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DH TILMIGE'S SERMON. "TWO YOUNG MEN WHO CAME TO LITE IN THE CITY." * ort: "Ponder the path of thy feet."?Proverbs iv., 20. It was Monday, September CO, at a country depot. Two young men are to take the cars to the city. Father brought them iu a wagca with two trunks. The evening before at the old home was rather a sad time. The nei^h Dors nad gatnerea m to say gooa- oye. indeed, all the Sunday afternoon there had been a strolling that way from adjoining farms lor it was generally known that the two boys the next morning were going to the city to live and the whole neighborhood was interested, some hoping they would do well and others, without saying anything, hoping for them a city failure. Sitting on the fence talking over the matter, the neighbors would interlard their conversation about the wheat crop of last summer and the apple crop yet to ba gathered with remarks about the city prospects of Edward and Nicholas, for these were the names of the two young men; Edward, seventeen, and Nicho.as, nineteen, but Edward, although two years younger, being quicker to learn, knew as much as Nicholas. They were both brown-faced and hearty and had gone through all the curriculum of country spoils by which muscle is developed and the chest filled out Father and mother on Monday morning had both resolved to go to the depot with the boys, but the mother at the last moment backed ont, and she said that somehow she re:t quit? woalc ttiat morning, ana nau no appetite for a day or two, ana so concluded to bay good-bye at the front door of the old place. Where she went and what she did aster the wagon left I leave other mothers to guess. The breakfast things stood almost till noon before they were cleared away. But little was said on the way to the railroad station. As the locomotive whistle was heard coming around the curve the father put out his band, somewhat knotted at the knuckles and one of the joints stiffened years ago by a wound from a scythe, and said: "Good-bye Edward, good-bye, Nicholas! Take good care or yourselves and write as soon as you fit there and let us know how they treat you. our mother will be anxious to hear." Landed in the city they sought out with considerable inquiry of policemen on street corners and Questioning of car-dri vers the two commercial establishments to which they were destined, so far apart that thereafter they seldom saw each other, for it is astonishing bow far apart two persons can be in a large city, esf>ecially if their habits are different Practically a hundred miles from Bowling Green to Canal street or from Atlantic avenue to Fulton. Edward, b.'ing the youngest, we must look after him first He never was in so large a store in all his life. Su h interminable shelves, such skillful imitation of real men and women to display goods on, such agility of cash boys, such immense stick of good3 and a whole community of employes. His head is confused as ha seems dropped like a pebble in the grtat ocean of business life. "Have you seen that greenhorn from the country.'" whispers young man to young man. "He is in such and a department \V o will have to break him in some night" Edward stand* at his new place all day so home Liiat uuj uiu;uciit uo cuuiu uu.? v aloud if his pride had not suppressed everything. Here and there a tear ho carelessly dashed off as though it were from influenza or a cold in the head. But some of you know how a young man feels when set down in a city of strangers thereafter to fight his own battles and no one near by seeming to care whether he lives or dies. The centre of a divert, a month's journey to the first settlement, is not much more solitary. But that evening as the hour for closing has come, there are two or three young men who sidle up to Edward,and ask him how he likes the city.and where he expects to go that night, aud if he would like them to show him the sights. He thanks them, and says he shall have to take some evenings for unpacking and making arrangements, as he has just arrived, but "says that after a while he will be glad to accept their company. After spending two or three evenings in his boardinghouse room, walking up aud down, looking at the bare wall or an old chromo hung there at the time that religious newspapers, by such prizes advanced their subscription lists, ana alter toying an hour with the match box,and ever and anon examining his watch to s-.e if it is time to retire, and it seems that ten o'clock at night, or even nine o'clock, will never come, be resolves thereafter to accept the chaperoning of his new friends at the store. Soon the night comes when they are all out together. Although his salary is not large he is nuite flush with pocket money which the ola folks gave him after saving up for some time. He cannot be mean and these friends are doing all this for his pleasure and 80 he pays the bills. At the door of places of amusemeut his companions cannot find the change, or they accidentally fall behind just as the ticket oifice is approached, or they say they will make it all right and will themselves pay the next time. Edward, accustomed to farm life or village life, is dazed and enchanted with the glitter of spectacular sin. Plain and blunt iniquity Edward would have immediately repulsed, but sin accomnanied bv bewitchine orchestra, sin amid gilded pillars and gorgeous upholstory, sin arrayed in all the attractions that the powers of darkness in combination can arrange to magnetize a young man, is very different from sin in its loathsome and disgusting shape. But after a few nights, being very late out, he fays : "I must stop, my purse won't stand this." My health won't stand this. My reputation won't stand this." Indeed one of the business firm one night from his private box, in whit h he applauded a play in which attitudes and phraseology occurred which, if taken or uttered in Irs own parlor, would have caused bim to shoot or stab the actor on the spot,?from this hi>h-priced box see? in a cheaper pla.e the new clerk of his store, and is lod to ask questions about his habits and wonders how, on the salary the house pays him, he can do as he does. Edward, to recover his rhysical