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Two All in the Autumi^^HHN^^BrcB A little love-sick poem. Some humble poet's rhyme, One glanced it lightly over? . \ "Oh, what a love-lorn wail!" On* hid it in her bosom? She understood its tale. "-T There came another Autumn; Oh! it was passing strange If any year departed That left no solemn changa. For Love, the tireless hunter, In shooting night and day, [ And some of his barbed arrows I' Arc sure to go astray. Like some lost leaf of Autumn, W ' The little rhyme once more W; Was blown unto the maidens, W;i Who read it as before, r* But she who called it love-loru ' And laughed the laugh of youth, r Cried: "Oh, the sweet, sweet verses, They are as true as truth." So poets write forever. And when the song is sung. To half the hearts that hear it It is an unknown tongue. But Pain, the great translator, Comes by and by along, And he interprets fully The meaning of the song. ?Ella Wheeler Wilcox. PUT TO THE TEST. ET HELEN FORREST GRAVES. "A crabapple jelly-cake, Jothara!" said Mrs. Merrywise, with tears behind her spectacle glasses. "And I made it myself, after the recipe you used to like when you were a little boy?and you've scarcely tasted it!" "It's very nice, mother," declared the sunburned young Apollo, swallc^iug__AOadditional inouMc! of crabapple cake effort, "and you're the best cook -'""in the world; but you see I'm in such a hurry. Jack, are you there with the horse and buggy?" "Going to see Eloise Elton, I s'pose?" said Mrs. Merrywise, with true maternal jealousy. "I'm going to ask her to go to the chestnutting picnic with me next Tuesday, mother." " Twon't be of no use," oracularly spoke Mrs; Merrywise, beginuing briskly to clear away the table. "Of no use, mother? And why shouldn't it be of use?" demanded Jotham, stopping short, with his shrimppink necktie half tied. Mrs. Merrywise shrugged her plump old shoulders. "You must be blind, Jotham," said she, "not to see that every girl in the neighborhood is cleaned bewitched with ' that New Mexico major fellow, with his gold shoulder-straps and buttons, and his little cap worn on one side, and them endless yarns he's always spinning about the brave things he's going to do, and the valiant actions he's done! There ain't never nothin', I've noticed, about what he's doin' now!" "He's a stranger in town," said Jotham, going on with the shrimp-pink bows.^ "Of course they have to be polite to him"". " he was stranger yet?and Hj^Bt no 'of course' to it as I know U^Btcd Mrs. Merrywise, clattering together with a great noise. [f^Ecnow is that Honor Belknap has jjHied with her young man about him and Bessie Morton has left off steady company with Simon ? K you don't suppose that Eloise?" ^K'pose she ain't much different 1? J) *? "who had not yet forgiven the affront of her jelly-cake. Jotham made a feint of laughing incredulously as he jumped into the buggy and gathered up the reins to drive away. But when he came in sight of the Elton cottage his heart sank within him; for ?here, sprawling comfortably in the piazza hammock, appeared an apparition in undress uniform, with a gold-laced cap on the floor, and a good deal of well-waxed moustache visible. Eloise Elton sat crocheting on a low chair close by, and Sadie, her elder sister, ^was . hemming ^^handkerchiefs on the piazza steps. ^^LEloise eolored a little, jumped up, and ^B^^Mormed the ceremony of introducing ^g^^^k^athurst, of the -th Calvary, U. Merry wise. Jotham V bowecHH^HH^Major nodded, and made a srasiHiFhi^ap. "How de do, sir? Giad to meet you, I'm suah!" simpered the man of war. "Merrywise! A good name?ha, ha, ha! It's well to be merry and wise; it's good to be honest and true.' " "Yes, I know," unceremoniously in, terrupted Jotham; "and perhaps you haven't forgotten the last two lines of the verse, sir: " 'It's well to be off with the old love Before you are on with the new!' "I've called, Eloise, to ask you if you'll go up Rattlesnake Hill with me, on the chestnutting picnic, next Tuesday." The3Iajor sat up in his hammock, pushing the perfumed curls from his forehead. "She can't?ha, ha, ha!" said he. "Already engaged, Mr. Merry wise. Your humble servant?ha, ha, ha! Rattlesnake Hill?is that the name of the mountain? An odd name, very. We used to have lots of rattlesnakes around when I was quartered in West Virginia. Don't mind 'em any more than snails. Once you get used to the rattle, it's all right. TVr n. vriv nf /rrinnino- 'em hv thn h.mk ~ ' '-"J ? o "ri?o ~~J of the ncck, and hey, presto! out comes your pocket-knife or your handy dagger, or anything you happen to carry, and the business is done! I don't know how many rattles and dried skins I have got at home. You can easily charm the creatures, too, once you get the knack. One of my men, a Hindoo, taught me." "Indeed?" "The simplest thing in the world? v quite the simplest,".said Major Bathurst. "I'll show you, if you'd like." "Thanks! I needn't trouble you,"said Jotham, frigidly. "Then you won't go with me. Eloisc'" "I'm evt-r f-o much obliged," said ? rioise, shyiy glancing up from under her eyelashes, "bat I've promised Major Bathurst." Jotham bowed and silently turned away. Eloise, perhaps a little conscience-stricken, followed him to the gate. "Isn't the Major perfectly delightful?" said she. "Humph!" commented Jotham. "I wish you could hear the thrilling stories he has told us of lion hunting in Arabia and elephant shooting in Bengal." "I must try and dispense with 'em," drily uttered Jotham. ^"And those dreadful skirmishes with fitting Bull and his savage hordes, out Bi New Mexico!" ^ 'Sitting Bull wasn't a Pueblo brave, 'that ever I heard of," said Jotham. "It was Geronimo, then!" "Wrong again," corrected Jotham. "But nerhaps your Major realizes that it isn't very necessary to be accurate in his reminiscences, when women are concerned." "Jotham. hovr can you be so unjust?" flashed up Eloise. "My Major, indeed! I've a great mind never to speak to you again." And it ended in Jotham Merrywise's inviting Theodosia Milner to go with him upon the famous picnic party, whose ostensible purpose was to search for /.'nAofnni'C. /->?