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v MOTHER'S CORNER. Backward and forward the rocker goes, Wafting the baby to sweet repose: Close to the cradle the mother croons Lullaby, rock-a-by nursery tunes; Dreamily singing she patiently tries Sleep to bring to the baby's eyes. Min ite by minute the evening flit?, Still in the chair she drowsily sits. Soothing and rubbing the aching gums, Longing for slumber that never comes; Rocking the baby that fretful lies Filling the room with its nervous cries. Weary with watching the mother sings, Wooing the god with the leadeu wings; Softer and softer the ditty grows, Now the-Httle one's eyelids close: Sinking at last into dreamland deep. Mother and baby are fast asleep, 7V..n>o BLIGHTED HOPES. Dark is the season of reaping The flight of the proraiseful yaars Denied the swejt solace of weeping O'er sorrows too deep for our tears! Reaping that chaff when we dare not Even dream of the full ripened grain; Grieving o'er fair hopes that are not, And joy-bells that ring not again! Sad is the season of reaping When shudders the soul in the blast, And shadows come stoalthly cropping From storm-shrouded vale^-df the past! Before us the future lies^y-ttwning With anguish, hearjt-hunger and pain; And vainly we long'for the dawning Of days that/cvill come not again. Drear is the season of reaping Wheft hushed are the laugh and the song; WbSn harvest hymn echoes are sleeping X The hours are so lonely and long! X The dream-field of life all deserted, ^ Then why should the reaper remain A gleaner still seeking, sad hearted, A love that will live not again? ?3/. 31. Folsom, in Atlanta Constitution. CAST ASIDE, No one had ever accused Agnes Warne a narwAllC nDPCATl JlllH qH P u1 a ugi ?vu<j m*>v? been, oa the contrary, noted for her coolness, the composure with which she could hear and calmly dismiss the most eloquent and impassioned lovers, and the apparent hardness of her heart. The beauty that had made her the undisputed belle of two seasons was of the statuesque order, perfect of form and feature, cold and yet winning, for she was without fortune, and yet had suitors who adored her. It was a nine days' wonder when she allowed her engagement to Gardiner Lawrence to be announced. Gardiner Lawrence! A man of genius, an artist, but a man whose total assured income was six hundred dollars a year, and who had yet to climb up the ladder to fame or fortune. True, he was a handsome man, with a ready flow of conversation, had traveled and read, and had dark eyes that many a woman had sighed to have look teuderly upon her. Yet that Agnes Warne could marry a poor man, an artist yet unknown to fame, was a marvel to those who knew her best. I have said she was not a nervous person, yet on one December evening, when her engagement was six months old, she " "* * * * it. 1 - _ _r l was nageting aDOUt in me parior in uei aunt's house, as restless as if every nerve ' in her body was unstrung. She paced up and down the room, she struck a few chords on the piano, she read a page in the last new novel, and every moment she glanced at the clock. As it struck eight in silvery tones, the doorbell rang, and a few moments later Gardiner Lawrcncc entered the room. "I thought you would never come/' she said, impatiently, yet coldly. "Your note said eight o'clock," he replied, trying vainly to match her own icy tones. "Agnes! look at me! It cannot be that all is at an end between us. I love you so truly, so devotedly, and I have believed in your love as firmly as I did iu my hope of heaven." "I thought we had settled all that!" was the reply, still in that tone of impatience and coldness. "You promised to return my letters." 1 'They sire here. Sincc you no longer love me, they have lost their value, and I do not desire to keep them." He placed a sealed package upon the table, and turned, as if to go. For an instant she stood quiet, and then the forccd composure gave way. ''Stay!" she cried. "You shall not believe I have deceived you so far. I did love you! Gardiner, Gardiner, I do love you! No! Do not touch me?do not embrace me. Cannot you understand? I cannot live in poverty! Icannot! I believed that love would compensate for all, but I did not understand. I have nothing of my own, but I have lived all my life in luxury. My aunt denies me nothing, and I believed she would in time become reconciled to my marriage with you. But she never will! And now, since Mr. Delmayne has offered himself to me " ' Why go over the old ground agaiu?" Gardiner said, in quick, passionate accents. "You cau be the wife of a millionaire, a man old enough to be your grandfather. You can have control of wealth, all the luxury your heart desires. What matters it, that you trample upon as pure, devoted a love as was ever offered to a woman, that you crush a heart that was all your own, blight an ;ambition that worked only for you! Let / these ti ifles go. You will be John Delmayne's wife, and I?I shall survive it! ' I am not made of the stuff that drives despairing lovers to suicide. Believe me, I cau, in time, so pile contempt upon my love that it will be quite buried. It smarts and stings me now, but I will conquer that, and no guest at your wedding shall have a brighter smile than mine!" He bowed, formally, and left the house, to walk, walk fast and without aim, until the gray dawn drove him home. Agnes "Warne, stunned by his passionate outbreak, sank into an arm-chair and wept the bitterest tears of her life; wept for him?for herself?knowing that never again could her heart open t3 such penect i >ve and happiness as sha had held in her grasp for six months, and then thrown aside forever. She had met John Deimayne at Saratoga, aud continued her acquaintance during the autumn trip with a party of friends. She had smiled upon him, given him every encouragement, while writing and receiving daily letters that kept her love for Gardiner Lawrence ever before him?even in her own heart. Not deliberately was her treachery planned, but little by little; her aunt's constant pleas for her wealthy suitor, her ?wd lOvu of luxury, tempted her until . ? she broke her vows of constancy and accepted the offer of her wealthy lover. The engagement had not been announced on that December evening, when Gardiner Lawrence returned to her the letters that no longer possessed any value to him. He was a man who loved deeply, felt keenly the blow that had fallen upon his heart; but he was a proud man, and bore himself bravely before the world. Only to one trusted friend, a fellow-artist, who shared his studio, did he open his heart fully. And the first j result of his ruptured engagement was to yield to that