vigor and his finances, stops a while and spends a few more evenings examining the ehromoson the wall and counting the matches in the match box, or goes down in the boarding-house parlor to bear the gossip about tho other boarders or a discourse on the insufficiency of the table fare, considering tho price paid?the criticism severe in proportion as tho fault-finder pays little or is resolved to leave unceremoniously and pay nothing at all. "Confound it?" cries the young man, "I cannot stand this life any longer, and I must go out and see the world." The same young men and others of a now larger acquaintance are ready to escort him. There is never any lack of such guidance. If a man wauts to go the whole round of sin he can find plenty to take him, a whole regiment who know the way. But after awhile Edward's money is all cone. He has receiv ed his salary again and again, bat it was spent before he got it, borrowing a little here and a little there. What shall he do now; Why. he has seen in his rounds of the Gambling tables men who put down a dollar aud took up ten. put down a hundred and took up a thousand. Why not he? To re onstructhis finances he takes a hand und wins: is so pleased be takes another hand and win?, is inphrenzy of delight and takes another hand and loses all. When he first came to this city Edward was disposed to keep Sunday in quietness, reading a little and going occasionally to hear a sermon. Now, Sunday is a day of carousal. He i* so full of intoxicants by 11 o'clock in the day he staggers on the street. Some morning, Edward, his breath stenchful with rum, take his place in the store. He ia fit. tn he there. He is listless or sillv or impertinent or in some way incompetent and a messenger comes to him and says: "The firm desires to see you in the private office." The gentleman in the private office says: "Edward, we will not need you any more. We owe you a little money for services siuce we ra:d you last and here it is." "What is the matter?" sayt the young man. "I cannot understand this. Have 1 done anything?" Tho reply is: "We do not wish any words with you. Our engagement with each other is ended." "Out of employment!" What does thai mean to a good young man? It means an opportunity to get another and perhaps a better place. It means opportunity for mental improvement and preparation for higher work. "Out of employment!" What does tha* mean to a dissipated young man < n means a lightning express train on a down grade on the Grand Trunk to Perdition. A1 Borak was a winged horse on which Maliomet pretended to have ridden by night froto Mecca to Jerusalem, and from Jerusalem to the seventh heaven with such speed that each step was as far as the ey? could rsvh. A young man out of employment through his dissipations is seated on an A1 Borak, riding as fast in the opposite direction. ft. It is now onlv live years since Edward came to town. He used to write home once a week at tbe longest. He has not written home tor three months. "What can be the matter.'" say tne old people at home. One Saturday morning the father puts on the best apj arel of his wardrobe and goes to the city , to tind out. "Oh, he has not been here for a long : while," say the gentleman of the firm. I "Your son, I am sorry to say, is on the wrong tra?k." The old father goes hunting him from place to place and comes suddenly upon him that night in a place of abandonment. The father says: "My son, come with me. Your mother has sent me to bring you home. I hear you are out of money and good clothes and you I know as long as we live you can have a I j home." "Come right away!" he says, put- j i ting his hand on the young man's shoulder. In angry tone Edward replies: "Take ! your hands off pie!, .You mind your own j Business, x wni do as I please. Take your hands off of me or I will strike you down! You go your way and I will go mine." That Saturday night or rather Sunday morning?for it is by this time two o'clock in i tho mr>minn\ the father eoes tothecitv home of his son. Nicholas, and rings the bell and rings again and again, and it seems as if no an?wer would be given, but after a while a window is hoisted and a voice cries: ' Who's there ?' "Ic is me," says the old man. "Why, father, is that you ?" In a minute the door is opened and the son says: "What in the world has brought you to the city this hour of the night ?" "Oh, Edward has brought me here. I feared your mother would go stark crazy not hearing from him, and I find out that it is worse with him than I suspected." "Yes" says Nicholas, "I had not the heart to write you anything about it I have tried my best with him and all in vain, hut it is after two o'clock," says Nicholas to his father, "and I will take you to a be 1." On a comfortable couch in that house the old father lies down, coaxing sleep tor a lew hours, but no sleep comes. Whose house is it! One rented by his sou, Nicholas. The fact Is ttat Nicholas soon after coming to the city became indispensable Li the commercial establishment where he was placed. He knew, what few persons know, that while in all departments of business and mechanism and art thero is a surplus of people of ordinary application and ordinary diligenco, there is a great scarcity and always has been a great scarcity of people who excel. Plenty of people to do things poorly or tolerably well, but very few clerks or business men or mechanics who can do splendidly well. Adpr<;cinting this. Nicholas had resolved to do so grandly that the business tirm could not do without him. Always at his place be Tore the time he was required to come. Always at his place a little after everybody had gone. As extremely polite to thjse who declined purchasing as to those who made large purchases. He drank no wine, for he saw it was the empoisonment of multitudes, and when any one asked him to take something he said "No," with the peculiar intonation that meant no. His conversation was always as pure as if his sister had been listening. He went to no place of amusement where he would be ashamed to die. He never bet or gambled, even at a church fair. When he was at the boarding house after he got all the artistic development he could possibly receive irom tue