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pw 11TUU SERIN. fflUT IS TO KECOME OF OUR f Text: "Seeing that his life is bound up In ' the lad's liie."?Genesis xliv., SO. These words were spoken by .Tudah, as de^ jcriptive of tha tenderness* and affection whiih Jacob felt toward Benjamin, the youngest sou of that patriarchal family; but they ate words just, as appropriate to many ii parent in this fco:i>e?since '"his life is oound up in the Icd's life." I have known ' .parents who >eemed to have but little interest - "\I? :n tneir cuuurvn. Aiamei sijs; mj ouu must look out lor him-elt'. If lie comes up well, all right; if he turns out badly Icaunot belp it. I am not responsible for his behavior. He must take the same risk in life that (took." As well might the shepherd throw a iamb iuto a den of lions aud then say: 'Little lamb, look out for yourself!" It is generally the case that even th? beast iooks alter its young. I have gone through ;ho woods on a summer's day, and I have "N aeard a gi eat outcry in a bird's nest, and ] j have climbed up to see what was th? mattor. ? i'ound out that the birds wore starving and that the mother bird had gone off not to joine back again. But that is an exception. ^ -Ct is generally the case that the old bird will pick your eyes out rather than let you come | aigh its brood. The lion will rend you ia i twain if 3-ou approach to> nearly the w helps; the fowl in the barnyard, :lumsy-footed and heavy winged, flies fiercely at yon if you ccnie too n:ar the little group, "and God intended every father and mother to be the protection and" the help of the child. Je>us comcs into every dwelling ind says to the father or mother: "You have oeen looking after this child'* body and mind: the time has come when you ought to t>e looking after its immortal soul." 1 stand r jefore hundreds of people with whom ths question morning, noon and night is: "What is to be:ome of the child'' What will be its history? Will it i boose paths of virtue or rioei Will it accept Christ or reject fliuW "Where will it spend eternity ?" 1 read of a vessel that foundered. The !>oats were launched; many of the pa-sengers were struggling in the water. A mother with one hand beat the waves, and with the jther hand lifted up her little child toward ;hj life-boat, crying: "Save my child! Save aiy child!" The impassioned outcry of that not her is the prayer of hundreds of Chiisliau people who sit listening this morning while I speak. I propose to show some of the Tu-ses of parental auxiety, and then how ihat anxiety may be alleviated. I find the"first cause of parental anxiety in the inefficiency and imperfection of parents ihem.selves. We have a slight hope, all of us, that our children may escape our faults. We hide our imperfections, ana think they will iteer clear of them. Alas, there is a poor ^ prospect of that! There is more probability ihat they will choose our vices than choose ^ aur virtues. There is something like sacredaess in parental imperfections when the child looks upou them. The folly of the ?' .parents is not so repulsive when the child looks at it. He says: "Father Indulges in it; mother indulges in it; it can't be so bad.'' Your bey, ten years I of age. goes up a back street smoking his ci.gar?an old stumn that he found in the street?and a neighbor accosts him aud says: ' What are you doing th s for? What would vour father say if he knew it;" The boy ' ^ * 11 * ^-4. L: Ml? lays: "U, iacn'jr aoes intui uimsen: xu?o ?. -?4s not one of us this morning that would deliberately choose that his children should in til things follow his example, and it k the consciousness of imperfection on our part as parents that makes us most anxious for our childre n . . We are also distressed on account cf the auwudom of our d'scn line and instruction. It requires a great deal of ingenuity to build . a house or fashion a ship; but more ingenuity to build the temple of a child's character, and launch it on the great ocean of time and eternity. Where there is one parent that seems (juplified for the work, there seem to be twenty parents \}'ho miserably fail. Here is.a father who says: ".My child shall know nothing but religion; he shall hear nothing but religion; he shall see nothing but religion." The boy is aroused at <5o\ look in the morning to recite the Ten Commandments. He is awakened off the sofa on Sunday night to sea bow much he knows of the Westminster Catjchism. It is religion morning, noon aud night. Passages of Scripture are plastered on the bed-room wa'l. he looks for the day of the mouth in a rdigious almanac. Every minister that comes to the house is told to take the boy a>ide, and talk to him, and t*-ll him what a irreat sinner he is. After a while the "boy comes to that perioi of life when he is too old | , for chastisement, and too young to know and feel the force of moral principle. Father and mother are sitting u > for the boy to come home. It is nine o'clock at night? ten o'clock?it is twelve o'clock?it is halfpast twelve, and they hear tho night key jingle in tho door. They say he is coming. George goes very soitly through the hall, boj iug to got up stair< before he is accosted. The lather says: ''George, where have you been?' '"'Been out!" Yes, ho has bcea out, aud he has been down, and he is on the broad read to destruction, for this " life and the life to ome. Father says: ! "There is no use in the Ttn Commandmants; i the C'ate hism seems to me to he an utter failure." Ah. my friend, you make a very great mistake. YousluTed that child with r liglcn i.ntil he could not digest it: you made that whi h is a joy in many households au abhonea( e in vonrs! A man in mid-life said to mo: "I <an t become a Christian. In . u y father's hoi^e I got such a prejudice against re'i^ion I doi't want any of it. My lather was one of the best men that ever Jived, but he bad such severe notions about things, and he .'animel religion down my throat, untd I d >n't want auy of it, sir." There have been some who have erred in that direction. There are ho ireholds where mother pulls ' - ' al. .ii one way and iattier j uus me urner. ruiuoi says: ".My son, I told you the first time I caught yoa in a falsehood I would chastise you. and now I a'ii g in? to do it." Mother Eays: "Don't: let him off this time." Insome families it is all svol ling an 1 fretiulness with thechild; from Monday mo ning to Saturday night it is that style of culture. The boy is r ieked at, and picked at, and picked ot. Now you nii.