friend's dearest wish, and promise to accompany him to Italy. He | had studied there for three years, but j Sidney Allvard had never yet crossed the ocean. A boyish man, full of enthusiasm. six years younger than Gardiner, Sidney was hotly indignant at his friend's wrong,not the les3 so tliAt he had thrown his own calf love at Agnes Warue's feefH and been contemptuously rejected. He was sitting in the studio a few days ^ after the interview between Gardiner and j Agnes, engaged in making lists of articles in great open packing-cases standing around him, when a visitor entered, an old gentleman of commanding prcseuce, and an address of formal courtesy. "Mr. Lawrence?" the stranger inquired. "Mr. Lawrenccis out of town." "Soon expected back?" "Not for several years. He is in New | York, and will sail for Europe on Satur- J day next. But I can write or telegraph, if your business is important."' The stranger was walking about slowly, looking at the sketches on the walls, on tables, and chairs, even upon the floor, J in preparation for packing. j "No," he said, "if Mr. Lawrence is j going abroad, nc coma notpaiutuu; pur- i trait I wished to order. You have some ' fine paintings here. Your own?" "Some of them. Some are Lawrence's; I some by our friends. Everything, as you I see, is in confusion." 'Is that yours?" said the old gentleman, pointing to ahead, most exquisitely painted, only the head and shoulders of a beautiful woman, the hair falling loosely, the large eyes looking dreamily forward. "No. That is Lawrence's." "It is a perfect face. Do you think he would sell it?" "A week ago I would have told you no money could buy it," Sidney said, bitterly, "but now I have no dobut he will destroy it. It is a perfect face, and it covers a black, treacherous heart!" "You interest me. Is the story a secret?" "All the world will know it soon. It is not a very original story, only the <jld one of money against love, with a broken heart thrown in. The lady whose face I you admire has been ray friend's promised wife for six months. A wealthier man has made her break that promise. And yet, the engagement is not public, but it will soon be, and then any one in society J can tell you of the jilted lover, who has \ gone abroad to conquer his sorrow, and leave the field clear for his rival." "Ah! Socicty then knew of this old1 engagement. I am a stranger here. My j home is in "Washington, and I know but i a few members of your socicty; so I had ! not heard this interesting story, that you j say will soon be common gossip." 'Well, you see, both parties are well known here." ' 'I see. I regret to have missed seeing Mr. Lawrence, but thank you for your! i most interesting little narrative. Good I morning." "Good morning," said Sidney, returning to his lists, and quite ignorant of the i mischief his boyish gossip had caused. Miss Warne, in her latest Parisian costume?a very dream of beauty?was sitting in her aunt's parlor, awaiting the usual evening visit of her elderly admirer. Mrs. Pratt, her aunt, was talking in a monotonous ripple of the trousseau already in preparation, the bridal tour, the wedding party with which she intended I to astonish society; and Agnes listened ' in silence, wondering if the rumor she J had heard that Gardiner Lawrence was going abroad was true. A ring at the ! j door was followed, not by the tall, com- I j manding figure or John Delmayne, but i by Mrs. Piatt's man servant with a note. A note opened languidly, but which ( stirred the reader to instant animation. | j "Agnes!" she cried, "listen! What a j horrible note! "'Madam: "When I requested your permis- j sioa to pay my addresses to your niece, I was I totally ignorant tbat she was already be- ! ; trothed. Looking upon a promise of mar- j riage as quite as binding as the marriage vows themselves, I am horrified at my own action. I beg, madam, to withdraw my proposal, with my most earnest apologies for the wholly unpremeditated insult to your niece, who will. I trust, pardon me for my ! error. Most sincerely your friend, " 'John* Delmayne.' " | There was a moment of profound si- ; lenee. Then Mrs. Pratt said, with a' sigh. "IIow fortunate the engagement has] uot been aunounced! No one need know ! of this." There was no answer. Agnes seemed 1 stunned. "Perhaps, under the circumstances," Mrs. Pratt said, "we had better say1 nothing yet of the broken engagement. Mr. Lawrence has gone abroad, they say; i so there will be no apparent quarrel." ! "Nor real one!" cried Agnes. "Ihave been miserable ever since I saw Gardiner last. I will write to him and end this i wretched estrangement." "I heard to-day," Mrs. Pratt said, "that his uncle, Charles Gardiner, is immensely wealthy and has no children. lie lives in Florence, having weak lungs. . Did you ev.cr hear of him?" "Yes. I never heard of his wealth, j but Gardiner is very fond of him. You ; are sure?" "Not at all, but it might be well to in quire about it." The winter wus .1 gay one, and Agnes Warnc lield her old position as the most beautiful woman of the season. She danced, sang, flirted, as of old, and her cold, haughty face gave no token of the j feverish eagerness with which she watched I for a letter that never came, the hcart| sickening suspense, and flual agony of i despair. Having lost Gardiner's love, she placed a value upon it that she had not held even in the happy past, upon whose memory she dwelt continuously. ' She knc?v. at last, that it was the one absorbing love of her life. Even poverty began to lose its horror, as she folded her love closer and closer in her heart. She heard constantly of Gardiner, a favorite in his circle of friends. Knowing nothing of the broken engagement, her friends talked freely of their news from Italy; of the success the artist had made there; of the fame lie was acquiring. Three years passed, and the few pictures Gardiner Lawrence sent home sold immediately at high prices, while his name constantly appeared in foreign journals among the leading artists of the day. News came at last of the death of his uncle, and his own inheritance of a large fortune. Then Mrs. Pratt determined to spend a winter in Italy. "Since you are so .absurdly constant, and will not accept any offer," she said to Agnes, "let us try if the sight of your face will win your lover back. Grie? has not altered you, Agnes; you arc m&rc beautiful than ever." / It was a perfcct day when Sidney Allyard and Gardiner Lawrence, working busily in their studios in Florence, were interrupted by visitors. Two ladies, richly attired, rustled in: the elder one, effusive, cordial, full of delight at renewing an old friendship; the younger one pale, silent, and with a