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THREE VALENTINES. When she was five, this love of mine, I sent to her a valentine? A frail and fair la?e-paper sheet, Which bore the legend short atid sweet: "With golden hair and eyes of blue; The prettiest girl 1 know is you! She liked the pooru, and, to show it, She kissed the blushing little poet. At fifteeu, this dear love of mine, I eent another valentine? A casket, whose silk-covered lid A nesJ of da'aty bon bons hid. Where lay a card this to repeat, The hard-worked line: "Sweets to the Sweet And I her gratitude could see "When she gave equal shares to me. To twenty grown, th s love of mine, 1 sent her one more valentine? A box whose cushioned surface might Throw out a jewel's starry light. "This, dear, to you. and you to me." A scrap of paper read; and she, To thank me for the sparkling thing, Gave me the baud that wore the ring. ?Toron'o Globe. " TOO LATE." BY A.N.VAKKI. li. WHITE. The light in the parlor was dim, but aot so dim that Koipli Essen could not see the look of iixed agony that Francia Randolph ca<t upon hiui. Her facc was white and drawn, her blue eyes were distended with a kind of horror, her tensely clasped hands were held out to him in mule appeal. Hut he went on, in his cold, unsympathetic voice: 'I ha.e borne with your ;ealous outbursts as long and as pntiiyitlyjis I can. By your insane attack upon me to-day you have brok- n the last link that binds us together. 1 take mvr fieedom. and I! e yon yours." "Kolph, you do not mean it! Take back your cruel words! I do not -want my freedom, and I shall n>t give you yours. Only promise to forgive me, and I will r.f-ver so offend you again!" She fell at his feet abjectly, she clung i to his knees with trembling hand*, she j lifted her streaming eyes to the cold face j abo e her. lie was not a brutal man,! but there seemed something brutal in | the way he took ber hands fron his knees and firmly laid them b ." her side, j ;'lt is useles/to appeal to mo, for your | treatment of me has wearied patience and worn out love. Wc had better part to-day than link our lives together and sejaiate afterwards, creating a scandal, i Now it will simply be a broken engagement, from which we will both quiskly rec ver without scars."' Ki&ncia rose to her foot. ''.ou think that?and of me?" lie leaned hack iu his chair and ga:ed ! at her almost insoleutty. "f think that of you?and of all women. ' There was uever one yet who remained j faithful t<> one love. In a year from now we will both laugh at our present' positiou." "Vou may, but I?never I Iiolph, I \ cannot?cannot you give up! Say that you can forgive me! Say that I shall be (| your wife! Oh, don't you know, dear, I if ! were your wife I should never feel jealous again? i.'on't you know I would serve you on my knees?that I would be your slave:" She approached him once more, leaning upon his shoulder with one hand, anil peering into his impassive face with eyos whose expression he dared not read, lie shook oil her touch impatiently and rose. i i iui^ul us Wv.i go now ana ena iu j I shall leave the city to-night, so it will ; not be worth while for yo i to try toper- j secule mc wiih insane letters. I shall \ not get them.'' He picked up his hat and began finger- i i iag it uneasily, as if to avoid her pas- j! sionate eyes. But she had grown sud- j: dcnly calm. She said no word as he ! moved toward the door. "When he arrived there he stopped. "Will you not say good-by?" I She crossed the room swiftly, and | struck fiercely at his outstretched palm, j "No; I will not saygood-by! Hear ! me for the last time! I have loved you , j long and well. It may be that this part- j ing will kill me, and so I wish to tell ' you that you have done ill to withdraw i your heart from mc, supposing you ever gave it to me. You have done ill to ; permit my worship--such worship as few women can give to fewer men. Never agaiu will you be loved as I have loved you: never again will you have such faith given you as I have bestowed i upon you: Never, never again!" He opened and closed the door rapidly after his retreating form. She moved sluggishly across the room, and fell like a t inh tiT\r\n q artfa "Never, never again!'' She repeated the words despairiuglv, with her lids closed tightly over her hot , eyes, aad her hands throwu rigidly > above her head. "It cannot be that he is gone foreve I It cannot be that he m'.-ans what he i >ays! It cannot be that I ara never to be his wife! Lore, come bjck to me! Love, forgive rae!" Hut vaiu were her imploring words; vain were her bescecliings. If onty love and friendship were not one-sided things! She ro<e and paced the room feverishly. ' .My God, be mcrciful! Turn his heart back to roe! I cannot bear it! I will i be so good and patient with him! I will do anything that he wishes, only bring him back to me!" So she prayed, this girl who believed iu God and man, who had faith in love J *nd friendship. j The days passud and lengthened into weeks There came no word nor sign from Francia's feereunt lover. ;-he had ! to tell her father and mother that the engagement which had existed between her and Rolph lissen was at an end. bhc gave no explanation, and they asked for none. Suddenly brain fever fell upon her. and her life hung in the balance for , weeks When health and consciousness re- , turned to her, girlhood lay behind her j She was trying to gather up her broken ho, es, her dead youth and slain faith, . and wcive tb(4n into a comely garment which she might wear decorously before a critical world. All her friends uow knew that her engagement was "off," j aud 3he seemed to feel the pity, the syin- j pathy and the mockery which were show ercd upon her?behind her back. ' Two years went by. and Francia Randolph was twenty-three. Her mother had the bad taste to giire hcrabirthnighl fch\ The bad ta^te?we write advisedly ' ?for where is the woman who likes to be reminded of her age, even if she still I be young? But to Francia it mattered little, for youth seemed to lie far behind her, and the snows of sixty years se.-mcd to freeze her heart. 