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,v IF. Our older friends sometimes delight to say the world is growing wicked every day. Perhaps this is because they're in decay and soon will leave it. Alas! in many cases they forget that they did in their younger days beget full many follies quite in fashion yet?thus they believe it! The world, in truth, is bad enough, I grant. If I should on its wickedness descant its virtues might appear to be too scant to merit mention; And yet, if they in turn were cited, we might find that any mundane referee would be quite apt to weigh them carefully in contravention. If clergymen would only learn to box, and pugilists would be more orthodox, and fewer people monkey with the stocks, and each vocation Be followed honestly, and every cheat the purpose of its planner would defeat, the world, perhaps, might then more j fully meet our approbation. If doctors did not care so much for fees, and j lawyers were employed on salaries, I arid judges always would fit their decrees to circumstances; If politicians would tell fewer lies, and voters better judgment exercise, and merchants represent their merchandise to suit our fancies, If creditors would wait and debtors pay, and perishable things would not decay, and pleasures that we look for not delay, and friends stand by us; If crops and married life could be forecast, j and harvest moons and honeymoons I wouia last; u age wouiu not appiuuuu us quite so fast, nor death defy usq If we could have our ways in everything; if man oould be a little king, and out of j sight and mind all troubles fliug, wo ! still would grumble. j In fact, if w? could nature's laws reverse, | and all the fancied clouds of life dis- | perse?if we could simply boss tlie uni- I verse?we'd make a jumble! ?J. A. Waldron, in Frank Leslie's. An AtmosDheric Eevelation. i BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE. Giles Parsloc and I had spent four months at a mining camp on the Gila River, near Florence, in southern Arizona. "We had had tolerable luck. I suppose, between us, there may have been the value of six or seven thousand dollars. Bnt the vein began to peter out; at least we thought so. Perhaps the heat and the monotony of our surroundings may have had some influence on our opinion. At all events, we made up our minds to push on westward to the junction of the Gila and the Colorado at Yuma City. The railroad had not been put through at that time, and the region -was as remote as it was desolate. Not that we minded that. The romance of youth was still strong in us; we were but two or three years out of college. But we wanted variety as well as remoteness, and believed, as all men are apt to do, that the true Eldorado lay beneath the horizon. There was a sociable, agreeable fellow | in the camp, Dick Stapers by name, with j whom, more than with any of the others, ' we had found it agreeable to fraternize, j He was some years our elder, and had j been well educated; knew something of classics and of English lileraturc, and was fond of enriching his conversation with quotations from ancient and recent poetry. He was well acquainted with the life of the plains, and gave us not a few useful hiuts. On the other hand, it must be confessed that he was not a particularly industrious or successful miner. He seemed unable to take advantage of his own knowledge and experience: but, being gifted with a winning tongue, he contrived to live along in fair comfort, especially as he was a first-class pokerplayer. His presence made the place less loneiy and monotonous, and for that j reason no one thought of grudging Dick a pun at his wnisKy nasx, or even a uanu- 1 ful of dust now and then. There was no ' other standard whereby to measure the j value of social cheerfulness. Giles and I were, therefore, anything but put ou when Dick proposed to accompany us on our journey. In the first | place, he knew the route, and secondly, j he would be a grand resource at the camp j fire. So we acceptcd his suscgestiou with 1 cordiality, gave him a good mustang, and, | ?ne fine mrrning, we all three rode forth j with the sun on our backs. A mule car- i ried our camp equipage, and Giles, as the j steadiest and stoutest of the party, was I intrusted with the larger part of our j "dust.'' There was about four hundred 1 pounds' weight in all, of which he carried 11 two and a half hundred, and I the re- j mainder. Giles and I were each armed 1 with a rifle and a revolver; Dick was ud- ! i armed; but a3 he said: "Nobody will j' want to shoot me, and I don't want to ( , shoot anybody t" ' A few miles below the camp there was : a ford, which we crossed, keeping thence- 1 forth on the southern bank of the stream, i1 The sun glared down at us as if it had i notning eise in me soiar system 10 at&euu to. I felt as if something were pricking i, me in the base of the brain, aud Giles j i plodded doggedly along with his head ; down and a constant succession of drops j running down his nose and falling on tho j pommel of his saddle. Dick alone appeared lightsome and comfortable. He ' had a jest for every mishap, and a remedy I for every ill. Aud when, after a hard I' day's journey aud iuuumerable petty con- j trarieties, we dismounted at length to : camp iu a bend of the stream, I heard j him murmur to himself, as he kindled ! the fire for supper: " 'Post tot naufragia ; portus!'" (After so many shipwrecks, a i harbor.) !