University of South Carolina Libraries
UNCALENDARED. Only a year have thou and I been frien^i, If time be oounted on our calendar; Away with that! What it begins, it ends; J From all eternity, close souls we were, And shall be, so God grant! forevermore, I For two were never faster bound before. "With God, one day is as a thousand years;" Oh, Love is mighty, God's most blessed name! The more that man his Maker's image bears The more must months and aeons be the same. Love knows not time?it is eternity. And not a year, that I count out with thee! ?Charlotte F. Bates, in the Century, IN THE OAK WALK. BY EMMA A. OPPER. How pretty Miss Perry looked! Neither Miss Lane nor Phil Thompson had ever seen quite such a sight. She was in black silk, though it was only foi a morning stroll to the Oak Walk?black silk enveloped, as to the skirt, in shimmering lace. Her little bl#ck bonnet set off her fair face and yellow hair; her long Suede gloves were as yellow as her hair, her parasol white and lacey. "Your cousin is very handsome," said Mary Lane to Mr. Olney. In her heart there was a shocked disapproval of Miss Perry, but her cousin was not the one to confide it to. "Oh, yes, Mag's pretty!" Mr. Olney rejoined, turning languidly to glance at her (he did everything lazily). "But she's not my cousin, you know. Mag's step-father's cousin is my aunt." "Oh?" said Mary. She raised her old fashioned brown parasol. "Allow me!" said Mr. Olney, and took it. Mary Lane smiled. It amused her that she, a staid little country schoolma'am, should be the recipient of the gallantries of a silkhatted, eye-glassed young man from the rifnr But it did not so much amuse her that Miss Perry should be the recipient of Phil Thompson's gallantries. She was indignant with everybody. "With the Waltons, who boarded herself and Phil Thompson, Phil's parents being away on a visit. Why had they taken any more boarders? Miss Perry and her mother might have summered elsewhere very well. With Phil himself. In spite of the innocence of his wide blue eyes, Mary had thought Phil rather level-headed. Now what was she to think? But most of all with Miss Perry. What right had she to do it?to put forth her finished charms for the undoing of a defenseless country youth? to trifle with his honest heart like a cat with a mouse? Mary Lane was wrathful. "No, Mag's not closely related, you see," Mr. Olney was saying, in his not unpleasant drawl. "But I consider it my duty to look after her, rather. That's why I'm here. I thought i'd run down o fio-ir ar twn and see what Masr was W %4WJ v. w up to." It was evident what Mag was up to. She and Phil were far behind now, under her white parasol. Mr. Olney laughed lazily. "I rather think it's a good thing I came, you know," he remarked. "I may be in time to rescue Mr. Thompson. You see, Mag's a terror, Miss Lane. She doesn't mean it, but on my word she an't help it!" "What?" said Mary, coldly. "Flirting, you know," said Mr. Olney, yawning. 4 lI don't know how it is, you know, but she cawn't see a fresh fellow ?a new one, I mean," he substituted politely?"without trying to get his scalp. On my word!" No reply from the schoolma'am. She ! was burningly silent. He was making fun of Phil, of course; that was plain. But that was not the worst. It was so then; she was amusing ! herself with Phil. Mr. Olney had seen | ? ? - * i j._ i it. Poor PHiil ana ner poor sen, uui. iu be able to say one word, to place one straw against the current! "As many good shots as Mag's made, though," Mr. Olney added, reflectively, 4 'she hasn't suited herself yet. She knocks down fellows fast enough, but she don't pick 'em up when she's got 'em down." "You see the turn just ahead?" said Mary?she did not propose to listen to a rehearsal of Miss Perry's triumphs. "That brings us to the Walk. It is an avenue of oaks, which gives it its name. Come up here, and you can see the river," said Mary, mechanically. "A charming view," said Mr. Olney, adjusting his eye-glass. "Ah, Mag and Mr. Thompson are upon us!" They were, at last; Miss Perry with a 1A- rpMoofnllr-flancrlinff mr prcttj smiic auu 0 ? asol, Phil with a somewhat dazed look on his handsome, honest face. "It's done!" Mary thought, bitterly. "It is too late! Oh, she should be choked!" "What a view!" Miss Perry was crying, with clasped hands. "See the river, Mannaduke! Blue from the sky, and still as glass!" "Beautiful!" Mr. Olney assented. "And this long avenue?did you ever see anything like it, Marmaduks?" Marmaduke never had. "I thank you so much, Miss Lane, for bringing us!" Miss Perry cried, herself beautiful in her gay enthusiasm. "Not at all," said Mary. Miss Perry's thanks were intolerable. Phil?poor Phil?if she could save him! But Miss. Perry stood near him?was smiling at him. "What are those flowers down there?" she demanded, brightly. "Violets already? I must have them!" They were a dozen perilous feet down tho steep bank, which sloped to the river. But Miss Perry gazed brilliantly at Phil and Mr. Olney. "We couldn't get them, Mag," said Mr. Olney. "We'd break our necks." "Shame!" cried Miss Perry, blithely, and cast down her parasol and gloves. "Laggards, I'll do it myself! Go hide your heads!" She was at the brink of the bank. Mr. Olney caught her wrist. "You'll kill yourself, you know, Mag," he drawled. "Perhaps I shall," she retorted, rollickiugly; but she turned hotly red at his touch. "My blood will be on your head, Marmaduke!" She sprang out of his reach, and stood poifttd where her leap had taken her, her charming face en a level with their feet. "Miss Perry!" said Phil, and "Mag!" said Mr. Olney, sternly, but got no further. She had slipped. Down, down the sheer baA: she went sliding, with a dire rendiniz of pretty skirts, a wild fluttering of i ? /' frightened hands, till she clutched at a sapling rooted far below, and sank down with a little exhausted shriek. ""Well, how can we get to her?" Phil gasped. "Upon my word, I don't know!" said Mr. Olney, augrilv. "She's a madcap!" Miss Perry was gazing up at them in comical defiance, her white hand waving. "I'm not hurt. I suppose you're sorry I'm not hurt, Marmaduke?" she cried. "You see the foot path just below you Miss Perry?" Mary called to her, coldly. "If you will take that it will bring you gradually