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THE riUSKIN' BEE. He huskin' bee wuz over, ez the suu was goin' dow-n In a yaller blaae o' glory jist behind the maples brown, the gals wuz gittin* ready 'n the boys wuz standin' by, To hitch on whar they wanted to, or know the reason why. Of all the gals what set arouu' the pile of corn thet dzy, A.-twistin' off the rustHn' husks ea ef t'was only play, The peartest one of all tlie lot?'n they wuz rooty, too? Wuz Zury Hess, whose laffln' eyes cud look ye through and through. Now it happened little Zury found a red ear in the pile. Afore we finished huskin', 'n yo orter seen her smile, For, o? course, she hed the privilege, ef she wud only dare, To choose the fellow she liked best 'n kiss him then 'n there. Mj! how we puckered up our lips ;n tried to look our best, Bach fellow wished he'd be the one picked out from all the rest. Till Zury, after hangin' back a leetle spell or so, Got up 'n walked right over to the last one in the row. She jist reached down 'n touched her lips onto the ol' white head O' Peter Sims, who's eighty year ef he's a day, 'tis said; She looked so sweet oF Peter tho't an angel cum to stay, As how his harp wuz ready in the land o' taraal day. Mad? Wall I should say I was; 'n I tol' her goin' hum, As how the way she slighted me hed made , me sorter glum, "N that I didn't think she'd shake me right aiore tne crowa? I wuzn't goin' ter stand it?'n I said so pooty loud. Then Zury drapped her laffin' eyes 'n whispered to me low, "I didn't kiss ye 'fore the crowd?'cause? cause?I love ye so, *N I thought ye wudn't mind it ef I kissed ol' Pete instead, Because the grave is closin' jist above his poor ol' head." Well?wimmin's ways is" queer, sometimes, and we don't alius know Jist what's a-throbbin' in their hearts when they act thus 'n so? All I know is, that when I bid good-night to Zury Hess, I loved her more 'n ever, 'n I'll never love her less. ?T. P. Ryder, in Courier-Journal. MOLE JED AND JANIE. He was neither a tramp, a drunkard, nor a pauper, though a stranger encountering Uncle Jed might, at a casual glance, have easily mistaken for either the grizzled, slouching figure in garments much the worse for wear, frayed and jagged hat-brim, and broken shoes often bound about and held together with twine and withes of bark. But a closer inspection would have noted that the lines on his face were not those which dissipation leaves, and that despite his unkempt appearance there was about him an air of sturdy independence, as of one who felt a right to his own place in the world, while the small troop of children that, mixed with a shaggy dog or two, -unusually followed close at his heels, thubby and robust as to facc and form, though somewhat disheveled and dilapiriofpri n? tn rrarmonfc onrl ttafo eHntro/l o???? ? "? ? that, whatever his circumstances, he was decidedly a man of family. In fact, Uncle Jed, or more correctly ipeaking, Jcduthan Cranston, was both a householder and a land-owner, and his excursions, so frequent as to almost seem continuous, along the quiet country road, through the bit of woodland, over the long hill, and between the rolling fields wjre in the nature of a progress from the weather-beaten, little old house that formed his residence to his "other place," something like a mile distant. To be sure, neither estate was of great extent, yet sufficient in the hands of an cnergetic, thrifty man to have rendered him in fanner phrase "free-handed." But Uncle Jed's industry was never of the violent kind. In a desultory sort of way he managed to raise enough to fiil the mouths of the flock who filled the old house till it seemed in danger of bursting. For the rest if a pane of glass chanced to get broken there were plenty of oaislying aoouc watii wnicn to replace it and if theharff^oor threatened to part /fjeflrlfsTiHiges a rail propped against it could Jc^ep it in position, all of which seemed toSsanble the plump, placid wife of his bosom & little as it did Uncle Jed himself. Perhaps had his farms been adjacent his wording hours might have been less intermittent, but his jaunts from one to the ether were apt to be broken by periods of repose, if the weather invited, under the shade of a roadside tree or a perch on the rail fence that enticingly bordered the way and a long colloquy ^ *ith whoever chanced to bo working within conversation range or would spare ~ th? iime for discussions that ranged in subject from national politics to local gossip. Withal he was a good citizen and neighbor?honorable, honest, kindly, provert bially slow in the payment of his own , debts, but always ready to become security on the note of a friend. Children and dogs gravitated to him naturally, and his horses and cattle, never any of them lean from overwork,-rubbed around him unafraid. He was supposed to hold some nebulous theories as to paternal government, fragmentary memories of the stern rule of a grim old father. He had even been known to exhort a neighbor with cause of complaint against his numerous youngsters to "Get a good gad and sock lt-ight to'em," but under no circumstanccs was he himself ever known to practice Solomon's advice. And having lived a lifetime in one locality the people, most of whom had known him as boy nnd man, were so accustomed to his casy-goiug ways, hismany oddities and eccentricities that they regarded him hardly more of criticism than a natural feature of the landscape. With years the sturdy boys uid girls grew into sturdy men and women and from sheer force of necessity swarmed out from the old home-hive. But Uncle Jed, a little more stooped and grizzled and slower of step than of old, and with garments that seemed never to wax older, yet gave no sign of renewal, still took his leisurely way between his farms and held still more extended conversations across the fences, as one who was relaxing the cares and anxieties of life. W ~^T" 7^1*f Returning to the neighborhood after an absence of some years I chanced one June afternoon upon my old friend halted under a roadside beech in the cool shadow of the little stretch of wood, one of his favorite resting placcs, and with his old-time companions, a dog and a child, beside him. Stopping for a little chat I casually inquired if it were one of his grandchildren. "No," he answered, in his slow, soft drawl. "David an' Luke an' Sary an' Lijc an' Mary Jane an' Carline all hev children more or less, but this is none o' theirs. You sec ours are all grown up now and gone but just Reuben an' Elias an' Nathaniel an' Jim, an' they're only off an' on as it happens. An' mother an' me we'd had little shavers around the house so long that it seemed real lonesome without any, it just did, and little Janie here, her ma's dead, an' her