^ht better give one sound cbastisemerir. and Lave done wiihit, than <;o indulge in the perpetual scalding and fretfulne s. There is mo- e health in one good thunderstorm than in three or four days of cold drizzle. Here is a parent-who says: "1 will not err on the side that parent has erred in being too strict with li s children. I will let mine do as they please. If tlier want to come in to prayers, they can: if they want to play at cards, ti ey t an; they can do anything they please?there shall he no hindrance. Go it! Here are tic kets for the opera and theatre, son. Take i our friends with you. Do whatever you desire." ()ne day a gentleman conies in from the lank to his father's office, and says: 'They want to so; you over at the hank a minute." Father g< es into the bank. The cashier says: 'Is that yiur check.'" Father looks at it and says: "No, I never gave that ch?ck; I never <r.>ss a 't' in that way; I never make the curl to a *y' in that way. It Is not my check; that's a forgery. Send for the police! ' "Ah,' says the cashier, "don't be so quick: your son did that!" The fact w as that the boy ha 1 been out in dissipating circles, and ten and fifty dollars wont in that direction, and he had been treated and he hni to treat others, and the boy felt ho nrist have $.*>C0 to keep himself in that circl That night the father sits up for the son to come home. It is 1 o'clock before he comes into the hall. He comes in very much fiusheJ, his i yes glaring and his breath oTensive. Father says: "My son, how can vou do so? I have Riven you every thingyou wanted a:id everything to make you comfortable and hap;>y, aud now I find, in my old age, that you are a spendthrift, a IfTiertiiie and a drunkard. The son savs: "Now, father, what's the u^e of your talking in that way.' You told me I might have a good time and to go it. I have been art in? on your suggestion, that's all." And so one parent errs on one side, and another parent errs on the other, and how to strike a happy medium between severity and too great leniency, and train our sons and daughters for usefulness on earth and bliss la heaven, is a question which agitates every household in my congregation. Where so many good men a\;d women have failed, Is it strange that we should sometimes doubt the propriety of our theory and the accuracy of our kind of government? A?ain, parental anxiety often arise? from an early exhibition of sinfulne-s in the child. The morning-glories bloom for a little while under the sun, and then they shut up as' th* heat comes on; but there are flowers along the Amazon that blaze their beauty for weeks at a time: but the short-lived morning-glory fulfills its mission as well as the Vio * ' toria Regia. There are some people who take forty, fifty or sixty years to develop. Then there are little children who j fling their beauty on the vision and vanish. They are morning-g'ories that can- j not stand the glare of the hot noon sun of | trial. You have all known such little chil- i dren. Tliey were pale: they were ethereal; there was something very wonaeriuny aeep in the eye: they had a gentle foot and soft hand, and something almost supernatural in their behavior?ready to be wafted away. You had such a one in your yousehold. Gone cow! It wns too delicate a plant, for this rough world. The heavenly gardener raw it and took it in. We make splend'd Sunday-school books out of such children, but they almost always die. I have noticed that for the most part, the chldren that live sometimes get cross, and pic:k up bad wcrds in the street, and quarrel with brother and sister, and prove unmistakably that they are wicked?as the Bible says, going astray frrm the womb, speaking lies. See the little ones in the Sabbath class, so sunshiny and beautiful, you would think they were always so, but mother, seated a liltle way off, looks over at these children and thinks of the awful time she had to get them ready. After the boy and girl come a little further on in lire. tin mark of sin upou them is still more e ilent. The son comes in from a pugilistic encounter in the stre?ts, bearing the marks of a defeat. The daughter practices positive deception, and the parent says: "Wnat scan 1 UU! J. van* correcting and scolding, and yet these things must be stopreL" It is especially sad if the parent sees his own faults copied by tb3 child. It is very hard work to pull up a nettle that we ourselves planted. We remember that thegreatest fraud that ever shoo'c the bankinghouses of the country, started from a boy s deception a good many years ago; and the gleaming blade of the murderer is only another blade of the knife with which the bov struck at his comrade. The cedar of Lebanon, that wrestles with the blast, started from seed lodged in the side of the mountain, and the most tremendous dishonesties of the world onco toddled out from the cradle. All these things make parents anxious. Anxiety on tin part of pare-its also arises from the consciousness that there are so many temptations thrown all around our j'oung people. It may be almost impossible to take a castle by siega-straightforward siege?but suppose" in th? night there is a traitor within, and he goes down and draws the bolt and swims open ttie great aoor, ana then tha castle falls immedintly. That is the trouble with the hearts of the young: they have foes without an 1 foes within. There are a great many who try to make our young people believe that It iB a sign ot weakness to bo pure. The man will toss his head and take dramatic attitudes, and tell of h's own indiscrotions. and ask the young man if he would not 1 ke to do the same. And they call him verdant, and they say he is greeu aud unsophisticated, and wonder how he can bear the Puritanical straitjacket. Th y tell him he ought to break from his mother's apron strings, and they say: "I will show you all about town. Come with me. You ou^ht to see the world. It won't hurt you. Do a3 you please; it will be the making of you." After awhile the young: man says: '"I don't want to be odd. nor can I alFord to sacrifice these friends, and I'll go and see for myself." From the gates of hell there goes a shout of victory. Farewell to all innocence?farewell to all early restraints favorable to that innocence which once gone, never comes bac'c. I hoard one of the best men I ever knew, seventy-five years of age. say: "Sir, God has forgiven me for