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V / . = " ' ' THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. There's many a nobleman dwells in a cot, The palace holds many a clown; And princes have beds of the tamarind bark, While beggars have couches of down. Brave kings are in cotton, serfs glory in Bilk, While slaves like an emperor show; For the worth of a title is stamped on the heart, But the world doesn't look at It so. Here misers ore prodigally flinging their gold To spendthrifts who hoard in their wake; There mumbles a rake in the gown of a priest To a priest in the garb of a rake. Sweet saints they are living in hovels of sin And sinners in Sanctified Row; "The heart in the breast is the only true test? But the world doesn't look at it so. "There are generals lying in graves unmarked Ana privates wita monuments grana; The ignorant stalk in the chambers of state, But the quiet mind ruleth the land. A shadow divergent each object of earth O'ercasts from one sun in the sky; And fancies are many as beings have birth, But the one God ruleth on high. So I laugh at that title; that's only a sham, And at caste?but a silver-washed plate Stuck upon the door cf a tenement grand, Belonging to nature's estate. Its inmates are constantly changing and pass Each year out of sight, like the snow, Whose going but stirs up the filth of the streat; And the Almighty will look at it so. ?Arkaneaw Traveler. THE COMPANY'S MONET t(Good-by, old fellow, good-by. I trust you will have a good voyage, if you must start in such beastly weather," I said, as I shook hands with Hugh Greyham, the truest friend I have in the world, and saw him go out into storm And night. He was to take the steamer early the next morning for Liverpool, and I felt a little uneasy at his going in the worst days of severe February. My wife drew up her chair close by mine, lighted my pipe, and said: "Now, George, that he has gone, suppose you tell me that little yarn you promised, about the time you and Hugh had such a quarrel." All right, I said, it was this way. You know what sort of a man my father was, Ellen?hard, cold, money loving, bigoted. One naturally wants to speak of one's parents with reverence when they are lying in their graves, but?well, let that pass. I did not lbve my father, -simply because I did not?so we'll just leave the matter there. My mother died the day I was born, so of her I knew absolutely nothing. A few years after her death my father married again. Do you know that people have a habit of speaking disparagingly of stepmothers? I cannot understand it. Mine was an angel. She was a fair, stout woman, and sometimes, even now, I covet the rest and peace I used to feel with my poor little head laid on her bosom, with her soft arms about me. God bless her forever! Many a cold night -when my relentless father for some trifle has sent me up to my bleak room supperless to bed has this sweet woman stolen after me, and folding me in her warm arms has sung me to Bleep. She loved me sincerely, poor hapless boy that I was! I think I atjored her. Well, she made my father educate me and give me my training in pharmacy; 80 when he died I was twenty-two years old and a drug clerk on a very small salary. My father was supposed to be not rich, but very comfortable. And so he . was, but on reading his will we found the bulk of Ms property given to charity ?myself entirely ignored and my sweet mother left a paltry $7000 to recompense her for more than a score of faithful yearswith him! Well, she didn't complain?not she; she only said: j ill ????? "Ueurgie, ucai, itcu wine vui nciw -thousand and fight our way through life together." "We moved to a city further south. I bought out a business in a poor part of the town and went to work. The city grew gradually toward us and you know the rest. I prospered always and we were very happy. We lived just for each other and she managed our modest home. It was a home with an angel in it, and Again I say, God bless her. After I had been in business about five years I met Hugh Grey ham. He is an Englishman, you know, and had come to this country to look after some investment made in real estate by a syndicate in London. I liked him from the first and mother and he becamc the best of friends. He often left his elegant hotel to spend a week with us and declared he was happier there than anywhere else. In the fall of '86 he was making us jost such a visit, and one night we all three at up very late talking. I was in especially good spirits because I had in my cash box a clean $3000 to take to the bank the next day. Hugh had also in his pocketbook $1500, but as he said, he was 4'not feeling1' so awfully good, as it belonged to his company and not to him 11 T T Ben. x remeoiuei nuuui uuc u um mother drove us off to bed. The next morning I was aroused out of a deep sleep by Hugh. He looked anxious and excited. "Why, what is the matter, old boy?" I asked, hardly awake. "George I have been robbed in the aight?my "hunting watch is gone, and, - God help me, the company's money too!" " Gracious heavens 1" was all I could - say as I sprang up and got into my clothes with all possible dispatch. Well, a3 you may imagine, we went into an exhaustive search?upstairs and down?everywhere. Then we called in the police. Not a trace?not a track could we find. ' Window locks, door locks, all unharmed. What could it mean? Four days we devoted our best energies to this affair, and at the end of that time was as far off as ever. On the fourth night I had a splitting headache and had to go to bed, but Hugh and mother sat up later, as usual. The next morning I went down to breakfast feeling much better and eager to begin search again. Mother and Hugh were at the table. I kissed her as usual and said a hearty ''good morning" to him. He nodded slightly and immediately got up and went out. I looked at mother for an explanation. Her eyes were full of tears and her whole expression was unutterably sad. "Mother," I said, "don't be so distressed. We must find Hugh's things. Don't give up." "We have found them, Georgie," she said very sadly. "You have," I exclaimed. "Do tell L me where, where?" L "Oh," she said, "I found them late last night where the?the?careless person! must have dropped them." ' A red flush covered her face. Was my* mother telling an untruth? I questioned1 her closely, but got little satisfaction in-, deed. She evaded my questions. I felti a little hurt at her want of confidence, i but I went to work and tried to forget it all. j Later in the day I learned that Hugh had gone West without a word of fare-, well. ! And now followed the most unhappyweeks of my life. My dear mother was entirely kind and gentle with me; even,. 