pensive melancholy upon her perfect face. Gardiner Lawrcncc, looking into that face, felt not one quickened motion of his heart; greeting her as calmly sis if they had parted but yesterday, without emotion. There was some chat of the past years of separation, inquiries for friends in America, congratulations upon the success of the two artists. Then Agnes stood for a moment before a picture, the portrait of a girl. "Without actual beauty," she said, "what a lovely face that ia. It is like a Grcuzc, so child-like, so pure and sweet. Is it a portrait?" Sidney Allyard answered promptly: "It is a portrait of Mrs. Gardiner Lawrence," he said, exulting in the sudden pallor of his listener's face; "she was kind encugh to sit to me soon after she was married." Mrs. Pratt came to the rescuc. She saw that the blow had deprived Agnes of the power to speak. "Ah!" she said, "allow me to offer my congratulations. I would call, but we leave Florence to-morrow. We are merely passing through. Agnes, love, we must not linger in this charming studio any longer." Somehow, she never remembered how, Agnes Warne spoke her words of parting and bade farewell forever to tho dream she had cherished for three long years. Three months later she married a T"< 1 l-T _v._ T 3 4-U* T?? x rt'ncii nuuxeniau, vs iiu uuu. iciu wc nspublic in disgust and brought his title and fortune to Italy. Her old dream of wealth and high social standing is gratified ; but never again will her heart throb with love such as she once held and ruthlessly cast aside.?The Ledger. He Lost His Pardon. In one of the Indiana prisons is a convict who is serving a life sentence for the commission of one of the most horrible of crimes. It has been said that no man is so bad that he has not friends. The friends of this man from the beginning of his sentence have never ceased to work for his pardon. Influential citizens and public officials have been induced to write personal letters to all the Governors who have held office since the term of confinement began. Petition after petition has been prepared and hundreds of signatures secured. It is related that at one time a Governor was almost persuaded to pardon the man. The sentiment in his favor seemed fairly overwhelming. As a last precaution he sent for his Private Secretary to talk over the whole case with the prisoner himself. The prisoner told his story forcibly, but so glibly as to indicate that he had carefully prepared it and committed it to memory. As his recital clc^cd he drew a photograph of a beautiful young woman from his pocket. "The first thing I shall do when I am released will be to marry this girl," he said. "Who is she?" asked the visitor. "She is Miss M??lie rcpuea, "ana is the daughter of one of the richest and proudest families in the city of . She will marry me the minute I am set free." "How do you happen to know her?" "Oh, that's all right. She visited the prison one time and I got acquainted with ner. She fell in love with me at first sight. Don't worry about me. I'm solid with her." The Secretary looked at the photograph again. The face shown there was delicate and refined, and every line indicated the confiding truthfulness of innocent girlhood. He looked at the prisoner. In his eye was a wicked leer of triumph. Evil and sin were stamped upon every feature. When tht Secretary made report to fHn Or?ir/>rnr?r hp tnlri tlifi stnrv r>f the photograph. The Chief Executive pondered over it awhile, then, bringing his list down upon his desk with a force that set all his light furniture to rattling, he said: x "The photograph settles it. That sweet girl and the happiness of her home and friends must not be subjected to ruin and misery by any act of mine. The prisoner must serve his time."?Indianapolis News. Getting: the Best of His Pa. Apropos of Matthew Arnold, it seems that his son Mat had very decided opinions. One night the boy heard some one say that :thc moon was made of green cheese. Very quickly he said: "I don't believe the moon is made of green cheese." '-Don't you?" said his father, "why not?" "Oh," said the young gentleman, "I dou'c know why, but I don't." "Well, for my part," said his father, "I have no respect for people who give opinions for which they can give no reasons." Young Mat was very much mortified and went off by himself to hide his feelings. The next morning as bright as possible, he greeted his father with this: "I know now why the moon is | not made of green chccse. I found it ! out in Genesis." "Ah," said Matthew : Arnold, "you have the advantrge of me. I did not know the subject was mentioned fin Genesis." "Oh, yes, papa," said the j boy, "there is an account of the crc! ution, and the moon was made before there were any cows!" So Matthew the I younger triumphed over Matthew the j older.?Philadelphia Times. ? Peculiar Courting. ! In the Ukraine, Russia, the maiden is the one that does all the courting. When site falls in love with a man she goes to his house and tells him the state of her fnelint^s. If he reciprocates all is well, and a formal marringc is duly arranged. : If, however, he is unwilling, she remains | there, hoping to coax hini iuto a better | mind. The poor fellow cannot treat her with the least discourtesy or turn her i out, for her friends would be sure to I avenge the insult. His best chances, j therefore, if lie is really determined that he won't, is to leave his home and stay ! away as long as she is in it. Thjs is cer1 tainly a peculiar way of turning a man | out of house aud home. On the Isthmus of Darien either sex can do the courting, with the natural result that almost everybody gets married. There is not; the same chance where the girl has to bide tho motions of a hesitating or bashful swain. KEWTTALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINES SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "The Stormy I'ussaRC.'' (Preached at Capernaum, in the Holy Land.) Texts: "Entered into a ship, and went over the sea toward Capernaum."?John vi., 17; "And He arose and rebuked the wind and the sea."