all the sins of my lifetime, I know that; but there is one sin I committed at tweuty . years of age that 1 never will forgive my?elf for. It sometimes come; over me over whelminglv, and it absolutely blots out my hope of heaven." Young man, hear it How many traps there are set for our young people! That is what makes parents so anxious. Here are temptations for every form or dissipation and every stage of it. The young man, when he first goes into dissipation, is very particuI lar where he eoes. It must be a fashionable hotel. He could not be tempted into these corner nuisance?, with red-stained glass 1 and a muff of beer painted on the signboard. You ask the young man to gc into that pla e and he would say; ' "Do you mean to insult me?" No; it must be ! a marble-floore 1 barroom. There must be no lustful pictures behind the counter: there 1 must l e no drunkard hiccoughing while he 1 takes his glass. It must be a place where ele- ] gant gentlemen come in and click their cut glass and drink to the announcement of ' flattering sentiment Eut tbe young ! man cannot always find thai kind cf a 1 place; yet he has a thirst and it must j be gratified. The down-grade is steeper now, and ho is almost at tbe bottom. Here thev sit in an oyster collar around a card table, wheezing, bloated and bloodshot, with 1 cards so greasy you can hardly tell who has the best hand. But never mind; th-y are only playinsr for drink. FhuTeaway! shuffle away ! Toe landlord stands in his shirtsleeves with hands on his hips, watching the game and waitiug for another call to fill up the glasses. It is the hot breath of eternal woe that flushes thatroung man's cheek. In the jots j of gaslight I see the shooting out of the fiery tongue of the worm that never rlies. The clock strikes 12; it is the tolling of the bell of eternity at .the burial of a soul. Two hours pass on, and they are all sound asleep in their chairs. Landlord says: "Come, now, wake up; it's time to shut up." > ? inn ill) 1 mey 100K up ana say: n uati jumas to shut up." Push them out into the air. , They are going home. Let the wife crouch in the corner, and the children hide under i the bed. They are going home! What is the history of that young man? He ber?bis dissipation at the Fi'th Avenue Tr~ iuu completed hiS damnation In the worst ' grog-shop in Navy streat. But sin even does not stop here. It comes I to the door of Iho drawiug-room. There are men of leprous hearts that go into the very best classes of society. They are so fascinating?they have such a bewitching way of offering their arm. Yet the poison of asps is under the tongue, aud their heart is hell. At first their sinful devices are hidd?n, bat after a while they begin to put forth their talons of death. Now they begin to show really what they are. Suddenly?although you could not have expected it. they were so charming in their manner, and so fascinatiug in their address -suddenly a cloud, blacker than was ever woven of midnight or hurricane, drops upon som? domestic circle. There is agony in the pareutal bosom that none but the Lord God Almighty can measure?an agony that wishes that the children of the household had been swallowed by the grave, when it would be only a los3 of body instead of a loss of soul. What is the matter with that limtcolinMf Thaw hjvn nnt liftfl thfi front I windows open in six months or a year. The mother's hair suddenly turned white; father, hoilow-cheeked and bent over prematurely, goes down the street. There has been no death in that family?no loss of property. Has madness saize:l upon the 11? No! no! A villain, kid-gloved, patent-leathered, with gold cha:n and graceful manner, took that cup of domestic bliss, elevated it high in the air until the sunlight struck it, aud all the rainbow-) dmced about the brim, and th.'n dashed it down in desolation and woe, until all t'.ie harpies of darkness clapped their hands with glee, aud all the voices of h6ll uttered a loud ba! ha! Oh. there are scores and hundreds of homes that have been blisteJ, and if the awful statistics could be fully set before you, your blood would freeze into a solid cako of ice at the heart. Do yoa wonder that fathers and mothers are anx;ous about their children,and that they ask themselves the questions day and night: What is to become of them? What will be their destiny? I shall devote the rest of my remarks ta alleviation of parental anxiaty. Let me say to you, as parent^ that a great deal of that anxiety will be lifted if you will be?in early with your children. Tom Paine said: "The first five years of my l'fe I became an infidel." A vessil goes out to sea; ic ha3 been five days out. A storm comes on it; it springs a leak; the helm will not work; everything 13 out of order. What is Ibe matter? The ship is not seaworthy aud never was. It is a poor time to find it out now. Under the fury of the storm the vessel goes down, with two hundred and fifty passengers, to a watery grave. 1 h i time to make the ship seaworthy was in the dry d ick, before it started. Ala3 for us, if we wait until our children get out into the world before we try to bring upon them the influence of Christ's reli;ion! 1 tell you the dry dock of the Christian home i-i the place where we are to fit them for usefulness and for heaven. In this world, under the storm of vit e and temptation, it will be too late. In the domestic circle you decide whether your child shall bo truthful or false?whether it shall be generous or penurious. You can tell by the way a child divides an aoplo just what its future history will be. You ought to oversee the process. If the child take ninetenths of the apple, giving the other tenth to his sister, if he should live to be one hundred he will be grasping and want the biggest piece ? J of everything. I stood In a house in one or T>%*>/? Telartrl T'l'llonroj anrl T COW A tiful tree, and I said to th3 owner: "That H [ a very fine tree, but what a curious crook there i> in it!" "Yes," said he, "I planted that tree, and when it was a year old. I went to New York and worked a? a mechanic for a year or two, and when I came back I found that they had allowed something to stand against tho tree: s> it has always had that crook.'' And so I thought it was with the influence upon children. If you allow anything to stand in the way of moral influence against a child on this side or that side, to the latest flay of its life on earth and through all eternity it will