pa?well, he's sort o' onsaddy like," with an expressive wink to me, 1 'so she's comc to live with us, she just hes, an' we like her, an', well, I guess she likes us." And with a smile that softened and illumined his grizzled old face he looked down to meet an answering smile of confiding affection in the blue child eyes raised to his. When at last I had started on I heard Undo Jed say: "Come, Janie, the sun is almost down; you and I must be going on for the cows." At a little distance I paused- and looked back through the green wood vista at the two figures. The old man with the child's little hand clasped in his, his frayed hat brim bent toward her, and her diminutive pink calico sunbonnet turned and lifted aslant as to him. So with the shaggy dog close beside them and the sound of their voices floating back in a gentle murmur they went their way along the quiet country road between the ripening meadows toward the sunset. "That child never should have been I allowed to there," was the comment of Mrs. Elnathan Sharp, before whom I chanced to refer to the little circumstance a few days later. "They ain't fit to bring up a child." "They certainly have had experience in that line," I observed. "Experience, I-should tliink so!" in a tone of the severest scorn; "their own came up absolutely hap-hazard and without any kind of discipline, and this child will come up in the same way and never be taught the first principle of order or neatness or regular habits of industry. I did think of taking her myself, but before I had fully dccided they had her and I suppose are letting her run wild as they did their own." I glanced around Mrs. Sharp's faultless j room and could but contrast her immaculate housekeeping with that which had held sway in Uncle Jed's domicile and mentally confess the prospect of Janio's learning aught of oraer or system there was scant, indeed. I hope I do not underrate the worth of systematic training, the lifelong value of early formed right habits; still as I looked at Mrs. J Sharp's cold face and caught the faint a# I*ai. +Ano r?nmn fn mV auiutj Ui JJVi tvuv kuv*w VU4MV vv ?J mind a memory of the emile that had flashed like a ripple of heart sunshine betwixt Uncle Jed and his little charge; and with a vision of Janie s delicate face, her soft blue eyes and sweet, sensitive mouth I could but wonder?I hope I was not heterodox?if of the two an atmosphere of kindly, warm affection might not be as conductive to the growth of the little human plant as the most perfect system of precepts and rules without it. ! The same September Uncle Jed sickened with a fever. . .On his first visit the doctor looked grave, and as the days passed his face grew no more hopeful. In his delirium the old man was still going over the familiar round of his life. Sometimes on his way to the "other place" dragging his weary feet over the j heavy and burning sand, sometimes stop ping to rest under the old roadside beach, and wherever in his fantasy he wandered little Janie, the companion of his latter days, was besido him. And net only in fancy but in reality, for through those weariful days the child clung closeiy to her old friend, stroking ! his hand with her light touch, pressing her soft cheek against his, so scarred and farrowed and parched, answering when in unconsciousness he called her name, and watching him with a dismal pain in her soft blue eyes. But there came a day when little Janie lay stricken with the same fever, and when the doctor felt the swift but weak pulse throbbing in the small, white wrist he shook his head again. It maybe that the sanitary condition of the old house was bad, though it had never before affected those beneath its roof; possibly, as Mrs. Sharp intimatod, their nursing might have been improved, but it was the best that those who tendered it knew how to give, and who of us can do more? And it might have been in that conflict with disease that the most skilled nurse would with tho doctor have had to own defeat. Her fever was not of the violent type of Uncle Jed's. For the most part she lay quiet; sometimes crooning fragments of hymns that she had learned in Sunday-school or Scripture texts. But rvsr with it all the tide of life ebbed lower and weaker. And at last one day, one sunny antumn day, clad with the glow and ripeness of the year, an unwonted hush seemed to rest over the weather-worn old house. The doctor made his usual visit, but it was a brief one. and his medicine-case remained unopened. Now and then a neighbor ran in with a quiet step, speaking in half whispers, and the group of big, broad-shouldered sons made no pretenso of work, but hung about the house with a strange dejection apparent in their attitude and faces. Slowly, so slowly to they who sat under the impending shadow the day wore away till late afternoon. Uncle Jed had fretted for Jnnie and they had lifted her from her little cot and laid her beside him. Soothed by her presence he sank into a half-doze, half-stupor. Presently he roused himself. 4'Come, Janic," he said, "the sun is almost down, it is time we were going to the other place for the cows. Bruno! Bruno!" And the old dog lying inside the bed roused up aud beat his tail loudly on the floor, responsive to the call of the master lie would never follow again. Then he dozed away again for .1 little while and wheu he woke the same fancy was still in his mind. "How long the way is," he murmured; "let us rest a little. I never used to get so tired. It must be I am getting old. Yes, I'd had little shavers around me so long I missed ?em, and 'twas lonesome going about alone, but you like to go with me, don't you, Janie?" She nestled closer to him and slipped her arm about his neck. "Yes, Uncle Jed," sho whispered, "I like to go with yon." In a few moments he spoke again? m i very faintly this time. "Come, little Janie, wc must be going. How late it grows; the sun is almost down." He put out his hand so thin and wasted and with all the sunburn faded from it now?and she slipped hers?small, white and chill?into it as if for the starting. A long, long silecce followed, the clock in an outer room ticked loudly, the sunset rays crept long and level across the uncarpeted floor; with bowed heads the sturdy sons went out one by one, tread- 1 ing on the toes of their clumsy boots; a little knot of neighbors gathered around the doorstep; tho wife of many years swayed back and forth in the chair wherein she had once rocked her babies, sobbing softly. And by a way as old as ^ - -U J. .1 me wonu, v ul auiiuijciy uuiauuuui ?traveled by generations, but still an unknown way?the two friends, one whose years had covered so long and the other so brief a span, had gone beyond the sunset.? Chicago Times. The Indians of Alaska. The Indian of