The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, October 13, 1886, Image 3
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.