-? f Vl/1 alr*T\PC of Hftttlfl. WUV.3LUWU W.V .V7V,.?J | snake Hill, the spur of a mountain some few miles to the eastward of the village. Thco was not so radiantly pretty as Eloise, neither had she so much to say for herself, but she had a winsome, shrinking-violet sort of way with her, and in her quiet manner there was something infinitely restful to Jotham Merrywise's perturbed spirit. And Theo sat up nearly all night to "do up" her one white pique gown.with its lace frills, and retrim the Gainsboro' straw hat, whose roses had been drenched by last Sunday's unexpected shower. The day, take it all in all, could hardly be reckoned as a success. It did not absolutely rain, but the sun hid his face and sulked behind the clouds, and a dreary wind blew down drifts of damp, yellow leaves, instead of the much-coveted chestnuts. And somehow the assemblage, seemed incongruous, and did not assimilate. The village beaux were undeniably wet j blanketed by the loquacity ot tnc Major; tbeir Sunday suits were outshone by the blue and gold that he persisted in wearing. in -season and out of season. "Whatever we say," sighed Hiram Penefether, dejectedly, "he's ready to go us one better." "Nice place this mountain," said the Major, "but it isn't to be compared with the Sierras. And as for evergreen forests ?I just wish you had seen the woods at Lake Mistassini, where I camped last summer. As for rattlesnakes?" At that moment a piercing scream rent the air. The Major jumped up from the tree stump where he was sitting, a sar! dine sandwich in one hand a wedge of j marble-cake in the other. Two meddlesome little lads had pried a moss-enameled I rock from its resting-place. It fell with I ? flin ctoon mniinf. I U l UiUUUUiU^ Vinou U1/MU iuv/ j ain side, revealing a most startling sight. "By George, a nest of rattlers!" shouted George Ducey. The little group scattered in all directions. One or two girh fainted, the children ran away; an ominous sound of hissing filled the air. Jotham Merrywise sprang from his seat at Theodosia Milner's side. "Hello, Major!" said he, "here's an opportunity to try the back-of-the-neck knack. Or you might do a little snakecharming?eh?" But Major Batimrst had turned very pale. He droppy his sardine sandwich and took promptfy to his heels, speeding down the mountain like a practiced runner trying for the stakes. Elcise had sprang up, too, but on the default of her cavalier, stood there with dilated eyes and crimsoned cheeks, overcome half with indignant mortification, half with terror. "It would almost appear," said Mcrrywise, picking up a convenient jagged stone, "as if the valiant cavalry officer was afraid." "Kill 'em, somebody!" bawled Major Bathurst, from the bottom of the hill. "I've a constitutional horror of snake3. J My mother was just so, and my grand father on the Bathurst side. If you'll just step down this way, Miss Eloise"? with a tardy sense of his social responsibilities?"I'll see that you are protected." "I need not go so far as that to be protected," said Eloise, haughtily. "You can come back, Major; Mr. Merry wise has killed the rattlesnake." "Got bitten? Whisky's good for that?or a red-hot iron to cauterize the wound," shouted back the Major. "I TIJ v-it t guess 1 U UULLUI AVI VUC uuubVi There ain't a second of time to be lost!" And he vanished, leaving Miss Elton to return from the picnic ground as best she might. "An old rattler and two young ones, eh?" said Squire Elton, when he catne home the next evening^ -'And JoeMerrywise killed 'em all, aid he? Well, sooner he than me.. It takes a good deal of straight out pluck to tackle a good old fashioned rattler, such as used to I grow on Rattlesnake Hill, though I did suppose they were all hunted out long ago. But Jotham's one of the kind that isnt't easily scared. So the Major showed 'em a clean pair of heels, did he? Well, I've sort of mistrusted that fellow all along. His big stories were somehow too big to be true." "The coward 1" cricd Eloise?"to leave us all to perish! He need never come here agaiul" "Well, I don't think he will!" chuckled the squire. "I saw 'em pilin' a big trunk up on the stage as I passed the hotel, and the initials on the end were 'B. B.,' which I take to be 'Basil Bathurst,'with a 'U. S. A.,' in extra big letters, painted underneath. By-thc-way, Theo Milner J- 4-n Unrrn tliaf cnnVp rItIII nirpH IS gumg w im.u and mounted for her parlor cabinet of curiosities. "Theo Milucr!" repeated Eloise, reddening the roots of her bright auburn hair. "What business has she with it, j I'd like to know?*' ! "Haven'tyou heard?" said the squire, j "He's asked Theo to be his wife. They are to be married in the spring." Eloise Elton sat with burning chceks and eyes that felt like twin coals of fire. It was hard, but she felt that she had dei served it. She had allowed herself to be | dazzled by the Major's conversational fireworks; she had spurned faithful JoI tham, and this was the result. j "Why, Eloise, you arc crying!" said j a deep, familiar voice, close to her I ear. j '.'Crying? What nonsense!" she retorted, with a little hysterical attempt at a laugh. "It's only?only a bit of sand in my eye. There?it's all right now! I've just heard the news!" "What news?" "And I'm sure I congratulate you with all my heart!" bravely added Eloise. "For what, Eloise!" "Your engagement to Theodosia Milner." "But I'm n)t engaged to her, as it happens." "Isn't sheto be married in the spring?" "Yes; but not to me?to Jacob Jaycox, down at the sawmill. And if I'm ever to be engaged, Eloise, it will be to you. Am I? Oome?apeak quick 1" And Eloise answered "Yes!" "But I must tell you, Joe," she said, speaking very rapidly, and with eyes beat on that particular vest button of his which she was twisting, that I behaved very ridiculously to you about Major Bathurst." "Not half so ridiculously as he did about the nest of rattlers," said Jotham, laughing. "But come, Eloise?we'll Ifct bygones be bygone3, and commence the world anew!" And Mrs. Merrywisc had Eloise Elton for a daughter-in-law, in spite of her misgivings about Major Bathurst.?Saturday Night. Buffalo Bill on French Courtesy. In a letter to the Chicago Inter-Ocean, Buffalo Bill writes concerning French politeness: It is genuine courtesy, and while the forms of conduct may appear extravagant to some Americans, it seems to me that they are genuine expressions of regard. I cannot help feeling that the French are extremely hospitable and generous. That is, they do not condemn a man before he is proved guilty. They willingly takes his word for what he is, and do what they can to promote his interests. A great deal has been written in the past about the Frenchman's fickleness,his love of display, etc. I have not found this judgment justified by my experience. I have been concerned here in giving an entertainment characteristic of ccrtain features of American life. "Wo do not parade in spangled