'Francia, pray allow me to control j your taste in selecting your dress tonight. Von will never marry if you do not try to throw more ambition into your manner aud more girlish gaycty into your dress. You dress like a nun, except at such times a^ I insist upon the contrary." ' "You miy order any style of dress you choose, mother, and I will wear it; but if you think I shall strive for the admiration of men, you forget. You must know that I shall never marry.u jure, hanaoipn signea: "I think you are foolish to let your broken engagement with Rolph Essen influence your future." ''It does not. Such natures a3 mine live but once, and '' then she bit her lip to control further speech. "13y-the-way, I hear he has returned. I hope you can rnrct him without making a scene. You know your weakness." Francia's lip curled scornfully, then she looked steadily at her mother, who shifted her eyes uneasily. ".My weakness, then, i3 that I love him. Is that what you mean, mother?"' Mrs. Randolph responded faintly: "Yes." "Then conscle yourself, for I neither love uor hate him." Mrs. Randolph said no more, but left tue room wuu a iceung 01 vague uneasiness. "If she would only forget the raau! IIow can I tell whether she loves him or not? IIow can I tell how she will meet him? But meet him she must,poor,passionate-hearted girl! and no one can sustain her." The birthnij'ht fete passed off successfully. Francfa was Tovefy In garnet velvet and crcain satin, and her arms and neck "learned like pink-tiuted marble: but her face wore its usual statuesque coldness?the coldness that had only become habitual since her recovery from her illness. An Englishman was much attracted by her great beauty, but her frigidity repelled him. * "She has no soul. She freezes me." "She is all s -ul. You do not possess the magic key to open the casket," said a friend. The Englishman assented indifferently, and went his way; but fate had marked him. It was during the summer, while the Randolph family were residing at their country home, that Prancia met the man whom she had oncc so madly worshiped, lie came purposely to sec her. "I supposed, Prancia, you had heard of my airival, and I thought I owed it to you to see you oncc more," he said, as * --4 -1 Xl-. J sue eniereu iuu ruum auu uu xust w greet her. "Why?" she asked, looking not at him, but at his card which she had brought with her. She did not take the hand he held out to her. Man of the world that he was, he seemed to become confuscd at her simple query. ' My reason should be ulain to you." "Why?'' she asked again, slowly tearing iuto bits the card in her hand. lie sliifte I his position, then came up to her and laid his fingers on her deStiuetive ones. "Sit down. It is ridiculous for us to go on this way, and I have much to say to you." She freed licr hand from his trembling fingers, and for the lirst time lifted her eves to his. ' I cannot understand what you could possibly have to say to me that would sufficiently interest me to such an exti iit that I should be kept standing long. Do you sit down, I'lit I prefer to stand." lie wet hi-; dry lip-, and at iir-t hi* voi c wa- hu ky, but a - he proceeded it beca re clearer and stronger. "ITrancia, I have come to beg your pardon. You would not give me my freedom when I a ked, or, rather, took it, and now I am glad that you did not. I thought I wa; tir,.d of your love?I thought I could ca ily forget you. I went a; far as to make- love to (Jenic Rennrd, the woman for who e ^ke you so bitterly upbraided me the day we parted; but -he laughed at me, and then I knew liow I had wronged you. I would have k.ir>lr fr\ TTAII tVinn lmf. nriilA W.IQ UUVU W J VU wu* ? ?? stronger than love. I went abroad, meaning-to return in a year, but two year, went by before I could decide what wa< be tformeto do. Now I have ccme back?I a k you to be my wife?I a-k you to love me and forgive any -uffering L may have cau>cd you. He went closer to her, but she put out one hand imocratively. In the other hand the tiny bits of his vi iting card lay in a confu-ed mass. ' Do you think you could piece together this card and make it as spotless, as brilliant, a< perfect, as it was one hour ago?" she asked. His hand closed spasmodically over hers. "Francia, do not torture me? do not be cruel! 1 know that you love me " "Stopshe cried, imperiously, flinging out her hand and scattering the torn card in a white shower over the flojr. "Now I mu*t sneak plainly. Just as impossible as it is" for you to restore the bloom to the grape which you have handled too roughly, just a3 impossible i . for mn f4\ 1 r\\n> waii Onno T urnnM have given my life foi you?oncc I would have been your slave for sweet love's sake. But you outraged my love, and turned my worship to indifference, which is more to be feared than hate. I gave you all?and lost it! And now I have nothing to give you, or any man. Despair ha* darkened my soul, slain my youth, killed joy. and hope,-and faith! Never again will I love! Never again will woman love you as I did; but you threw it away?you trampled it under your feet as if it were something too base for use! And now you stoop to regain it, a-id I tell you it is too late, too late!" Slowing turning, she left him. He stood with his head bent upon his hand for a moment, then he, too, left the room. Too late, for ever too late to win the priceless boon of this "one that was a woman, sir." Five years afterward Francia Randolph married the Englishman. Frederick I.cigh? he who had said she had no soul. She told him she had no love to give him or any other man. 4,I would rathef have your toleration than any other woman's love," he pro icaieu. IJut she was not glad at his answer, for it seemed indeed as if she had lost the power to feel. But as the years'passed her tender affection for her husband became a wonderful thing. If she had lost love, she had gained broader virtue. Who is it that has said: "Love is best of all'" How little ho knew!?Frank Lc.il ie*. A Matter of Weight. \t cording to the Belgian savant, Qu tclet. a man ntta:ns his maximum weiirlit about his f rtieth year, nnri begins lo lose it toward his sixtieth year. A woman, however, docs not attain her maximum weight until her fiftieth year. The weight of persons of the same age in different classes of society also differs. In the atlluent classes the average maximum weight is one hundred and seventytwo pounds, and it is attained at fifty years of age. In the artisan class it is one hundred and fifty-four pounds, attained at forty. Among the laborers it is one hundred and seventy-one pounds, atta:ned at sixty. In the general classes ft i3 one hundred and sixty-four pounds, and it is reached between forty and fi t} years of ai^e. RET. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON. Subject of Discourse: "A Split The oloiiy." Text: "Some on broken pieces of the ^ ship.1'?The Acts xxvii., 44. Never off Goodwiu Sands, or the Skerris, or Cape Hatteras was a ship in worse predicament than in the Mediterranean hurrii cane was the grain ship with 2iV? passengers . driven on the coast of Malta, or Melita five miles from the metropolis of that island, called Citta Vecehia. After two weeks of tempest, and the ship was entirely disabled, and the Captain ana crew wore completly demoralized, au old missionary took command of the vessel. He was small, crooked-back and sore-eyed, according to tradition. It was Faul, the only uus rared man on bonrd. He was no more afrai I of a euro -lydon that could toss the Mediterranean sea to the gates of Heaven, and then sink it to the gates of hell, than ' he was afraid of a kitten playing with a string. He ordei-s them all down to take | their rations, first asking a blessing on their | food. Then he insures all th?ir lives, proin- J ising them complete rescue, ami so far from losing their heads, they would not lose so , much of the hair as you could cut off with I one clip of the scissors. Aye. not a thread of it. whether it ?ere gray with age or gold- i en with youth. "There shall not a hair fall j from the bead tff any of you." Realizing I that they would never be able to reach the j desired haven, they make t he sea, on that ' fourteenth nigfct, biacK witn tneoverinrown cargo, so that When that vessel does strike the ground it may not strike heavily. In the early dawn they see a creek and thaj* resolve to make for it. They cut the cables, take in the paddles which were on the side of those old boats and lift the mainsail so that tho vessel may be driven with great speed, and perhaps on the top of some fortunate billow be lifted high and dry upon , the bt-ach. There she goes tumbling toward the ro.'ks, sometimes prow foremost, sometimes stern foremost?now rolling over to starboard, now rolling ove.- to larboard: and now a great wave dashes over the decks, aud it seems as if the old craft had gone out of sight forever. But un she comes, and Paid with his arm around the mast stands there crying: "All is well; God hath given me all them that sail with me in this ship." Crash! went tho prow against the rocks; with much force the mast falls. Crash! goes the vessel, uutil the waves rush through from side to side. She parts amidships, goes into a thousand fragments, and 276 immortals are precipitated iuto the sea. Some of those passengers had been brought up on the seal>each and had learned to swim, pnd with the chin a little above the angry wave and with the stroke of both arms and the propulsion of both feet they started for tho shore and reached it. But alas for the others. They hav6 never learned to swim, or they have benn wounded by the falling of the mast, or the nervous shock was too great for them, or they have been weakened by long sea sickness. What is to become of thera? "Take that piece of rudder," says, Paul to one, "and head for the bearh.' "Take that fragment of a spar," savs Paul to another. Take that table, lake that image of Castor and Pollux, take that fragment of lifeboat, take anything. Put for the beach." Oh what a struggle in the breakers, or the mercilets waters that dash clear over these poor creatures. Hold on there! Almost a-ihoref Keep your courage up. Remembor what Paul told you. Here they come in, a whole family. As the wave recedes it leaves them in the sand on th bea h. Here comes in tho Centurion on a splinter of the spar. Here comes in a plank freighted with a whole crowd of immortals. Now they are all in, I think. Yes, tbe last one co'nes in, Paul, for he has beeu overseeing all the rest, and as he clambe-s up out. of the surf and wrings the water from Ills gray beard, he cries: "Thank God, all are here." They gather around the fire, for the Bib!e says l'aul built a lire, and the bundle of sticks begin to crackle, and lh9 pas-angers begin to recover from the chill. , and their wet clothe* begin to dry, and warmth and health seem to be coming back into tho bodies of these passengers. Now let P nliln cnQ if IUO [JUI DDI VI tUD 3Uip Ul UUUU uuu ovw 11. any of these poor croaturos are missing. Couut them all up, beginning one, two three and on to 100, and then on to 200, and then on to 27(1,until you have counted them all. See, all are here?27(5. What a relief it is as I read the account: "Rome onr broken pieces of the ship. And so it came to pass that they escapod ail fafe to land." In a previous discourse I examined some of these passengers, but to-day I confine my attention more especially to those who came in on broken pio es of the ship. There is something about them that excites in me an j intense interest. I have notso mu.-h interest in tho-e who could swim. They got ashore. I knew they would. A mile of water is not a very great pull for a strong swimmer; nor are two miles. But those wljo were on the broken pieces of the ship, I cannot stop thinking of them. The great gospel ship is the finest ve-sel that was ever launched, and can carry more passengers than any ship that was ever constructed,and you could no more wreck it than you could wrcck the throne of CJod Almighty. I wish all the i eople would come on board her. I could not promise them smooth sailing all 4-Vi/i trotr r\r* imac if will hA tAIT1 pestuous and a chopped sea; but I do promise safe arrival to all who come on board this Great Eastern?called so by me bocause its commander came out of tha East, and the star of the East was the badge of his authority. But there is a vast multitude wh ? do not take regular passage. Somehow their tlieoloar/ is all broken into pieces, or their lite is all broken into pieces, or thoir worldly or spiritual prospe-ts are broken into pie es. and yet I hope that they will come to the shining shore, for I am encouraged by thj experieuce of tbes9 people In my text?"some on broken pieces of the ship." One object in preaching this sermon is to encourage those who, while they do not adopt all our systems of religion, nevertheless believe some one thing, and I want them to come in on that plank. "Some on broken pieces of the ship." There is a vast multitude of people who are kept out of the kingdom of God bocause they cannot believe everything. 