to a lower grade in the walk, where you can climb up easily." "We will walk down and meet you there," said Phil. "Shan't we, Mary?" "Very well," said Mary, frigidly. Miss Perry, with a last defiant word or two, was off. Mary led the way down the walk stiffly. Phil was laughing. "Miss Perry is irrepressible!" he observed, admiringly. "Oh, she's a madcap," Mr. Olney repeated, strolling leisurely in the rear. Mary accomplished the five minutes' walk in silence. A slender figure, in draggled black silk, looked up at them drolly from down 2-1- - -1 - tills stupe. Phil and Mr. Oltiey sprang down and pulled her up. Mary was positive she had stopped there purposely. Her heart burned within her. What a fool she would have looked in such a position! But Miss Perry was flushed and laughing and lovely. "What are you . giggling at, you wretches?" she cried, tipping her bent bonnet recklessly over her nose, and spreading her lace skirt?which hung in tags. "Stop this minute, Marmaduke! I've had a delightful little excursion. I've enjoyed it?there now! I didn't get my violets, but " Miss Perry was turning white. She clasped her round arm with a shiver of pain. Blood was trickling oh the fair skin. "It was a stone?it cut it as I fell!" she murmured. Now she would have pity and concern as well as admiration. It was a cut-anddried scheme, Mary reflected, irefully. Phil would have to help her home. She turned away, her lip between her teeth, hot and futile tears in her eyes. She would not look on at it! But it was Miss Perry's ambiguous relative who offered his arm. 1 'If you've had enough of an escapade, Mag," he remarked, drily, "perhaps you'll let me take you home?" She took his arm without a word, that warm red rising in her soft face; and Phil joined Mary. Mary looked fixedly at the river. She felt Phil's big, blue eyes upon her, but she did not meet them. She had no patience with him?a simpleton who would let a shallow flirt make an idiot of him! "What's the matter, Mary?" he stammered, at last. "I?I?you don't seem to like Miss Perry much, Mary." That was too much. "No, I don't," said Mary grimly. "I think she's jolly, you know," said . Phil timidly. "And I'm sorry for her? awfully sorry!" "It is only a scratch," said Mary, with forced calmness. "I don't mean that," said Phil. He took Mary's elbow to help her up the grade, but she pulled it away. "Not that, you know. You see, she? I wonder if she'd mind my telling you?just you?" "I don't want to hear it," said Mary, in agony. "She wouldn't mind," Phil insisted. ' 'If she told me, she'd tell anybody. It's about her Marmaduke?he isn't hers, that is, but she'd like him to be. They've been going on together for years, I gathered, without it's ever coming to anything; and she doesn't know whether Olney wants it to come to anything. He's so careless and lazy, she doesn't know whether he likes her or not. But she likes him. She told me that right out, Mary,- asinnoceutas a baby; seemed to want somebody to tell it to. And she cried when she said it?just cried. That was why she went on like that when we came up with you?made all that fuss about the flowers, and went down the bank? to take his attention off her red eyes. She says she can't marry anybody else; and then not to be sure he cares for her?well, it is tough. If he don't want her, I don't know what he does want," said Phil, indignantly. Mary Lane was looking down at the grass. "Was that what she was saying?" she murmured. "He?he said she was fiirrinor with you!" "He did?" said Phil, warmly. "He wants throttling. I've a mind to do it for him. He doesn't deserve her, the puppy!" "I thought so, too," Mary faltered on. "I thought she was. And I was so angry with her for doing it!" Phil laughed. "And did you think I was flirting with her, Mary?" he demanded. "Yea," she owned. "Then you need throttling!" But he contented himself with a soft shake of her shoulder. "Mary, did you think I could flirt with anybody but you! Don't you know I like you, and always have? and mean to marry you?you, nobody else? Mary, for shame! Didn't you know it?" The grass seemed to swim before Mary's eyes. "I?I had hoped so, Phil," she whispered. "Oh, Phil, it was that! I thought it was just pity for you, Phil, and indignation and all, that made me hate her. But it was because I wanted you! It was that. She might have dirted with anybody else, Phil, and I wouldn't have cared!" she ended, amazed, joyfully amazed, in the sudden light which broke over her. "Oh!" snid Phil, elonuentlv. A common impulse made them turn and peer at the pair behind. One look was enough. Miss Perry's face, sweetly aglow, was lifted to that of her stepfather's cousin's nephew, while the nephew bent his lazy, handsome head above her, and claspcd the hand clinging to his arm. The beauties of the Oak Walk and the river were nowhere. "She's got her Marmaduke!" said Phil, with a silent laugh. "Yes. Their mixed relationship will be "simplified now," said Mary, in an ecstasy. She looked back admiringly, remorsefully. "Don't you think she's the cutest girl?" she demanded, her throeB of the last half-hour flung to the winds. "There's only one cuter," said Phil, overlooking her inconsistencies. 4 'You lM ?Saturday' Night. V - V " ??' > v* \ ' '5' RET. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVTNE'3 SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "The City Streets." Text: " Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth her voioe in the streets."