cnroraosou mo wmi ut> l*tgan to study that which would help him to promotion; study penmanship, study biographies of successful men, or went forth to 5laces of innocent amusement and to Young [en's Christian Associations, and was not ashamed to lie found at a church prayermeeting. He rose from position to position and from one salary to another salary. Only five years* in town and yet he has rented his own house or a suit of rooms, not very large, but a home large enough in its happiness to be a type of heaven. Ia the morning as the oid father with handkerchief in hand comes crying down stairs to the table, there are four persons, one for each side: the young man, and opposite to him the best blessing that a God of infinite goodness can bestow, namely, a good wits, and on another side the hiph chair filled with dimpled and rollicking f>,lee that ma'<es the grandfather opposite smile outride while be has a broken heart within. Well, as I said, it was Sabbath and Nicholas and his father knowing that there is no place so appropriate for a troubled soul as the hou?e of" God, find their way to church. It is communion day, and what is the old man's surprise to see his son pass down the aisle with one of the silver chalices, showing him to be a church otfl ial. Tne fact was that Nicholas from the start in city life honored God and God had honored him. When the first wave ot city temptation scrucK mm he had felt the need of Divine guidance and Divine protection and in prayer had sought a regenerated heart, and had obtained that mightiest of all armor, that mightiest of all protection, that mightiest of all reiuforcements, the multipotentandomnipotjnt grace of God, and you might as well throw thistledown against Gibraltar, expecting to destroy it, as with all the combined temptations of earth and hell try to overthrow a young man who can truthfully say: "God is my refuse and strength." Come, let us measure Nicholas around the head. As many inches of brain as any other intelligent man. Let us measure him around tbe heart. It is so large it takes in all the earth and all the heavens. Measure him around the purse. He has more resources than niue-frmths of auy of those who, on that Monday, September 20, came in on any of the railroads from North, or South, or East, or West. But that Sabbath afternoon, while in the ba.-k room, Nicholar r,nd his father are talkin? over a new plan for the reclamation of Edward, there is a ringing of the door bell, and a man with a uniform of a policeman stands there, and with some embarrassment and some halting, aud in a roundabout way I says that in a fight in some low haunt of the city Edward has been hurt. He says to Nicholas: "I heard that ho was some relation of yours and thought you ought to know it." "Hurt? Is he badly hurt?'' "Yes, very badly hurt/" "Is the wound mortal?" "Yes; it is mortal. To tell you the whole truth, sir," says the policeman, "although I can hardly bear to tell vou, he is dead." "ueara: cries xncuuios. nuu uj >uu unuo I the whole family are in the hallway. The father says: "Just a* I feared. It will kill his mother when she hears of it. Oh, my son, my son! Would to God I had died for thee. Oh, my son, my son!" "Wash off the wounds," says Nicholas, "and bring him right here to my house and let there be all respect and gentleness shown him. It is the last we can do for him." Oh, what obsequies ! The next door neighbors hardly knew what was going on, but Nicholas and the father and mother knew. Out of the Christian and beautiful home of the one brother is carried the dissolute brother. No word of blame uttered. No harsh thing said. On the bank of camellias is spelled out the word "Brother." Had the prodigal been true and pure and noble in life and honorable in death, he could not have been carried forth with more tenderness, or slept in a more beautiful garden of thedead. Amid the loosened turf the brothers who left the country for city life five years before now part forever. The last scene of the fifth act of aa awful tragedy of human life is ended. 'What made the difference between these i two young men ? Religion. The one depended on himself, the other depended on God. They started from the sanubome, had , the same opportunities of education, arrived in the city on the same day aud if there was onw /Uffopanoa ttqrrl hn'l t.lia flil for he was brighter and quicker and all the neighbors prophesied groater success for him ! than for Nicholas. But behold and wonder at the tremendous issue. Voices come up out of this audience and say : Did you know these brothers ? Y03, knew tham well. Did vou know their parents.' Yes, intimately. What was the city, what the street, what the last names of these young men. You havt excited our curiosity, now tell us all. I will. Nothing in these cham.'ters is fijti- 1 tions except the names. They are in every city and in every street of every city and in ' every cemetery. Not two of them but tea \ thousand. Aye, aye! Right before me t>day and on either side of m<? and above ma 1 they sit and stand, the invulnerable through j religious defence and the blastel of city allurements. Those who shall have longevity ' in beautiful homes and others who shall have ] early graves of infamv. And I am here t vdsy In the name of Almighty God to give 1 vou the choicc of two characters, the two , histories, the two experiences, tho two dominies, the two worlds, the two eteruitios. Standing with you at tho forks of tho road lomething makes me think that if to-day I set before the people tho termini of the two roads they will all of them take the right one. There are before me in this houso and in tho invisible aiidience back of this?for journalism has generously given me every week full opportunity ,to address the people in all the towns and cities of Christendom?1 say, in the visible and invisible audience there are many who have not fully made up their minds wkich road to t*ke. "Come with us!" cry all the voices of righteousness. "Come m with us!" cry all the voices of sin. 1 Now the trouble is that many make disgraceful surrender. As we all know, there is honorable and dignified sur- ^ render, as whan a small host yield* to superior numbers. It is no