1 know men who are ruining their souls because they cannot make up their minds who Melchi/.idec was not: on tile nonessentials of religion wrecking their immortal hopes. 1 do not underrate the value of a great theological system, but where in the Bible does it say: "Believe in John Calvin and thou shalt be saved;"or. "Believe in Armenius and thou shaltbe saved;" or, "Believe in the Thirty-nine articles an 1 thou shalt be saved." A man may be orthodox and go to hell, or heterodox and go to heaven. Take Jesus Christ into (ho tleep affection of our soul and we are saved. Refuse to take Him into the deep attVtiou of our soul and we are lost. I bel eve in the' Heidelbergh Catechism and the Westminster Catechism, and I wish you all did; but you 8ay believe nothing they contain except at Christ came to save smneis, and that you are one of them,and you will he rescued. If you cannot come in on a great ship, just find a pieie of wood as long as the hu niful dou.v, or a pieuu ui ivWu a..-. outspread human firms, ami if you liod that, either piece is a piece of the cross, come in on that piece. "Some on broken pieces of the ship." I am talking with a man about his soul. Ho has recently been traveling in New England and he stopped over night at Andover. He says to me: I don't become a Christian because I don't think that a man's fate is irrevocably fixed in this world. I th'nk there is such a thing as repentance after death." "My brother," I say to him, " what is all that to yon ? Do not you realize that a inan who, in tho hopa that there may bs a chance after death, gives np a good chance l>efore death is a stark fool? Do not you realize it is imbecility for a mnn to refuse to come ashore ,lon a plank that is thrown him before death becauso he hones there will, bv invisible hnnd*. be a plank thrown him art"r death? Do as you please, my brother, but since 1 am oTored pardon for all my sins now. and offered all the joys of time and eternity now, I accept them instantly becau e I do not want to depend on a elmr.ce which some wise men tliink they can peel off or twist out of a Scripture passage which, for all the Christian centuries has been internreted another way." Rut, says a man: "I don't belie v? in Princeton theology, or New Haven theology, or in Audover theology." My brother. J do not ask you to go on board of either of those men-of-war, their portholes filled with the great siege guns of ecclesiastical battle. Come in on the gospel plank and strike out for the pcarlstrimg beach of Heaven. "Some on broken pieces of the ship." 1 am talking with another man about his soul and he savs: "I don'r. become a Christian because I doa't know about the do-: trine of election and free agency; thosi) doctrines mix me all up." There was a tinv> when Iwas bothered about those things, but I am no longer bothered absut to.em. I have settled them in this way: I have mado up my mind that if I love Christ and. live an honest and useful life I am elected to bo saved, and if I do not love Christ a <d live n bad life I am elected to be dam-lied, and all the theological institutions of the universe cannot make it any different. I once floated on that sea of sin and doubt farther out than the 27C passenders on the fourteenth night when the}' threw the grain overboard: but I heard nif the mere;' of (rod through Jesus Christ for a sinner, and I came in on that plank, and T have been warming mvsolf br the great; genial firu of Hospel comfort and Gospel hope for three decade:;. lam talking with another man about him soul. He says: "I dou't become a Christian because I don't l-elieve there any helL" Ah! dovou not.' Do you believe that peo? -11 J _ m *9 {no oi an ueuei* uuti ui iju utjiico, oi gwn morals anil of tail morals, go straight to a haopy Heaven? Do the holy and the debauched have the same distinction? In a hallway at midnight, the burirlar meets the house-owner, and they both fire and are both wounded. The burglar instantly dies. The house owner suffers on for a week and expires. Does the burglar stand at the gate of Heaven to welcome in the home-owner when lie comes up, ami say: "I bait you a whole weak into Heaven ?'' Do the libertines and the debauched go nmid the families of H<\iven? I wonder if Herod is on the banks of the River of Life plavlng with the children whom he massacred. Lwondor if Charles Guiteau ami John Willfes Booth are in glory shooting at a mark! 1 will not controvert tlise thories just now, but will say in rrissing that for such a m; sera bin and terrific Heaven I have no admiration. But where is the Bible passage that says: "Be1 eve in perdition and lesavedf" Because all are Roing to b? saved according to your theory are you discharged from the duty of loving and serving Jesus Christ? Benauso, according to your theory, all theo'hers are going ashore do, yen refuse to go ashore? Because you have different theories about chemistry, about astronomy, about ttie atmospnere, no i you refuse action? Because you have a different the Ty about light, do you refuse to open your eyes? Bo:ause you have a different' theory about atmosphere, do you refuse to breathe? Because you have a different theory about the stellar system, do yon refuse to acknowledge the North star? Because you have a different theory about religion, do you refuse to act? If you cannot come in on a ship fashioned in tho theological drydocks, come in on a pluuk. "Some on broken uiwtes of the ?!"