show the pressure. No wonder Lord Byron was bad. Do you know his mother said* to him, when she saw him one day limpiug across the floor with bis unsound foot: "Get out of my way, you lame brat!'' What chance for a boy like that? Two young men come to the door of sin. They consult whether they will go in. Tha on? young man goes in and the other retreats. O, you say, the last had better resolution. No, that was noi it The tirst young man had no early good influence; the last had been piously trained, and when he stood at the door of sin discussing the matter, he looked around as if to see some one, and be felt an invisible hand on his shoulder, saying: ''Don't go in; don't go in," Whose hand was it? A mother'i hand, fifteen years ago pone to dust. A gentleman was telling me of the fact that some years ago there were two younsr men who stopped at the door of the Park Theatre, in New York. The question was whether they should go in. That night there was to be a very immoral play enacted in the Park Theatre. One man went in; the other stayed out. The young man who went in, went on from sin to sin, and through a crowd of iniquities, and died in the hospital, of delirium tremens. The other young man who retreated, chose Christ, went into the Gospel, and is now one of the most eminent ministers of Christ in this country. And the man who retreated gave as his reason for turning back from the Theatre that night, that there was an early voice within him, saying: "Don't go in! don't go in!" .And for that reason, my friends, I believe so much in Bible classes. But there is something better than the Bible class, and that is the Sunday-school class. I like it because it takes children at an earlier point; and the infant class I like still better because it takes children before they begin to walk or to talk straight, and puts them on the road to heaven. You cannot begin too early. You stand on the bank of a river flowing by. Xou cannot stop that river, but you travel days and days toward the source of it, and you find after awhile where it comes down dropping from the rock, and j with your knife you make a course in this or that direction for the dropping to take, and you docide the course of the river. You stand and see your children's characters rolling on with great impetuosity and passion, and you cannot affect them. Go up toward the source where the character first starts, and decide that it shall take the right direction, and it will follow the path you give it. But I want you to remember, oh father! oh mother! that it is what you do that is going to affect your children, and not what you s-ay. You tell your chilren to become Christians while you are not, and they will not Do you think Noah's family would have gone into the ark if he had not gone in.' They would say: "No, there is i something about that boat that is not right; father has not gone in. You cannot push children into the kingdom of God; you have got to pull them in. There has been many a general in a tower or castle looking at bis army fighting, but that is not the kind of a man to arouse enthusiasm among his troops. It is a Garibaldi or Napoleon I. who leaps into the stirrups, and dashes into the conflict, and has his troops following him with wild huz7a. Bo you cannot stand off in your impenitent state, and ten your cnuarea vo go ahead into the Christian life, and have them go. You must yourself dash into the Christian conflict; you must lead them and not tell them to go. Do you know that all the instructions yon give to yoar children In a religious direction goes for nothing unless you illustrate it in your own life# Th? 1 teacher at tha s.-hool takes a copy-book, writes a specimen of good writing across the top of the page, but he makes a mistake in one letter of the copy. The boy comes along on i the next lino, copies the top line, and makes Che mistake, ana if there be fifteen lines od j that page they will have the mistake there was in the copy on the top. The father has an error in his life?a very great error. The 3on comei along and copies it now, to-morfipw, next year, copies it to the day of his death. It is what you are, not so much whal I you teach. Have a family altar. Let it be a cheerful ' place, the brightest room in your house. Do not wear your children's knees out with long prayers. Have the whole exercise spirited. 1 If you have a melodeon, or an orgau, or a i piano in the house, have it open. Then lead in prayers. If you cannot make a prayer of to Mnfcr.h&ar H^nrv'j Pr&vers J VUl J ^? or the Episcopal Prayer Book. None better than that. Kneel down with your little ones morning and night, and commend them to God. Do you think they will ever eet over it? Neverl After you are under tna sod a good many year3, there will bt some powerful temptation around that son, but the memory of father and mother at morning and evening Crayers will have its effect upon him; it will ring him back from the path of sin and death. Bat I want you to make a strict mark, a sharp, plain line between innopent hilarity on tha part of your children and a vicious proclivity. Do not think your boys will go to ruin because they make a racket. A glum, uuresponjive child makes the worst form of a villain. Children, when they are healthy,al- > ways make a racket. I wantyou, at the ver^ firstsignof depravity in the child, to correcl it Do not laugh because it is smart. If you do, you will lire to cry because it is malicious. Do not talk of your children's frailties lightly in their presence, thinking thsv do not understand you; they do understand. Do not talk dispara^iugly of your child, making him feel that he is a reprobate. Da not say to your little one: '*You'ra the worst j child I ever knew." If you do, he will be the worst man you ever knew. ' Are your children safe for heaven? You can tell better than any one else. I put to you the question: "Are your cnuciren saie tor heaven?'' I hjard of a mother who, when the house was a-fire, in the excitement of the occasion, got out a great many of the valuable things?many choice articles of furniture?butdid notthink to ask until too late: "Is my child safe?" It was too lati then. The flames had encircled all; the child was gone I 0, my dear friend, when sea and land shall burn m the final conflagration, will your children b9 safe? I wonder if what I have said this morning has not struck a chord in some one in the audience who has a good fa her and mother, but