Alaska is a different ' person, and the Indian problem in Alaska is quite unlike that which presents itself in the case of the aborigines known as the North American Indians. "Whether . they had the same origin is immaterial. | Environment has created a marked distinction. Laziness is wholly unknown to both native men and women in Alaska. They are noted for their desire to accumulate, and there is one Indian Princess, so-called, in the village here who is really worth $10,000 in silver, in furs, and in blankets. They are all shrewd and cunning in their pecuniary dealings with each other and with the whites. They are notorious liars when it comes to protecting any one of their own race from any apprehended harm, but they will neither steal from each other nor from the whites. About 1500 of these people wintered at Sitka during 1888. and there is a permanent population of about 500 in the village this summer, and while no white person yet thinks of locking a door, day or night, in the past eleven months I have not heard of a single instance of larceny. Families of natives go off in their canoes 150 miles to remain and work all summer at the salmon canneries, leaving a great deal of stuff be- j hind in their huts and houses, and when they return in the fall, find everything as safe as when they left them. No tribal relations exist among them. 1 What arc called chiefs are simply patriarchs or heads of families, and hence, the first important problem in the task of civilizing them, by breaking up their tribal relations, does not exist to vex the authorities. Not only that, they are eager to adopt the white man's ways, good as well as bad. They have totally abandoned their native dress, except on festive occasions, when they sometimes, not often, appear in it. Mr. Duncan, at Metlakhatla, on Amelia Island, has es- . tablishcd a saw-mill and a planing-mill, where he manufactures thousands of packing cases which are sold to the sal- i mon canneries. This is an industry that : is available for' these people, and while giving thousands of dollars every year, under the plea of industrial training, as I have already pointed out, the Govern- | ment so far, has profited nothing from the methods which have been successfully pursued at Amelia Island.?Neu> York Times. The Japanese Jinrlklsha. One of the most popular features at the Paris Exposition is the Japanese Jinrikisha, which is a two-wheeled gig with very little wheels and made very light, ' that is tfrawn by a Japanese man. It is generally supposed that the jinrikisha has j been in use for hundreds of years in Japan, but this Is not the case, noiessor "W. K. Burton, of Tokio University, has been doing some several hundred miles of riding by jinrikisha. In an article which he contributes to the British Journal of Photography, and the Photographic News, Professor Burton says that this mode of travel is only about thirty years old. Thirty years ago the Japanese had two ways of traveling. One was by bull carts and the other was by chairs or baskets suspended between two poles : and carried on the shoulders of two men, and this method is still in use where the ! roads arc very steep. The jinrikisha was [ practically introduced by the first English | settlers, who brought out two-wheeled carriages with them, and the jinrikisha is simply a copy of these on a smaller scale. Professor Burton says that on good roads a jinrikisha will keep up a rate of seven or eight miles an hour for several hours. When the roads are bad it is customary to have two men, one of whom pulls with a cord in front. The charge for one man is ten fen an hour, which is about eight cents. If a person wishes to keep his carriage iu Japan he can do so very cheaply, the rate for a jinrikisha and a man by the week being only about two dollars. In the country the rate is generally charged according to the distance and costs about a cent a mile. Professor Burton, while on his recent travels, did from forty to ninety miles a day, accord I ing to the distance and condition of the roads, and he changed jinrikisha at the end of every ten miles or so. Sculptors' Marble. "The marble used by sculptors for the better class of work is what is called Carrara, and costs in New York $14 pei square foot. But this is so beautifully fine in its fibre that it will not stand posurc iu the open air, especially if neai the sea. In a private residence or hail it is safe, and preserves its contour as well as the harder and coarser grained stone, which is quarried from the same place, but which has a bluish tint and is veined, and which costs only $8 per square foot. The difference in the working of the two is rrrnit ohenner article is more brittle | 1? and altogether unsuited to the minute and delicate tracery which is so frequently called for in draped figures. But for pedestals or greatly enlarged figures it is perhaps more appropriate than the other. I knew a sculptor in London who had worked for two years on a female statue, which turned out to be a most spcuking likeness of the original. He was a fastidiously careful and conscientious artist, j and after the work was finished and fully approved by those for whom it was done, he begged that it might be allowed to remain in his studio for a few days longer, for he said he wanted to retouch it. His wish was complied with, and ene day, thinking he had discovered a slight inaccuracy in one of the outstretched fingers, he commenced to repair the fault. Coming across a flaw in the stone which had hitherto remained hidden, the fated finger fell at his feet, and two years' laboi was lost. Such accidents are liable to occur with any sculptor who gets hold of an inferior or unsuitable piece of marble. ?Brooklyn Citizen. \ ** ii?? REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN D1VT\E'S SUNDAY HICltMON'. Subject: "The Strong Swimmer."' (Preached at Seattle, W. T.) Text: "-He shall spread forth His hands in the midst of them, as he that sioimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim."?Isaiah rxv., 11. At this season of the year multitudes of people wade into the ponds and lakes and rivers and seas. At first putting out cautiously from the shore, but having learned the right stroke of arm and foot, they let the waters roll over them, and in wild glee dive or float or swim. So the text will be very rageestive: "He shall spread forth BUs hand Ill Wie nil US U UL l/LLOLU, l?J ou (.UUb IS W UUUlCbU spreadeth forth his hands to swim." The fisherman seeks out unfrequented nooks. You stand all day 011 the bank of a river in the broiling sun, and fling out your line, and catch nothing, while the expert angler breaks through the jungle and goes by the shadow of the solitary rock, and in a place where no fisherman has been for ten years, throws out his line and comes home at night, his face shining and hia basket full. I do not know why we ministers of the Gospel need always be fishing in the same stream, and preaching from the seme text that other people preach from. Icannot understand^ the policy of the minister who, in Blackfriars, London, England, every week for thirty years preached from the Epistle to the Hebrews. It is an exhiliaration to me when I oome across a theme which I feel no one else has treated, and ray text is one of that kind. There are paths in God's Word that are well beaten by Christian feet. When men want to quote Scripture, they quote the old passages that every one has heard. "When tney want a chapter read, thej read a chapter that all the other people have been reading, so that the church to-day is ignorant of three-fourths of the Bible. You j go into the Louvre at Paris. You confine yourself to one corridor of that opulent gallery of paintings. As you come out your friend says to you: "Did you see that Rembrandt?" "No." "Did you see that RubensS-" "No." "Did you see that Titian?" "No." "Did you see that Raphael!" "No." "Well." says your friencL "then you didn't see the Louvre." Now, my friends, I think we are too much apt to confine ourselves to one of the great corridors of this Scripture truth, and so much so that there is not one person out of a million who has ever noticed the all suggestive and powerful picturc in the words of my text. This text represents God as a strong swimmer, striking out to push down iniquity and save the souls of men. "He shall spread forth His hand in the midst of them, as lit that swimraeth spreadeth forth his hands tc swim." The figure is bold and many sided. Most of you know how to swim. Some of you learned it m 1110 city scnooi, wuero iuia art is taught; some of you in boyhood, in the river near your father's house; some of you since you came to manhood or womanhood, while summering on the beach of the sea. You step down in the wave, you throw your head back, you bring your elbows to the chest, you put the palms of your hands downward and the soles of your feet outward, and you push through the water as though yon had been born aquatic. It is a grand thing to know how to swim, not only for yourself, but because you will after a while, perhaps have to help others, I do not know any thiug more stirring or sublime than to see some man like Norman McKenzie leaping from the ship Madras into the sea to save Charles Turner, who dropped from the royal yard while trying to loosen the sail, bringing him back to the deck amid the huzzas of the passengers and crew. If a man has not enthusiasm enough to cheer in such circumstances he deserves himself to drop into the sea and have no one to help him. The Royal Humane Society of England was established in 1774, its object to applaud and reward those who should pluck up life from the deep. Any one who has performed such a deed of daring has all the particulars of that bravery recorded in a public record, and on his breast a medal done in blue, and gold, and bronze; anchor, and monogram, and inscription, telling to futuro jrATierfttions thebraverv of tho man or woman who saved some one from drowning. But, my friends, if ifc is sucli a worthy thing to save a body from the deep, I ask you if it is not a worthier thing to save an immortal soul? And you shall see this hour the Son'of God step forth for this achievement. "He shall spread forth His hand in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim." In order to understand the full force of this figure, you need to realize, first of all that our race is in a sinking condition. You sometimes hear people talking of what they consider the most beautiful words in our language. One man says it is "home," another says it is the word "mother," another says it is the word "Jesus," but I will tell you the bitterest word in all .our language, the word most angry and baleful, the word saturated with the most trouble, the word that accounts for all the loathsomeness, and the pang, and the outrage, and the harrowing; and that word is "on." You spell it with three letters, and yet those three letters describe tha circumference and pierce the diameter of everything bad in the universe. Sin! it is a sibilant word. You cannot pronounce' it without giving the siss of the flame or the hiss of the serpent. Sin! And then if you add three .letters to that word it describes every one of us by nature?sinner. We have outraged the Jaw of God. not occasionally or now and then, but perpetually. The Bible declares it. Hark! It thunders two claps: "The heart is deceitful above all-things and desperately wicked." "The soul that smneth, it snail die." What tha Bible says our own conscience affirms. After Judge Morgan had sentenced Lady Jane Gray to death his conscience troubled him so much for the deed that he became insane, and all throngh his insanity he kept saying: "Take her away from me! Lady Jane Grey. Take her away! Lady Jane Grey." It was the voice of his conscience. And no man ever does anything wrong, " Dwever great or small, but his conscience brings that matter before him, ind at every step of his misbehavior it says: 'Wrong, wrong." Sin is a leprosy, sin is a paralysis, sin is a consumption, sin is pollution, sin is death. Give it a fair shanco and it will swamp you, body, mind and soul forever. In this world it only jives a faint intimation of its virulence. You see a patient in the first stages of typhoid faver. Tha cheek is somewhat flushed, tho haucls somewhat hot, preceded by a slight chill. "Why, you say, "typhoid fever does not soem to be much of a disease." But wait until tbe patient has been six weeks under it, and all his energies have bcou wrung out, and he is too weak to lift his littlo finger, aud his intellect is gone, then you seo the full havoc of the disease. Now sin in this world is an ailment which is only in its very first stages; but let it get under full way and it is an all consuming typhoid. Oh, if we could sea our unpardoned sins as God sees them our teeth would cliatter, and our knees would knock together, av.d our respiration would be choked, and our heart would break. If your sins are ujiforgiven, they are bearing down on you, and you are sinkinrr?sinking away from happinoss, sinking t.way from God, sinking away from everything that is good ana blessed. Then what do we want? A swimmer! A 6trong swimmer! A swift swimmer! And, blessed be God, in my text wo have him announced. "He shall spread forth His hands in the midst of them, as ho that swimmetb spreadeth forth his hands to swim.v You have noticed that when a swimmar goes out to rescue any one he puts off his heavy apparel. He must not have any such impediment about him