?Prov. i, 20. We are all ready to listen to the voices of nature?the voices of the mountain, the voices of the sea, the voices of the storm, the voices of the star. As In some of the cathedrals in Europe there is on organ at either end of the building, and the one Instrument responds musically to the 3ther, so in the great cathedral of nature lay responds to day, and night to night, ind flower to flower, and star to star, in the great harmonies of the universe. The spring time is an evangelist in blossoms preaching of God's love; and the 1 winter is a prophet?white beardeddenouncing woe against our sins. We are all ready to listen to the voices of nature; but how few of us learn anything from the voices of the noisy and dusty street. You go to your merchandise, and your mechanism, and to your work, and you come back again?and often with an indifferent heart you pass through the streets. Are there no things for us to learn from these pavements over which we pass? Are thero no tufts of truth growing up between these cobblestones, beaten with the feet of toil, and pain, and piSSfilLTOf liiO OIUW blWU U1 U1U auu vuo quick step of childhood? Aye, there are great harvests to be reaped; and now I trust in the sickle because the harvest is ripe. "Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth hor voice in the streets." In the first place the street impresses me with the fact that this life is a scene of toil and struggle. By 10 o'clock overy day the city is jarring with wheels, and shuffling with feet, and humming with voiccs, and covered with the breath of smokestacks, and a rash with traffickers. Once in a while you find a man going along with foldod arms and with leisurely step, as though he had nothing to do; but for the most part, as you find men going down these streets, on the way to business, there is anxiety in their faces, as though they had some errand which must be executed at the first possible moment. You are jostled by those who have bargains to make and notes to selL Up this ladder with a hod of bricks, out of this bank with a roll of bills, on this dray with a load of goods, digging a cellar, or shingling a roof, or shoeing a horse, or building a wall or mending a watch, or binding a book. Industry, with her thousand arms, and thousand eyes, and thousand feet, goes on singing her song of work I work! work! while the mills drum it, and the steam whistles fife it All this is not because men love toil. Someone remarked: "Every man is as lazy as he can afford to be.'" But it is because necessity, with stern brow and with uplifted whip, stands over them ready whenever they relax their, toil to make their shoulders sting with the lash. Can it be that, passing up and down these streets on your way to work and business, you do not learn anything of the world's toil, and anxiety, and struggle? Oh! how many drooping hearts, how many eyee on the watcn, now many miles traveled, how many burdens carried, how many losses suffered, how many battles fought, how many victories gained, how many defeats suffered, now many exasperations endured? what losses, what hunger, what wretchedness, what pallor, what disease, what agony, what despair! Sometimes I have stopped at the corner of the street as the multitude went hither and yon, and it has seemed to be a great pantomime, and as I looked upon it my heart broke. This great tide of human life that goes down the street is a rapid, tossed and turned aside, and dashing ahead and driven back?beautiful in its confusion and confused in its beauty. In the carpeted aisles of the forest, in the woods from which o^o/Iaw ) liftid on thfl UUO CW1UU1 ouauvn AO uviv* VWX) ^ shore of the sea over whose iron coast tosses the tangled foam, sprinkling the cracked cliffs with a baptism of whirlwind and tempest, is the best place to study God; but in the rushin;, swarming, raving street is the best place to study man. Going down to your place of business and coming home again, I charge you look about?see these signs of poverty, of wretchedness, of hunger, of sin,' of bereavement?and as you go through the streets, and come back through the streets, gather up in the arms of your prayer all the sorrow, au the losses, all the suffering, aS the bereavements of those whom you pass, and present them in prayer before an all sympathetic God. Then in the great day of enmity there will be thousands of persons with whom you in this world never exchanged one word who will rise up and call you blessed; and thero will be a thousand fingers pointed at you in heaven, saying: "That is the man, that is the woman, who helped me when I was hungry and sick, and wandering, and lost, and heart broken. That is the man, that is tho woman," and the blessing will come down upon you as Christ shall say: "I was hungry and ye fed Me, I was naked and ye clothed Me, I was sick and in prison and ye risited Me; inasmuch as ye did to these poor waifs of the streets, ye did it to Me." Again, the street impresses me with the fact that all classes ana conditions of society must commingle. We sometimes culture a wicked exclusiveness. Intellect despies ignorance. Refinement will have nothing to do with boorishness. GloTei hate the sunburned hand, and the high forehead despises the flat head; and the trim hedgerow will have nothing to do with tho wild copsewood, and Athens nates Nazareth. This ought not to be so. The astronomer must como down from liis starry revelry and help us in our navigation. Th?? surnrpnn must' pouo nwav from his study or the human organism and set our broken bones. The chemist must como away from his laboratory, where he has been studying analysis and synthesis, and help us to understand the nature of the soils. I bless God that all classes of people are compelled to meet on the street. The glittering coach wheel clashes against tte scavenger's cart. Fine robes run against the peddler's pack. Robust health meets wan sickness. Honesty confronts fraud. Every class of people meets every other class. Independence and modesty, pride and humility, purity and beastliness, frankness and hypocrisy, meeting on the same block, in the same street, in the same city. Oh! that is what Solomon meant when he said: "The rich and the poor meet together: thoLordis the Maker of tnem alL" I like this democratic principle of the Gospel of Jesus Christ which recognizes the fact that wo stand before God on one and the same platform. Do not take on any airs; whatever position you have gained in society, you are nothing but a man, born of the same parent, regenerated by the same Spirit, cleansed by the same blood, to lie down in the same dust; to get up in the same resurrection. It is high time that we all acknowledged not only the Fatherhood of God, but the brotherhood of man. Again, the street impresses me with the fact that it i? a very hard thing for a man to keep his heart right and to get to heaven. Infinite temptations spring upon us from these places of public concourse. Amid so much affluence how much temptation to covetousness and to be discontented with our humble