?Mark iv., 39. Here in this seashore village was the tem xb seomeu as 11 mo ijuiu iitiu lauuvucu uuo | wave of beauty on ail the scene, and it hung and swung from rock and hill and oleander. : Roman gentlemen in pleasure boata sailing this lake, and countrymen in fish smacks coming down to drop their nets, pass each other with nod and shout and laughter, or swinging idly at their moorings. O, what a beautiful scene! It seems as if we shall have a quiet night. Not a leaf winked in the air; not a ripple disturbed the face of Gennesaret; but there seems to be a little excitement up the beach, and we hasten to see what it is, and we find it an embarkation. From the western shore a flotilla pushing out; not a squadron, or deadly armament, nor clipper with valuable merchandise, nor piratic vessel, ready to destroy everything they could seize, but a flotilla, bearing messengers of light and life and peaco. Christ is in the front of the boat. His disciples are in ! a smaller boat. Jesus, weary with much I speaking to' largo multitudes, is put into somnolence by the rocking of the waves, j If there was any motion at all, tho ship was i easily righted; if the wind passed from star! board to larboard, or from larboard to star i Doaro, toe Doac wouia rocs, ana oy mo ' gentleness of the motion putting the Master asleep. And they cxtomporizod a pillow I made out of a fisherman's coat. I think no sooner is Christ prostrate, and His head I touched the pillow, than He is sound asleep. 1 The breezes of the lake run their fingers j through the locks of the worn sleeper, and the boat rises and falls like a sleeping child on the bosom of a sleeping mother. Calm night, starry night, beautiful ni?ht. : Run up all the sails, ply all the oars, ana let i the large boat and the small boat glide over j gentle Gennesaret. But the sailors say there | is going to be a change of weather. And i even the passengers can hear the moaning of , the storm, as it comes on with great stride, | and all the terrors of hurricane and dark|?ness. The large boat trembles like a deer at 1 bay among the clangor of the hounds: great | patches of foam are flung into the air; the sails of the vessel loosen, and the sharp winds crack like pistols; the smaller boats like ! petrels poise on the cliffs of the waves and J then plunge. Overboard go cargo, tackling and masts* and the drenched disciples rush into the back j part of the boat, and lay hold of Christ, and ! say unto Him: "Master, carest Thou not that ! we perish?" That great personage lifts His j head from the pillow of tns fisherman's coat, j walks to the front of the vessel, and looks out l into the storm. All around Him are the j smaller boats, driven in the temptest, and I through it comes the cry of drowning men. | By the flash of the lightning I see tho calm { brow of Christ as the spray dropped from His i beard. He has one word for the sky and another for the waves. Looking upward Ho ! cries: "Peace P' Looking downward He says: : "Be still P' The waves fall flat on their facos, the foam j melts, the extinguished stars relight their torches. The tempest falls dead and Christ stands with His feet on the neck of the storm. And while the sailors are bailing out the ! boats, and while they are trying to untangle the cordage, the disciples stand in amazoment, now looking into the calm sea, then into the calm sky, then into the calm Saviour's countenance, and they cry out: "What manner of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?' J The subject in the first place impresses me ! with the fact that it is very important to have Christ in the ship; for all those boats I would liavo gone to the bottom of Gennesaj ret if Christ had not been present. Oh, what I a lesson for you and for me to learn! We I must always have Christ in the ship. Whatever voyage we undertake, into whatever enterprise we start, let us always have Christ j in the ship. All you can do with utmost tension of body, mind, and soul, you are bound to do; but oh! have Christ in every enterprise, Christ in every voyage. There are men who ask God's help at the beginning of great enterprises. He nas l>eon with thom in the past; no trouble can overthrow them; the "storms might come down from the top of Mount Hormon, and lash Geunesaret into foam and into agony, but it could not hurt them. But here is another man who starts out in worldly enterprise, and ho depends upon the uncertainties of this life. He has no God to help him. After a whilo the storm comes ana tosses off the masts of the ship; he puts out his lifeboat and f.lm l/\?cr l\r?nfr? thft fchoriflP nrirl t.hA AiiMnnnAAF i try to help him off; they can't help him off; I he must go down?no Christ in tho ship. Your life will be made up of sunshine | and shadows. There may bo in it Arctic blasts or tropical tornadoes; I know not what j is before you, but I know if you have Christ j with you all shall bo well. You may seem to get along without the religion of Christ while everything goes smoothly, but after awhile, when sorrow hovers over tho soul, when the waves of trial dash clear over tho hurricane deck, and the decks are crowded with piratical disasters?oh, what would you do then without Christ in the ship? Take God for your portion, God for your guide, God for rour held: then all is well; all is well for time, all shall be well forever. Blessed is that man who puts in tho Lord his trust. He shall never bo confounded. lJut my subject also impresses mo with tho fact that when people start to follow Christ they must not expect smooth sailing. These disciples got into the small boats, and I havo no doubt they said: "What a l>eautiful day this is! What a smooth sea! What a bright sky this is! How delightful is sailing in this boat! And as for the waves under the keel of the boat, why they only make the motion of our little boat the more delightful." But when the winds swept down and the sea was tossed into wrath, then they found that following Christ was not smooth sailing. So you have found it; so I havo found it. Did you over notice the end of tha life of the apostles of Jesus Christ? You would say, if ever men ought to have had a smooth life, a smooth departure, then those men, the discipies of Jesus Christ ought to have had such a departure and such a life. St. James lost his head. St. Philip was hung to death on a pillar. St. Matthew had his life dashed out with a halbert. St. Mark was dragged to death through the streets. St. James the Less was beaten to death with a fuller's club. St. Thomas was struck through with a spear. They did not find followiHg Christ smooth sailing. Oh, how they were all tossed in the tempest! John Huss in the fire; Hugh McKail in the hour of .nartyrdom; the Albigenses, the "Waldenses, the Scotch Covenanters?did they find it smooth sailing? But why go into history when we can draw from our own memory illustrations of the truth of what I say? Some young man in a store trying to serve God, while his employer scoffs porary home of that Christ who, for the most narfcof TTfn lifA was hnmplAss. On the site of this village, now in ruins, and all around this lake, what scenes of kindness and power, and glory and pathos when our Lord lived here I It has been the wish of my life?I cannot say the hope, for I never expected the