hu- T1 miliation for a thousand men to yield to In tea thousand. It is better than to keep on when there can be no result except T1 that of massacre. But time who surrender to sin make a surrender when on their side A they have enough reserve forces to rout all the nrmie3 of perdition whether led on by W what a demonograp&er calls Belial or Bee1- H< zebub or Apollyon or Abaddon or Ariel. The disgraceful thing about the surrender at Fx S?dan was that tho French handed over 410 Hi field guns and mitrailleuses, six thousand Tc horses and eighty-threo thousand armed men. Tl And it is base for that man to surrender to sin when all the armaments of Almighti- " ness would have wheeled to the front to fight C< his battle if he had waved one earnest signal As But no! he surrendered body, mind, soul, ? reputation, home, pedigree, time and eternity,while yet all the prayers of his Christian ancestors were on his side and all the proferad aid, supernal, cherubic, seraphic, arcbaneelic, deinc. We have talked so much the last few weeks about the abdication of Alexander, of Bulgaria, but what a paltry throne was that hi which the unhappy King descended compared with the abdication of that young man or middle-aged man or old man who quit* the throne of his opportunity and turns nis back _ upon a heavenly throne and tramp* off into ignominy and everlasting exile. That is an an abdication enough to shock a universe. In Persia they will not have a blind man on the j throne, and when a reigning monarch is jeal- in ous of some ambitious relative he has his i eyes extinguished so that he cannot possibly ever come to crowning. And that suggest^ bj the difference between the way sin and dl- c vine grace takes hold of a man. The former blinds him so ho may nevor reach a throne, of while the latter illumines the blind that he mav take coronation. Why this sermon? I have made up my bu mind that our city life is destroying too many young men. There come3 in, every September and October, a large influx of those be- yo tween sixteen and twenty-four years of age, and New York and Brooklyn damn at least a thousand of them every year. They are dc shoveled off and down with no more comDunction than that with which a coal hoaver 111 scoops the anthracite into a dark cellar, j fo What with the wine-oup aud the gambler's ,1 dice and the scarlet enchantress, no young 1 man without the grace of God is safe ten an minutes. There is much discussion about which is the worst city of the continent. Some w] say New York, some say New Orleans, some say Chicago, some say St. Louis. What 7? I have to say is you cannot make much com- he parison between the infinities and in all our . cities the temptation seems infinite. We keep na a great many mills running day and night, pc Not rice mills nor cotton mills. Not mills of | , corn or wheat, but mills for grinding up men. Such are all the grog-shops, licensed ' he or unlicensed. Such are all the gambling i saloons. Such are all the houses of infamy, 8U and we do the work according to law and we ! ga turn out a new grist every hour, and grind j 5 up warm hearts and clear heads, and the lr earth about a cider mill is not more satu- hi rated with the beverage than the ground about all these soul-destroying institutions is Pc saturated with the blood of victima We say to yo Long Island neighborhoods and villages: ' Send us mora supply," and to Westchester ra and Ulster and all the othor counties of New York: ''Send us more men and women to put , under the wheels. Give us full chance and we could grind up in the municipal mill five in] hundred a day. We have enough machinery; .. we have enough men who can run them. *ir Give us more homes to crush! Give us more an parental hearts to pulverize! Pat into the .. hopper the wardrobes and the family Bibles al1 and the livelihood of wives and children. an Give us more material for these mighty mills j . which are wet with tears and sulohurous *01 with woe and trembling with the earthquakes jic of an incensed God who will, unless our cities repent, cover us up as quick and as deep as in August of the year 79 Vesuvius avalanched cr, Herculaneum. Oh, man or woman, ponder the path of thy wl feet! See which way you are going. Will W( you have the distiny of Edward or Nicholas? On this sacramental day when the all burnished chalices stand in tho presence of es| the people, start from the foot of the cross for usefulness and heaven. Plutarch tells us th that after Caesar was slain and his twenty- ' or three wounds had been displayed to the pe<> ! pie, arousing an uncontrollable excitement, , Un and the body of the dead conqueror, accord- _f ing to ancient custom, had been put upon the j funeral pile and the flames arose,peoplerushed tw up, took from the blazing mass torches with ! VQ which they ran through the city, crying : > the glory of the assassinated and the ne shame of his assassinators. On this j ev sacramental day when the five bleeding | woun Is of Christ, your KiDg, are shown to ; de you and the fires*of his earthly suffering q. blaze bafore your imagination, each one of you take a torch and start heavenward, a fo torch with light for yourself and light for t others, for tho race that starts at the cross ends at the throne. While the twenty-three asi wounds of Caesar wrought nothing but the Dt' consternation of the people, from the five an wounds of our Conqueror there flows a transforming power to make all the un- re counted millions who will accept it forever harry and forever tra\ __ ! , m: High Living Kills. a" In questioning a physician who has examined President Arthur's disease he said: "The human system assimilates nothing but pure food and water. If fermented liquors are drank the kidneys fa re-distill them, the food is received and 1Q the poison passed off. The President bucked his kidneys against the copper 1D| distillery and the fermented wine vat m< too long. His kidneys surrendered to the copper distillery and now he has the ?0 old I3right's disease and indigestion, n.? which have killed so many Ion vivantt and which nearly killed General Schenck w< and which killed Hubert 0. Thompson w' in New York." 