IOC. -rtxuiu BO Iliaujr U^IIUI vuuium iui vmreaching, what temptation to extortion. Amid so much display, what temptation to canity. Amid so many saloons of strong drink, what allurement to dissipation. In the maelstroms of the street, how many make quick and eternal shipwreck. It a man-of-war comes back from a battle, and is towed into the navy yard, we go down to look at the splintered spars and count the bullet holes, and look with patriotic admiration on the flag that floated in victory from the masthead. But that man is more of a curiosity who has ?one through thirty years of the sharpshooting of business life, and yet sails on, victor over the temptations of the street. Oh! how many have gone down under the pressure, leaving not so much as the patch of canvas to tell where they perished. They never had any peace, rheir dishonesties kept tolling in their sars. If I had an ax, and could split open tho beams of that fine house, perhaps I would find in the very heart of it a skoleton. In his vory best wine thore is a smack of the poor man's sweat. UU! is it strange mai when a man has devoured widows' houses, ho is disturbed with indigestion? All the forces of nature are against him. The floods are ready to drown him, and the earthquake to swallow him, and the fires to consume him, and the lightnings to smite him. But the children of God are on every street, and in the day when the crowns of heaven are distributed, wme of the brightest will be given to those men who were faithful to God and faithful to the souls of others amid the marts of business, proving themselves the heroes of the street. Mighty were their temptations, mighty was tiasir deliverance, and mighty shall be their triumph. .. * ----x 'V ' ' ' ' - vi >>tT', \ ' * '/ Again, cue street impresses me witn tne fact that life is full of pretensions and sham. What subterfuge, what double dealing what twofacedness I Do all the people who wish you good morning really hope for you a happy day? Do all the people who shakb hands lovo each other? Are all those anxious about your health who inquire concerning it? Do all want to see you who ask vou to call? Dofs all the world know half as much as it pretends to know? Is there not many a wretched stock of goods with a brilliant show window? Passing up aud down these streets to your business ana your work, are you not impressed with the fact that much of society is hollow, and that there are subterfuges and pretensions? Oh! how many there are who swagger aud strut, and how few people are natural and walk. While fops simoer. and fools chuckle, and simpletons giggle, how few people are natural and laugh. The courtesan and the libertine go down the street in beautiful apparel, while with Ill Lilt) (jetu l> KUCID IUO luiuiuura v* sion consuming their life away. I say these things not to create in you incredulity and misanthropy, nor do I forget there are thousands of people a great deal better than they seem; but I do not think any man is prepared for the conflict of this life until he Knows this particular peril. Ehud comes pretending to pay his tax to King Eglon, and while he stands in front of the King, stabs him through with a dagger until the haft, went in after the blade. Judas Iscariot kissed Christ. Again, the street impresses me with the fact that it is a great field for Christian charity. There are hunger and suffering, and want and wracbedness in the country; but i these oviu c eu/ ^.ong.^ute In our great | cities. On every street crime prowls, and drunkenness staggers, and shame winks, and pauporisci thrusts out its hand asking for alms. Mere wait is most squalid and hunger is most lean. A Christian man, going along a street in New York, saw a poor lad and he stopped and said: "My boy, do you know how to read and write?' The boy made no answer. The man asked the question twice and thrice: "Can you read and write?" and then the boy answered with a tear plashing on the back of bis hand. He said in defiance: "No, sir; I can't read nor write, neither. God, sir, don't want mo tc read and write. Didn't he take away my father so long; ago I never remember to have seen him? and haven't I had to go along the street to get something to fetch home to eat for the folks? and didn't I. as soon as I could carry a basket, nave to go out and pick up cinders, and never have no schooling, sir? God don't want mo to read, sir. I can't read nor write neither." Oh,thesepoor wanderers! They have no chance. Born in degradation. as they get up from their hands and knees to walk,' tEey take their first step on the road to despair. Let ns go forth in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ to rescue them. If you are not willing to go forth yourself, then give of your means; and if you are too lazy to go, and if you are too stingy to help, then get out of the way, and hide yo urself in the aens and caves of the earth, leet, when Christ's chariot comes along, the horses' hoofs tramplo you into the mire., Bewaro lest the thousands of the I destitute of your city, in the last great day, rise up and curse your stupidity and your I neglect. One cold winter's day, as a Christian man was going along tne Battery in New York, ho saw a little girl seated at the gate, shivorine in the cold. Ho said to her: "My child, what do you sit there for, this cold day?" "Oh," she replied, "I am waiting?I am waiting for somebody to come and take care of me." "Why." said the man, "what makes you think anybody will come and tako care of you." "Oh," sho said, "my mother died last week and I was crying very much, and she said: 'Don't cry, my dear; though I am gone and your father is gone, the Lord will send somebody to take care of you.' My mother never told a lie; she said some one would come and take care of me, and I am waiting for them to come." O yes, they are waiting for you. Men of great hearts, gather them in, gather I them in. It is not tne will of your Heavenlv Father that one of these little ones should perish. Lastly, the street impresses me with the fact that all the people aro looking forward. I see expectsncy written on almost every face I meet between here and Brooklyn Bridge, or walking the whole length of Broadway. Where you find a thousand people waiting straight on, you only find one man