit. ,3 The living get credit for what they ij might be quite as much as for what they , arc. Posterity judges a man by the best k rather than the average of his attainto ment. k There is no knowledge for which so i great a price is paid as a knowledge of ; the world; and no one ever became an d adept in it except at the expense of a y hardened and a wounded heart. e If there's a right thing to be done, and we seem to pass through a wrong thing on our way to it, depend upon it there's ' another way to it and a better one, and it 3 is our own fault, and not God's, that we !* do not find it. k How many soever you may llnd or n fancy your faults to be, there are only . ? two that are of real consequence?idle|S ness and cruelty; unless you are deliberl! ately kind to every creature, you will J- often be cruel to many. He who has stood beside the grave, to j look back upon the companionship which e has been forever closed* feeling how ime potent there are the wild love or the g keen sorrow to give one instant's pleaa'J ure to the pulseless heart, or atone in the lowest measure to the departed spirit for > an hour of unkindness, will scarcely, for s, the future, incur that debt to the heart i. which c.in only be discharged to th? dust. A White Rat Story: 1 Seme days ago the Brooklyn Eagle published an item of news about the ,i tinding of a nest of white rats with pink eyes in a bale of galangal root imported 0 by Messrs. Stallman & Fulton. The Eagle stated that 140 of the beauties had ,( been captured, with hopes of finding others on the premises. White rats are so rare'that the published facta attracted ( widespread attention. The papers in other States reproduced the article, and t ever since the discovery was given unso1 licited publicity the fiira has been over? run with inquiries from far and wide. [. Correspondents wanted to know where they came from, how the firm intended ^ to dispose of them, if the rodents had any black spots, and recommending thai they be tenderly raised, fis white rata were a scarcity in this country. Ono dubious correspondent believed they were made white by the same compound which Barnum used to make a whita ? elephant. A New Hampshire lady wrote 5t the firm to ascertain how to get rid of the common household rats and closed 5 her epistle in the following words: "Let 1 the light of your superior knowledge shineuponmy darkened pathway,"which Stallman & Fulton did in prompt re, sponse. As members of the druer trad? dropped iu from day to day on business, , they never neglected to mention about the colony of rats, and the queries be'' came such a bore to Mr. Fulton, who has to answer for the firm, as Mr. Stallmanis ' in Europe, that he had to enforce a strict 11 rule not to allow any discussion upon the subject during offlce hours. The porter l- ' ha? been instructed to "fire" all persons h mentioning rats. The number found reached 300, and they were carefully ( placed in tin cans and removed up town ( by certain parties who wanted them for , some purpose.?Oil, Paint and Drug Reporter. ' The Destructive Fungi. > q In the present extensive use of timber and lumber only the roughest approxie mate estimate is possible of the annual o loss by funpri, and the amount of loss can j be indicated in only a lew item9. The cost of replacing decked ties by the railways of the United States for 1885 exceeded $30,000,000; repairs of station buildings and road crossings, $19,500,j 00D; repairs of wooden and wood parts of bridges, $6,250,000 (estimated); repairs of freight cars, $22,500,000 (esti3 mated); repairs of passenger cars, e $7,500,000 (estimated). The renewal of " f nl nnlno on/3 fl vfnron An 1 (lf\ AAA pV/AVsO OUU UAbUigO UU IVVyVV/V ' mile3 of line constitute a large item. The loss to the agricultural interests ia 1 much greater. The tenth census reports 3 the cost of fencing in 1879 at $77,763,1 473, the most of which was for repairs, s The loas caused by fungi on the 9,000, 000 dwelling*, with their accompanying buildings, and the $406,520,055 worth ? of agricultural implements which appear 9 in the census reports, and that on the I 6,654,997 tons of marine, and on wharves 1 above water, form other large itema. i The lumber interests are also great losers through the quantities of timber I that are destroyed in store. The mero , mention of these facts makes it evident j that the regular annual less from thia j source must be rated at many million j dollars. ?Popular Science Monthly. Improved Vaccination. As orotection bv ordinarv vaccination 5 is not secured until after the lapse of > thirteen or fourteen days?that is, a period at least equal to that required for smallpox to develop?it has been considered of 110 use after symptoms of the disease have been already infected. But by a modified method, a Russian medical student, M. Gubert, claims tc make such * late vaccination effective. In experiments on dogs he has rapidly saturated the system with protective virus by several successive daily inoculations with calf lymph, by which means he has succeeded { in bringing the vacrination proccss to , completion within four or five days. This , result has enabled him to arrest the development of small-pox in twenty-seven ' persona in whom he was quite sure the disease was incubating, while in twelve , others the disease was modified to simple [ varioloid. , Drawing on Glass With a Hot Pen. r An ingenious little instrument called ' the ''hyalolyphotype," or (more stnsi[ bly) hot pen, has been invented, by means of which drawings can be made on glass or glassy substances with a i waxy composition, which is solid and [ somewhat hard at ordinary tamperatures. > The pen can be heated by eras or e'.ec* i trlcity, and when heated the waxy material flows easily from it, setting so ; quickly on the glass that cross-patching . can be done more rapidly than with an ordinary yen and ink, without risk of . blocking the angles. Corrections can be made with a penknife. After the . drawing li s been made, the plate ia i itched by fluoric acid, and when com' plete it can be either electrotyped, stereo. typed, used directly, or applied to any puipose fot which engraved surfaces ara required. | The Church of Rome has declared itself positively against cremation. . - r -