1 x. aA 1 pernaps, more anecuonaie man usuai. But there was something between us. I could not tell what, but something. And she! the most cheery brightest woman in the world?she seemed utterly oppressed with sorrow. My heart ached over it all,; but what could I do ? Lo, the weeks went on, gloomy enough, and two months had' passed when I was startled out of my sadness by a sudden misfortune which occurred to myself. I had drawn $1300 from the bank to pay a bill for drugs, and for the night placed it for safe keeping in a small escritoire in my bedroom, of which I always kept the key in my vest pocket. (You see, little lady, in those days I was a spoony fellow, and this was the sacred depository of your letters.) < On going to the escritoire the next morning I found it securely locked, but on opening it the money was missing., The house had been robbed a second time. i I ran to the breakfast room with my bad news, and there sat my mother, with the old bright, jolly look on her dear face, looking perfectly happy and contented. I was delighted to find the sadness and gloom gone, but alas! I must tell my direful news. "Mother," I said, "mother, I've been robbed! My money (you saw me put it away last night, didn't you?) is all gone!" I thought she would utter an exclamation of distress, or surprise at least, but: what did this unaccountable woman do? She got up, led me to the sofa and pulled 1 J J T 1 J my neau uuwu yu u? uiuuu suumuu, u she had done a hundred times in my childhood days, and kissed my forehead and eyes, and then, with a sort of tender humility, kissed my hand. "Oh, Georgie, my boy, my own boy," she said, "I've got a story to tell you. Don't say one single word, only listen, my darling. Oh," she exclaimed suddenly, "these miserable, miserable, miserable weeks, when I thought?but let me tell my tale. You know, dear, last October Hugh lost his watch and money and we all tried so faithfully to find them. Well, I was worried nearly to death about it all. I hardly slept an hour at night. On the fourth day, you remember, you received a letter from Ellen, and ( as a man was waiting to see you in the store, you handed me your keys and said: 'Mother, please put her letter away for me.' I took the keys, but being myself very busy at that moment, did not put the letter in the desk just then; but that night, after you retired, I unlockod the little escritoire, ana tnere m your own i most private drawer lay Hugh's watch and money! And he was standing near and saw it, too. Georgie, dear, don'l say a word, not a word just yet; hear it all, my boy, before you open your lipe. I < was stunned for a moment, then I fell on my lcnees at Hugh's feet. I said: 'Have mercy. , Oh! please have mercy on my poor boy,'and he, looking so shocked and sad, said: 'For your faithful sake, dear madam, no one shall ever know this but you and I.' . . "You know what followed, Georgie? how I went about heart-broken, and all day long, and all the long nights, the horrible thought kept dinning in my head: 'Your boy.is a thief! Your boy is a thief!' and yet I loved you Georgie, all through, my boy?all through. "Well, yesterday you had a great deal to do and were very tired in the evening. After dinner I told you to lie down and rest. In two minutes you were fast asleep. I sat reading and occasionally looking at . you, thinking how profoundly you slept. After a while, still with your eyes fast closed and evidently fast asleep, you got up and started out of the door. I followed. You went to your bedroom, unlocked your escritoire, took out your money, went down to the next floor and, without stopping, on down into the cellar. You know I keej? a few stores there, and had yesterday (with your help) put in a barrel of new apples. You went to this, lifted the top, and most carefully took out about a dozen, then, just as carefully, put your roll of money into the barrel and covered it again with the apples. Then, very slowly, you turned around, walked up the steps and sitting room, lay down on the sofa and resumed your nap as quietly as if nothing had happened. Well, I ran back, locked the cellar door and took a seat by your side and cried my heart out for very joy, like the silly goose that I am. "It was all explained now. You did steal Hugh's watch and money, Georgie, but you did it as unconsciously as if you had been dead when it was done. Oh! this has been certainly the happiest morning of my life," and she began anew to weep and laugh over me in the tenderest and most absurd fashion. "But, mother," I said, "seeing is believing. Let's go and find the money." "We went. It was all there?just a little soiled from cellar dust and apple juice. Well, mother wrote a long letter to Hugh, and he came and ate his Christmas dinner 'with us, and was almost as .opIa/3 lionnw flfl WAfl hilt whAn we went upstairs to bed he laughed and said: "Shut your eyes, old fellow, until I hide my watch," and since then we have no end of jokes about my sleep-walking. My pretty young wife looks up with a pair of anxious blue eyes. "But, Georgie," she says, "this is dreadful! You are liable* to walk any night and get into all sorts of trouble." "No, indeed," I say, "I will never walk in my sleep again." "But how will you help it, Georgie?" "Why, haven't I just engaged a pair of white arras to hold mo tight?" She got up, drew back the. curtain, and remarked in a c.-isual manner that "it was raining very hard, indeed."? New York Graphic. Great Britain's Largest Tree. Great Britain's largest tree is the Cowtfecrpe oak, in Yorkshire, believed to be some 1500 years old. In the seventeenth ccntury, before some of its projections were covcred by a heaping up of the earth, it was seventy-eight feet in circumference at the ground, and its branches overshadowed half an acre. It is now a ruin, with a hollow in its trunk in which at least forty people may stand.?Trenton j (xV. J.) American. ^ 1 f .? v:. '' rtV-* [ EEY. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUN DAY SERMON. Subject: The Earthquake. (Preached at St. Paul, Minn.) Text: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved."?Acts xvi., 31. * Jails arc dark doll, damp, loathsome places even now; bat they were worse in the apostolic times. I imagine to-day we are standing in the Philippian dungeon. Do you not feel the chill? Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who for ton years j have not seen the sunlight, and thedeep sigh of women who remember their father'shouse and mourn over their wasted estate? Listen again. It is the cough of a consumptive, or the struggle of one in the nightmare of a great horror. You listen again and hear a culprit, his chains rattling as he rolls over in his dreams, and you says: ''God pity the prisoner." But there is another sound in that prison. It is a song of joy and gladness. What a place to sing in t The music comes winding through the corridors of the prison, and in all the dark wards the whisper is heard: "What's that? What's that?" It is the song of Paul and Silas. They cannot sleep. They have been whipped, very badly whipped. The long gashes on their backs are bleeding yet. luey lie flat on the i ornunrl t.Vinip f?Afc fmMt in WOOden SOCk- I ete, and of courso they cannot sleep. But they j can sing. Jailer, what are you doing witu | these people? Why have they been put in j here? Oh, they have been trying to make the world better. Is that all? That is all. A pit for Joseph. A lion's cave for Daniel. A blazing furnaco for Shadrach. Clubs for John Wesloy. An anathema j for Philip Melancthon. A dungeon { for Paul and Silas. But while we aro stand- i ing in the gloom of the Philippian dungoon, and we hear the mingling voices of sob and groan and blasphemy and hallelujah, suddenly an earthquake! The iron bars of the prison twist, the pillars crack off, the solid masonry begins to heave and all the doors swing open. The jailor, feeling himself responsible for these prisoners, and believing, in his pagan ignorance, suicide to be honorable? since Brutus killed himself, and Cato killed himself, and Cassius killed himself?puts his sword to his own heart, proposing with one strong, keen thrust to put an end to his excitement and agitation. But Paul cries out: 4'StopI Stop! Do thyself no harm. We are all here." Then I see the jailer running through the dust and amid the ruin of that prison, and I see him throwing himself down at the f^et of these prisoners, crying out: "What shall I do? What shall I dor Did Paul answer: "Get out of this place before there is another earthquake; put handcuffs and hopples on these other prisoners, lest they get away?" No word of that kind. His compact, thrilling, tremendous answer, answer memorable all through earth and heaven, was: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Well, we have all heard of the earthquake in Lisbon, in Lima, in Aleppo, ana in oaraucas, uuu wo live in a latitude where severe volcanic disturbances are rare. And yet we have seen fifty earthquakes. Here is a man who has been building up a large fortune. His bid on the money market was felt in all the cities. He thinks he has got beyond all annoying rivalries in trade, and he says to himself; "Now I am free and safe from all ruble perturbation." But in 1887, or 1857, or in 1873 a national panic strikes the foundations of the commercial world, and crash! goes all that magnificent business establishment . Here is a man who has built up a vary beautiful home. His daughters have just come from the seminary with diplomas of graduation. His sons have started in life honest temperate and pore. When the evening lights aire struck there is a happy and unbroken family circle. But there has been an accident down at Long Branch. The young man ventured too far out in the surf. The telegraph hurled the terror up to the city. An earthquake struck under the foundation of that beautiful home. The piano closed; the curtains dropped; the laughter hushed. Crash! go all those domestic hopes and prospects and expectations. So, my friends, we have all felt the shaking down of some great trouble, and there was a time when wo were as much excited as this man of the text, and we cried out as he did: "vv hnf otmll T /In* Whuf. ahull I (iof Tho same reply that the apostle made to hiin is appropriate to us: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." There are some docmnonts of so little importance that you do not care to put any more than your last name under them, or even your initials; but there are somo documents of so great importance that you write ont your full name. So tho Saviour in soma parts of the Bible is called "Lord," audio other parts of the Bible Hois called "Jesus," and in other parts of the Bible He is called "Christ;" but that there might be no mistake about this passage, all three names come together?"The Lord Jeeus Christ." , Now, who is this being that you want me to trust in and believe in? Men sometimes , come to me with credentials and certificates of good character, but I canqdt trust them. There is some dishonesty in tfieir looks that makes me know I shall be cheated if I confide in them. You cannot put your heart's confidence in a man until you know what stuff he is made of, and am I unreasonable to-day when I stop to ask you who this is that you want me to trust in? No man would think of venturing his life on a vessel going out to sea that had never been inspected. No, you must have the certificate nung amidships, telling how manv tons it carries, and how long ago it was built, and who built it, and all about it. And you cannot expect me to risk the cargo of my immortal interests an tt nrnfk HII TTAT1 fnTJ mO what it is made of, and where it was made and what it is. When, then, I ask you who this is you want me to trust in, you tell mo He was a very attractiveperson. Contemporary writers describe His whole appearance as being resplendent. There was np need for Christ to toll the children to coma to Him. "Suffer little children to eomo unto Me," was not spoken to the children; ill was spoken to the disciples. The children came readily enough without any invitation. No sooner did Jesus appear than the little ones jumped from their mother's arms, an avalanche of beauty and love, into His lap. Christ did not ask John to put his head down on His bosom: John could not help but put his head there. I suppose to look at Christ was to love Him. Oh, how attractive His manner. Why, when they saw Christ coming along the street they rau into their houses, and they wrapped up their invalds as quick as they could, and brought them out that He might look at thorn. There was something so pleasant, so inviting, so cheering in everything He did, in His very look, when these sick onos were brought out,did Ho say: "Do not bring Me these sores; do not trouble Me with these leprosies?" No, no; there was a kind look, there was a gentle word, there was a healing touch. They could not keep away from Bam. In addition to this softnass of character, there was a fiery momentum. How the kings of