'Then to live a good old age you doctors recommend temperance in eating and drinking ?" I suggested. *? "Certainly. Champage quickens the heart throb*. You live faster and that shortens your life. Then the re-distillacion of the champagne wears out the kidneys. Sometimes the kidneys are worn out and cannot re-distill the poison. ' Then the poison goes into the blood and otr is pushed but through the pores. It at- ap; tacks the nose pores because they are arl large, and make a red nose. Kings have th< Bright's disease while topers have red sel noses. It all come3 from intemperance ter and drinking." bei "Are Bright's disease and dyspepsia yoi quite prevalent nowadays ?" I asked it' the doctor. an< ' Very. The Prince of Wales has the Do enmo nilmnnf Thp ssimA rlicPASP 7?,: Vanderbilt, who beforo he died lived on skimmed milk." Why Prohibit Hum Selling ? Because in the form of beer, whisky, svine, brandy, etc., it contains a large proportion of alcohol, which acts as a slow,insidious,acrid and deadly poison to a^c the human system; contains no nutrition cu aor any healthy ingredient, and no desirable influence can be obtained by its c0< jse. Its only effect is to produce a de- I lirium of unnatural excitement or ab- eit normal stupor and a permanent derange- by ment of the vital tissues. Its use blunts all uvery moral sense, predisposes the sys- ed tern to all the diseases common to hu- trs inanity, poisons the animal life, weakens ( the will power, enfeebles the brain, ceI while stimulating the animal passions. nci [t is the common cause of nearly all the irc rice, crime, pauperism, and wretched- wj aess, cursing the individual, the home, th( and the commuity by its ravages.?Dem?rc?L ESPGRANCG DEPARTMENT. Sober Doe and Drnnken Master. is dog was sober, but the man was not; deed, he was so drunk he scarce could stand; lough "half seas over," he waj on dry land. fat, good-natured, well-dressed, genteel (?) sot, hose record at his cups may pity blot. 9 drank strong liquors of the "choicest" brand om large supplies he always kept on hand, a was a wine importer, and he got > be, alas! his own best customer. lie dog kept a safe distance from the tap, steady, -well-behaved, and faithful cur; hen he was thirsty he would gladly lap sld water, and he never lost his way, s his unhappy master did that day. G W Bungay, in T mperance Advocate. Apostrophe to Rum. Inarecent lecture on temperance, Prite Dalzell, who years ago felt the curse mself, thus closed with an address to m: "Oh, issue of hell! red with the fiery rath and curse of Jehovah, stand back id answer the indictment I bring ainst you to-night. It is found on the quest of every pure heart under the iole heaven, and is signed a true bill r God as Foreman of the grand inquest, xpentand adder fiend and fury enemy God and man, move thyself aright in e cup and blush crimson with shame, it answer me to night. What inno? nee and purity have you bitten with mr serpent fang? What hearts of love d devotion have you stung to the sath with your scorpion sting? What res have you not wittierea witn your ul touch, what hopes crushed under e loathsome pressure of your hideous id relentless coil. "Listen to the cry of the orphan, hose father you hare murdered by iur slow, deadly poison. Listen to the art-broken lamentation. Visit the ppyhomes which your loathsome and >llutiug presence has changed to desotion, drunkenness, and despair, and :ar the cry that rolls up through the lphurous flames of hell! From every illows-tree and dungeon of darkness, Dm every roof-tree and hearthstone, ackenecl and blistered by your infernal >wcr, accusing voices come to brand u as the worst enemy of the human ce. "Oh, listen to the clanking chains in e maniac's cell, the shriek of violated nocence, the dying moan of the vicn of the drunken assassin to-night, d tell me?oh, tell it in the ears of .?what reas on or apology have you, hour, or a minute, or a second longer, r corrupting the world with your poimous breath or polluting presence. "Blessings wait upon all other ? ^ -t-I-! UMi ..A<t matures unuer ine smmng sua uuu juu, lile only curses follow you in this )rld and the next. Good there is in things elso but you, even in the mean- i t insect that crawls ugon the earth or c smallest island builder of the sea, tiniest speck that floats in the il* litable and all embracing azure fields spacct all the countless worlds beeen, but for you, in you, from you, by u, through you, there is not, there ver wfis, any good. Evil and only il?born of the devil, coming from the vil, leading to the devil, damned of jd, daraned of man, an evil and a curse rever ?,nd forevcrmore! I curse you, :ursc you last to-night! Murderer and 3rtssin, liar and villain, thief and robr, siauuerer and Diaspnemer, seducer id vagabond, flee from the earth and same your itation in your native hell, ithout you, oh, how happy this world ight be, and how it would blossom ;ain with the beauty and pcace of the ien of God! "War would cease, murder be unlown. Poverty would be only rememred as a horrid dream of your reign on rth, ac d oh, how many men now bound your toils would fall on their knees d lift their faccs to God in thank?=givg for their deliverance! Oh, how many Dthers, mourning all the weary weakss of the night, while Iheir deluded ns wander with you in the darkness iw; how many wives and trembling ;tle children in rags and hovels, too, juld fill the whole canopy of heaven itn their acclamations and rejoicing if iu?the enemy of their all and all they ive?would only descend into hell and pre remain, snitted and roasted forever r the unpardonable wrongs you have >ne the world in the loner thousands of ars that you have tormented and cursed e human race." It Tastes Nice. That U one of the greatest dangers of ong drink. It creates an unnatural petite, and thousands of poor drunkcs arc bound by its power, though ij sorely wish, they could free themves. Little folks, don't ever bo npted to take any of this poison drink cause it tastes nicc. It will deceive a. Alcohol is like "Will-o'-the-wisp? tempts people from the path of safety, d leads them on to ruin and misery, ta't let it deceive you. ? Temperance inner. Temperance Notes. Under the ''local option" of the Dow v, thirty-two towns in Ohio have closed their saloons. A. St. I.ouis physician cured a case of oholism by giving opium. Then he red the opium habit by giving cocaine. >w he is searching for a cure for the :aine habit. Sustaining the crime 01 rum-selling her by your silence or sanctioning it your vote or influence makes you mory responsible for all the crime, wretchness, and poverty that flows from the iffic.?Dcmorest. Dn motion of Mr. II. H. Fazori, a reit tcmperance meeting, held at Don '8 Landing, Mass.,resolved, that there i two classes of men equally dangeroua th rum-sellers?the politicians who do :ir bidding, and the criminal lawyer* io defend them. A i .