*? " 1 am talking with anothor man about his soid. He says: "Oh, I don't believe in revivals." Then, my brother, go to your room, ]o k the door and all nlone give your heart to God and join s >me church where the thermometer never rises about fifty in the shade! "But I don't believe in baptism." Then come into the Kingdom of Hod without it, and settle that ordinance afterward. "But there ar;> so many inconsistent professors of religion." Then come in. and by your example show what a professor ought to be. "But I don't believe in the Old Testament." Come in on the new. "But 1 don't likn the book of Romans." Come on Matthew and Luke. Your refusal to come to Christ, whom you admit to be the Savior, because you cannot believe everything, n akos me think of a man who. out in tho Mediterranean hurricane, just off the island of Melita, should refuse to go ashore until he can get tho whole ship fixed up, until he can make up his miud where all these loose planks belong. He says: "I'm going e.-liore when I can get that windlass iu the right place, and this keel piece where it belongs, and all these ro"es disentangled and this mast s^t upwhen I get everything shipshape theu I'll come ashore. Why, I'm an old sailor for forty years I know all ab>nl; a shio. anH when I get tho ship just right I'll come in.' Here is a man floating on a plank and he hears it and he says: "My friend, you will drown out here if you wait til you get that ship reconstructed. Bettor do as I am doing. I know nothing about a ship. I never saw one till I got. aboard that one. I can't swim a stroke, but I am coming in on this shivered tiinl>er." The man that _ ? ii _i ? i- - 1 ?ri.? comes in on ine piamc iy mveu. iuo man who stays out in tie ifliing to mend the old ship is lost. Oh, my brother, let your smashed up theology go to the bottom while you came in on a splintered spar. "Some on broken pieces of thoship." I think?for I am not talking on abstraction?there are a thousand men in this house this morning in just the mood and mental condition that I am now sneaking of, and I have been asked * this lust week over and over again about this and about that and about the other, ar.d lam told everyday of iny li:fe almost: "I can't adopt the whole system of re igion, I can't believe all you believe and therefore I can't lecome a Christian:" so I am speaking at a tremendous practicality?let me say, my brother, you will probably get your difficulties settled the way Garibaldi, the magnetic Italian, got his gardens made. When the war broke out between Austria an:l Sardinia, Garibaldi was living at Caorera, a rough, uncultured island hime. He went forth with his sword to achieve tho liberation of Sicily and Naples, and he gave to 9,000,000 of people free government under Victor Emanuel. After two y ears' absence in the war Garibaldi came back to his island home and as he approached it he found that Victor Emanuel as a matter of surprise had Edenized the whole place. Trimmed shrubbery in place of thorny jungle. Beautiful gardens and terraces in place of barrenness; and instead of the old rookery where he once li ved there was a picturesque mansion where he passed the rest of lais days iu ease and luxury. Oh, my brother, come under tho standard of our Victor Emanuel and follow Him through thick and thin, and fight His battles and endure His sacrifices, and you will find that your heart has been changed from a jungle of thorny scepticism into a garden abloom with luxuriant joys such as vou never dreamed of?from a Caprera of sadness and desolation into a very Paradisa of God. I do not know how | your theory waut to pieces. Perhaps your father and mother starteu you on a pia,nic, they having ns religion t^at amounted to much of their own. Or perhaps your parents were too severe and rigid and cracked you over the head with a psalm book. Perhaps you had a busines? partner who was a. member of the church aud he played on you a very mean trick, and over since you have been disgusted with religion. Perhaps you have imidel a3>ociats who are every day talking against Christianity until you are all at sea, and you think more of what you do not believe thau of what you do believe. In oni respect you "are like Lord Nelson, who wished in battle to disregard a certaiu signal, and ha put hisisea glass to his blind eye and said: "1 don't; see any signal that you speak of." Oh, instead of patting this field glasi of the gospel to your blind eye aud ?ayiug "I can't see," put it to your other eye, the eye of faith, and you will see Christ, and seeing Him, you see all. Whatever you believe or do rnt believe, you certainly b> lievo in vicarious sulfering, for you see it overy day arou id you in some shape. Last month the steamship Knickerbocker, cf the Cromwell line, plying between New Orleans and here, got in a great storm, aud tho Capsain saw that the schooner Mary D. Cranmer, of Phila le'.phia, was goingou the recks; so the chief o.licer, the first olHcer of tho steamship aud four men put out in a lifeboat to help the schooner. Tdey catna up near where the sehoouor was and a hawser was thrown t) the bjat, the scluoner was s to a red away, towed away from the rocks. Theu the wind shifted aud the schooner was iu ?* 4.? r>..*. ~1. ? fima (jcneui, saioij". uuo vu, ?? uuu u. *?...? those five men had iu going to the st.amer. Tue boat capsized ami was righted. The sailors wero all coated with the ice. Three times the boat capsize ! aad three times was righted. After a while it came quite near the steam ship, and from the steamship a rope was throwu, but the poor fellows were so frozen and exhausted they could not gra^p it, and a great wave rolled over them aad they went down, never to rise until the sea gives up it's dead. Oh, we admire the heroism and "ho self-sacrifice of those brave fellows in order to save the lives of others, and can wo not admire the love of Christ, who put ou1; into a fiercer gale, a wilder tempest, to deliver us from peril and set us on tho throne of eterna satety f A wave or human hate rolling over Him from one side and a wave of hellish fury rolling over Him from the other side. Oh, the thickness of the nighc ami the thunder of the tempest into which Christ plunged to save us?us. Come in on that narrow plank of thy cro-;s. Coine iu on that narrow beam. J.efc all else go. Cling tj that. Tut that under you, that narrow beam of the cross, and with tho earnestness or a swimmer struggling for his life, put for tho bva h of Hmven. A gnat warm flro is already k mil od to welcome you, an I some who were as far out at sea as you are, ars already staudius iu its genial and Heavenly glow. The angels of (iod's rescue