the earth turned pale. Here is a plain man with a few sailors at his back, coming off the sea of Galilee, going up to the palace of the Caesars, making that palace quake to the foundaticfas, and uttering a word of mercy and kindness which throbs through all the earth, and through all the heavens, and through all ages. Oh, He was a loving Christ. But it was not effeminacy or insipidity of character; it was accompanied with majesty, infinite and omnipotent. Lest the world should not realize His earnestness, this Christ mnnnt* t.h? rrnsc You sav: "If Christ has to die, why not let him take some deadly potion and he on a couch in some bright and beautiful borne? If He must die, let Him expire amid all kindly intentions." No, the world must hear the hammers on the heads of the spikes. The world must listen to the death rattle of the sufferer. The world must feel His warm blood dropping on onch cheek, wbilo it looks np into tho*l'ac9 of His anguish. And so the cross must be lifted and a hole dug on the top of Calvary. It must be dug three fcot deep, and then the cross is laid on the ground, and the sufferer is stretched upon it, and the nails are pounded through nerve and muscle and bone, through the right hand, through the left hand, and then they shake Sis right hand to see if it is fast, and they heave up the wood, half a dozen shoulders under the weight, and they put the end of the cross in the mouth of the hole, ind they plunge it in, all tht weight of His body coming down for the first time on the spikes; and while some hold the cross upright, others throw in the dirt and trample it down, and trample it hard. Oh, plant that tree well and thoroughly, for It is to bear fruit such as no other tree ever bore. Why did Christ enduro it? He could have taken those rocks ( V ... . - , ? ' and with thorn crushed His cruciflers. He could have reached up and grasped the sword of the omnipotent God, end with one clean cut have tumbled them into perdition. But no; He was to die. Hu must die. His lifo for jour life. In a European city a young man died on the scaffold j for tha crime of murder. Some time after the mother of this young m?n was dying and the prieat came in, ana she made confession to the priest that she was the murderer and not her son; in a moment of anger she had struck her husband a blow that Sew him. The son came suddenly into the room, and wan washing away the wounds ami trying to resuscitate his father when some one looked through the window and saw him, and supposed him to be the criminal. That young man died for his own mother. You say: "It was wonderful that he never exposed her." But I tell you of a grander thing. Christ, the Soil of God, died not for His mother, nor for His Father, but for His sworn enemies. Oh, such a Christ as that?so loving, so patient, so self-sacrificing?can you not trust Him? I think there are many under the influence of the Spirit of God who are saying: "I will trust Him if you will only tell mo how:" and the great question asked by thou sands is: "How? How?' And while I answer your question I look up and utter tho prayer which Rowland Hill so often uttered in the midst of his sermons: "Master, help I" How are yon to trust in Christ? Just as you trust any one. You trust your partner in business with important things. If a commercial house gives you a note payable three months henoe, you expect the payment of that note attheiendof three months. Tou have perfect confidence in their word and in tneir ability. Or again, you go home expecting there will be food on the table. You have confidence in that. Now, I ask you to have the same confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ. He ?ays: "You believe I take away your sins, and they are all taken away." "Whatl" you say. "before I pray any more? Before I read my Bible any more? Before I cry over my sins any more?" Yes, this moment. Believe with all your heart and you are saved. Why, Christ is only waiting to get from you what you give to scores of people every day. What ! is that? Confidence. If these people whom you trust day by day are more worthy than Christ, if they are more faithful than Christ, if they have done more than Christ ever did, then give them tho preference; but if you really think that Christ is as trustworthy as they are, t&en deal with Him as fairly. "Oh," says some one in a light way: "I believe that Christ was born in Bethlehem, and I believe that He died on the cross." Do you believe it with your head or your heart? I will illusstrate the differ enee. You are in your own house. In the morning you open a newspaper and you read how Capt. Braveheart on the sea risked his life for the salvation of his passengers. You say, "What a grand fellow he must have been! His family deserve very well of the country." You fold '* * J -X AU Eire newspaper ana sit oowa au uuw utuie, ?uu perhaps do not think of that incident again. That is historical faith. Bat now you are on the sea,and it is night, and you are asleep, andyou are awakened by the shriek of "Firel" You rush out on the deck. You hear amtd the wringing of tho hands and the fainting, the cry: "No hope! no hope I We are lost! we are lost?" Th9sail puts out its wings of fire, the ropes nuke a burning ladder in the irtght heavens, tho spirit of wrecks hisses in the wave, and on the hurricane deck shakes out its banner of smoko and darkness. "Down with the lifeboats!" crics the captain. ' 'Down with the lifeboats f People rush into them. The boats aro about fall. Room 6nly for one more man. Tou are standing on the deck beside the captain. Who shall it De? You or tho captain? The captain? The captain says: "You." You jump and are saved. He stands there and dies. Now, you believe that Captain Braveheart sacrificed himself for tps passengers, but you believe it with love, with tears, with hot and long continued exclamations, with grief at hit loss, and joy at your deliverance. That is saving faith. In other words, what you believe with all the heart, and believe in regard to yourself. On this hinge turns my sermon: aye, the salvation of your LnmorUJ soul. You often go across a bridge you know nothing about. You do not know who built that bridge, you do not know what material it is made of: but you come to it and walk over it and a3k no questions. And here is an arched bridge blasted from the "Rock of Age." And built by the architect of the whole universe, spanning tho dark gulf between sin and righteousness and all God asks you is to walk across it; and you start, and you come to it, and you stop, and you go a little way on and you