# RELIGIOUS READINC A Haven. There's a haven, safely locked By two arms outstretching wide, Where for many an age have flocked Storm-tossed ships from every sid& Depth enough it has to float Every vessel, great or small, Stateliest build, or simplest boat, And there's room enough for all. Ever on its swelling breast, Pours the sunshine from above, For this haven, safe and blest, It is God's unfathomed love. And the arms, its sure defence, By the rudest shocks unstirred, Are our God's Omnipotence And his never-failing word. Anchor here, 0 storm-tossed soul, Here thy fears and doubts shall ceas Though without the billows roll, Here is salety, rest ana p:ace. ?Sarah Oera'.dina Stock. A Revival In the Home. 'We deeply want a revival of domest religion. We have been saddened attl terrible accounts of the impurity of tt city, but doubtless one cause of tt stai;e of things is the neglect of househo religion among Christians and the cnti absence of common decency in many the lodgings of the poor. The Christii family was the bulwark of godliness the days of the Puritans, but in these e) times hundreds of families of so-call< Christians have no family worship, I restraint upon growing sons and i wholesome instruction or discipline. S how the families of many professors a as dressy, as gay, as godless as the childr of the non-religiou3! How can we ho to soe the kingdom of our Lord advan when his own disciples do not tea< % ax. : A JUS uospei 10 meir own suus auu uaug ten? Hare we not need to repeat t lament of Jeremiah? "Even the a monsters draw out the breast, they gi suck to their young ones: the daught of my people is becomc cruel, like t ostriches in the wilderness." How d ferent this from the father of the fait ful, of whom the Lord said: "I kne Abraham, that he will commaud 1 children and his household after hii and they shall keep the way of t Lord." The surest way to promote go | lincss abroad is to labor for it at hom The shortest method for the overthrc of priestcraft is for every man to bo t priest of his own house, and to warn I sons against deceitful men. May o dear children be so well taught frc infancy that they may not only esca the common vices of the age, but grc up to become patterns of holiness!?H: C. II. Spurgeon. The Lord'a Prayer, "Our father." Not your Father alor or mine, especially, but the Father all the nations on the face of the cart Acts 17:26; Rom. 8:15?17. "Who i in heaven." God has a home; He w has implanted a love of home in c hearts, certainly has a home of His ow ? ? A C\4 OA dcc 2 enroll. o:ai?ov. iinuuncu thy name." Reverence for God, and : His attributes, is one of the most impo tant elements of worship and devotio See Lev. 22:32. "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be do on earth as it is done in heaven." Nev will this petition be realized to its fi extent, till the earth is made new. ? Rev. 21:1?3; Isn. 65:17 -23. "GH us this day our daily bread." God alo can give us fruitful seasons and rebu the destoyers of the fruits of the carl He can keep us alive even in fsimir Mai. 3:11; Isa. 33.16. "We should r be over-anxiou3 about to-morrow's si ply. See Matt. 6:34. "And forgive our debts as we forgive our del ors." Here is the most difficult a hazardous of all petitions. Who wou dare to even think or speak evil of a one, after making this petition to Gc Often it is as if one would say, I others attack me in my reputation a my estate, as I have dealt with thei What a terrible state of things wou presently be inaugurated if God wou literally answer this prayer. See Ma 7:12. When makinsr this petition1 should not forget to ask for help to lo our enemies. "And lead us not into tempfatior Here is where so many fail; they f strong in themselves, and when tried tempting baits they are trapped at on< defalcations, coyctcousncss, lust, a all varieties of wickedness have each a tr I or a snnrc peculiar to themselves; a tbese are God's detectives. Reader, us pray, that we may be forwarned, i detect the snare, and flee the L appearance of evil. 2 Peter 2 "But deliver us from evil." If would daily and hourly present to G this petition,how nnny dreadful accidei by land and sea would be avoideJ, a how many lives of holiness would 1 instead of the moral wrecks we si everywhere in this world. See Jo! 17:15. "For thine is tiie kingdom, and t power, and the glory forever. Atner See Rev. 5: 13, 14. Let us daily present this sublin comprehensive prayer slowly, careful reverently, grasping as far as possible : far-reaching, elevating spirit, concent ting all our powers upon each petition. Joseph Clarke. Out of free religion has grown fi irreligion; and out of infidel liberalii immortality.?Joseph Cook. Colonel Robert Ingersoll, in an addrc given to a jury a few weeks ago, said alcohol: l,It is the sum of all villainic the father of crime, the mother of i abominations, the devil's best friend ai God's worst enemy." A memorial was adopted by the Bri ish and Colonial Temperance Congre held recently in London, to be present* to both houses of Parliament, askir that they take steps to stop the sale ar importation of liqours in their colonic I ;.