are wading down into the surf to clutch your hand and the redeemed prodigals of Heaven J are coming down with white robes to clothe all those who come "on broken pieces of the , ship." My sympathies are the more aroused for those to whom I am speaking to-day, be- ' cause I myself was uaturally sceptical. I . questioned everything about this life and about the next life, and I was farther out at I sea tuau me eiv passengers uu iuu luunueuuu , night when they threw their grain overboard: and 1 was the annoyance o? ray theological 1 professor because i asked so mauy questions. tiut I heard that Christ caaie to save sinners, and I knew I was one of them, and I came ashore, and I have been there ever siuce, ( and I do not propose to put out on that sea again. I would not risk it all. I have not in the last thirtv veara spent thirty minutes in discussing i /lAnfrnworfarl t^infa nP roli'ffinn and I I < shall not for the rest of my lifo spend thirty seconds in discussing the controverted points of religion. I would rather in a canoa go out and dare the worst cyclone that ever swept up from the Carribean, than trust my- ' self in a discussion so useless, so dangerous and so destructive, in which mauy of iny theological brethren are indulgiug. They make me think of a group of sailors on Ramasate Pierhead, from which lifeboats are usually launched, coolly discussing the different styles of oarlocks, and how a boat ought to set in the water, and discussing coolly the laws of navigation fthen there is a hurricane in full -blast and three steamers laden with passengers going to pieces in the ofling. A jack tar, hi3 face twitching with nervous excitement, says: "My lads, this is no time to discuss such things. Man the life-boat. Who will man the pier? Out with her into the surf. Full away for the wreck, my lads, pull, pull! There we have them. Lay them down in the bottom of the boat. Now, Jack, try to bring them to. Wrap the u up warm in these flannels, while I pull for the beach. God help me! God help us all! There's land! Huzzahi Saved! All ofthem!" Oh,when i thore are thousands and tens of thousauds out in the awful surf of siu anl death and j hell, out with the lifeboat. I'^et all else go i for this one effort of salvation?salvation j for time, salvation forever. I bethink myself of the fact that in this audience there [ are those who becau-e of their opportunity, . or because of their peculiar life, have made wreck, complete wreck. You started lire with a fair prospect. You promised a peaceful, bright and beautiful voyage, but you have sailed in tbe wrong direction, or you have founderod on the rocks, so there is only a fragment of time left. Come in on that plank. " Some on broken pieces of the ship." "Oh," you tell me, " I am all broken up; w decade of my life gone, two decades gone, three decades gone, four decades gone, perhaps half a century gone, perhaps three-quarters of a century gone. The minute hand and tha hour hand of your clock of life are almost parallel, and it will soon be twelve o'clock and your day of grace ended. All discouraged are you? I admit it is sad enough to give to sin anl the devil the best part of our lives, and then at the close make God the present of a ilrst rate corpse. You can never come in on that old ship: it has eone to pieces. You can never recall the past; it has gone forever. If there is only a fragment of a year left, or a fragment of a montb.or a fragment of a week, or a fragment or a rtay, or a fragment of an hour, come in on that plauk. Perhaps when you get to heaven God may let you go out on some great minion to some otner world, partially to atone for your lack of service in this. From how many deathbods I have seen hands thrown up in declarations something like this: "My life has been wastad: I have good tnlenls; I had flue sqcial position; I had grand opportunities, but through worldliness or neglect, all are gone except these few remaining moments I now accept Christ and I shall thrcugh His mercy enter Heaven. But alas! alas! when I might have sailed into the haven of eternal rest with a full cargo, anil been greeted by the waving hands of a great multitude in whose salvation I had taken a blessed part, I must confe^, that I go into the harbor of Heaven "on broken pieces of the shia " TEMPERANCE. Water is Better. It was a street-car conductor on a bitter cold day lately who delivered the following temperance tecture by way of relating a bit of experience: ,lI stayed on a car a whole day some years ago with the thermometer fourteen degrees below zero. One driver was all that kept on the line with me. The rest all changed off. Of course we had hot coffee now and then. I never want any whisky such days. They may say Vhat they like about its being warming. I know better. Cold water i3 a long way ahead of it, for whisky loses its effect quick such days, and then you arc worse than you would be without it."?Buffalo Express. T71Io nr (lal/inn Fully half the police nnd judicial machinery of our cities is occupied in dealing with the evils which are produced directly by the saloon. The cost to society is enormous, but when n nation makes an institution of the saloon it must be prepared to pay rouudly for all tho accessories in the shape of prisons, and police forces, and courts, and insane asylums, and workhouses. The prosperous taxpayer, who grumbles at the levies made upon him, may be thankful that his bank account securcs him at least partial freedom from the worst products of the saloon. The poor mechanic, whose narrow earnings compel him to accept the life of the tenement house, cannot shelter himself in the same way. He may be a temperate man himself. He may be a Christian, lie may be desirous of raising his family respectably, ancl of keeping them untainted. But the polluting contiguity which poverty compels makes him an * 1 ?~ J -11 lavoiuumrv WIIUU33 uuu uuuiiui ui tin the brutalities and obscenities provoked by drink in the most depraved of his neighbors, and he cannot keep from the eyes aud ears of his wife 01 daughters sights and sounds which in themselves constitute infection. 