stop, and you fall back, and you experiment. You say: "How do I know that bridge will hold me?" instead of marching on with firm step, asking no questions, but feeling that the strength of the eternal God is under you. Oh, was there ever a prize proffered 8U Ulioap OO LKU UU1I OUU UW* V OU w V vuv* wv% ?V you? For now much? A million dollars? It is certainly worth mors than that.. But cheaper than that you can have it. Ten thousand dollars? Less than that. Five thousand dollars? Less than that. One dollar? Less than that. One farthing? Less than that. ''Without money ana without price." No money to pay. No journey to take. No penance to suffer. Only just one decisive action of the soul: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Shall I tiy to tell you wh(^t it Is to be saved? I cannot tell you. No man, no angel can tell you. But I can hint at it. For my text bring mo up to this point. "Thou shalt be saved." It means n nappy life hero, and a peaceful death and a blissful eternity. It is a grand thing to go to sleep at night and to get up in the morning, and to do busiaess all day feeling that all is right between my heart ana God. No accident, no sickness, no persecution, no peril, no swora can do mo any permanent damage. I am a forgiven child of Qod and He is bound to see me through. The mountains may depart, the earth may burn, the light of the stars may be blown out by the blast of the judgment hurricane; but life and death, things present and things to come are mine. Yea, further than tliat?it means a peaceful death. Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Sigourney, Dr. Young, and almost all the posts have said handsome things about death. Thore is nothing beautiful about it. When we stand by the it hi to and rigid features of those whom we love, and they give no answering pressure of the hand ana no returning kfes of the lip, we do not want anybody poetizing around about us. Death is loathsomeness, and midnight, and the wringing of the heart until the tendrils snap and curl in the torture, unless Christ shall be with us. I confess to you an infinite fear, a Consuming horror of death, ro.with m?. T would rather go down fnto a cavo of wild boasts or a jungle of reptiles than into the grave, unless Christ gois with me. Will you tell me that I am to be carried out from my bright home and put awav in the darkness? I cannot bear darkness. At the first coming of the evening I must have the gas lighted, and the further on in life I get the more I like to have my friends round about me. And am I to be put off for thousands of years in a dark place with no one to speai to? When the holidays come and the gifts are distributed, shall I add no joy to the "Merry Christmas," or tho "Happy New Year?" Ah, do not point down to the hole in the ground, tho grave, and call it a beautiful place. Unless tnere be some supernatural illumination I shudder back from it. My whole nature revolts at it. But now this glorious lamp is lifted above the grave, and all the darkness is gone, and the way is clear. I look Into it now without a single shudder. Now my anxiety is not about death; my anxiety is that I may live aright, for I know that if my life is consistent whan I come to the last hour, and this voice is silent, and these eyes aro closed, and these hands, with which I beg for your eternal salvation to-day, are folded over the still heart, that then I shall only begin to live. Vhat power is thero in anything to chiH me in tho last hour if Christ wraps around mo tho skirt of His own garment? What darkness can fall upon my eyelids theii amid the hoavenly daybreak? 0 Doath, I will not fear thee then, .back to tliy cavern or uaricness, inou robber of all the earth. Fly! thoi despoiler of families. With this battle ax I hew theo in twain from helmet to sandal, the voice of Christ sounding all over the earth and through the heavens: "01 Death, I will be tny plague. O Grave, I will be thy destruction." To be saved is to wake up in the presence ol' Christ. You know when Jesus was upon earth how happy He made every house He went into, ana when He brings us up to His house in Heaven, how great shall be our glee. His voice has more music in it than is to be heard in all the oratories of eternity. Talk not about banks dashed with efforescence. Jesus is the chief bloom of heaven. We shall see the very face that beamed sympathy in Bethany, and take the vory hand that dropped its blood from the short beam .V:-' , ** -,'V ' '/ - .1 . v. *.;- ; ' . - O ." or the cross. Oh, I want to stand In eternity with Him. Toward that harbor I steor. Toward that goal I run. I shall be satisfied when I awake in His likeness. Oh, broken hearted men and women, how sweet it will be in that good land to pour all of your hardships and bereavements and losses into the loving ear of Christ, and then have Him explain why it was best for you to be sick, and why it was best for you to be widowed, and why it was best for you to be persecuted, and why it was best for you to be tried, and have Him point to an elevation proportionate to your disquietude here, saying: You suffered with me on earth, come up now and be glorified with Me in heaven." Some one went into a house where there had been a good deal of trouble, and said to the woman ther?: "You seem to be lonely." "Yes," she said, "I am lonely." "How many in the family?" "Only myself." "Have you had any children?" "I had seven children." "Where are they?" "Gone." "All gone?" "All." "All dead?" "AIL" Then she breathed a long sigh into the loneliness, and said: "Oh, sir, I have been a good mother to the grave." And so there are hearts here that aro utterly broken down by the bereavements of life. I point you vo-i&j to the eternal balm of heaven. Are Ihere any here that I am missing this morning? On, you poor waiting maid I your heart's sorrow poured m n(? human ear, lonely and sad I How glad you will be when Christ shall disband all your sorrows and crown you queen unto God and the Lamb forever I Aged men and women, fed by His love and warmed by His grace for tnree-score years and tonl will not your decrepitude change for the leap of a hart when you come to look face to face upon Him whom having not seen you love? That will bo the Good Shepherd, not out in the night and watching to keep off the wolve9, but with the lamp reclining on the sunlit hill. That will be tho captain of our salvation, not amid the roar and crash and boom of buttle, but amid His disbanded troops keeping victorious festivity. That will be tho Bridegroom of the Church coming from afar, the br de leaning