stopQand looking back. The fact is, made us all to look ahead because we are immortal. In this tramp of the multitude on the streets I hair the j tramp of a great host, marching and marching for eternity. Beyond the office, the store, | the shop, the street there is a world populous and tremendous. Through God's grace, may you reach that blessed place. A great throng fills those boulevards- and the streets are a-rush with the chariots of conquerors. The inhabitants go up and down, but they never weep and they never toil. A river flows through that city, with rounded and luxurious banks, and trees of lifeladon with ever- j lasting fruitage bend their branches to dip the crystal. No plumed hoarse rattles over that pavement, for they are never sick. With immortal health glowing in evory vein the^ know not how to die. Those towers strength, those palaces of beauty, gleam in the light of a suii that never sets. Oh, heaven, beautiful heaven! Heaven, where our friends are. They take no census in that city, for it is inhabited by "a multitude which no man can number." Rank above rank. Host above host. Gallery above gallery, sweeping all around the heavens. Thousands of thousands. Millions of millions. Blessed are they who enter in through the gate into that city. Oh! start foi it to-day. Through this blood of the great sacrifice of the Son of God, tak3 uj your march to heaven. "The Spirit and the Bride say come, and whosoever will, lot him oome and take of the water of life freely/ Join this great throng marching heavenward. All the doors of invitation are open. "And I saw twelve gates, and there were twelve Dear Is." the young women 01 uamoun, ivy., arc not to be commended in their formation of an organization to dictate rules of courtship to the young men I of that neighborhood. The weakness of their position lies in the following resolution: "We think the young men of this town display unbounded audacity and 'emerity when they accompany us to places where no casli ia necessary, but are conspicuously absent when something takes place whicl} would necessitate going into their pocketbooks." It is woman's place to encourage economy on the part of the sterner sex. If the Calhoun boys can have sufficient fun for nothing they should be aDulauded. The Greek studies of Princess Sophia, of Prussia, in T>rer>aration for her marriage with the Crown Prince of Greece remind one of the case of the spirited Queen Emma of Holland, who was German, being the daughter of the Price of Waldeck-Pyrmont. She learned Dutch in a very short time, but a little after her marriage, a courtier, wishing to be agreeable, spoke to her in German. "Speak Dutch to mo, sir," she said, "I am Dutch now, and I don't know German any more." A youxo man, oftcd twenty-one, committed suicido at Leeds, after writing this letter: "I am going to commit suicido on Wednesday morning, as I want to be buried on bank holiday (Monday), so t'Uat I shall disappoint my cousin Annie, who is to be married on that day, so there will be a funeral instead of a wedding. I hope you will attend my funeral. I will meet you in heaven." Bomantic Daughter ? Mother, you must admit Mr. Dudelette is a rising young man. Old Lady?Humph! I saw him sitting in a crowded street car the other day, when a poor old woman entered, and he didn't rise any, that I noticed. ' * RELIGIOUS READING. 1 DORCAS. A.t Joppa a Christian woman Had fallen sick and died, A humble-mindod woman. Yet all the neighbors cried: "What shall we do without her?" And one hnd graca to say: "At Lydda tarries Peter, Fetch him without delay." And so across the country Some fifteen miles or more, Two men to meet the sunrise Sped frcm the rugged shore To "the saints who dwelt at Lydda"? Finding comfort in their need. For prayers to heaven, faith-laden, .'Gave the three men gcdspetd. Warm hearts have held the picture For eighteen hundred years; The group within that upper room, The sobs, laments and tears, The "widow, weeping, showing The coats that she had ipade," Like a bit of ancient tapestry Time mellows every shade. This Tabitha, called Dorcas, Her quiet life had filled ' With "good works and with alms-deeds." We read not, "She had willed Her frugal, hard-earned savings A church or school to found, That after death her prai-es In public might resound." All her sweet life consisted In sowing loving seed, In caring for her neighbor?, In thought and word and deed; And so her acte are handed down To comfort hearts like ours, Like precious jars of fweet perfume Wrung from long-withered flowers. ?Mrs. Annie A. Preston in Advance. MT OWN PICTURE! Suppose all Christians were just like me! What would become of the world? Suppose none prayed more, or more fervently, how I many sinners would be awakened? How many revivals sent? Suppose none were mora faithful in exhorting the impenitent, how many would be led to Christ? If none evinced more of the power and spirit of holiness in their lives, how many gainsayers and skeptics would be convinced and put to silence? If none were more liberal than I am, how would the pastor be sustained, the g >tpel spread, the kingdom of the Redeemer extende i to the ends of the earth? In short, if all Christians were just like me, when would the millennium come?the day of I io 's triumph, when there shall be one Lord und his name one?every knee bowing, and every tongue confessing to Dim aione? Aias: nave 1 not too much reason to fear that that happy day is yet far distant, if no one is to be more efficient in bringing it about than I am? Oh, if my faith and my liberality were the measure for the whole Church, there would be a fad prospect for this dark, ruined world! Who would take cire of our country, if no one was more willing to sacrifice bis own case and comfort for it than I am? Who would give the water of eternal life to famishing millions in heathen lands, if no one haa more bowels of compassion than I have? And why should any one feel more responsibility in this matter than I do? If I can free my skirts, why not others? Have we not all one Master, one Judeu to whom w? must render our account? If (then I can answer for my delinquencies, other* will have no more difficulty. There is no justice in easing one, while the rest are burdened. If I can get any disposition to