clothing, we have no grand scenery, no spectacle of 4-V.n "'/Unonr L-inrl- in foof ll!? tUU WlUiUUlJ AUiU | AMW, been done to give any artificial cffect to our performance. We appear in exactly the same costume in which we rode about the plains, and every feature of our properties, to use a theatrical term, is of the plainest description. Do the Frenchmen dislike it, accustomed as they are to seeing a wealth of splendor in ! their public entertainments? Not at all. They are deeply impressed with the plain genuineness of the exhibition we give. In all our experience I have not known a people who eame more repeatedly than the French to see our representation. They take pains to inform me and my associates of their appreciation of the homely features which we bring into the i foreground. . All this would seem to show that the French are anything but superficial ic their observations. They care more for the plain, rough representation of the pioneer's life than for the gaudy glitter ol the circus. Further than that, they cor rectly appreciate the individual features ? AXriM "\XTnff Tlmrr nnrlorcfonrl whfli tLLU IT UU IT WOb. uuv*v?wkuu?. we are about when we endeavor to illustrate the life on the plains of years ago, a manner of life, indeed, that has not yel entirely gone out of existence. A Round Dozen of Don'ts. Don't tell the faults or cute sayings of your child in his presence. Don't say "Oh, do hush up!':or '-'Don't bother me with so many questions,' when a child questions you. If he asks for the sake of knowing, answer him, though he ask "seventy times seven' questions a day, and teach himtoremcm ber what you tell him. When you promise a child something, don't forget to fulfill the promise to the letter. If you are not scrupulous to dc just as you agree you may expect th< I nm> tn sof*. vnu down as false and learn tc be thus himself. Don't trample mercilessly under fool the wishes of a child, but respect them ai far as possiblo. Don't be constantly menacing a child with "I'll whip you," or "I'll put a stici over you." Let your promise of chastisement and infliction of the same be of seldom occurrence, but if you promise, keep your promise. Don't punish a child in anger, but let him know that you dislike the task, but perform it for his good. Don't even let him see in you a trace of the "I'm-bigger-than-you-and-you've - got-to - mind" spirit. Don't manifest a spirit of partiality. Children are sure to detect this. Don't encourage in a small child thai for which you will punish him when older. Don't do and say things for the sake.oi causing him to ehow anger and then I scold because he does so. Don't feel it beneath your dignity to give a child the reason for a refusal, ii practicable so to do; if it is not, youi former conduct should have inspired such confidence toward you that he will cheerfully submit, though he does nol understand your motives. Don't deceive or frighten (by bugbears] children into obedience.?New England Farmer. "FullBred" and "Thoroughbred." A subscriber in Brownwood, Texas, asks the difference between the terms "full bred" and "thoroughbred" as applied to live stock. The confusion thai often arises from the use of these terms and the term "pure bred" is frequently occasioned because they are wronglj used. A pure race, or race of "pure bred" animals, is one of unmixed lineage, whose characteristics are well defined, and which breeds pure to the type in every essential particular, including form, color, temper, and, of course.power to transmit the same. The Devons come as near filling all these requirements as any cattle, and are the best type of a pure bred. A "thoroughbred" is the descendant of animals originally of mixed lineage, TfVii^Vi h<\va hoon intpphrfifl for fir long a time?without further admixture ?that they come essentially true to the type desired. Short-horns and Ilerefords among cattle, and racing horses arc thoroughbreds. Full blood is a term that should not be used to denote either purity of blood or thorough-blood. High-grade animals are the produco of pure stock upon common stock, and when pure stock is repeatedly bred to the progeny in the course of generations, nearly approaches the pure race in characteristic, and is called "full blooded."?Farm, Field and j Slochnan. Morgnnal ic Marriages. In morganatic manages the regular j ceremony is performed, except that the man takes the woman's left hand instead of her right. The word is very old in its meaniug. The ancient Germans used to give to their wives, the day after the wedding, a certain limited portion of their estates. This was the morgen-gabe. In course of time it came to be that onlj inferior wives received the morgen-gabe. Then those inferior wives were wedded with inferior ceremonies, known as the morgen-ehe; a woman so wedded was termed morganatica. From this word we get our expression, "morganatic marriage."?New York Dispatch. . .." -u-' .V;. : . i v* .< r-J. REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINES SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "Paul's Mission in Athens." (Preached at Athens, Greece.) Texts : "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard." ?I Corinthians ii., 9. uFor now we see through a glass darkly."?I Corinthians xiii., 12. Both these sentences written by the most illustrious merely human being the world ever saw, one who walked these streets, and preached from yonder pile of rocks, Mars Hill. Though more classic associations are connected with this city than with any city under the sun, because here Socrates, and Plato, and Aristotle, and Demosthenes, and Pericles, and Heroditus, and Pythagoras, and Xenophon, and Praxiteles wrote or chiseled, 4-Unn/laro^ e\y cnnc rftf. in TTIV ur utugui w " -?o, j ? ? ?? mind all those men and their teachings were eclipsed by Paul and the Gospel he preached in this city and in your nearby city of Corinth. Yesterday, standing on the old fortress at Corinth, the Acro-Corinthus, out from the ruins at its base arose in my imagination the old city, just as Paul saw it. I have been told that for splendor the world beholds no such wonder to-day as that ancient Corinth standing on an isthmus washed by two seas, the one sea bringing the commerce of Europe, the other sea bringing the commerce of Asia. From her wharves, in the construction of which whole kingdoms had been absorbed, war galleys with three banks of oars pushed out and confounded the navy yards of all the world. Huge handed machinery, such as modern invention cannot equal, lifted