'I Iris it is not only its frequenters that the saloon injures. Its corrupting influence spreads far beyond the ostensible range of its activity, and its deadliest work is doubtless often effected among simple creatures who have not entered its doors.?Atlantic Monthly. "Poor Papa!" The ether evening the little daughter of a rich man was paying a visit at a neighbor's and the respective mothers were talking of physical ailments and their remedies. Aflcr a while the little girl saw an opportunity to make a re- j mark. ' Mv nana." she said, "always drinks wliiskv whcu lie is sick." Then she stopped for a minute, her eyes softened and saddened, and she continued slowly: "And poor papa is sick nearly all the timc.'V-Youth's Tanperance Banner. The S'tn estimates that the people of New York drink 0.000,000 barrels of beer annually. The dealers pay *13.40 per barrel,and deal it out at, at least, 100 per cent, profit. At that rate the beerbill of the city is |7G,e00,000 a year. Think of it, you who drink of it. Alcohol is Our Worst Enemy. The following is from Dr. W. H. Draper's address to the Now York Academy of Mcdicinc: "I cannot forbear to * say a word in regard to what seems to mc one of the most important changcs in medical opinion and practice growing j f..i ..u.i.'iiA JUb Ui lillfliu SUiCIltlllU UUSCI VUtlUU Ul the effects of articles of diet in health ^ and disease. I allude to the present aspect of professional judgment on the al- * cohol question. I believe I am speaking within bounds when I say that the ma- * jority of thoughtful phvsicans who have ^ studied carefully the effects of what is regarded as the moderate as well as the i immoderate use of alcoholic beverages are persuaded that as foods, excepting < I ossibly in the febrile state, their value has been largely overestimated, and that ' in the norma) condition "of the body they are not only quite unnecessary to the maintenance of healthy ] nutrition, but are always more or less baneful in their effects. That they 1 add, a? Matthew Arnold has said, to the * l agreeablcness of life, that their use is universal, that through their stimulating r influence upon the nei^ous centres they ] have been potent factors in the progress of civilization, and that they are of inestimable value as stimulants and anasthetics, are considerations entirely apart ' from the facts concerning them which 1 are especially interesting, namely, their ? ettects upon nutrition; tnat tnc:c are ' harmful and deteriorating to such a de- 1 grce a3 to constitute the most powerful 1 cauce of physical degeneration at the 1 day, there can, I think, be no question. 1 The drift of professional opinion in this 1 country and in Europe is surely tending toward the restriction of their use as articles of diet, and simply for the reason 1 that they are the determining cause of 1 many functional derangements and * structural degenerations. A Killing Pace. Moderate drinkers engaged in pursuits ' calling for judgment and accumen, and 1 who use liquors during business hourq, 1 end, with scarcely an exception,as financial wrecks, however successful they may be in withstanding the physical ' consequences of their indulgence. Thousands who retain their health and are never ranked as victims of intemperance lose their property, wreck their business, and arc thrown into bankruptcy * * i-' 1* 1- ? 1? ? A- _ J 1 Because 01 tippling nauics uuring dusi- i ncss hours. Liquor acts on the brain in i the same manuer as chloroform or ether, producing a stimulation which affects cool thought, followed by a depression corresponding tothenmount of the dose. Moderate drinkers who attempt to d? business with evea slightly excited brains are the men who are all the time 1 making losses and going to the wall. It is to the thousands of moderate drinkers who are never seen intoxicated or overcome with liquoi that our remarks especially apply. These men decline to become teetotalers, but they can easily adopt a habit of total abstinence during business hours. If they do not possess enough power of self-denial to keep from tippling during business hours, the sooner thoy retire from business the better for them, for they are on the sure road to defeat.?Chicago Tribune. The Lesson of the Railway. ' The great railroad corporations of the country have all placed a temperance plank in their commercial platform, as far as their road emnloves are concerned. When steam was first used for locomotion the loss of life and property occasioned by the drinking habits of train men far exceeded that from all other causes combined. As the business of the railway grew the necessity for sober men became greater. At first, forbidding drunkenness while on duty was deemed a sufficient restriction. This half way measure was not sufficient, for some day a tippling engineer or switchman would commit an excess and a fresh disaster wouid be added to the already long list. Gradually, but surely, the companies have been forced into adopting the only really effective method to protect their patrons and property, and total abstinence is now an invariable rule on every line of importance. All the great systems running out of New York, and those of the West and South, have adopted a purely prohibitory policy for the men immediately employed in running tbeir trains. For odc of them to be kuown to indulge in a single glass of anything that will intoxicate bring3 prompt dismissal, with little chance of re employment. It cost a vast sum in loss of rolling-stock, damages to crippled passengers, to say nothing of the deathroll, before theso great carrier concerns solved the drink problem as it affected their business. They have learned now that it pays to have sober men in charge of their engines, at the bell-rope, and in the signal tower. There is not the slightest possibility of the total abstinence rule being relaxed, for in it alone is their absolute safety from accidcnts that may b? occasioned by a fuddled l:rain or unsle dy hand. What an example for employers and employes in every department of labor! With all its unavoidable dangers the life of a railway i until has the golden maxim: -'Drink not at all" as the primary essential to success Temperance Notes. ITale and Bullock counties, Alabama, have just joined the prohibition procession. A custom with P. T. Barnum is to advise every mau who has a wife to give ; her a signed temperance pledge as a New Year's gift. The Pacific Medical Journal says: "A ?i.:.w -.viil pnmmit murder onlv rV II 13 ft. J UUUttV/l ?