if he is going to do this great deed. And when Christ stepped forth to save us He shook off the sandals of heaven, and His feet wero free; and then He stepped Jown into the wavo of our transgressions, and it came up over His wounded feet, and it came above tne spear stab in His side?aye, it dashed to tho lacerated temple, the high water mark of His anguish. Then, rising above the flood,' 'He stretched forth His hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmet h spreadeth forth his hands to swim." If you havo ever watched a swimmer, you notice that his whole body is brought into play. The arms are flexed, the bands drive the water back, the knees are active, the head i3 thrown back 1? xscaDe stranjmlation. the whole bodv is in wopuision. And when Christ sprang into the deep to save us, Ho throw His entire nature into it?all His Godhead, His omniscience, His goodness, His lova, his omnipotence?head, heart, eye?, hands, feet. We were far ont on the sea and so de>jp down in tie waves and 50 far out from tlie i shore that nothing short of an entire God could save us. Cnrist leaped out for our rescue, saying: "Lo! I come to do thy will," and all the surges of human and satanic hate beat against Him, and those who watched Him from the gates or heaven feared He would go down nnder the wave, and instead of saving others would Himself perish; but putting His breast to the foam, and shaking the surf from His locks, He came on and on. until He is now witnrn tne reacn or every one here. Eye omniscient, heart infinite, arm omnipotent. Mighty to save, even unto the uttermost. On, it was not lialf a God that trampled down bellowing Gennesaret. It was not a quarter of a God that mastered the demons of Gadara. It was not two-thirds of a God that lifted up Lazarus into the arms of his overjoyed sisters. It was not a fragment of a God who offered pardon and peace: to all the race. No. This mighty swimmer threw His grandeur, His glory, His might, His wisdom, His omnipotence and His eternity into thin one act. It took both hands of God to save us?both feet. How do I prove ic? On the cross, were not both hands nailed? On the cross, were uot both feet nailed? His entire nature involved in our redemption! If you have lived much by the water, you notice also that if any one is going out to the rescue of the crowning be must be independent, self reliant, able to go alone. There may be a time when we must spring out to save one and he cannot get a lifeboat, and be goes out and has not strength enough to bear himself up, and bear another up, ho will sink, and instead of dragging one corpse out of the torrent you will nave two to drag out. When Christ sprang out into the sea to deliver us He nad no lifebuoy. His father did not help Him. Alone La the wine press. Alone in the Dane. Alone In the darkness. Alone in the mountain. Alone in the sea. (X if He saves us He shall have oil the credit, for "there vas none to help." No oar. No wing. No ladder. When Nathaniel Lyon fell in the battle charge in front of his troops, he had a whole army to cheer him. Wnen Marshal Ney sprang into the contest and plunged in the spars till tho horse's flanks spurted blood, aU France applauded him. Bub Jesus aloue'. "Of the people there was none to help." "All forsook nim and fled." O, it was not a flotilla that sailed down and saved us. It was not a cluster of gondolas that came over the wave. It was one parson, independent and alone, "spreading out His hands among us as a swimmer spraadeth forth his hands to swim." Behold then, to-day, the spectacle of a drowning soul and Christ, the swimmar. I believe it was in 1848, when thero were six English soldiers of tha Fifth Fusiliers, who were hanging to tha bottom of a capsizid boat?a boat that had baan upset by a squall thraa miles from shore. It was in tha night, but one man swam mightily for tho beach, guided by the dark mountains that lifted their top through the night. He came to the beach. He found a shore man that consented, to go with him and save the other men, and the; put out. It wiis some time before they coula nnd tbe place where tne men were, dui alter i awhile they heard their cry: "Help! Hclpl" and thoy bore down to them, and they saved them, and brought them to shore. Oh, that this moment our cry might be lifted long, loud and shrill, till Christ the swimmer shall come and take us lest we drop a thousand fathoms down. If you have been much by water, you know very well that when one is in peril help must come very quickly, or it will be of no use. One minute may decide everything. Immediate help the man wants or no help at all. Now, that is just the kind of a relief we want. The case is urgent, imminent, instantaneous. See that soul sinking. Son of God, lay hold of him. Be quick! be quick! Oh, I wish you all understood how urgent this Gospel is. There was a man ia the navy at sea who had been severely whipped for bad behavior, and he was maddened by it) and he leaped into the sea, and no sooner had he leaned into the sea than, quick as lightning, an albatross swooped upon nim. The drowning man, brought to his senses seized hold of the albatross and held on. Th? fluttering of the bird kept him on the wave until relief could come. Would now the dove of God's convicting, converting and saving spirit might flash from the throne upon your soul, ana that you, taking hold of its potent wing, might live and live forever. I want to persuade you to lay hold of this strong swimmer. "No," you say, "it is always disastrous for a drowning man to lay hold of a swimmer." There is not a river or lake but has a calamity resultant from the fact that when a strong swimmer went out to save a sinking man, the drowning man clutched him, threw his arm3 around him, pinioned his arms, and they both went down together. When you are saving a man in the water you do. not want to come up by liis face; you want to come up by his back. "Vnu do not want him to take hold of vou while you take hold of him. But, blessed be God, Jesus Christ is so strong a swimmer, He comes not to our back^ but to our face, and He asks us to throw around Him the arms of our lore, and then promises to take us to the baach, and He will do it. Do not trust that plank of good works. Do not trust that; shivered spar of your own righteousness. Christ only can give you transportation. Turn your face upon Him as the dying martyr did in olden days when he cried out: "None but Christ! None but Christ!" Jesus hns taken millions to the laud, aud Ho is willing to take you there. Oh, what hardness to shove Him back when He has been swimming all the way from the throne of God to where you are uow, and is ready to swim all the way back again, taking your redeemed spirit. I have sometimes thought what a spectacle