privilege?to stand on the banks of Galilee. What a solemnity and what a rapture to bo here! I can now understand the feeling of the immortal Scotchman, Robert McCheyne, when sitting on the banks of this lake, he wrote: It is not that the wild gazelle Comes down to drink thy tide. Bat lie that wa3 pierced to save from hell Oft wandered bv thy side. Graceful aronnd the2 the mountains meet, Thou calm reposing sea; But ah! far more, the beautiful feet Of Jesus walked o'er thee. I can now easily understand from the contour of the country that bounds this lake that storms were easily tempted to make these waters their playground. From the gentle way this lake treated our boat when we sailed on it yesterday, one would have thought it incapable of a paroxysm of rage, | but it was quite different on both the occa- | sions spoken of in my two texts. I close my j ; eyes, and the shore of Lake Galilee as it now j is, with but little signs of human life, disap- i pears, and there comes back to my vision the j lake as it was in Christ's time. It lay in a ; scene of great luxuriance; the surrounding hills, terraced, sloped, grooved, so many hanging gardens of beauty. On the shore were castles, armed towers, Roman baths, everything attractive and beautiful?all styles of vegetation in shorter space than in ! almost any other space in all the world, from the palm tree of the forest to the trees of rigorous climate. It J - C if.. T J I 1 nt Christianity; the young men in the same store, antagonistic to the Christian religion, teasing him, tormenting him about his religion, try to get him mad. They succeed in gotting him mad, saying: "You're a pretty Christian!" Does that young man find it smooth sailing when he tries to follow Christ? Or, you remember a Christian girl. Her father despises the Christian religion; her mother despises the Christian religion; her brothers and sisters scoff at the Chnstian religiou; bho can hardly find a quiet place in which to say her prayers. Did she find it smooth sailing when she tried to follow Jesus Christ? Oh, no! All who would live the life of the Christian religion must suffer persecution; if you do not find it in one way, you will get it in another way. The question was asked: "Who are those nearest the throne?" And the answer "These are they who came up out of great tribulation?great flailing, as the original has it; great flailing, great pounding?and had their robes washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb." Oh, do not be disheartened 1 Tako courage. You are in glorious companionship. God will see you through all trials and He will deliver you. My Subject also impresses me with the fact that good people sometimes get very much frightened. In the tones of these disciples as they rushed into the back part of the boat, I find they are frightened almost to death. They say: "Master, carest Thou not that we perish?" They had no reason to be frightened, ior Christ was in the boat. I suppose if we had boon there we would have Deen just as much affrighted. Perhaps more. In all ages very good people get verv much affrighted. It is often so in our day, and men say: "Why, look at the bad lectures: look at the various errors going over the church of God; we are going to founder; the church is going to perisn; she is going down." Oh, how many good people are affrighted by iniquity iu our day, and think the church of Jesus Christ is going to bo overthrown, and are just as much affrighted as were the disciples of my text. Don't worry, don't fret, as though iniquity were going to triumph over righteousness. A lion goes into a cavern to sleep. He lies down with his shaggy mane covering the paws. Meanwhile the spiders spin a web across the mouth of the cavern and say: "We have captured him." Gossamer thread after gossamer thread, until the who.le front of the cavern is covered with the spider's web, and the spiders say: "The lion is done; tho lion is fast." After a j while the lion has got through sleep| ing, he rouses himself, he shakes his mane, he walks out into the sunlight: he I Jam fUa cni/lflr'a waK ia onnn I UUU9 UUt OTCIl AUU(T (/UU 0|/1UV* a ?tv*/ mi hj/uuj and with his voice ha shakos the mountain. So men come spinning their sophistries and skepticism about Jesus Christ; He seems to be sleeping. They say: "We have captured the Lord; He will never come forth again upon the nation; Christ is captured forever. His religion will never make any conquest among men." But after a while the Lion of the tribe of Judah will rouse Himself and come forth to shake mightily the nations. What's a spider's web to the aroused lion? Give truth and error a fair grapple and truth will come off victor. But there are a great many good people who get affrighted in other respects; they are affrighted in our day about revivals. They say: "Oh I this is a strong religious gale; we are afraid the church of God is going to be upset, and there are going to be a great many people brought into the church fchat are going to be of no use to it;" and they are affrighted whenover they see a revival taking hold of the churches. As though a ship Captain, with five thousand bushels of wheat for a cargo, should say some day, coming upon deck: "Throw overboard all the cargo;" and the sailors should say: "Why, Captain, what do you mean? rnrow over au sue uargur I "Oh," says the Captain, "we have a peck of chaff that has got into this five thousand bushels of wheat, and the only way to get rid ' of the chaff is to throw all the wheat overboard." Now, that is a great deal wiser than the talk of a great many Christians who want to throw overboard all the thousands and tens of thousands of souls who are the subjects of revivals. Throw all overboard because they are brought into the kingdom of God through great revivals, because there is a peck of chaff, a quart of chaff, a pint of chaif! I say, let them stay until the last day ;the Lord will" divide the chaff from the wheat. Do not be afraid of a great revival. Oh, that such gales from heaven might sweep through all our churches! Oh, for such days as Richard Baiter saw in England, and Robert McChevne saw in Dundee! Oh, for such days as Jonathan Edwards saw in Northampton! I have often heard my father tell of the fact that in the early part of this century a revival broke out at Somerville, N. J.; and some people were very much agitated about it. They said: "Oh, you are going to bring too many people into the church at once;" and they sent down to New Brunswick to get John Livingston to stop the j revival. "Well, there was no better soul in I all the world than John Livingston. He I went and looked at the revival; they wanted him to stop it. He stood in the pulpit on the Sabbath, and looked over the solemn auditory, and he said: "This, brethren, is in reality the work of God* beware how you try to stop it." And he was an old man, loaning heavily upon his staff?a very old man. And he lifted that staff, and. took hold of the small end of the staff, and began to let it fall slowly through between the Anger ?