upon His arm, while He looks down into her face, and sayB: "Behold, thou art- fair, my love! Behold, thou art fairl" TEMPERANCE. THE LTTTLIS. A little flame Will scent a room? A little candle Light the gloomOne Tittle gleam Of sunshine, stream Through bars, and gild The prison-tomb! A little hand Will comfort bring? A little tongue Annoy a king? A little wine Kill thoughts divino? A little balm Allay a sting! A l.'UU ~L~CO XX. UOblU BUUL "Will ease the way? A little joy Change night to day? A little song Drown thoughts of wrong? A little forethought Save the hay! A little pledge Will bless a life? A little reason Banish strife? A little pen stroke Brand a name? A little love Save name and fame t A little smilo Is like array? A little kind word Makes it May? A little chcer Will dry a tear? A little prayer Give peace alway! ?Mrs. M.A. Kidder, in Temperance Banner. THE MOST VITAL QUESTION. There is to-day in the English-speaking countries no such tremendous, far-reaching vital question as that of drunkenness. In its implications and offects it overshadows all else. It is impossible to examine any subjects connected with the progress, the civilization, the physical well-Deing, the religious condition of the masses, without encountering this monstrous evil. It lies at the centre of all social and political mischief. It paralyzes beneficent energies in every direction. It neutralizes educational agencies. It silences the voice of religion. NOT FAST ENOUGH. Rev. A. Pearson, Vicar of St. Margaret's, recently presided over an enthusiastic gospel temperance meeting at Brighton, in addressing the Jissembly he said that the temperanco causo was not progressing fast onough, that England's drink bill had been roduced from 145 millions to 125 millions in twenty years?a million a year?and at this rate it would take 125 years to complete the work. If a fire brigade was called to a fire it would bo of no use to march to the tune of the "Dead March in Saul" and then try to extinguish the fire with a watering can. A MOST DANGEROUS ILLUS" ")N. J mi...! t ii.. WAIU Ul bUO ULLU31/ UaiJgOl UUH iliUiiUUb Ul tut present era, industriously fostered by the brewers and their allios, is that beer is a harmless, wholesome beverage. Professor Draper, in the Medical News, referring to gout, says: "As the most pronounced peculiarity of the victims of the goaty diathesis is the prompt reaction which they present to wine and beer, it follows that the exclusion of these beverages as articles of diet must be be insisted upon." He adds: 'This is often a difficult injunction to enforce. There is so strong a popular and professional prejudice in favor of fermented liquors as articles of diet that one can hardly prohibit the use of them under any circumstances without being regarded as a crank. In spite, however, of the generally received opinion that ardent spirits are responsible for all the physical evils of intemperance, I have long Deen in* clined to believe that the fermented prepare tions of alcohol arc equally if not moro productive of functional derangements and even of structural lesions." We commend Professor Draper's testimony concerning fermented liquors, the result of extended professional experience and observation, to the thoughtful consideration of the apologists for or advocates of beer-drinking.?National Temperance Advocate. TJSKPEBAKCE OTEWf, AWD NOTIS. In Para, Brazil, a license to soil liquor costs $5; a license to keep a school costs $10. Sir John Qorst states that thero are nineteen breweries In India, browing 4,880,282 gallons. In 1888 there were 158,587 retail liquor dealers, of all kinds, paying the special liquor tax in the United States. A prominent firm of glass makers in Philadelphia, not long ago, refused a large order for bottles from a liquor house . Where twolvo men made beer in the Walrull! brewery, Lawrence, Kan., ono hondred persons are now busy making shoes. The champions of the saloon are now turning to Kansas to try and secure a resubmisrion of the constitutional amendment. Cardinal Manning, at oighty-two, at a rc3ont meeting in London of the depositors of the Southeastern and Metropolitan Railways Savings Bank, made an impressive plea for temperance on the part of railway men. A National Temperance Congress, under the auspices of the National Temperance League, will be hold in Birmingham, Eng., in October next, commencing with a large number of sermons on Sunday, October 20. Absolute prohibition still prevails in Oklahoma. The beneficence of the law is unquestioned. A mom at Gufhrie voiced the general sentiment when he said: "Prohibition is our salvation; without it there would be a murder every day." The Boston Record quietly remarks that "Sullivan, lying beastly drunk in the back room of a Chicago whisky saloon on Sunday, ind everybody who bougnt a drink taken In to see the exhibition, is a suggestive commentary on the claim that prize fighting is a 'manly art.'" A leading worker nukes the following forcible comparison: "Can you imagine a beautiful church with an elegant wine and tobacco room attached? And yet I knew a man who said his body w?a the temple of the Holy Ghost, who makes a tobacco store-room of his cheek." It appears that the liquor bills of the Chicago Insane Asylum amount to betwoen $8000 and $4000 a year, much of the liquor being consumed by the attendants at d employee of tho institution. That must be a very good asylum for insane patients to be kept away from. f -'i ' . RELIGIOUS READING. I DISTRACTIONS lit PBAYEB. I I cannot pray; yet, Lord! Thou knowe?fc The pain it is to me 1 To have my vainly struggling thoughts Thus torn away from Thee. Prayer was not meant for luxury Or selfish pastime sweet; 'Tis the prostrate creature's place At his Creator's feet. H*d I, dear Lord, no pleasuro found But in the tbougbt of Thee, Prayer would have come unsought and been A truer liberty. Yet Thou art oft most present, Lord, In weak, distracted prayer; The sinner out of heart with self Most often finds Thee there. For prayer that humbles, sets tho soul From all illusions free, And teaches it how utterly, Dear Lord, it hangs on Thee. The heart that on self-sacrifice Js covetously bant, Will bless Thy chastsning hand that makes Its prayer its punishment. My Saviour, why s' ould 1 complain, And why fear aught but sin? Distractions are but outward things, Thy peace dwells far within. These surface troubles come and go Like rufflings of the sea; ^ ine deeper at'pcn m ouu ui. imw To all, my God, but Thej. TO-DAY. Tired fathers, weary mothers, when is your happy day coming? Long since you expected it ti dawn. It is not here yet nor will it ever be so long as you do not determine that it shall be to-day. This failure to take comfort as you pass along life's pathway, but ever looking forward fdt- all enjoyment of good, is throwing away the real sweets of lif* You miy as well attempt to store up Summer sunshine to warm in Winter, or bottle moonshine for cloudy nighta The real and only true way is to find in the Sresent all the good God gives us. 