who is not yet a Christian? Is that your history? Do you know why you cam9 here this morning? God sent you to have that memory revived. Your dear Christ an mother, how she loved you! You remember, when you were sick, now kindly she attended you; the night was not t:o long, and you never asked her to turn the pillow but she did it! You remember her prayers also; you remember how some of you?I do not know where (he man is in the audience?how Borne one here broke his mother's heart. You remember her sorrow over your waywardness; you remember the oil placo where she did you so many kindnesses; the chairs, the table, the door-s:ll where you playel: the tme3 of her voice. Why, you can think th3m back now. Though th >v w.;re borne long ago ou the air, they como ringing through your soul to-day, calling you by the first name. You are not "Mr." to her; it is just your Claia, first nane. Is not thin the time whiD er prayers will be answered* Do you not think that Goi sent you in to-day to hare that memory of her revived? If you should come to Christ this morning, a nid all the throngs of heaven the gladdest of them would be your Christian pa-ents who are in glory waiting for your redemption. Angels of God, shout the tidings, the lost ha3 come back a?;ain; the dea 1 is alive! Kiug all the bells of heaveu nt the iubil^a! Rinzl Rinarl Liquor is at the bottom of all our poverty. If the tax for it were lifted there would not need to be a man, woman or child withojt bread. There cannot be a more pitiful and contemptible sigh* than a man quarreling over and bemoaning his taxes while tickling his palate and burning up his stomach and his substance with glass after glass of whisky. ?J. 0. Holland. Seventeen out of the thirty-four candidates for Aldermen in New York were liquor dealers. .. - .. - . . ^ -V... RELIGIOUS READING. The One Sweet Name. Through tho yesterday of age->, Jo us, thou hnstbeen ti e Same; Through our own life's checkered pages, Still the one dear changeless Name; "We'l may we in thee confide, Vnifchfnl Rn vi'niir riroved and "Tried." Gazing down th - far forever, Brighter glow* the one sweet Name, Steadfast radienca paling never, Jesus, JesnsI still the same, Evermore "Thou sbalt endure," Our own Saviour, strong and "Sure." ?Frances Ridley Haveraal. JLessong from a Stntne. Many lessons will doubtless be dnwn, by press and pulpit, from the completion of the Bartholdi statute. There can be do more apt or profitable suggestion than that which is derived from its use as a lighthouse, and its device of a human form holding a lantern in its hand and shedding light and safety over the approaches to our city. However noble a work of art it may be, and however fine a memorial of international friendship ot1/1 Viotai/* cfrnrrnrlo fnr frnpdrtm WOI1 in uuu ~v4 -"-Ofa-- ? tho paiit, it exists not simply to be admired nor to aid rcmcmbrunce, but to do a present and future wcrk of steady helpfulness and enlightenment. It will stpnd pre-eminently as a magnificent object lesson, known and read of nil men, of the divine ideal for one and all of the disciples of Christ in their places among men, "As lights in tho world, holding forth the word of life." The true Christian is one who illustrates the Bible as well as experiences its power, who holds it forth to illnmiratc others as well as to light up hia own soul. We cannot merge our individual responsibility in the aggregation of a church. "Ye are," not a light, but "lights in the world." Standing in the pulpit or sitting in the pews; the child among his playmates and schoolmates, the parent or teacher under the wrnt/?lifn1 rwnva nf litHfl PVM? the naibuiui w? ^ man of business and bargains, and the m:in of leisure whom God has released from drudgery that he may enrich others; Christian wives and mothers, sons and daughters, shopmates and associates of ungodly men, whose daily life and talk and prayers can do more for thrsui than a hundred churches which they never enter, or a hundred preachers whom they never hear; office-bearers in the church, like uplifted lamps in tho Lord's house, burnished by a long experience and full of the consecrating oil of the Spirit?all can and must let our own particular light shine, that the world may be the brighter for us, and that men may be tho better believe in God and in his grace, which has wrought all our works in us. What an illustrious name the divine love has bestowed upon us, that we 3houli be called "children of lightl" It meanfi that we are bora aud nourished on tho word of life. Things born and raised without sunlight are sickly, monstrous and unclean. I sowed some mornng-glory seeds one summer, intending to train the vines on my piazza. Some of them fell inside underneath the stoop where there was scarcely any light,, and never any direct sun rays. But they took root and sprang up. Seeing them peep through the latticc-work, I pulled them out and found that they had grown several feet in length. But they were miserable specimens of vines, pale, yellow, nearly lifeness, and destituto of the robust and healthy blood of plants. Unless one has seen the like, he can hardly realize the contrast between these and the outside vines. They were tho pallid and unlovely children of tho darkness, the others were the green and climbing children of tho lighl. Like torches Kinaieu at a larger uau central flame, we are the children of that which kindled us. And torches arc thus lighted, that in turn they may kindle ancl enlighten others. What says St. Paul? "For ye were sometime darkness, but now are light in tho Lord. * * * the children of light. For tho fruits of the Spirit (he might hare said, the sunbeams which the renewed soul sheds forth are in all goodness and righteousness and truth." And he speaks of the light as "armor," or weapons, which we are to put on in order to remind us that from its very nature light is aggressive, expulsive of darkness, every ray an arrow shot into the kingdom of night. The stars are children of the light, peeping out with clustering and cherubic faces from the firmament. And Christians are the stars of this lower sky, and are lit in vain unless, liko tho serene light ol stars, they cast a holy and heavenly radiance upon the world. Then shall they verify, both here and hereafter, that great saying: "They that be wise shad shine as the brightness of the firmament, anil they that bring many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever." What