&d the thumb, and he said: "Oh, thou impenitent, thou art falling now?falling from life, falliug away from peace and heaven, falling as certainly as the cane ia falling through my hand?falling certainly, though perhaps falling slowly!" And the cane kept on falling through John Livingston's hand. The religious emotion in tho audience was overpowering, and men saw a type of their doom, as the cane kept falling and falling, until the knob of the cane struok Mr. Livingston's hand, and he clasped it stoutly and said: 'But tho grace of God can stop you as I stopped that cane;" and then there was gladness ail through the house at the fact of pardon and peace and salvation. "Well," said tho people after the service, "I guess you had better send Livingston homo; ho is making the revival worse.'' Oh, for gaies from lieaven to sweep all the continents I The danger of the church of God is not in revivals. Again, my subject impressed me with the fact that Jesus was God and man in the same being. Hero He is in the back part of the boat. Oh, how tired He looks; what sad dreams He must have! Look at His countenance; He must be thinking of the cross to come. Look at Him, Ho is a man?bone of our bono, flesh of our flesh. Tired, He falls asleep; He is a man. But then I find Christ at the prow of tho boat; I hear Him say: "Peace, be still;" and I see the storm kneeling at His feet, and the temptests folding their wings in His presence; He is-a God. if i hnvA sorrow and trouble, and want sympathy, I go and kneel down at the back part of tue boat and say: '-Oh, Christ! weary one of Genncsaret, sympathize with all my sorrows, wan of Nazareth, man of the cross." A man, a man. But if I want to conquer my spiritual foes, if I want to get the victory over sin, death and hell, I corno to the front of the boat, and I kneel down, and I say: "Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, Thou who dost hush the tempest, hush all my grief, hush all my temptation, hush all my sin!" A man, a man; a Gocl, a God. I learn once more from this subject that Christ can hush a tempest. It did seem as if everything must go to ruin. The disciples had given up the idea of managing the ship; the crew were entirely demoralized; yet Christ vises, and He puts His foot on the storm, and it crouchcs at His feet. Oh, yes! Christ can hush the tempest. You have had trouble. Perhaps it was the little child taken away from you?the sweet| est child of the household, the one who asked I the most curious questions, and stood around you with the greatest fondness, and the spade cut down through your bleeding heart. Perhaps it was an only son, and your heart has over since been like a desolate castle, the dwls of the night hooting among the fallen arche3 and the crumbling stairways. Perhaps it wa3 an aged mother. You always went to her with your troubles. She was in your home to welcome your children into life, and when they died she was there to pity you; that old hand will do you no more kindness; that white lock of hair you put away in I tho casket or in the locket didn't look as it usually (lid when she brushed it away l'rom her wrinkled brow in the home circle or in the country church. Or your property gone, you said: "I have so much bank stock. I have so many government securities, I have so many houses, I have so many farms?all gone, all gono." Why, sir, all the storms that ever trampled with their thunders, all the shipwrecks, have not boen worse than this to you. Yet you have not been completely overthrown, why? Christ says: "I have tuat little one in My keeping. I can care for him as well as you can, better than you can, O bereaved mother I" Hushing the tempest. When your property went away, God said: "There are treasures in heaven, in banks that never break." Jesus hushing the I .. /" ' tempest. There is one storm into which we will all have to run. The moment when we let go of this world and try to take hold of ; the next, we will want all the grace possible. | Yonder I see a Christian soul rocking on the j surges of death; all the powers of dark: ness seom let out against that soul?the swirling wave, the thunder of the sky, the shriek of, the wind, all seem to' unite together; but that soul is not troubled; there is no sighing, there are no tears ;plenty of tears in the room at the departure, but lie weeps 110 tears?calm, satisfied and peaceful; all is well. By the flash of the storm yon see the harbor just ahead, and you are making for that harbor. Ail shall be well, Jesus be! ing our guide. Into the harbor ol heaven how we glide; Wu're homo at last, hone at last. Softly we drift on the bright, ailv'ry tide, We're home at last. Glory to God! all oar dangers arc o'er, We stand secure on tho ijlorifled ahorej Glory to God! we will ehout evermore, We're home at last. TEMPERANCE. NEW YEAR'S BELLS. rr>L- 1 I Uollc me uapMJ') i'ciio The gladsome story tell, I And ring out here a welcome clear This frosty winter morn To the bright youngest born | Of time?the glad new happy year! May the young infant King With peace and plenty bring I Release from wrong and woe and pain, And bless the just and right, Downtrodden by the might, ; Armed with the sword and gag and chain. Under his mighty sway May we behold the day I Of right and righteousness advance And vice and crime go down, And may his regal crown Wear the white plume of temperance. ?George W. Bungay. TEMPERANCE GLOVES. A pair of "temperance gloves" for children, often described by Miss Anna Gordon to the little folks of the Loyal Legion, has for its ten fingers, beginning with the little finger, left hand, ' "never swear," "never steal," "never cheat," "never lie," "never disobey;1' and the right hand, "never chew," "never smoke," "never drink," "love God," "love everybody." PAYING THE PENALTT. Father Nugent, of Liverpool, England, a i Catholic advocate of total abstinence, gives !a good reason for the faith that is in him. 