ships from the sea on one side and traaported them on trucks across the isthmus and sat them down in the sea on the other side. The revenue officers of the city went down through the olive groves that lined the beach to collect a tariff from all nations. The mirth of all people sported in her Isthmian games, and the beauty of all lands sat in her theatres, walked her Eorticos and threw itself on the altar of er stupendous dissipations. Column and starue and temple bewildered the beholder. There were white marble fountains, into which, from apertures at the side, there gushed waters everywhere known for healthgiving qualities. Around these basins, twisted into wreaths of stone, there were all j the beauties of sculpture and architecture; | while standing, as if to guard the costly display, was a statue of Hercules of burnished Corinthian brass. Vases of terra cotta j adorned the cemeteries of the dead?vases so , I iUrtf TiiUtie Pmeor txroc not. UT1- I til he had captured them for Rome. Armed p officials, the corintharii, paced up and down to see that no statue was defaced, no pedestal l overthrown, no bas-relief touched. PVom the i edge of the city the hill held its magnificent burden of columns and towers and temples (1000 slaves waiting at one shrine), and a ! citadel so thoroughly impregnable that Gibt raltar is a heap of sand compared with it. . Amid all that strength and magnificence Corinth stood and defied the world. Oh! it was not to rustics who bad never seen anything grand that Paul uttered one ! . I of my texts. They had heard the best music , that had come from the best instruments in ! all the world; they had heard songs floating ' j from morning porticos and melting in even ing groves; they had passed their whole lives I among pictures and sculpture and architect* ! ?< Vimco trhipti had been l i u1c q1ju wi lauuiau ? J molded and shaped until there was no chariot wheel in which it had not sped, and no tower in which it had not glittered, and no gateway that it had not adorned. Ah, it was a bold thing for Paul to stand there amid all that and say: "All this is nothing. These J sounds that come from the temple of Neptune . | are not music compared with the harmonies ' of which I speak. These waters mshing in the basin of Pyrene are not pure. These l statues of Bacchus and Mercury are not exquisite. Your citadel of Acro-Corinthus is | not strong compared with that which I offer to the poorest slave that puts down his bur den at the brazen gate. You Corinthians think this is a splendid city; you think you have heard all sweet sounds and seen all 1 beautiful sights; but I tell you eye hath not ! seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into > the heart of man, the things which God hath 5 prepared for them that love Him." Indeed, j ' botn my texts, the one spoken by Paul and . ' the one written by Paul, show us that we j have very imperfect eyesight, and that our 5 day of vision is yet to come; for now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face. So Paul takes the responsibility of saying that even the Bible is an indistinct mirror, L and that its mission shall be finally suspended. : ] I think there may be one Bible in neaven L I fastened to the throne. Just as now, in a j [ ! museum, we have a lamp exhumed from j ; Herculaneum or Nineveh, and we look at it, j with great interest and say: "How poor a j I light it must have given, compared with our : | modern lamps," so I think that this Bible, j which was a lamp to our feet in this world, j may lie near the throne of God, exciting our i interest to all eternity by the contrast be- , tween its comparatively feeble light and the | illumination of heaven. The Bible, now, is . the scaffolding to the rising temple, but ! when the buildiuer is done there wul be no use for the scaffolcling. The idea I shall develop to-day is, that in this world our knowl- j edge is comparatively dim and unsatisfao ! ; ' tory, but nevertheless i3 introductory to | i grander and more complete vision. This is , j eminently true in regard to our view of God. 1 , "We hear bo much about God that we con- ! : ckide that wo unda-stand Him. He is repre- j l ' eentsd as having the tenderness of a father, I the firmness of a judge, the pomp of a king I and the love of a mother. We near about i 1 ; 'Him, talk about Him, write about Him. We J ; lisp His name in infancy, and it trembles on I . 1 le tongue of the dying octogenarian. We i | think that we know very much about Him. I 1 | Take the attribute of mercy. Do we under-! . stand it? The Bible blossoms all over with ; 1 that word, mercy. It speaks again and again of tlio tender mercies of God, of the sure mercies, of the great mercies, of the mercy I that endureth forever, of the multitude of His mercies. And yet I know that the views we have of this great being are mosfr indefinite, one sided and incomplete. When, at death, the gates shall fiy open, and we shall iook directly upon Him, how new and sur, prising! e see upon canvas a picture of j the morning. We study the cloud in the sky, the dew upon the grass, and the husbandman ou the xay to the field. Beautiful picture of ! the morning! But wo rise at daybreak, and I go up on a hill to see for ourselves that which r was represented to us. While we look, the mountain/; are transfigured. The burnished r gates of heaven swing open aud shut, to let ! pass a host of fiery splendors. The clouds . are all abloom, and hang pendant from arbors of alabaster and amethyst. The waters make pathway of inlaid pearl for the light to walk ' upon; and there is morning on the sea. The > crags uncover their scarred visage; and there ismorning among the mountains. Now you go home, and how tame your picture of the 1 morning seems in contrast? Greater than that shall be the contrast between thisscripti uralviewof God and that which 'fro shall havo when standing face to face. This is a picture of the morning; that will bo the > morning itself. Again: My texts are true of the Saviour's , excellency. By image, and sweet rhythm of expression, and startling antitheses, Christ is let forth?His lc vo, His compassion, His work, His life, His death, His resurrection. We are rhnllprifprl to mAAsnrn it; to pomnntfi it tr> ! weigh it. In the hour of our broken entlirallment, we mount up into high experience of His love, and shout until the coun' tenance glows, and tho blood bounds, and the whole nature is exhilarated. "I have i found Him." And yet it is through a glass, darkly. Wo see not half of that