servo Mammon, or Belial, or self, why may not others? If I may love the Lord with less than my whole soul, and mind, and strength, and my neighbor less than mvself, so may every disciple of Jesus. And if I may seek the gratification of my own desires as the first end of my begi ming, so may all the world beside. And Satan may riot amid universal ruin and death, till the last trump shall wake us all to receive according to deeds whether good or bad CONFIDENCE IN PROVIDENCE. The thought that a constant and particular Prudence is exercised over the world, by thelBfinitely wise and benevolent God. should lead us ever to be satisfied with all his dealings. We are sometimes prone to complain of our earthly lot, cr to murmur against what seem to be, in reference to ourselves, "mysterious dispensations of Providence." But if we cherish a firm, unshaken faith in the Scripture doctrine of Proviience, we shall rejoice that a God of infinite wisdom and goodness is on the throne, and ;hat He orders all things with the wisest counsel, and for the best ends. Whatever our condition or circumstances, whether prosperous or adverse, joyous or afflictive, we shall recognize, in the allotment, the kind hand of our heavenly Father; and if others are more favored than ourselves, we shall be satisfied that it is for the wisest and best reasons Whatever our station in life, we shall feel that it is, for us, the station of honor, and fitness, and duty; and that the divine estimate of our character dep?r.ds, not on the elevation of our sphere, but c n the manner in which we fill it; not on our circumstances, but on the spirit we cherish in them. So tco of the seeming inequality of the dealings of Providenca, as manifest around up, against which we are sometimes disposed to mu' mur, as unjust or severe. I refer not x- XL- xl to LI1J lUCUIUlitai VUJCI UWU9 \Ji. vtiv iuuuvj, , which are easily answered; but rather to the want of entire practical faith, of entire practical confidence in God, in those dark dispensations of his providence, with which even the good are sometimes tempted to be dissatisfl.d, as if they could have advised for the better. With regard to all such dispensation5, every rising mm mur should at once bo bushed by the thought that God is infinitely perfect; and that if many of his dealings and providential movements nnv Appear unju-t or unwise, it is only because they are not seen in alftheir relations, and as they will be in eternity. And far from dishonoring the providence of Jehovah, by daring to sit in judgment on his operations, we should ever cherish an implicit and childlike faith in the rectitude of his dealings, knowing they are conducted by infinite wisdom and infinite goodness. There u a Jewisn tradition concerning Moses, which so beautifully illustrates this poiut, as to be worthy of universal notice, for though merely a fable, it is not on that account, the leis instruct iva The great prophet, says one of the Rabbins, was once called by Hod to the top of a high mountain, and there permitted to proposeaay Questions he pleased concerning the government of the universe. In the midst of on9 of his inquires as to Providence, he was directed to look down upon the plain below, where was a clear spring of water. At this | spring a soldier had alighted from his horse I to drmk. No sooner had he satisfied his I thirst and cone, than a little boy came to the same place, ar.d finding a purse the soldier had dropped, picked is up and went away. Soon after, therecame a i infirm old man, with hoary hairs, and weary with age ?A hnvincr niifinnlied his thirst, sat down for rest antf refreshment by the side of tho spring. The soldier by this time had mis-ed his purse, and returning, demands it of the old man, who affirms that he had not seen it, and appeals to heaven to attest his innccmce, and the truth of his Assertion. The soldier, not believing his assertions, kills him on the spot! Moses fell on his lace in horror and amazement, that such an event should bo permitted by God; when the Divine voice thus prevents his expostulation: l,Be not surprised, Moses, that the Jud e of all the earth should have suffered this to come to pass. To you there appears no reason why that child should be thooccasion of that old man's blood leing spill ed; fcutknow, that that same old man some yetrs a^o, was the murderer of that child's father. And so in every dispensations of Providence, there is some wise design; and in every one the Judge of all the earth will do what is right!" DANGERS KP.Oil HKKR DRINKING. In appearance the beer drinker may be the picture of health, but in reality he is most incapable of resisting disease. A slight injury, a severe cold, or a shock to the body or mind will commonly provoke acute disease, ending fatally. Compared with other inebriates who use different kinds of alcohol, he is more incurable and more generally diseased. It is our observation that beer drinking in this country produces the very lowest kind of inebriety, closely allied to criminal insanity. The most dangerous class of ruffians in our large cities are beer drinkers. Intellectually a stupor amounting almost to paralysis arrests the reason, changing all the higher faculties into a mere animalism, sensual, selfish, sluggish, varied only with paroxysms of anger, senseless and brutal.? American. TEMPMCE. MOTHER A ND CHILD. Drunk and disorderly- -so it was said. Into the court-room 11 e culprit was led. There on her dark and unwoma'nly face Lingered the signs of b sr shame and disgrace. Soiled with the mud ii whose depths she had IainAll the sweet instinct# of modesty slain? Standing so boldly t lere, Waiting so coldly t> are, Hearing her sentence j rith sullen disdain. Sternly the justice kioked down from his 'seat? I Down at the woman w ho stood at his feet; Wondering how she hi d wandered so far From the clear height i where the virtuous are. Ah, how unlovely she seemed in the gloom, There in that dismal I and crowded court room, Treading unthinkingly, Going unshrinkingly On to the depths of her terrible doom! straneelr. his featur3s grew mildi There on her breast lay a pure little child, Smiling at him with such innocent eyes, Blue in their depths as the bonny hlue skies. Over her shoulder it struggled to