*?' VV.? ? ? y under tlie direct excitement of liquor; a beer drinker is capable of doing it in cold blood." statistics show tlint in Belgium the , consumption of intoxicating liquors is five time* greater than that of Germany. , Though one of the most densely-peopled , and busy countries of the world, Belgium , plays but an insignificant part in the drama of international polit'cs. ????? RELIGIOUS READING. Coant the Mercies. /Otuit the mercies! count the mercies I Number all the gifts of love; Ceep a faithful daily reccrd Of the mercies from above. jook at all the lovely green spots In life's weary desert way; rhink how many cooling fountains PltAnii <m?m tlAAt*fa AO/tk HflV V/UOCI UUi laiuuug uooi uo vauu Jount the merc:es! count the mercies! Sea them strewn along our way. ?ount the mercies, though the trials Seem to number more each day; yount the tria's, too, a? mercies, Add them to the grand arrcy. ["rials are God's richest blessings, Sent to prompt our upward flight; is the eagle's nest?all broken Makes them fly to loftier height, 3ount them merc.'ei! count them mercies f That bring Heaven wi hi n out sight. Let us number all our jewels, Let us estimate their worth; uet us lhank the graciou? Giver, Stie.ung blessings o'er the earth; [<et our hear: 8 o'erflow with gladness, Let us tell the winders o'er, rill our multiplj ing treasures ? Seem a countless, hoardless store. rhen let praises, grateful praises. Ba our language evermore. . "Chooie Yon This Day." Discussion often appears useless because it seems to do nothing but confirm prejudices and deepen previous iinprei>lious. In all moral matters, however, ihere is au influence at work which will nevitably determine results, without my regard to the question as a mere natter of discussion. This ought to be a strong tower for every One wno sees that he is fighting a battle against odds. Whatever may be the odds, the issue is certain, for the nature of things is such hliafr iilfimntn mAral rrf\f\f\ nonnftf Ha '""v ? ? ittained except in the right way. If, therefore, in contending for the truth t?e find our efforts apparently vain and fruitless, we are certain that defeat caa bring no possible disadvantage, except to those who suffer from not being in the right way. In times of prosperity, when the church includes much wealth and social power, it appears ko be useless to argue i against luxury, display, entertainment and pleasures which are not only god' less, but morally dangerous and deteriorating. We are told that clergymen would drive whole families into other religious connections if they were to attempt to deal thoroughly with the manners and customs of their parishioners. Now, if the clergy or the people are not faithful in saying and doing just what is right and true and pure in the matter of society and its habits, the result is just as certain as the movements of the solar system, whatever may be the result of arguments pro and eon. They cannot possibly have two things that are contradictory, they cannot have God and mammon, they cannot have peace and dissipation, they cannot have voluptuous amuscmenia unu noiy uvjuy. iuujr wuj succeed perfectly in proving to their own. satisfaction that the opposition of worldly pleasures is narrow, bigoted, puritanical and extremely uupleasant But this will not alter the conditions in the least. Like all the rest to the world, the church is compelled to choose, and the result of this choice will settle the question as an argument. If it chooses"* ; the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, the pride of life, then it chooses that which is not of the Father, but of the world. It will have an abundant supply of good things, but it will be sadly lacking in the one thing needful. It may shine with many dazzling lights, ? but it cannot glow with the light of the Son of Righteousness. It may wield imperial power and have all learning ana an geuius xur us aciviica, yet it will be utterly destitute of that power which nlone can redeem a sinner and regenerate his soul. It is precisely the same ease with all our discussion in regard to the observance of the Sabbath. Wc may not be successful in making others see as we do, in regard to the duty of keeping the Lord's day holy to him. Practically, however, this question must settle itself in every life and in every community. Peoplo are compelled to choose between two thingi, for it is impossible to have both. They cannot have a Sunday of gossiping newspapers, silly novels,idle pleasuring, social visiting, and also a Sunday of i divine worship, profitable occupation, restful abstinence from daily work and pleasures. They cannot ignore a the sacredness of half the day without losing half its benefit, and especially in our busy world, without excluding the most favorable opportunity for spiritual , | improvement and benevolent effort. It - s matters not how we argue on the Sunday ^ question, the result will be the same always. Those who keep the Lord's dny ? will have the benefit and blessing. Those who do not, cannot have these things, and the loss is all their own. This principle prevails in regard to " j many other matters, intellectual as well as moral, which have been the subject of animated discussion during the year just ended. We cannot settle matters , by our arguments. They arc in a great degree settled for us in spite of all our arguments. In the issues of life -3 God co i.pels us to recognizc what is true and essential. He gives us the power pf choice and so arranges th it we cainot cbtain the ultimate good un'ess we n fun; the evil. "We may argue as we ' will that the evil is not evil, but in his own way and time he teachrs.-r-iV. T. Observer. 1'apeb pipes for water and gas have " been exhibited in Vienna. They are rolled from sheets of paper, and coated on the inside with an enamel of secret composition. In finding the paper is 1 nn/1 fViA ninA DUancu in moiicu no^uaiu, uuu iug ^iwu 13 painted outside with asphalt varnish,* and dusted over with sand. It is claimed that such a pipe will resist * some 2,000 pounds internal pressure, although the material is only about half an inch thick. *