the ocean bed will present when in the last day the water is all drawn off. It will bo a line of wrecks from beach to beach. There is where the harpoons went down. There is where the line of battle ships went down. There is where the merchantmen went down. There is whero the steamers went down, a long line of wrecks from beach to beach. What a spectacle in the last day when the water is drawn off 1 But oh, how much more solemn if wo had an eye to see the spiritual wrccks and the places where they foundered. You would find thousands along our roads and streets. Christ came down in their awful catastrophe, putting out for their souls, "spreading forth His hands as a swimmer spreadeth forth his hands to swim;" but they thrust Him in the sore heart, and thoy smote His fair cheek, and the storm and darkness swallowed them up. I ask you to lay hold of this Christ and lay hold of Him now. You will sink without Him. From horizon to horizon not one sail in sight. Only one strong swimmer, with head flung back aud arms outspread. I hear a great many in the audience saying: "Well. I would like to be a Christian. I am foing to work to become a Christian." My rotnor, you begin wrong. When a man is drowning, and a strong swimmer comes out to help him, be says to him: "SSov Dequiec. Put your arm on my arm or on my shoulder, but don't struggle, don't try to help yourself, and I'll take you ashore. The more you struggle and the more you try to help yourself, the more you impade me. Now be quiet and Til take you ashore." When Christ, the strong swimmer, comes out to save a soul, the sinner says: "That's right. I am glad to see Christ, and I am going to help Him in the work of my redemption. I am going to pray more and that will help Him; and I am going to weep extravagantly over my sins ana that will help Him." No, my brother, it will not. Stop your doing. Christ will do all or none. You cannot lilt an ounce, you cannot move an inch, in this matter of your redemption. This is the difficulty which keeps thousands of souls out of the kingdom of heaven. It is because they cannot consent to let Jesus Christ begin and complete the work of their redemption. "Why," you say, "then is there nothing for me to do?" Only one thing have you to do, and that is to lay hold of Christ and let Hiin achieve your salvation and achieve it all. I do not know whether I make the matter plain or not. I simply want to show you that a man cannot save himself but that the Almighty Son of God can do it, and will do it, if you ask Him. O, flijig your two arms, the arms of your trust and love, around this omnipotent swimmer of the cross. That is a thrilling time when some one swampsd in the surf is brought ashore and being resuscitated. How the people watch for the moment when he bogins to breathe again, and when at lust he takes one full inhalation, and opens his eyes upon tho bystanders, a shout of joy rings up and down tho beach. There is joy because a life has been saved. 0, ye who have been swamped in the seas of trouble and sin! we gather around you. Would that this might be the hour when you bogin to live. The Lord Josus Christ steps down, Ho gets on His knees, He puts His lip to your lip, and would breathe pardon and life anu heaven into your immortal soul. God grant that thia hour there may be thousands of souls resuscitated. I stand on the deck of tho old Gospel ship amid a crowd of. passengora, all of them hoping that the last man overboard may be laved. May the living Christ this hour put out for your safety, "spreading forth His hands in the midst of you, as a swimmer iproadoth forth bis bands to swim." RELIGIOUS READING. A. THOUGHT FROM THE FATHERS. See how yon little lark is borne With music up to heaven. To bask in sunlight ere the morn To Tales beneath is given. That bird salvation's sign bath made By stretching forth its wings; The cross upon his back is laid, And lo! he soars and sings. Take off the fardel th >the bears, He lalleth inhis flight; The cross is in the wings he wears; He proves the burden light. So Christ hath laid His cross on me; It wings me to the tky, . . And day by day, though sore it be, By that dearcro6s live L It beareth those by whom 'tis borne, And by its weight we rise; Who casts it down, he sinks forlorn; Who takes it up, he flies. Easy the yoke and light the load, Indeed, my spirit slogs; To bim tbat pants for uod's abode His cross snail prove his wings. THE GREAT NEED. The greac need, after all, is men more thar money. Men of God, who count not their lives dear unto them. Men like Frederick Stanley Arnott, a -young- Scotchman who went to Africa, and starting irom ihe south, ma rch ad right up through the heart of that continent. Men like tne immortal David Livingstone, who died praying for Africa. They buried him with maoy.tQftri!v}I,eulogies in Wo tminSfer' Abbey, but if he could leap into life acain he would sav: "Follow where my heart lies out yonder in Africa. Obey your Lord's command: "Go ye into all the world, aiid preach the e:oepel to every creature.' "?Evangelistic Work. CHRISTIAN JOT. The Rev. Professor Elmslie, speaking recently 011 r istian j>y, said we needed to rid religion of all dullness and of all repulsive coldnesi and sternness. The perfection of all Christian rejoicing and living is justin we could but do it as Christ wanted it?to live truly and altogether in the world, -but not of tho world. He was not quite sure whether it was not the first s> mptom of the Church's corruption when they put the crucifix upon the altar. The young, bravehearted, rejoicing and conquering Church did not do it. Is that toe last word of the gospel?"Christ ded?' Nol. That crucified Christ would mea'i the world's des >air if that were his final form. What makes our triumph, our hope, our faith, our life, our rejoicing in the certainty of victory, is that crucified Christ risen, asc^n led, reigning; and that is the Christ they would find painted in tho chancel of all the early Christian c 'urches. The crucified, dead Christ came in later. But that risen, reigning Christ on the throne is "as a Lamb that had been sla'n." The marks of his death, his atonement, are there. It is the crucifi.d, but the crucified, triumphant Christ. THE BIBI/E. . If the Bible is not a revelation from God, then is there nothing in all the universe that can fill the longing soul of man.?Then must that deathless spirit, on wing forever, perpetually hover over an abyss of unfathomable doubt. If truth is not found in this book where then is s&e to be found? In deism??They tell us that natural religion ii sufficient for p11 the wants of our race. But | wnere is her solace for that soul t hat long; for somothing more substantial than aught j thai can be found on earth?something en- j during?something that will shine forth in i pe> rices splendor when nature shall heave tier, last groan? Oh! where o y< u find all thus in desm? What evi.fenc hare I from nature's book that 1 shall be at last found superior to the brute?that I shall live when this material stru ture shall have crumbled into dust? None whatever. For, if bofore the period of my cr -ation ail was nonexistence, how do I know that after the terminus of my mortal race thoro will not again be an eternal non-existence? One thing I am taught fri m the religion of nature?that "God is love."