climb, Sweetly unconscious of sorrow or crime. Laughing so merrily, Beautiful, varily? Fair as a lily-bud found in the slime. Softly he spoke to the woman?and then Out from that dim, noisy court-room again Bore she her baby, with faltering tread? Freed for the sake of that innocent head. Just for a moment the bonny wee child Backward looked over her shoulder and smiled; Lying so sweetly there? Cursed so completely there. By the foul toucn of those fingers defiled. Sadly the justice bent over his book, ! Asking himself, as he thought of that look. Through what dark pathways of sin and deceit Fortune would carry those small, winsome feet. Ah, that a blossom so tender should rest There or that hard and unwomanly breast! ! One so undutiful , Crowned with the beautiful! Sin by the glory of motherhood blest. | Think of it, fathers,- when sweet eyes of brown Watch thro' the window your coming from town? 9 Plump little feet patter over tne noor, Eager to meet your warm at the door; Tiny wee hands draw your chair to its place? Fairy-like forms clamber up to your faceCherished so carefully. Nurtured so prayerfully. Kept from all knowledge of shame or disgrace. Dream of it, mothem, when lullabies sung Over the cradle so teiderly swung j Blend with the laughbf the baby that lies Warm in the -light of your watchful blue eyes. Ah, but bow proudly you guard her from harm, Keeping her safefron all thought of alarmKissing, caressing her, Lovingly pressing her Close to your heart fa your sheltering arm. ?Nelly B. Simnons, in Chicago Times. ONE OF A THOUSAND INST AN CIS. About 2 o'clock onA recent Sunday morning, Edward Cu?hn*n, walking through a street in New York-discovers a man lying drunk in a gutter. He arouses him and gets him on his feet, whaeupon suddenly the infuriated drunken md attacks the policeman, biting him frightfully in the neck, and then seizes his lower lip and drives his teeth clear through the flesh until they meet, and finally catches the officer's light hand in his powerful jaws and chews <nd mangles it in a horrible manner. The i rave officer goes to the hospital deprived ofliberty for some weeks. THE BEEB? 'INDUSTRY." The Washington ;Sentinel, beer organ, edited by the Attornty of the United States Brewers' Association says: Tho fnllnwinir rnhlk nrenared bv the Com missioner of Intern^ Revenue, shows the steady and rapid increase in the consumption of malt liquors in thj United States: Barrel* 1863 2,006,625 18W 3,141,381 1865 3,657,181 186 6 5,115,140 186 7 6,207,502 1863 6,146,66? 186 9 1 6,355,055 187 0 i 6,574,617 187 1 I 7,740,260 , 1872 :...i 9,659,427 187 3 1 9,633,323 187 4 1 9,600,897 1S75 .] 9,452,697 1876 1 9,902,352 1S77 i 9,810,060 1878 1 10,241,471 187!) 11,103,084 1830 1 13,347,111 1881..... 1 14,311, OSS 1832 1 18,952,035 188 3 ....1 17,757,892 188 4 ; 18,998,619 18S5 1 19,185,958 1886 L 20,710,033 1S87 i 23,111.526 18S8 1. 24,680,219 These significant f^ures indicate that there is a widespread and teadily increasing consumption of beer, an that there is urgent need of more of th.i kind of temperance teaching among the eople which will illustrate conclusively th innerent evil of alcoholic t eer-drinking. -Temperance Advocat* CI ? ' -tMniTI'iftWi'l *>' TEMPERANCE^*E\VS AND NOTES. Liverpool, EnglaiJ, has a deaf and dumb temperance league, i The Armenian chij-ch at Berlin has started a total abstinence sttiety. As many as 717, 48.854 gallons of malt liquor were consum :l in the United States last year. Nearly 11 of it was produced in the Republic, only 2 JOO.OOO gallons being imported. Mr. Frank J. Sibl p, who has an interest in the new town of Den urest, Ga., says: "We are the only town buili >rs' who ever attempted from the beginning to forever exclude the three great vices." There is not a brev jry or distillery or a barrel of bonded liquor n all the State of Kansas. There is but oi > pauper in every 1358 of the population, a d many of the city and county jails are em; ty. The Church Ten xjrance Society, which has its headquarters in New York city, proposes to establish a < >ffee house there at an early date, with a vi w of giving the system a thorough and prac ical trial. Simon Short, of B istol, England, is recognized as the father o the Coffee Palace movement. He is as hale land hearty when, fifty years ago, he was tie only abstainer in a gang of 300 workmej in a dockyard. The cow-keepers oj Benares, who number 30,000, have decided to expel liquor drinking from their caste; and other castes are following the example. |i this way 50,000 of the hard-working inhabjants have lately become total abstainers. [ A leading worker hakes the following forcible comparison: "<tui you imagine a Beautiful church with an ilegant wine and tobacco room attachment? And yet f knew a mar ' ' ' .J *1 wno saia ois uoujr >??3 mo mmpio v.* Holy Ghost, -who mates a tobacco storeroom of his cheek.*' William Gooderhi n, a millionaire philanthropist and tempei .nee advocate, died suddenly on a recent nig it of heart disease, while attending a prayer r eeting at Toronto, Can ada. He had just fin shed a praver and made way for a clergym n to read" a portion of Scripture, when he 111 to the floor a corpse. He had always en jo; ni the best of health. Thousands of peo le are visiting the pavilion of the Wornai s Christian Temperance Union at the Paris 1 xposition. English leaflets are being trans ited into French. Persons of all nationaities are taking away small packages of literature for private translation and dis-ibution. Great interest is manifested in the history of W. C. T. U. work. Many visitors have signed the pledge. London will befoi > long be able to declare that it is a more tei perate city than Paris, as the number of i listing drink licenses iu London have not bejn allowed to increase of late years, whilst tie dram shops of Paris have risen from 24, 00 in 1880 to nearly 30,000 in the present y< ir. In thirty years the consumption of alaifcol in France has trebled, and in ten yeure it has doubled, the average consumptioi being twelve quarts for each male adult. T|o most temperate parts of France are the njne-grovring districtoof the south. WORDS OF WISDOM. i Life is a crucible; we are thrown into) I it and tried. , : 1 Labor rids us of three evils?tedious-' fl nessl vice and