| WOMAN'S WORLD. PLEASANT LITERATURE FOB FEMININE READERS. Wifehood. To be decked as a bride is, Orange bloom in my hair, To be wed, as maid's pride is, By altar, with prayer; Side by side, hand to hand, with hin As his chosen, to stand with him, fcjo happy, so grand with him, "VVas it not a thing rare? To think of him always, My gold, without alloy, To meet him in hall-ways, About my employ; At his beck wing to him. Talk with him, sing to him, Walk with him, bring to him, Each grief and each joy. To have him, my own one, Possession enough ! To have him enthrone one Over all of the stuff ! To feel myself one with him, Till shall set life's sun with him, However stream run with him, Smooth current or rough. ic With him to be seated , At the table I,spread; 110 With praise to be greeted W V..44? U- J. U9 jpur uubbci vi uioau; Life's loaf there to break with him, 118 Life's rage there to take with him, Id Life's future to make w ith him. My lord and my head! re - To dream with his dreaming, 01 To see with his eyes. an To scheme with his scheming, Be wise, as he's wise, in Linked for woe and weal with him, ril All life's changes to feel with him, , Night and morning, to kneel with him, 3(1 Facing the same skie3. Great grows the wonder, ao As round rolls each year; ee God-joined, naught can sunder, Whether there, whether here; xo Up life's hill to climb with him, To keep step and time with him, As bells chime, to chime with him, pe With note soft and ciear. ce The wonder still greater ch And growing more sweet, , That God the Creator h" No life can defeat; he That I should be made for him, That I should have stayed for him, ea Helpmeet, handmaid for him, ve Completing complete! ?J. B Rankin, D. D., in Independent. ;er he Days again9t Marriage. if- According to the authority of manu h- script dated in tbe filteentn century iner )W are thirty-two days in the year on whicl it is unlucky to marry. These days ar 113 January first, second, fourth, fifth 31, seventh, tenth, fifteenth; February sixth he seventh, thirteenth; March first, sixth eighth; April sixth, eleventh; May fifth seventh; June seventh, fifteenth; Jul e* fifth, nineteenth; August fifteenth, nine >w teonth; September sixth, seventh; Octo ho ber sixth; November fifteenth, sixteenth ^ and December fifteenth, sixteenth am seventeenth. Consequently January i ur the worst month and October the bes >m month in all the year for marriage. P? __ The Tear Handkerchief of the Tyrol >w In some portions of ^yrol a peculia and beautiful custom still prevails. Whei a girl is about to be married, before sh leaves her home to go to the church, he mother hands her a handkerchief, whicl ie? is called a tear kerchief. It is made o of newly-spun linen and has never lee: h. used. It is with this kerchief that sh irt dries her tears when she leaves her fa thcr's house and while she stands at th h0 altar. After the marriage is over and th nr bride has gone with her husband to thei n. new home, she folds up the kerchief am jj0 places it unwashed in her linen closet .. where it remains untouched. The tea kerchief has only performed half of it r- mission. Children are bom, grow up in. marry and move away from the olc home. Each daughter receives from th< mother a new tear kerchief. .Her owi c remains where it was placed in tne unei er closet on the day of the marriage, anc all there it remains until her death, when i |ee is taken from its plage and spread ove the placid features of the dead, never t< ve be removed, ne ke Irish Point Lace. :h. A Limerick (Ire'and) letter to th ,c Philadelphia Press says: The finest anc 1 most beautiful lace made in Irelanc 1 comes from Youghal, and is known a 'P- Irish point, which is recognized as ai u? original lace from its exteaoidinary ani jj. skillful combination of some twenty-fivi , or more different stitches, copied fron various foreign lace3. This lace wai tld originated by Mrs. Marv Ann Smith, i ny lady -who had devoted her life by sol l(je emn vows to doing good in connectioi ) with the school of the Presentation Orde jC : of Nuns. Having found in the Youg nc* hal convent apiece of antique lace, Mrs rs. Smith undertook to make a copy of it. Her efforts were attended with greai ., success, and she determined to teach th< 1 art to the children who were then at tt. tending the parish school and were lit we erally suffering from want of food, foi vc famine hung over the land. The onl; employment then open for them wa muslin e:nbroidery. at which for tei hours of steady labor they could eari eel two cents. From the fact that this lac by has been kept up to the early standar< and even improved, there seems to be i ' ! steady demand for it. nd ap Novelties in Jewelry, nd Plain band rings, in nugget finish, an let selling well. tc The demand for single moonstone ring j is still strong. .(v Fancy single-stone opal rings are find J ing a ready sale. u Doublets of rubies and emeralds an 0(^ again popular in rings. Tourmalines, in combination with dia nd monds, are seen in fancy rings, w* Fnnev or Dlain sinsle-stone opal scarf ec' pins are rapidly making their way int< , ' favor. tin ...... Antique shape intaglio rings are nov made in nugget-finish and arc well re ;he ceived. i." Twisted wire rings are popular, two o: three of different colors being knotted 1C together loosely. . * The enameled pansy, diaraond-edgec /' and centred, are now used in scarf pin.1 l's with good effect. ra" Plain bar pins set with pearls and tur ? qouises seem at present to please mori than elaborate patterns. Louis XI. styles are reviving in Paris, rce Miniatures set round with diamonds, an ty considerably worn there. Spinels and chrysobcryls. in combina tion with diamonds, are still numbered ss among tile popular ouauies. of Scarf-pius in the form of a bird's cla'H ,3 grasping a gem-cut piece of topaz 01 hematite arc occasionally seen. . Red onyx sleeve buttons, gold-rimmec and cut in antique intaglio, are neat ant in harmony with popular styles, [t. The moonstone ball, enclustercd it diamonds recently noticed in rings, is S9 also to be found in studs and collar-but ;<* tons. lr? Queen chains in oxidized silver witl: id flat pendants,one side of which is orna !3i mented with antique heads, are worn bj some.?Jewelers' Wce'rfy. -- r: Fashion Notes. The leading silk materials are satin and faille Francaise. >, Beaded plush and velvet are some of the season's novelties. Sponge bonnets are the latest. The crown only is of sponge. Tailor-made costumes have the polonaise applied this season. Beads are not used so much for garri! ture this season as bugles. Black lace dresses for autumn wear have bodices