?From this I conclude most positively that bo would not create our race, with all our powers and capacities of mind, w thout gran ing us an additional manisestation of his goodness?telling us something of our destiny when time is no more. But in the universe there is no such knowledge obtained if it is not found in the Bible. I conclude, therefore, that this is the B?k of God?the best gift of a merciful Father tc man. Here "'life and immortality are brought to light." "Blessed be the Lord for bis great goodness and wonderful works to tho children of men." ' I WAIT AND SZE. "I never let bairns or fools seo my pic--, tures until they are done," se.id a Scotch arti>t to me once, quoting a familiar proverb of his conn'rymen. We are all but "bairns" in God's si?ht, and we sadly play the foo< in regard to his j rovidential dealings. As no artist is willing to haivo a ju 1rmont. pronounced on painting or ? utile until the work is completed, so our heavenly IVacher bids us iiotsess o:ir souls in pa ieuce. "What I do. thou knovrost not now, but thou halt I-now hereafter." We must wait and soe. This in but the prcpiratory school, in which cl aracter is on the easel or under the chisel; exhibition day will coma in anothor world. f God only lets us see His Providence "in part," an I then wo only sea th m ns through a glas<, darkly. Why the pleasantest room in our house is turned into a h<*pi al; why that c flln wis carried, like a spectre, up our stairwa ; why the pillow in that crib is unpreiaed toda ; why th t income on which so many mouths depend d is dried up; why this aud that staff was broken, our poor, blind nchiug hearts cannot undo stand. Go I keeps his own secrete; nil the un-swor be vouchsafes now is, "All things work together for good to them that love me." Impatient and rebelli' >us as we nriy be now, wo cannot displace God's hand from the eanvas. There is no help for us bit to wait until the picture is completed. Some of the coloi"s he is laying into our lives are frightfully sombre, but by and by, rn th?revealing light of the last day, they may be onlv a back ground on which faith and mbmissive trust and vict rious strength will stand out in hues of golden glory. Let us wait and see. It is not from the assaults of open infidelity, or from the nkepiicai pag<s of the Kenans or Str iuses, or Sp-neers, that the hardest strain on our faith cometh. It is from the dark and mysterious permission of Providence that wo are oftenest in danger of making shipwreck of faith. We not only turn cowar is in the dark, but, like fools, we doubt whether there will ever again be d iylight. At such times it is good to bring in the lamp of that Llessed passage of Psalms xxx, 5: "Wi eping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn in?." The original Hebrew is far more forcible; it literally reaas: jn me mgav iuuu wrrun lodgeth, but at tho day-dawn cometh shouting. " A great dea of cur work in this world is nighi work. Weary with rowing, we oven get Irigiiten d by the "pparition of the Master and cry out, "It is a ghosd' until He rovenl? himself in the words, "it is I; be of goodchor; be not afraid." Tho history of ev?ry discovery of new truth, of every enter pti-e of benevolence, of every Christian i elorni, of almost every revival, is the history of long working, waiting and wn:ching through seasons of discouragement... .The lesson for every missionary, every pastor, every teacher, and every so ely-tried child of G d is in the^e heaven-taught w- rds: "I wait for tho Lord, and in His word do I hope; my soul waiteth for the Lord more than they t hat watch for tho morning."? Or. Cttylcr. It is now claimed that the actual feat of sending a portrait of the person using the telephone wire has been accomplished abroad. The portrait appears as a shadow on a ground glass as in the pliot^graphio camera. Edison is working out the idea in this country. Mrs. John- E. Gordon, of Cuming County, Nebraska, is too busy with experimental silk culture to worry much about woman suffrage. She now has 10,000 cocoons ready for shipment as the result of her season's work. . * jLA4" jfr"'- 7 1 TEMPERANCE. LEARNING TO'COUNT. "Number One?The beer shop shun, Number Two?Nor drink, nor brew. Number Three?A teetotaller be. Number Four?Keep drink from the door. Number Five?Abstain and thrive. Number Six?To teetotal fix. Number Seven?Be to temperance given. Number Eight?Don't be caught by tho bait. Number Nine?A mocker in wine. Number Ten?Be teetotal thenP A FRUIT OF TH* SALOOX BU8I5ESS. According to the Topcka (Kan.) Capital, the 300 saloons in Kansas City, Mo., have filched $20,000 a day from the laboring men, ' emptied 580 business places, 3900 readences ana 2000 offices, and driven laboring men and mechanics from 400 dwellings to seek work in Kansas. As a further fruit of this business, says the Capital, 110,000,000 are invested in buildings that are not paring taxes, 714 chattel mortgages were nlea in June, while from two to three thousand idle men stand in the public square begging for A GREAT MORAL LISSOIf. The residents along Division street this morning were edified oy the spectacle of a drunken dog that was laboriously making his way down to Dorr street That dog is a most disreputable cur, and of late years has be* come a confirmed toper. He contracted the habit of drinking by going into a little aa- , Um loon up in the Eighth Ward and Hnfcfyg the | beerthat dripped from the faucets, it was I the same old story?a little bit at first?then ' I a little more?then one on me?then one an j vou?then iust one more, von know, nntfl I this moraine be went reeling and staggering down the sidewalk. Tbo dog. seemed to,be the victim of an uncontrolable desire to drift to leeward all the time, for he could not sail straight up the sidewalk, but was compelled to tack. Then there seemed to"be unseen obstacle in his path of progress, for he lifted his feet high in the air, and strenuous efforts to step over the obstructions that evidently bothered him.?Toledo Blade. MINNESOTA'S HEW LAW. The new law in Minnesota which makes the drunkard rather than the liquor seller the criminal is reported to be working well. As will perhaps be remembered, it makes com! pulsory