compassionate face. Wo feel not half tho warmth of that loving heart. We wait for death to let us rush into His outspread arms. Then we i shall be face to face. Not shadow then, bub substance. Not hope then, but the fulfilling I of all prefigurement. That will be a magnifi cent unfolding. Tho rushing out in view of all hidden excellency; the coming again of a long-absent Jesus to meet us?not in rags and in penury and death, but amidst a light and pomp and outburstiug joy such as none' but a glorified intelligence could experience. Oh! to gaze full upon the brow that was lacerated, upon ' the side that was pierced, upon the feet that were nailed; to stand close up in the presence ' of Him who prayed for us on the mouutaiu, ! and thought of us bj' the sea, and agouizecl 1 for us in tho garden, and died for us in liorri- 1 ble crucifixion; to feel of Him, to embrace Kim, to take His hand, to kiss His feet, to run our fingers along the scars of ancient suffering; to say: "This is my Jesus! He fave Himself for me. I shall never leave [is presence. I shall forever behold His . glory. I shall eternally hear His voice. Lord Jesus, now I see Thoel I behold where > the blood started, where the tears coursed. . where the face was distorted. I have waited for this hour.. I shall never turn my back on Thee, N? more looking through unpertJK-' ' ' V"-- r''*r Lr ' v v . ??'. feet glasses. No more studying Thee In the darkness. But, as loag as this throne stands, and this everlasting river flows, and those garlands bloom, and these arches of victory remain to greet home heaven's conquerors, so long I shall see Thee, Jesus of my choice; Jesus of my song; Jesus of my triumph?forever and forever?face to face!" The idea of my texts is just as true when applied to God's providence. Who has not come to some pass in life thoroughly inexplicable? You say: "What does this mean? What is God going to do with me now? He tells me that all things work together for good. This does not look like it." You continue to study the dispensation, and after a' while guess about what God means. "He means to teach me this. I think He means to teach me that. Perhaps it is to humble my pride. Perhaps it is to make me feel more dependent. Perhaps to teach me the uncertainty of life." But after all, it is only a guess?a looking through the glass, darkly. The Bible assures us there shall be a satisfactory unfolding. "What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter." You will know why God took to Himself that only child. Next door there was a household of seven children. Why not take one from that group, instead of yo\ir only one! Why single out the dwelling in which there was only one heart beating responsive to yours? Why did God give you a child at all, if He meant to take it away? Why fill the cup of your gladness brimming, if He meant to dash it down? Why allow ail the tendrils of your heart to wind around that object, and then, when every fibre of your own life seemed to be interlocked with the child's life, with strong hand to tear you apart, until you fall bleeding and crushed, your dwelling desolate, your hopes blasted, your heart broken? Do you suppose that God will explain that? Tef. He will make it plainer than any mathemaft ical problem?as plain as that two and two make four. In the light of the throne you will see that it was right?all right. "Just and true are all Thy ways, Thou King of Saints." Here is a man who cannot get on in the world. He always seems to buy at the wrong time and to sell at the worst disadvantage. He tries this enterprise, and fails; that business, and is disappointed. The man next door to him has a lucrative trade, but he lacks customers. A now prospcct opens. His income is increased. But that year his family are sick; and the profits are expended in trying to cure the ailments. He gets a discouraged look. Becomes faithless as to success. Begins to expect disasters. Others wait for something to turn up; he waits for it to turn down. Others, with only half as much education and character, get on twice as well. He sometimes cuesses as to what it all means. Ho says: "Perhaps riches would spoil me. Perhaps poverty is necessary to keep me humble. Perhaps I might, if things were otherwise, be tempted into dissipations." Bu t there is no complete solution of the mystery.. He sees through a glass, darkly, and must wait for a higher unfolding. Will there be an explanation?. Yes; God will take that man in the light of the throne, and say: "Child immortal, near the explanai.; t TT 1 .E i.L.1. uun: x ou reraemoer ins inning 01 luac great enterprise. This is the explanation." And you will answer: "It is all right!" I see, every day, profound mysteries of Providence. There is no question we ask oftener than Why? There are hundreds of graves that need to be explained. Hospitals lor the blind and lame, asylums for the idiotic and insane, almshouses for the destitute, and a world of pain and misfortune that demand more than human solution. Ah! God will clear it all up. In the light that pours from the throne, no dark mystery can live. Things now utterly inscrutable will be illumined as plainly as though the answer were written on the jasper wall, or sounded in the temple anthem. Bartimeus will thank God that he was blind; and Lazarus that ho was covered with sorgs; and Joseph that he was cast into the pit; and Darnel that h? denned with lions; and Paul that he was numpbacked; and David thathf was driven from Jerusalem -and the sewing-woman that she could get only a few pence for making a garment; arid that invalid that for twenty roar's he could not lift his head from tho pillow and that widow that she hud such hard ivnrlr trt earn bread for her children. You know that in a song different voices carry different parts. The sweet and overwhelming part of the hallelujah of heaven will not he carried by those who rode in high places, and gave sumptuou3 entertainments; but pauper children will sing it, beggars will sing it, redeemed hod-carriers will sing it, those who were once the offscourlng of earth will sing it. The hallelujah will be all the grander for earth's weeping eyes, and aching heads, and exhausted hands, and scourged backs, and martyred agonies. Again: The thought of my texts is true when applied to the enjoyment of the righteous in nea~vcn. I think we have but little idea of thcnumber of the righteous in heaven. InGdels say: "Your heaven will be a very small place compared with the world of the lost; for, according to your teaching, the