poverty. u Quarrels would never last long if' the' B trouble was only on one side. J The man who can support himself iff - ^1 always on top of his obligations. Remember impertinence isn't wit, any? ? more than insolence is brilliancy. Our greatest glory is not in never fall-' ing, but rising every time we fall. <; ' That action is best which procure* the greatest happiness for the greatest nambers. Our grand business is not to see what , lies dimly at a distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand. We go and fancy that everybody id thinking of us, but he is not; he is,I like us, thinking of himself. It requires great talent to affect extravflorftTit. mannara. bat the crem of oriffi nality is simplicity, which no talent cam' imitate. Some one has well said that while wei can not control our circumstances, yet/ we can control what we shall do in the circumstances. Pride, like the magnet; constantly; points to one object, self; but, unlike the magnet, it has no attractive pole, but '4 at all points repels. Men do things which their fathers ^ would have deprecated, and then drawl about themselves a 'flimsy cordon of sophistry, and talk about the advance of j humanity and liberal thought, when it is ;J nothing after all but a preference for uh jj dividual license. A certain amount of opposition is a great help to a man. Kites rise against, Jfl and not with the wind. Even a head wind is better than none. No man ever aBj worked his passage anywhere in a w dead calm. Let no man wax pale,i therefore, because of opposition. i irndt > . T' The Tribes of Terra Bel Fnego. ' The people of Terra Del Fuego, said an English missionary, wear no dress save a small skin thrown over the shoulders, but they smear their bodies with a mixture of train oil and red earth as a protection against cold. They support themselves, as a rule, by hunting, and when all other suDDlies fail they sustain | themselves by feeding on shell fish. This diet is very apt to cause indigestion, to cure which they rely on fungus. They are nomadic in their habits, moving about from place to place in their bark canoes, in the centre of which a fire is always burning. Each canoe contains ^ a family, the wife rowing, while the hus- ^ band is always on watch with hi* javelin. Three different kinds of spears are always carried, one for birds, a second for j fish, and a third for crabs. On landing r the woman has, first of all to cany her ^ husband ashore, he holding the fire carefully above the water. When every- \ thing is ashore the woman at once begin* the erection of their primative hut. The men are rarely able to swim, bat the women are, as a rule, expert swimmers, and this, together with their constant work at rowing, give* them extraordinary muscular power. To maintain theirpontion as lords of creation the men have re* course to mysterious rites, from which the women are excluded. Polygamy is SB practiced to the extent of eich man 1^? usually havinar two wives?an older and . [ a younger one. Without writing of any kind, they yit . > preserve many rules and customs, more ^ or less traditional, and mainly relating to the chase. They are good natured and " helpful, not addicted to lying or theft,' but are very tenaciouf. in the defense of their rights. They love long stories and . conversations, and in these a good part of their time is spent. One of their tales, of an extraordinary strong man who was made of st one, and ultimately was killed by a thorn entering a vulnerable spot in his heel, recalls the story of Achilles. Devoid of all religious ideas and duties, they have a vague idea of the ' spirits of the departed wandering about in the world, and as greatly to be feared. Onions vs. Snakes. * A correspondent of the Kennebec Journal sent in the following "snake story:" Captain John P. Farrow, of Xslesboro, Me., like many other retired shipmasters, finds amusement in his leisure hours bythe cultivation of a farm, on which he raises all sorts of vegetables. His onions in particular were the envy of all around. lio tnrtl- nn nrB/>?nh'nn <inw?in?fc lilUU^U UO ivva uv ~~0~ maggots, the vegetables were never harmed by these little pests, which almost wholly destroyed his neighbor's onions.) One day, while surveying with pride thii model patch, thtf Captain saw a large brown snake, some three feet in lengthy cautiously emerge from a neighboring _ ^ rock-pile and, starting at the corners of the bed, slowly promenade up one ro*f JH of onions and down the next, till, seeing^v the visitor, he vanished amid the rocks.,1 Every day after this the serpent went through the same performance, till Cap-; tain Farrow, who has a natural antipathy to snakes, hit him in the head with a' ^ cleverly thrown stcne. With a reproach-^ ful glance he wriggled away, and, eitffer because the wound was mortal or from a1 just sense of indignation at the ungener-i ous requital of his exertions, he never re-j turned. From that time on the maggots and other bugs held high carnival in that patch, and the Captain has been unable to raise any onions there since. Forests Increasing. Illinois is probably the only State in th? Union in which forest trees are increasing, but here the gain is great, says a writer in the Chicago Herald. The vast level plains that were once called "treeless prairies" are now dotted with beautiful groves in which song birds congregate and raise their young. Many towns in which all the buildings were conspicu-i ous for a distance of twenty miles are: now completely hidden by trees. On & great number of farms the rows of treesthat were planted to serve as protection' against the wind have extended till they occupy several rods of ground. Small natural groves that were protected from prairie fires have extended on each side till they now cover many acres. In several! counties there are artificial forests of con-j siderable extent. The increase of forest trees in Illinois is due to several causes. Soft coal is. cheap, and it has been generally used a* ~ fuel. More hedges wero planted in II-' V linois than in any other of the States. Barbed wire was invented and brought into use hero. Theso two sub-' stitutes.for boards and rails. in making) farm fences We saved s vast amount of lumber. ' * :*328h "fej i v-vv-.?v3$6 "V , > j