'He says: "My work for twenty years has 'been in the largest prison in England, and of ithe total number which came under my observation and care during that time?from ,330.000 to 250,000 men and women?I here boldly declare that eight, if not nine, out of every ten of them came there to pay the pen,alty brought on by the rice of intemperance." I CONSOLIDATION OF DEPARTMENTS. The consolidation of departments was one of the most important advance steps of the recent national convention of the W. C. T. U. The rapid increase both in membership' and in the number of departments had made this a really imperative move in order to reduce the size of the national convention. There were also other advantages to be gained, in the union of cognate and kindred forces and the greater concentration of effort thus assured. One department, that of securing a day of prayer in the week of prayer, had so thoroughly done its work that there was no further need of it, there being now, in consequence of its efforts, scarcely a religious body in all the land that has not signed the petition to the Interna! tional Committee asking for a temperance day in the week of prayer. BARNUH UPSETS STATISTICS. I A small controversy is going on now among certain English newspapers regarding the duration of life of persons using intoxicating liquors, and a recent issue of the Liverpool Express says that, according to the statistics, P. T. Barnum, who is now in his eightieth year, should have died twenty-six vears and some months ago, his allotted ag<5 being less than fifty-four years. The same paper further states that the total abstainers average of life, on statistical showing, is a little over fifty-three years, while the moderate drinker has ten years more of life than his totally abstemious brother. Barnum has been, according to the same authority, "a teetotaler for the last twenty years and is manifestly defrauding the compilers of statistics, or else playing it very low down on the other total abstainers, whose average life he is cutting down to a frightful extent by living so much beyond his rightful statistical turn." As a'matter of fact, Mr. Barnum has not tasted intoxicants for a I period of over forty years (not twenty, as j stated), and has many times knocked the con| ceit out of the national statisticians and all I their tables on this subject.?New York j Times. MASSACHUSETTS RUM FOP. AFRICA. "I have directly learned," says- Dr. Dorchester, in the Congregationalist, '*from the best authority, that a distillery firm within three miles of the Massachusetts State House has a contract to furnish 3000 gallons of rum daily to the African trade for the next seven years. This would be equivalent to almost one million gallons annually. "It -will ba a surprise to many to learn that almost all the rum manufactured in the United States is made within five miles of the ' Massachusetts State House. During the last six years the total quantity manufactured and deposited in the aistilery warehouses of the country -were 11,133,704 gallons, an average of 1,855,617 gallons yearly, of which total the distilleries around Boston made 10, 460,120 gallons, or ninety-four per cent, of I all made in this country. "Almost all the liquor sent from the | United States to Africa is sent from Boston. No other liquor than that most accursed of ,all liquors, Boston's rum, is sent from America to the 'Dark Continent.'" Thus the name of Grod is blasphemed among the heathen. And while men are boasting of the progress of civilization, and predicting the speedy conversion of the world, the so-called "Christian nations" are deluging poor, benighted Africa with strong drink, as England has for a generation been flooding China with opium, and so destroying ten souls where missionaries are converting one. Is it uot time to lift up the voice like a trumpet and warn men of the evil of such ways that they may repent of their wickedness and escape the damnation of hell?? i Boston Safeguard. TEMPERANCE NEWS AND NOTES. There are more than 5000 licensed saloons in Chicago. New York State has 292 breweries, seventyone of which are in New York city. It is stated that ninety-three per cent, of all children taking- the temperance pledge remain faithful to their early vows. Hutchinson. Kansas, is a city of some 18,000 population. A marshal, his deputy and two policemen do the police duty for the city. Governor Stanford's California vineyard has made 800.000 gallons of wine the past year, and he has 180,000 gallons of brandy in bond. A total of 1:374 Younj Women's Christian Temperance Unions, with 31,?5~ regular and GT'.H) honorary members was reported to the recent convention. There has been an increase of fiftv per cent, in the number of admissions to the seven retreats in England licensed for the treat UlCill UL 1I1CU1 1CI/J . It is estimated that in ninety per cent, of all cases coming before the police justices of Now York city, the fault may be traced to the use of intoxicants. It is estimated that there are now at least 35,000 total abstainers in Denmark? a country that has long borne the stigma of b:*ing the most drunken nation in Europe. The Iowa Farmers' Alliance at its last annual meeting passed strong resolutions against the repeal of the prohibitory laws. Iowa has entirely paid off her State debt, and the taxes are to be reduced one-fourth. The Bishop of Newcastle says he is persuaded that in all atmospheres, in all work, in all relations of society, a man or woman is better without alcohol than with it. His lordship has been an abstainer for fifteen years. Archdeacon Farrar, in the sermon he E reached at Birmingham before the memers of the Temperance Congress, said: "In one single year 300,000 persons were arrested in Great Britain for drunkenness, and, taking an aggregate of ten years, the arrests reaohea the appalling total of 1,931,339.'' RELIGIOUS READING** "TflL THI AXGEr.S SING?" MB "Will the angels sing again At this merry Christmas time, And, auntie, snail I hear them?" While the bells in rhythmic chime 1 nH Urge the Christmas near, and Dearer, *So the little one talks on? 1 "I should like to hear them singing, M Have the angels really gone?' ^ 1 Childie.no! Sometimes it seems * That our.sin and care have driven All the beautiful bright angels Ear away from earth to heaven. But I think they come again Every Christmas lime, at least. And that some can hear them singing. While we keep the Christ-birth feast. For the angels are the servants Of the Babe who is the King. . And the things fhat plwue our Savioar Have the power to ranke them sing; And I shonld not wonder, dearie. If. for all their faulty ways.' There are people who please Jesus In these happy Christmas days. Gentle ones, who into darkness Bring the lamp of love for light: Strong and brave ones, who, like heroes, Fight the battle of the right, And the self-forgetful people Who grow old with other's cares, And the pure and saintly spirits Whose whole lives are lengthened prayers. Yes, and they who struggle nobly To forsake and conquer sin, Every