majority of men will be destroyed." I deny the charge. I suppose that tho multitude of the finally lost, as compared with the multitude of the finally saved, will be a handful. I suppose that the few sick people in the hospitals of our great cities, as compared with the hundreds of thousands of well people, would not be smaller than the number of ??U/\ fVinil Vva noof Atif in miffnninrr IUU3U nuu oucui wv www uuu iu ovuicuug, \,wtupared with those who shall have upon them the health of heaven. For we are to remember that we are living in only the beginning of the Christian dispensation, and that this whole world is to be populated and redeemed, and that aees of lignt and love are to flow on. If this Be so, the multitudes of the saved will be in vast majority/ Take all the congregations that have assembled for worship throughout Christendom. Put them together, and they would make but a small audience compared with the thousand and tens of thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand, and the hundred and forty and four thousand that shall stand around the throne. Those flashed up to heaven in martyr fires; those tossed for many years rpon the invalid couch; those fought in the armies of liberty, and rose as they fell; those tumbled from high scaffolding, or slipped from the mast, or were washed off into the sea. They came up from Corinth, from Laodicea, from the Red Sea bank and Gennesaret's wayo, from Egyptian brickyards, and Gideon's threshing floor. Those thousands of years ago slept the last sleep, and these are this moment having their eyes ciosea, anci lueir iuiius an cituvu iui ? sepulcher. A General expecting on attack from tha enemy stands on a hill and looks through a field glass, and sees, in the great distance, multitudes approaching, but lias no idea ox their numbers. He says: "I cannot tell anything about them. I merely know that there aro a great number." And so John, without attempting to count, says: "A great multitude that no man can number." We are told that heaven is a place of happiness; but what do we know about happiness! Happiness in this world is only a half fledged thing; a flowery path, with a serpent hissing across J it; a broken pitcher, from which the water has dropped before we could driuk it; a thrill of exhilaration, followed by disastrous reactions. To help us understand the joy of heaven, the Bible takes us to a river, We stand on the grassy bank. We see the waters flow on with ceaseless wave. But the filth of the cities is emptied into it, and the banks aro torn, and unhealthy exhalations spring up from it, and we fail to get an idea of the river of life in heaven. We get very imperfect ideas of the reunions of heaven. We tnink of somo festal day on earth, when father aud mother were yet living, and the children camo home.. A good time that! But it had this drawback?all were not there. That brother went off to sea, and never was heard from. That bister?did wo not lay ber away in tho freshness of her young life, never more in this world to look upon her? Ah! there was a skeleton at the feast; aud tears mingled with our laughter on that Christmas day. Not so with heaven's reunions. It will be an uninterrupted gladness. Many a Christian parent will look around and fiud all bis children there. "Ah!" he says, "can it be possible that we are all here?life's perils over? tho Jordan passed and not one wanting? Why, even tho prodigal is here. I almost gave him up. How long ho despised my counsels! but grace hath triumphed. All here! all here! Tell the mighty joy through the city. Lot the bells ring,and the angels mention it in their song. "Wave it from tho top of the walls. All here!" No more breaking of heartstrings, but face to face. The orphans that were loft poor, and in a merciless world, kicked and cuffed of many hardships, shall join their parents over whose graves they so long wept, and gaze into their glorified countenances forever, face to face. We may come up from different parts of the world, one from the land and another from the depths of the sea; from lives affluent and prosperous, or from scenes of ragged distress; but we shall all meet in rapture and jubilee, face to face. Many of our friends have entered upon that toy. A few days ago they sat with us studying these Gospel themes; but they onlysaw dimly?now revelatkAfiath come. Your - ' -'" - "' v. f" ' ' -.v v:' " ? ' -- : ' floundering in the darkness. Sou stand wonder struck and amazed. Ton feel as if all the loveliness of life were dashed out. You stand gazing into the open chasm of the grave. Wait a little^ In the presence of your departed and of Him who carries them in His bosom, you shall soon stand face tc face. Oh I that our last hour may kindle up with this promised joy! May we be able to say, like tne Christian not long ago, departing: "Though a pilgrim walking through the valley, the mountain tops are gleaming from peak to peak P' or, like my dear friend I and brother, Alfred Coo km an, who took his I flight to the throne of God, saying in his last , moment that which has already gone into Christian classics: "I am sweeping through the pearly gate, washed in the blood of tne Lamb I" POPULAR SCIENCE. " One of the industries now followed in London, and certainly a novel and remarkable one, even for this age, is that of separating and storing oxygen from the atmosphere. The method, by an English inventor, of manufacturing copper articles direct from rough copper bars, will, it is claimed, achieve results for that metal equal in importance to what Bessemer'a process has done for iron and steel. Thp cfnfpmpnt 4a made HfrTWr "WpVihpr the well-known authority in engineering matters, that a warm, well-lubricated bearing will run with less friction than a cold one; by a warm bearing being signified a temperature between one | hundred and thirty and one hundred and sixty degrees F. Aerolites arc of two kinds, stony and metalic. Stony aerolites resemble the peridot, the scoria from the earth's deep interior; metalic aerolites consist chief! y of iron and nickel in proportions never found on earth. There are in metalic aerolites twenty-two elements, all told, one-third of those of the earth. In fifteen case3 investigated after lighti ning has struck a building and done more i or less damage, it was found that in nine I cases the discharge made its way to earth ! through water pipes, in two through gas ! pipes, and in only one was there any probability of the regular lightning conductor haviug done its duty. Professor