docs it mean to let our "ligh shine" ? Just this, "holding forth the word of life." We are luminaries, not of the solar, but of tha lunar sort. We are "light in the Lord," as our jninds havo been illuminated and our characters irraliated by his word. All we can do is to reflect and to communicate his gospel, holding it forth by word of mouth or act of life, by telling men what It can do for them, or showing what it has dono for us, and either of these without the other will be as incomplete is a lamp unfed, or a light in a dark lantern. The lesson of that great beacon grows | '? ?1? t !,? i aimo3t oppressive, wuuu x mum. narrow waterway with its shoals and intricacies winding down through the night, and realize how esscntiut are such warning and guiding signal fires to the clustering vessels that pass up and down with their costly freight and priceless human cargoes. For I think of anotbei stream on which we all are launched and moving restlessly forward to the broad eternity, and how God has hewn ?ut therein a narrow channel where alone the souls of men aro safe. And I remember sadlv the rocks and shallows, and all the dangers seen and unseen which environ the strait way, and how few there bo who find it.?Dr. Zabriik.it in New York Observer. TEMPERANCE DEPARTMENT. Francis Murphy's Movements. Francia Murphy, the temperance apostle, returned recently to Pittsburg from Ohio, where he said he had met with wonderful success. At Bellcfontaine he secured 1,300 signers to the totalabstinence pledge; at Tiffin 4,500, and at other places as many more. Ilis son | Edward obtained 2,000 signers at Nilcs, Michigan, one week. He was assisted by a Catholic priest. Mr. Murphy has returned to Ohio. He expects to obtain 10,000 more signers before the end of the .Tear. Will Cider Intoiicnre? The writer knew a Sunday-school Superintendent who would not join a Temperance society because cider was prohibited in the pledge. Also, a lady had her name taken off when she found out that cider was prohibited. She said it was harmless and she would drink all she wanted of it and allow her family to use it. Tho following incident shows that cider can be tho cause of habitual and confirmed drunkenness. Visiting a friend of mine last summer, whn ownr>d a larce farm with a fine aDDle ? - 0 * orchard, she said suddeuly: "Did you know that cider would make drunkards?" I answered: "Yesj I have often heard that it will." " Well," said my friend, "I have, as you know, never identified myself with the Temperance work; have never given the Bubjcct much thought, as I have never had an intemperate relative in my family, and so cannot by any means be called a ''fanatic" on the Temperance quest'on. Eut I have found out, since I have been on this farm, that men can bocome drunkards oil cider. We had a great many fine apples, and in my ignorance I allowed the hired men to make cider, as the neighboring farmers did. How bitterly I regret this now, for tho conscqucnce was tho men, and my son also, drank and drank for days and weeks, until one man, more intelligent and more frank than the rest, came and told me that they would all become drunkards if there was not a stop put to it. In alarm for my son, as well as for the others, I banished the temptation from the place, and becoming a strong total abstinence woman from that moment, vowed that not another drop of cider shou d be made on my place ngain, though the apples rotted on the ground, for it is known that a few hours after the juice is pressed from apples it will ferment, and fermentation will produce alcohol, and who shall say at what moment it is safe to drink it or not. The only safety lies in lotting it alone altogether. About that time," continued my friend, "it was told to me that a neighbor on an adjoining farm, with h's four sons, had become habitual drunkards from their annual crop of cider, made regularly and kept in the collar. This example strengthened me in my resolve never to have one drop of the article in my house again.?Union Signal. Effects of Inebriety. "Wc sec many instances of the remark able brevity of a man's respectability when he is once fairly launched on the sea of inebriety. His course to the loweat depths of degradation is bf swift and sure degrees. lie commcnces imbibing a little when engaged in a position of trust and profit. Ilis superiors notice it, and he is reprimanded for it. So he lays off from duty, not being in a lit state to attend, and this occurs so often that at last he is discharged. He then gives away entirely to the appetite and spends every cent in liquor. He becomes ashamed^to look for employment, and pawns hi3 watch, ring and whatever other articles he may possess, the proceeds of these joining the rest. He next visits a second hand shop and exchanges his good clothes for poor ones and a little money. This money gone he visits another second hand establishment and again trades for worse clothes and some "boot." lie keeps on this until finally he i3 clothed in such rags that he can trade no more. lie is then a total wreck, and would never be recognized as thc gay, refined and highly respected young man of the few months before. I have known several cases similar to that, and almost all of them have commenced merely through a desire to be sociable.? St. Louii Globc-Dor-ocrat. Not Remarkable. It ia not, on the whole, remarkable that among the masses of laboring people in Germany there is distressing poverty and want. Consul Tanner, of Chemnitz, reports to the Secretary of St te that the beer production of Germany in 1885 was 1,100,000,000 gallons, enough to "form a lake more than one mile square and six and a half feet deep, or it would make a running stream as large as some of our rivers." Such an enormous drink waste would suffice to impoverish any people who indulge in it. Mr. Tanner finds le=s drunkards i datively than in the United States, and he advances the theory that it is be- au c the Germans drink slowly, "sip Dy sip,' a nan or thiec-quarters of an hour being consumed for a glass of beer, giving the "animal economy a chance to say: 'Hold, enough,' which only slow drinkiug will do." At the rats of half or three-quarters of an hour per glass, the annual consumption of 1,100,000,000 gallons would seem to be rather a serious matter in the economy of time! Mr. Tanner says that since his arrival in Germany he has his "first drink of water to see drank."