upon the police magistrate to impose r> a penalty of thirty days' imprisonment upon A a iy oue found guilty of drunkenness for the tl lird time. In St. Paul the returns for the, ~ two months in which the law has been - in' . force show a decrease in the number of ar- J, riiists for drunkenness from 484 last year to 446 this. Last year no record was kept of < "repeaters." This year there have been only $ two cases where any one has been found v ' guilty of a third offence. The principle of this law is new in America, but is quite commonly accopted in Europe. In Austria, for oxample,' whoever is punished three times , during a year for drunkeaness can be pro-. * . hibited from entering places where liquors . are sold for a year in the place of his reei- ; denoe and in the towns immediately surrounding it. Any infringement of this law :' . is liable to a penalty of oneinonth's imprisonment, or twenty dollars' fine. The same .penalties are imposed uppn the dealer who sells the liquor.?New York Commercial Advertiser. RESULTS or PHYSICAL TRAUCIKG. ' The Northwestern. Christian Advocate, ' from the late brutal prize-fight exhibition, draws the following useful lesson concerning the value of non-alcoholic physical training: ' "The one thing that attracts us in this instance is the result of Sullivan's training by Professor Muldoon,' who seems destined to fame because of his success in training the big i drunkard, whose profanity, quarrelsomeness-^ and general debauchery are a general disgrace to even that profligate. After being j seethed in whisky for years, damaged by tyI favax diaahlo^ Kr trm this Sullivan has submitted to severe train- , ing, exercise, dieting and abstinence, until he is pronounced a perfect specimen of physical manhood. If all this be true, it' suggests-the possibilities respecting any man who6e-bodily functions have been damaged by whatever means. If the 5?uldoon can' uplift such a man, what may not other "trained trainers do for the sober, temperate man who needs corresponding attentions and relatire rebuilding? We have no doubt that proper training can add a very large fraction to the life ' ana efficiency of many hundreds of protesional men, and-thus-aad to the-sam total o& the world's brain-workers." \ [- : I When a father, says a letter to the Voice, stands at the grave of a sou who died from intemperance, and reflects upon the fact that he never raised a linger to help crash the Kwerthathasat last destroyed him whom loved as he loved his own life, he realizes now, too late, his error, and that he has received his just reward. When a son sees his father slowly going to a drunkard's grave, and fails to nelp in crushing out the saloo n power, at last, when his parent's loved form Is hidden beneath the i sod, he knows that Iris own punishment it I When a wife who has a loved husband or J son who is in danger of destruction through : B . drinlc, and fails to use her influenco to crush I out the liquor traffic, she finds out, too late, B I her neglect, and sheds bitter tears of repent- , B ance over the graves of her loved ones do- B stroyed by intemperance. B When a daughter sees her father or brother B being brought into the vortex of drink, and H fails to raise her voicu and use her influence against the drink traffic, she finds too late, H when robbed of her loved ones, that her up- B portunity to save them has pasMd away for- H ever. H O, fathers, sons, vrives, daughters, wake up from your lethargy and help destroy the B great liquor evil that is ruining 60 many H homes in our gloriotui Land of Liberty. H DISEASES 07 WINE TASTERS. jfl A German medical paper mentions a scien- H tiflc investigation bj Dr. Donnet, of Bor- H deaux, and Dr. Mar&ndon, of Dijon, France, H of tho special disease}; of wine tasters, whoee H services as experts are called into requisition H to test the qualities of wines and liquors. .. It H appears that these wine tasters frequently H suffer with disturbances similar to alcoholism, although the claret tasters do not swal- K low the wine, but, on the contrary reject it, H and even rinse their mouths afterward. One' H case mentioned by Dr. Donnet was that of a H man thirty-two years old, who used t? taste H every day thirty or forty samples of wine, occasionally liquors and rum, without ever H swallowing any part of them. After two years he became very excitable, lost his ap- H petite, did not sleeo tvell, and suffered wifh ^fl nf Rxnsihllitv. twins in the breast, a feeling of weakness, and a difficulty iu breathing. He improved after abandoning his profession, although a nervous debility still remained, as noticeable by the cility with which he was set in tears. Another^K statement made by Dr. Donnet is the great number of apoplexies in Bordeaux,where many persons drink one and a half litres of H| wino with a meal. This number exceeds the |H number of apoplex.es in any city of the world. All this serves to illustrate the fact that alcohol is indeed an "irritant poison," and that total abstinence is a safe aud wise rule of conduct. jffij rarsicAL. effects of alcohol. gof Dr. Vf. S. Searle says iu the North American Review: But if the physical results of alcoliol are varied, much more diverse are its effects upon the mental and moral nature BH of man. Indeed, they are as multiform as man himself. One general classification only |H is possible. Certain iudividools (fortunately the small minority) ai'e always pleasurably affocted by stimulants. Each successive dose arouses in them increased exhilaration, and when intoxication sepervenes their sensalions are delightful. Their every sens.} is exalted; they fancy themselves endued with j^H every gift?with all power and possession. Rfl A3 is often remarked, these are generally men of tho most brilliant intellect, and of the most charming moral qualities. Onca^H led captive by alcohol, those unfortunates H| seldom have sufficient power of will to re-^H frain from renewod indulgence. No moral considerations avail to restrain thorn, and, with few exceptions, they yield wholly, finally and fataliy to the tempter. For sucu^H men total abstinence is tho only refuge. * 41 Upon the large majority of men the^H effects of alcohol, taken to intoxication, are^H clearly and essentially different; although at^H first exhilarated, repeated indulgence brings drowsiness, dullness of apprehension, auaes-^H thesia, vertigo, nausea and vomiting?in^H short, bodily and mental symptoms which^H are excessively disagreeable. Of this clasr^^l very few become drunkards, and those are^H| men to whom anaesthesia becomes desirablefl^N as a temporary refuge from bodily pain or^HI mental aistress. Herein lies the sole expla-Hfl nation of the fact ihat the proportfam of^B f^Ska^ito^Mdjrevte and habitual