Lintner estimates that if all +V10 cno/>ioa r\f lnaoi^fa inTiaKiHnnr fVio-wnrld were known, their number would reach a million, and, descending to the consideration of individuals, he adds that he has seen at one glance, within a small extent of roadway, more snow fleas of a single species than there are human beings on the entire surface of the globe. The use of electricity in medicine is rapidly on the increase. At the last meeting of the Institute of Medical Electricity in London the opinion was expressed that the current course promisqyi to be of great practical service, and was just the thing wanted by those members of the profession who had not hitherto made a carcful study of electrotherapeutics. Schonfeld's edition of Argelander's "Durchmusterung," or survey of the heavens, which takes in the northern heavens as far down as twenty-three degrees south inclination, contains the places of 133,659 stars. There are thou sands more beyond the limits named above, and Tecently it was announced that new clusters of stars have been discovered through the Lick telescope of such magnitude that the observers had decided not to attempt to place them until they had taken photographs. Drilling by means of electricity is now proposed for mining, tunneling, and, in fact, anything requiring work in hard rock. According to the experimental tests made with this new method of operating, the drill was run by a motor receiving its power from the electricity furnished by a large dynamo, the motor itself being about eight inches long and seven in diameter, with armature of four inches diameter, the shaft which the urujiuure iuus uu uciu^ uuuun, ou oo iu admit of water passing through it aad through the diamond drill. Idaho's Wonderful Ice Mine. A wonderful ice mine has been discov ered in Idaho. It is on Pine creek canyon, between Big Bear and Texas Ridge, in the eastern part of Latah County. The point of interest is at an elevation of aboiiUwo thousand Icei ubu70 the-sea level, and about five hundred feet from tlis c^cyon on the homestead" claim of George "Walker. The discovery was made by parties passing over the place whose attention was attracted by a very cold, chilling current of air rushing from the earth's surface from under a mos3 bod of three or four inches in depth. The adjacent sur face, six or eight feet distant, was covered with verdure, presenting no different aspect from the whole hillside. An investigation was commenced, simple in nature, as the parties had no tools with them. The moss was pushed aside, a few boulders removed, disclosing an ice vein from one to five inches in thickness. Another layer of boulders and debris and more veins of ice alternately appeared. The cold, chilling air, still rushing forth, indicates that there must be an immense cave not far distant, from which the air comes. From the judgment of very intelligent men who have examined the curiosity they feel assured that this congelation never took place from external atmospheric influences, as snows and frosts are quite mild in this canyon. Various and many speculations can be indulged in as to the cause of this and other peculiar formations in this remarkable country, so noted for geological curiosities, and one theory is that this ice formation is a relic of the glacial period not wholly covered by the overflows that cover the old earth's surface forty-five feet in depth WUtTC MOSCOW UUIV auuuo. Touchiu? Glasses. The custom among the Germans of touching the glasses before drinking arose at the time of the immense medieval banquets of the nation. A "loving cup"' was passed from lip to lip, to show that all wore of one mind; but the "loving cup" was of necessity so large as to be unhandy. In placc of this, smaller cups and glasses were given to each, and the tradition of the "loving cup" was preserved by the clicking of the glasses. The custom of having smaller glasses for each is said to have arisen from the assassination of King Edward. It was theu the habit of the Anglo-Saxons to pass around a large cup, from which each guest drank; he who thus drank stood up,took the large vessel in both hands,and raised it to his lips. As he lifted the cup his body was exposed, and the occasion was seized by treacherous enemies to murder him. This danger led to the adoption of the plan that, aa one drank, his next friend was responsible foe his safety during the act, and usually arose also and | stood with drawn sword. . . RELIGI0US_READIN6. THE WORTH OF H0UB8. 1 Believe not that your inner eye ^ Can ever in just measure try L '< The worth of hours as they go by; For every man's weak self, alas! J Makes hun to see them while they pass, fl As through a dim or tinted glass; But if in earnest care you would Mete out to each its part of good, Trust rather to your after mood. Those surely are not fairly spent, That leave your spirit bowed and bent, In sad unrest, ana ill-content: And more?though free from seeming harm, > You rest from toil of mind and arm, Or slow retire from pleasure's charm? v If then a painful sense comes on Of something wholly lost and gone, Vainly enjoyed, or vainly don?? r\r r ...1 - ?*3 vi auuictuiug iiuiu > uur ucmg a tucuu Broke off, nor to be linked again By all mere memory can retain? Upon your heart this truth may rise? . Nothing that altogether dips *3 Suffices man'8 just destinies: So should we live that every hour - ' v. ' .J May die as dies the natural flower? A self-reviving thing of power; That every thought and every deed May hold within itself the seed Of future good and future meed; . ' Esteeming sorrow, whose employ - :f? Is to develop, not destroyt Far better tnan a barren joy. . ' by name. "What a tenderness of personal attachment there is in that phrase, "He calleth His own sheep by name! What an intimacy it bespeaks! Every disciple, high or humble, better known by Jesus than any child by Ittv own mother. All our peculiar weaknesses, I . all our wants and griefs and back-alidings, v V5 as well as our pe uliar capabilities for Hia service, are perfectly plain to Him. .. cf*t The valley of death is no new place to V/? Him; for He has not onlyx trod it Him> self,? He has led myriads of His redeemed.. ones through it. On tfce resurrection morn, we shall And v.^S that Jesus the Shepherd has come out of thj tomb before us, the "first fruits of them thai ^ sleep." Even into Heaven He enters a Our Forerunner." And so all through thl believer's experience his loving Leader it . '$'? seen going on before; and the wnole duty o( .r a Godly life is summed up in that singU trAt>/1 frtllnnfinr* Tnano 7V?