of black velvet. Tiny satin flowers in bright colors are strewn over trimming velvets. ' Black lace dresses with black satin foundations will be much worn. Cashmere overdresses are worn with, plush, velvet and striped skirts. Watered silks, black, white and colored, will continue to be in favor. Black and white materials of all sorts are in favor fot the present season. Yokes of velvet are a feature of silk dresses for autumn and winter wear. Fruits are used more than flowers in trimming hats and bonnets this fall. Serge grows in favor for dresses, ita admirable wearing quality recommending it. The peasant corsage is the prettiest thing for young girls, and is the moat simply made. Cloaks will be made for warmth this winter, and will be more voluminous than formerly. The jerseys for this season are of finer quality and more elaborate design than those which have hitherto been popular. Beads are mixed with ruchings and plaitings in every sort of fantastic manner. Kosary beads still find a use in this way. Sleeves are very fancifully contrived this season and the plain coateleeve.it quite out of style, cxcept for outside jackets and coats. Yokes are fashionable for both younger girls and young ladies. The yoke is almost always of different fabric from the lower part of the corsage. A new Parisian fashion is the scented ; m fan in violet wood or sandal, very much ornamented with silver and bearing a crest or monoorram inlaid. Lace hats in black continue to be worn. . Row upon row of narrow lace plaiting e form the body of the hat and a bunch at \x rich plumes adorn the side. e Beads and bugles find a place on all , manner of garments this season, begin, ning with bonnets and gloves and end* , ing with shoes and stockings. > Guimpes are in favor for dresses with 5 high or low bodices. They are made oi " tulle, crepe lisse, gauze, brocaded silk * or of exceedingly fine muslin. i A sash of woolen, either cashmere or serge, has a wide fringe tied into its ends t aid is a very popular finish for a simple school costume for a little girl. The new burnt ivory ornaments are I. very fashionable both for buttons, buck* les and brooches. Some expuisite carv- \? ? ing is seen in the lately imported trifles. 3 Such a quantity of wide lace is used in Tnnirincr a -n.-ttirnftt that it is cheacel r ? ??0 - r- ? ^ to buy two pieces of ten yards each than f any other way. This should be whole* a sale. e Pretty and becoming hats are in two r colors of straw braid, red being alwayt e one of the colors. These are trimmed in. e two colors of velvet or ribbon to match r the hat. . j A muffler of marabout feathers in some 'J soft tint is the latest London wrap for I the shoulders; it is fitted to the should- V. 3 ers somewhat after tbe pattern of a fur pelerine. 1 The Spanish comb introduced in sum2 mer millinery is a feature of autumn bonI I nets. It is to be found in jet, 6hell, copi per, bronze and in blue, iridescent and II cut steel. t Iron is the latest material utilized for r ornamental accessories to the toilet, such > as clasps, buttons, buckles and the like. The designs are necessarily very well defined and large. e Fiddles for Firewood. 1 "When Ole Bull, the renowned violin1 ist, was staying in Paris in 1840 he res turned home late one evening from a i concert, nnd as the night was cold he I 1 ordered his man to make a fire in his 3 room. The latter dragged toward the i fireplace a huge box. on which the word i "Firewood" was painted in large letters, a In answer to Ole Bull's astonished in quiry the servant told him that the box i had been delivered that day at noon by r his master's orders, as he thought. On - being broken open the box was found to . contain twenty-two violins and the fol. lowing letter: "Great Master: The un-' t dersigned, being members of various 3 amateur philharmonic societies, hereby - declare that they will henceforth cease - to perform on the accompanying instrur ments. The snuie wood from which Ole ' jr Bull can draw life, love, sorrow, passion s and melody, is only to be regarded as? i fuel for the fiames in the hands of the i undersigned, who therefore request the e maestro to make an auto-da-fe of theen1 closures, and to look upon the ascending i smoke as incense offered to his genius by penitent dabblers in the noble art." This curious epistle bore the signatures of twenty-two young men. Three days 3 afteward Ole Bull gave a dinner, to which he invited all the senders of the valuable "firewood." Each guest had lying before him on the table one of the violins referred to, and by its side a gold * ring with the incription "Solitude and Perseverance"?a piece of seasonable ad3 vice to the faint-hearted dilettante, and a symbolic indication of the means by . | which the virtuoso himself had attained to fame.?Rundscnau. ~ The Salt Mountain of Palestine. Selah Merrill, United States Consul at Jerusalem, says: Palestine possesses a remarkable salt mountain situated at the south end of the Dead tea. The length of this ridge is six miles, with an average {" width of three-quarters of a mile, and ' ' the height is not far from U00 feet. There are places where the overlying ^ I earthly deposits are many feet in thickJ ness, but the mass of the mountain is composed of solid rock salt, some of . which is as clear as crystal. How far ; this deposit of salt extends below the surface of the ground, no one at present knows. At some points, this ridge, " -- * a. > wbicii is on ine snore u* mc jdi?u approaches very close to the water, and at others it recedes until it is fifty or more " yards from it. Just here the water of the Dead Seu is much more salt than it is at the north end, where the Jordan enters r the lake. r The salt is a government monopoly. The same is true of the salt that is conl tained in solution in the Dead t'ea itself. I If Arabs or the natives of the countrywere found getting salt from the shores { of the Dead Sea or from this salt mounj tain, tlxcy would be arrested at once. Most of the salt used in Hebron, Jerusalem, and elsewhere in this part of Palestine. comes from these sources, but it is 1 gathered under the direction of government officers, and the revenue is supposed to go the government.