? i ane? Advocate. lu^1 ' *' c~ .WOMAN'S WORLDr PLEASANT LITERATURE FOR FEMININE READERS. Thaninl <n C.nnf She sat before me down the aisle, She looked so sweet, so free from guile, I sat and watched her for awhile, Thoughtless of pray'r. She baa a fashionable hat In shape the opposite of flat, And all that I could see was that And her back hair. Such shoulders, such a perfect waist A Grecian Venus might have graced, Her toilet wa? in perfect taste And fashion new. "I know that she is fair." I said, "As fair as dainty, and woll bred," Then, when she turned her pretty head, She turned mine, too. ?Rambler. I Tailor-Made Jackets. There is only one place in which a man can detect the ditierence between tlie genuine and the bogus tailor-made jacket. That place is the theatre. Your real swell, who backs her style with a plethoric portemonnaie, walks to her orchestra chair, shrugs her shoulders with a compressive wriggle that drops the collar of the jacket down her ba k, pulls one sleeve o:f and then the other, and finally folds the garment outside in with much ostentatious indifference and tosses it over the back of the chair so as to have the collar with the Fifth avenue label exposed exactly under the nose of the lady, in the seat behind her. The spurious and economical swell does nothing of that sort'. teaching her seat she turns her back to the stage and her face to the folks in the next row b.ick,squirms out of her jacket, folds it outside out, and hangs it so skilfully over the back of her chair that no one but a mind reader can ever discover whether it has the right stamp within or no stamp at all. But everyone knows by the way the garment is folded whether it is the genuine article or not-?New York Letter. Chances of Matrimony. I do not undertake to tell each of my fair readers how old she will be when led a blushing bride to tho altar, if that should prove tobj her destiny, but she can be told what the chances are in the present state of our knowledge of statistical facts. If we take the weddiugs that actually occur, we shall lind that in every thousand there will be 179 wives under twenty years, while there will be only nine husbands of that tender age. But perhaps these facts will bo better 6tatcd as lollows, thus: In every thousand marriages there will be: Husbands. Wives, Ages. 9 179 Under:*). 293 484 Between 20 and 2i. 348 226 Between 25 and ISO. ' 172 81 Between 30 and 35. 83 43 Bet ween 35 and 40. 44 20 Between 40 and 45. 25 8 Between 45 and 50. 12 Between 50 and 55. 0 1 Between 55 and 00. Tho remainder, nine men and five wuwuii, win ue suuiiercu a.uiig uciwcuu sixty and eighty years?an age at which almost any one would be expected to know better. It will be seen, however, that the desire a9 well as the opportunity for marriage falls off rapidly in both sexes after thirty; up to that age both s.'em to increase.?Brooklyn Eagle. Hindoo Child Marriages. It is essential for the honor of a Hindoo family of good caste, says a writer in a contemporary, that it should contain no unmarried daughter of mature years. The existence of such a daughter is not only a social disgrace, but a re ligious crime. When, therefore, a female infant is born, the first idea of her father's mind is not one of pleasure, nor perhaps of very active regret, but simply how to find a husband for her. It is not necessary that she should become a wife in our sense of the word. It suffices that sh-.' should be given in marriage, and go through the ceremony of the seven steps, which completes the religious rite. Aged Brahmins of good family still go about the country marrying, for a peuniary consideration, female infants whom they sometimes never see again. Within the memory of men still living this abominabie practice was a flourishing trade. A Ivulin Brahmin, perhaps white-haired, and half blind ind decrepid, went the round of his be.it each spring, going through the ceremony of marriage with such female infants as were offered, and pocketing his fee, and perhaps never returned to the child's house. So long as he lived she could marry no other man; when he died she became a widow fnr lifo Ttio Hindoo rhild-widnw is looked upon as a thing apart aud accursed, bearing the penalty in this world for sins which she has committed in a past existence. Iler hair is cut short, or her head is shaved altogether; she exchanges her pretty childish clothes for the widow's coarse and often squalid garment; she is forbidden to take part in 1 any village festival or family gathering; the very sight of her is regarded as an ill omen. Her natural'woman's instincts are starved into inanition by constant fasts, sometimes prolonged to seventy- 1 two hours. Amid the genial and brightcolored life of the Hindoo family she Hits about disarrayed, silent, shunned, disfigured?in some parts of India a hide- : ously bald object?forbidden all joy and all hope. There are hundreds of "thou- i sands of widows in India who have acquiesced in their cruel lot, They accept with a pathetic faith and resignation the priestly explanation which is giveff to them. They penitently believe that they are expiating sins committed in a past life, and they humbly trust that tneir purifying sorrows here will win a reward in the life to come.?London Standard, i Marriage Customs in Turkey. All weddings in Turkey, among Turks, whether in provinces or cities, are ar- : ranged by old women, and are complicated, tedious affairs. The bridegroom holds fete several days at his home for his men friends, and the prospective bride i at her home with her young friends? girls, of course. The night before the wedding the married women of her acquaintance come and ent the married women's dinner with her, which consists principally, as Sam Weller would ay, of a "swarrv" of leer of mutton au>d trim mings. The next day the bride is taken to the bridegroom's house in a sedan chair, with a retinue of slaves carrying her wedding prc-ents on trays on their heads, covcred with colored tarlatan. The procession is sometimes quite imposing. The bride's female relatives arc also there in the new harem until nightfall and they retire to the r homes, leaving the biide on a sort of throne, veiled. The bridegroom is then admitted, and he h to throw himself at the bride's feet and offer her his wedding present of some handsome jewelry, and b.'g her to raise her veil and sti ike him blind by her beauty. Sometimes he is struck dumb by her ugliness, for he never looks on her face