* T T. ftlilUMF. * n vtu iuuviTiiig *?? * A* v^?w> r-; VlfllBLENESS OF THE BELIGI0U8 LIFE. Consecration to Christ must reveal itsell "X $ and justify itself in the visible conduct of.' life. Our Christ is a revealed Christ. Heia* a Christ of the world and for the world. He is not a cloistered Christ: He does not keeji himself in the clouds, nor in the dazzling light of heaven. His work, His great redeeming work for us, was done in the sight of men on the conspicuous places of th? world. He did not atone for us in the fat heavens. But he made Our common walki -F.\ illustrious by His footsteps on them, and om i common places luminous and glowing by Hii endurances in them. Bethlehem was a town \ of no great distinction till His birth in it lifle^ : & it to a glorious renown. Nazareth was a de- i spised village until His life in it gave it 4 wider fame than any royal city of th? . Jji Cffisars. Gethsmaane and Calvary have im 8piredthe poetry of the people, bytheLi voices of pathos and agony beyond any othejf great endurances of heroes and martyrs, bej cause the memory of his voluntary ana ' priceless suffering reverberates and thrills in their enduring and unforgottcn names. H? ? was in the world; he was seen among us, The tones of heaven were in hiahumai| voice. The light of heaven was in hi^ pity* ' -i ing eyes. The help of heaven was in mi hand. "We beheld his glory, the glory as oi -A the only begotten of the Father. Since he went away, his followers, by . open confession and conduct, have jeprO1 ? daced his life in lowly and unworthy way? 8 it may be, but in methods and experience! which h<> hns eraeiouslv accented and blessed, and on which he lias pronounced, JHE his "well done." It is not enough to experience religion in' ^ the closet. It is not enough to come aloni to God in repentance and faith, and to make loyai vows in private They who follow thl Master will follow him openly, before kingi and popu'ace, in country ana in city, in the temple and by the well-side. He would , have no disciple ashamed of him. H? would have all who love him confess him ... before men. St. Paul's life was a life of declaration. He said: "I stand unto this day, having' obtained the help that is from God, testifying both to small and great." He was &n open confessor. He wanted to know Christ and the fellowship of his sufferings. Ha * would have gone into another Gethsemane and borne a cro?s upon another Golgotha* He said; "I'll fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ for the Church. He knew what was meant when he wrote: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jens" (Gal. 6:7). We, too, if we are Christ's, must know 1 something of this. Our Christian life must be lived out before the world. As in olden time men saw him on their streets ana in their Homes and in their assemblies, and knew kmtiheChrist,-was visible, so nuw - thej' see us in places of business a&d "Study, \B in all places where men are, and must know that the Christ, in the presence of one who fl loves and serves him and represents him to them, is verily present. They must see him I in us. We must speak his language. Such words as these that reached the intellect of, Nicodemus and the conscience of the woman. I of Samaria, as revealed tlie young ruler to m him elf and made Pilate fear, as fell on the I sad hearts of the multitudes, who in their Hunger and thirst hung on his lipe, as led H Roman officers, awed by his language, to say, "Never man so speak," must be oar I words to our associates and to strangers. We must speak the langaage of heaven H amidst the Babel tongues of the world. H Christian songs have oftened awakened re sponsive tones in dull souls, and Christian . H testimony has convinced gainsayers of reality or personal faith in Christ. We must also interpret the meaning of div^MB cij lesnip uy ine visiuie iruua ui uiawyicomy. From us men must learn that it means Christ reproduced in bis loving spirit, in his S tender sympathy, in his attraotive. grace. fl They must see that religion is not mere pro fession, but that it carries a large, generous. H winning practice. Light must so go oui^^M from us into darkness and wretched sou|J^^BH that duty shall be made clear to them; thav^^H they shall see the peril of sin and way of deliverance, tlie attractions of the cross and of heaven. There was profound H meaning in the words of him, who was the - H Light of the world, to his disciples when he H told them, "Ye are the light of the world." H Moreover, we must make it clear that our M religion is one of helpfulness. Help was M laid on one who was mighty to save when H our salvation was laid on Christ, and the H pitiful cry of the heavy-laden to him was, Lord, help us. Men need it now. Involved ' H in sin, tangled in the meshes of worldliness, H taken captive by Satan at bis will, they S want the helping hand of a brother for their rescue. It is for us to give it in his name. . The joy of giving it, the joy of helping to H save a brother, is the sweetest joy this side H of heaven; it is akin to the joy of Christ, HE who, for the joy that was set "before him, B endured the cr. ss. Jcanie Deans' words, in the "Heart of M'd-Lothian," are, "It is na when we sleep soft ami make merrily our- El sels, that we think on other people's "suffer- HI ings. But when the hour o' trouble comes to tbe mind or to the body, and when the Bl hour o* death comcs to high or low, then it flB is na what we hue dune for oursels. but Bfl what we hae dune for others, that we think on maist pleasantly." This is the Christian |B way to live: and, so living, we shall never *r *V . n me.?JJV. lltin Hi -t rieiurn wciw. ITALTS PAEMIKR AN" ABSTAI.VEU. H Signor Crispi, the Premier of Italy, relates tho following anecdote: "During my first interview with Prince Bismarck, at Friedrichsruhe, tho Chancellor caused two enormous glasses of beer to bo brought, and HB invited mo to drink the one placed before me, I protested that I drank only water, wheraafc the Prince seemed astonished beyond measurff"- -HB but said nothing. But when he had emptied his own glass, he slowly drank the one which had been intended for me. Shortly afterward two large pipes filled with tobacco were ? brought. The Prince lit his own and handed HB the other to me. 'Your Highness,' I ob- H served, 'many thanks- but I do not smoke.' WSM 'Whatf exclaimed Bismarck, rather impa.tiantfy. 'You don't drink, and you don't smoke! What sort of a man are you, thou? JjjH