'ur whole lives may be filled with joy if we are only willing to leam that in all good work there is profit, in all sorrow are somo rays of sunshine, and in all care some compensation. Make the most of today and your future will grow brighter and brighter as you step into it. Let the old saying that ' Man never is, but always to be, blessed" bo proven false by your finding in the present all the fullness of blessing it really possesses. ?Selected. THE INSPIRATION OF CHEER. Half the battle of lifo cons'sts in keeping up a cheerful spirit. When depression comes and the clouds, when the spirit is loaded with deadeniuz pain; all work becomes a drydgery, and Q?e is a burden and difficulty. Whatever is done is carried on under compulsion, with a wish that it could be avoided, and a feeling of pleasure?if so mournful a kind of cougratulation can be called a pleasure?that it is at last completed. And even if?because there is will-power enough to carry it along and favorable circumstances to make it successful?it will afford but little satisfaction, for the spirit will be loaded with forebodings and the mind be full of the prophecies of coming eviL If any good work bo well done, it must be amid buoyancy and hope. With this experience, no matter how hard the task may be, or how unpromising thero will be energy given to it, anil that facility of skill , and that unless the hindrances are invincible, will carry it through to a good end. Our religious work very often lags and fails, not because we are not in earne t in it?perhaps we expand unnecessary Jabor on it?but because it i3 done under a cloud. Hope is wanting. There i$ no enthusiasm, no spring and eager onlooking,and vision of inevitable accomplishment. But if the heart is bright it will be able to go cheerfully through an experience, and also bear its disappointments, rejoice in its tribulations, and not only believe, but know, that God makes all thinzs work together for good to those who love Him. It is not possible, not for all of us, all the time. Moods aro many, and we are liable to fall into dull ones betimes; but it ought to be a part of our Christian effort to drive away the clouds if possible and turn to the beautiful aud inspiring light.?United Presbyterian, THROW YOUR BAGS OVERBOARD. When Captain Murrell of the steamship Missouri found the Danish steamer Danmark with her seven hundred passengers lying helpless in mid ocean, he was obliged to come to some uccislou as to wnat he would do in the case. Hid cargo filled the vessel, and he was under obligations to carry it across tho Atlantic, but hundreds of human beings were in danger and in a little while must sink in the engulfing waves. He must ctuose between landing the cargo and saving the men; between steering straight for his porf, or turning aside to the Azores, where ne could land the imperiled passengers. He did not take long to decide, he took the responsibility, and overboard went thp bales of rags, otc., to mako room for living men and women and children. And then, while the owners wero wondering why the Missouri did not arrive, he was steaming for the Azcres, where he might place in safety '' * Jnnf iin^orfnlrfl CUB nuiiureua nuum uu wuiu uw to carry across the Atlantic for lack of provision. He has his reward iu the love and affcction of the rescued, in the approval of his employers, in the praise of millions in all lands, in ovations and testimonials from persons known and unknown, and finally in the honor of knighthood from the king of Den-> mark. He sacrificed rags that he might save lives, and thus won honor and fame and reputation that few men would achieve in a life-time of ambitious toiL There are multitudes today who are as busily employed as was the captain of the Missouri. They have their work to da their voyage planned, their cargo on board; they suppose their duty is settled and their course is fixed. But souls are perishing; men and women are suffering and dying, signals of distress are seen; and the cry from Macedonia, and from every other quarter is, "Come over and holp us." Shall wo excuse ourselves? Shall we plead our duties, our obligations, our occupations? Shall we cling to our earthlv possessions, while souls for whom Christ died are drifting helplessly on time's waves? Or shall we with prompt, vigorous and decisive action seek to rescue the perishing and save the lost? What shall be said of the man who counts his millions saved, while souls around him have gone down in unfathomed depths? What advantage can there be in the possession of Wealth, honor, fame, if with it there shall be tho haunting memories of duties undone, of opportunities neglected, of souls who might have been rescued, but who have sunk in darkness and death? O, Ciiristian, hesitate no longer. Decide for God and for eternity; throw over the rai.'s, and be content to let earth's cargo per ish if you can bnns; souk borne in sal ety zo the kingdom of our God.?The. Christian. "What," (said one to a Roman conqueror) "what can be addid to a triumphal procession liko this?' ' Continuance!" was the reply.?4 The glory of man is as the fl iwer of grass; the gra93 withereth, the flower fadeth, but the word of the Lord endureth forever." Wonderful, the book divine, Sent in mercy from above, To reveal to fallen man The divine unbounded love. "Wonderful in truth and light,? Wonderful in cliansing power,? Wonderful in grace and strengtu It affords in every hour! WHAT ALCOHOL WILL DO FOR YOU. Hold a mouthful of spirits?whisky, for instance?in your mouth for five minutes, and you will And it burns severely; inspect the month and you will find it inflamed. Hold it ten or fifteen minutes, and yon will find that various parts of the interior of the mouth have become blistered; then tie a b mdkerchief over the eyes and taste, for instance, water, vinegar, milk or cream, and you will find that you are incapable of distinguishing one from another. This experierce proves to a certainty that alcohol ia not only a violent irritant, but also a narcotic. Can you believe that the still more tender and important internal organs of the body can