one who from this Christmas Does a better life begin; And they, too. who cast the burden That bas made their days all dim, Down before the cross of Jesus, And are glad through faith in Him. Ah, and they who have a sorrow Loss, or weakness, or regret), That not even merry Christmas time . Can help them to forget, But who, still, resigned ttnd patient Love and trust through everything,? Surely these all please our Saviour, A r\ri OA wolro ho antrpls sirior. " * ? ... ^ Do they hear the pleasant singing? * Nay, perhaps they miss the song N Through the noises that are near them A And the crowds that press and throng. ? So they ask of peace and gladness, | And the music whence they came, But I think it is the angels, Singing to them, all tne same. $3| Will you hear them? Ah, my darling, You are likelier than I 1 To receive into your spiritThose sweet voices from the sky; For Christ said about the children, "Such the kingdom is of heaven," And perhap3 the sweetest music \ ' To the little ones is given. ;V; You shall join me in the wishes ? Sent to all the friends we love, , That the best of Christian blessings, Come to them from God above,? That the days be bright and happy In the presence of the King, And that they may be the people Who shall hear the angels sing. Mabianse Fabninghax. BULKS FOB PLEASANT LINKS. , A book published a year ago. "The Firs Talents of a Woman," gave tne following rules for beauty of expression, which the writer of tbe OOOK ciaimea was rcucn more attractive than beauty of features: 1. Learn to govern yourselves and to be gentle and patient. N 2. Guard your tempers, especially in seasons of ill-health, irritation and trouble, and soften them by prayer and a sense of your own shortcomings and errors. 3. Never speak or act in anger until you have prayecLover your words or acts. 4. Rememoer that valuable as is the gift of speech, silence is often more valuable. 5. Do not expect too much from others, but forbear and forgive, as you desire forbearance and forgiveness yourself. 6. Never retort a sharp or angrv word. It is the second word that makes tne quarrel. 7. Beware of the first disagreement. 8. Learn to speak in a gentle tone of vcice. w 9. Learn to say kind and pleasant things whenever opportunity offers. _ 10. Study the characters of each and 3ym pathize with all in their troubles, however small. 11. Do not neglect little tbings it tney can affect the comforts of others in the smallest degree. 12. Avoid moods and pets and fits of sulkiness. 13. Learn to deny yourself and prefer others. * j.'rvJ 14. Beware ol mriidlers and tale-bearera. 15. Never charge a bad motive if a good one is conceivable. 16. Be gentle and firm with children.? Selected. , ,-,4 now TO BUILD A CH.\RACTKl? ' Man, says the Presbyterian Journal, is the great builder of the earth, and his greatness and glory are seen in what he builds. He builds houses to Jive in, roads to travel oo, bridges to cross rivers on, ships to sail on the ocean, and he builds towns and towers and chapels ?nd churches and temples and palaces and cathedrals. The birds build nests, the beasts dens and the fish beds; but in all the buildings of animals below man there is never progress or improvement. Man may carry his building propensity and Eower into bis moral life, and build arouad is inner self a moral character, like a house | to live in; but that moral character,thus built up, will not be a religious life. A man may ! make himself more and more manly, but ! he cannot make himself godly. Godliness | is not an architectural structure duiic , around a man, but a life born within him, j and its development is by growth. In this ! one point is found the difference between j the moral character and the religious life. I Morality is mechanical compliance to the I letter of the law, but religion is vital conI formity with its spirit. The result of the ! one is to build up a character, like an archii tectural edifice, by adding detached good , ' | deeds and habits to one another by art and | rule; the result of the other is the developI ment of a new life from the birth and growth of a new vital energy implaitt|fein I the soul. The gbqd young man th|^^S(M^j I to Jesus was very^near the k^piom | heaven, but he was outside of itJT~ I He lacked one thin^th^r new birth. \ . | You must be born again?Dcifn from above, i The moral life can never be built, up until j it rises into the religious life. Religion is not an evolution out of morality. It is a new life in the soul of man, born from above. Morality is an edifice that has its I foundation on the earth, and is built up toward heaven but it'never reaches the.. I skies. Religion has its origin in heaven, [ and descends into the life of man from the | life of God. The moral character is a tower I of Babel which men build, vainly hoping that by adding good works to good works I they will reach ttie skies, and escape the j floods of God's wrath against their sins. But Uod confounds the tongues of men, I and the towers of their self-righteousness j fall to pieces. But the new life of holiness ! reuchce down from the throne of God anJ i enters into the lives of men and lifts them j from the earth into heaven. Morality is good in its place, and good so far us it goes; ut it cannot bs acceptfd in place of religion j because it cannot go as far a.* the skies. There is a whole realm of difference between it and religion: reliuion brings the life of man into the realm of spiritual life, while morality, when it has done the best and all it can, still leaves the life of man within the realm of spiritual death. tie wno attempts to uuuerMuuu tuc >wuu i without possessing the idea of God, can j only guess; he who makes the attempt, i possessing this idea, is able to explain it.? | Itothe. A SHINING EXAMPLE. The South American delegates to the International Congress, who have made a tour of the United States as the Nation'3 guests,have been dined and wined most abundantly. At South Bend. Indiana, they were entertained by Mr. Studebaker, one of the United States delegates, at a dinner at which one hundred and fifty guests were seated at the tables. Of this dinner the Chicago Tribune says: "The ? meal which was served was as elegant in its appointments as auy with which the visitors jf^ j have been honored. A novel feature of this dinner was its exemplification of Mr. Stud?- , baker's ideas of temperance. For the first | time on the trip the travelers were served with water only." All honor to Mr. and Mrs. Studebaker for thus giving to these South American guests a useful obiect-lesson, and showing them the better side of truly . American hospitality.? National Advocate. ] I M