until after the wedding. When a babe is born in any house, there is great rejoicing if it be a boy, le?s if a girl. The wife is proud for awhile; but Turkish women are not good mothers. They are too child-like them selves. Wh n a girl is born to a Sultan they fire seven guns; when a boy, twenty-one. The boys die early, the girl# are more apt to live. This is supposed to be a divine interposition of Providence to prevent too many claimants tc t e throne. Babic9 are dressed like mtimrn es in swuddling clothes for six il 11 ?!.. U?? tmn. lUUUlLLS, 1/J1CU tuc UVJJO mu put/ iu MWUsers, somet'mes in generals' or colonels' uniforms, regularly made. When the Sultan takes a wife no ceremony is considered necejsary more than to present his bride. The new Sultan inherit} nil the widows and slaves of his predecessor, and every year of his reign, at the feast of the Ramazan, he receives a new one from h s mother and takes any other girl or woman to his harem who happens to strike his fancy. Slaves who become mothers are instantly promoted to the rank of Sultana. Six / ;' months before the feast of Hamazan, the Valide Sultana orders that all the young candidates bo brought to her, and she chooses fifteen and sometimes more of the lot. There are immediately put # under diet and training, and at the W ginning of the great feast she again chooses, and this time the choice is ?7. final. Girls arrive at legal majority at nine years of a:*e aud are frequently married at ten. Children of twelve and thirteen are often seen with babies of their own. They are old at twenty-five. The old Turkish women have a hard lot of it. Beyond a respect for ago which they con- V trive to inspire by tooth and nail among younger wives than they, their lives are not happy. Still, they are provided for, and as long as a man lives he feeds his family, one and all alike.?Brooklyn Magazine. TTnahinn VotPIL Velvet is the material for winter bon- * . v*! nets. Black velvet bonnets with white strings are very stylish. The most stylish bonnets of the season have soft crush crowns. Point d' esprit is a lace which will be much worn this season. Plaik neckties make a bit of brightness in little boys' costumes. The Dutch peasant costume is a favor- '? ? ite dress for girls from six to ten years. 'i The plumage of the osprey is very popular for millinery purposes this season. Square and diamond-shaped buttons ; are considered more stylish than round ones. Double revers, extending to the shoulders, appear on some of the new dresses. Plain skirts should be of richer mate rial than that used fof the rest of the -! costume. Canvas, tweed and cheviot are the leading dress materials this season for general wear. " > Brocades in which are woven gold srj? threads are very elegant and stylish for evening dresses. Gray watered silk with black cashmere is a favorite combination for gowns for elderly ladies. . A handsome fichu of tulle and old point lapfi is snrinkled with tiny shells of mother-of-pearl. Silver gilt braclets are very narrow and are set with turquoises after the manner of garnets. "Sackcloth"'is a loosely-woven serge of light weight -which bids fair to become popular, as it drapes nicely. Blavk and yellow in combination has ^ii not been seen in a long time in elegant costumes, but this winter it reappears. Dark red shades aro much used for velvet toilets, and for use with these are passementeries that have red stones in them. Many elegant imported suits are black throughout, or else in combination with white, Suede, green or the brighter or dull red shades. ' There is a marked contrast in gowns of French and English make, the former being much gathered and puffed, the latter plaited and plain. Plaid velvet for petticoats to walking suits are more and more popular as their natty e!Tect is appreciated. The same plaid appears on the bonnet or toque. ChestDut bells of enameled silver, so like the ripe nut that is hardly possible to distinguish them, are worn upon ' ; bangles and keep up a tintinabulatioa with every movement of the wearer. Popular combinations for elegant gowns of satin and velvet are green and b own, or heliotrope and Suede, or two shades of heliotrope, ejreen or brown, the difference in shades often depending merely on the difference of the two materials. 1|j The World's Greatest Railroad. Did you ever stop to think what a great corporation this Pennsylvania Railway is? Of the 12.1,000 miles of railway in the United States it operates 7,000. Of 25,000 locomotives in the country it own9 2,000. Of 750,000 cars of ali kinds 100,000 run on its lines. Its share of the gross earnings of all American railways ?$750,000,000 a year?is ten per cent., ? *1 ?uin nno a week. Everv vear it car Ul jUVWj wvw ? - -WW ries oO,000,000 passengers and 60,000,000 tons of freight, the tonnage being onesixth of the estimated total for all railways in the country. To carry on ita vast operations an array of 80,000 men is employed. Hitherto our Chicago railways have been the most ambitious ia America. The vigorous manner in which they have reached their iron fiDgers out into the West has been simply marvelous. Already at the base of the Rocky Mountains, it is predicted for the Northwestern, the St. Paul and Burlinston? the great trio ?that another dccade will see their locomotives taking drink from the Pacific. 3o rapid are their strides, indeed, that the Pennsylvania must go out into the Woof nnd ronouer new territory, or be soon compelled to yield to another the title of greatest railway in the world.? Chicajo Herald,. An Old Fashion Haired. The old healthful and happy fashion of having one or two wido log fire-places in either hall or library has been revived, says an exchange. An increase in the number of these is noted by architccta and designers, all of whom approve the revival and predict the happiest possible results from the fashion. There is no home delight quite equal on long winter nights to that of watching the great logs no +V.OTT ?inwW l>urn. sendinsr their count US IUVJ .. -J , w less sparks up the chimacy. Where the winter is mild this dreamy pastime is mora or less circumscribed, of course, but in the regions where winter means something more than rain and mist, those who once sit by such a fireside never forget it afterward, and it is, perhaps, not too much to say that they never ars happy without one. A New Jersey man haa been fined $50 for keeping a cow. Tho cow belonged to a neighbor.