be less injuriously affected than the mouth??Dr. Me Co Hock. ' ??? mmm? POPULAR SCIENCE. The diamond is carbon crystalled. j Extensive experiments are about to bfc' began for the precipitation of sewage by j electricity. - ? A big piece of ice in a1 tab Qjf waierv will lower the temperature of your rootij fifteen degrees. In using fire hose pipe there is a loss oC ten to twenty-five pounds pressure tr every hundred feet of hose. ) Rooms occupied by consumptive ? ' should be thoroughly cleaned, floor,! walls and ceilings, at least once a week. ; At the new shooing grounds in Brus-{ gels' electricity has been introduced toj record the results of shots at the different ranges. Dr. Gradenigo, of the University o? Padua, has successfully transplanted thef cornea from the eye of a barn fowl intp^ the human eye. ? Lime has of late been used to drawjfrost oat of the ground. It is wet slight*-. ly and covered over with blankets and* other non-conducting materials. ; fl New York now manufactures an imi~ H tation offevery mineral water of any merit,.' H and theso are bottled, labeled, and sent. H out as though coming from the different I springs. - H Wheatstone concluded that electricity I traveled at the rate of 288,000 ihiles pec I second, and Maxwell considered it to' H travel at or about the same speed ss that?. fl or light. From the large Pcpp compressed air fl station in Paris, it is proposed leading; H distributing conduits to smaller station! >y H each of which will be equipped with cone B pressed air engine intended to drive coi.-t. B tinupus current dynamos. " H One of the largest leather belts ev?r fl made is on exhibition in Boston. It is fl 153 i'eet 7 inches long, 4G inches wide,; fl double thickneuj, and weighs 1423 H pounds. The hides of sixty-five animate fl were used for its manufacture. . fl From Norway we hear of a curioua^H telephonic experiment, where a physician, fl being a distance of one hundred miles fl from home, talked to his dog, an English fl setter, through the telephone, the dog fl showing his understanding by a series ot I barks. i i fl A French manufacturing firm has pat- B cnted an alloy of steel with two to foun fl per cent, of copper. It is more elastic S and malleable than simple steel, and capa-) fl ble of far greater resistance. It is in* I tended for cannon, armor-plates, rifle- I barrels and projectiles. m Even rain water may not be absolutely fl harmless. An epidemic presenting hith- fl erto unknown symptoms broke out at fl Rio de Janeiro last March, and Dr. fl Domingoe Freire has been led to suspect fl a poisonous principle washed down from fl the atmosphere as ttie cause. fl The "miraculous berry" of West Africa fl is covered externally with a soft,, sweut B pulp, which imparts to the palate aseii- fl r J ? it :i~i. sauon m&D reaucrs it jjucsoiuw w jjoiwbao. of sour substances, and even of tartaric I acid, lime juice and vinegar, and to give B to them a flavor of absolute sweetness. B Out of a large number of cases investi- fl gated where lightning had struck build- fl ings and more or less damage had beea/H done, a very large majority of the cases / fl showed that the discharge made its way fl to earth through the water or gas pfoeivjfl instead of by the lightning conductors. < \ fl One of the novelties which an Augusts^. fl Me., firm is sending out are electric spec- fl tacles. At the end of each bow is a miii- R iature thermo-electric pile, in which ti e fl electricity is generated by the heat of fl the brows. The current passing along fl the bows and rims, which are; highly fl magnetized, is said to be highly beneft- fl cial to the eyes. / fl I V' A New Pickpocket Dodge. I The Eiffel tower has, it seenjs," duggested to an unprincipled individual fl who this country can claim as 3 subject, a new trick for putting Other, people 's fl money into his own pocket; but now fl that publicity has been given to the fl dodge, it is ddubtful whether he will try, fl it on a second time. The pickpocket in I question, well dressed, and of melancholy fl but most respectable appearance, went? fl up the tower the other day, taking his fl seat on the left beside a Frenchman who fl looked as if his pockets might be worth fl attention. The Englishman, in a sad! fl A /<# >110 nni'orliW wKftbtt H tout;, lu^uusu w* any one had yet committed suicide from! the top of the tower, and on receiving a reply in the negative, he muttered that ' he would be the first to do so. The kindhearted Frenchman took an interest in? the apparently forlorn and desperate man) beside him, and, thinking he had difl-j ' covered it was financial difficulties ths.tj had caused him to meditate self-destruction, he, in as delicate a manner as possible, offered a loan. His offer was, however, rejected, the forlorn one asserting: that he had a large sum about him, coi tained in the pocketbook which he air tempted to thrust into the Frenchman's pocket, telling him to divide the money among the poor after his death. Finally^ the guardians persuaded the melancholy man to come down from the top of the tower and go home. The Frenchman., shortly after he lost sight of his companion, discovered, of course, that his purse had gone with him.?London Stand* ard. ;r. s: Pencils Made of Paper. One of the difficulties which have stood in the way of the substitution of paper pulp for wood in the manufacture of pencils has been the toughness ox tne mm paper covering, and its consequent re- H sistance to the action of a knife. By a I new process the molecular cohesion of I the paper, it is claimed, is modified in I such a manner that it can be cut as read- I ilv as cedar wood. After the completion H of the process the pencils are gradually I dried at increasing temperature during ;? I period of six days, and they are then Rj plunged into a vessel of molten paraf- I fine wax, which has the effect of modi fying the texture of the paper pulp in B the manner described. 9 A Story About Wild Bill. I Captain Harry Horn of the Oklahoma I show tells a story of Wild Bill, the no- I torious western desperado. Captain Horn was a deputy sheriff under Bill, and I was in the saloon in Deadwood, Dakota, with him when he was killed. Bill was I playing poker and was looking over a H hand when his murderer stepped behind: M him, deliberately put a revolver to his jP head, and blew his brains out. Bill was 8 killed almost instantly, but before* hoi I toppled from his chair dead he managed! I to throw his cards down, get both his I pistols out, and cock them. Such mar* I veil cms quiok action almost passes belief, I --Chicago ft tut. ?> I