\ uNow, boys," lie said, socially, as we j Squatted round the remains of our meal an hour later, "this is going to be a tough j transit, x;nd we've got to scratch our best | to make it. Those two nags of yours j have all they want to do to carry you and j your guns. The mule is pretty well fixed > with the tent and the kcttlc3. But some- j thing's got to be done with that four hundred pounds' weight of dust. If you j two carry it, you'll be ou foot in two ; days; it I carry it?the fact is. I believe ' I sinil watch :ny chance to cut and ru:i with it. The mule remain:*; she can stand a good deal, and I believe she can : stand that four hundred pounds. But, ; not to run it too close, here's ray propo- ; sitiou; I'll pack the tout on my crupper j ?ray rapacity don't extend to tents? i and that will give the mule a chance. How does that strike you?"' We talked it over, and finally agreed ; that Dick's plan was prudent and ex- j pedient. After a sound night's sleep? Giles and I using the bags of dust for pillows?we arose betimes, breakfasted, and packed up our own traps, Dick being very active in assistiug. The mule j took the alteration in her load quite : good-humoredly, and Dick rigged the tent on his saddle in such a -way that, so far from incommoding him, it gave him a support to rest his back against. On the route he rode in advance, followed by Giles, who was followed by the mule, while I brought up the rear. More heat aud perspiration, more weariness of flesh, more unquenchable, or rather fire-proof gayety on the part of Dick. When we halted at noon I made a discovery. Through all my vicissitudes I had carried with me a patent instantaneous photographic camera, not so big as an ordinary hat-box, and capable of taking a four by five picture, without the use of a stand or other cumbersome accoutrements. I had brought a hundred prepared plates along with me, most of roVi;r.Vi fioz-l ulrpndv hf>nn flnr.orated with such scraps of Western scenes as had seemed to rac most characteristic or amusing. I valued the collection prodigiously; it was the only journal I had, and was full of associations; and now, just when I was looking forward to a speedy return to civilization, discoved that my camera and plates were missing. I had left them at our last night's sleeping-ground. I at once announced my determination to go back and get my camera. Giles shook his big head. Dick soberly declared that it would be little short of madness. He pointed out that it might have dropped off anywhere on the route, and either tumbled into the river or fallen under a sage bush, or otherwise hidden itself after the manner of such things. Again, I should wear out my horse, by doubling the distance we had already traveled that day; and, finally, what was the use of a lot of amateur photographs, anyway? But I still held to rny purpose, and began to strap the saddle on my devoted mustang. "Well," said Dick, at length, "I'll tell you what we'll do. There's a nice clump of trees about six miles further on, and, if you are fixed in your insanity, Giles and I will go forward easily, and wait for you there. It will be a good place to spend the night in, and will give you a chance for a rest when you come back. But I tell you frankly, I never expect to see you again." "Good-bye, old man; you're an idiot!" was Giles's farewell. And with that, I touched my heel to the mustang's flank, and cautered slowly off on the return trail. Three hours' rather leisurely traveling brought me to the site of our camp. Nothing was to be seen there of the camera. As all the baggage had been kept together in one place, it ought to have been immediately visible. I was puzzled by this, and racked my brain for a solution. While I was debating the question, a snake glided out of a hole in the ground, and wriggled off toward a neighboring clump of bushes. Mechanically, I drew my revolver and fired at him. The bullet struck him in the thickest part of the body. I walked up to put him out of his pain, and caught sight of a corner of my camera protruding from beneath a neighboring shrub. I picked it up, strapped it to my belt, and, after allowing my horse half an hour's rest, I re-saddled and remounted and set out towards the west once more. But all the while I was thinking, "How did the camera get thereIt was twenty paces, at least from the camp. It could not have got there by accident. At last I came to the conclusion that Dick must have hidden it there for fun, and then forgotten all about it; and when I had discovered the loss, and showed such concern at it, he had held his tongue for fear of a row. That was the best explanation I could devise^ and it was not a very satisfactory one, after all. I rode on and on through tho broiling afternoon. I was glad to have recovered ray camera, but I was not in a very good humor, and, being alone, my thoughts took a srloomv turn, and I lost mvself in o * 9 1 gloomy memories and forebodings. At length I roused myself to find that the region I was in was strange to me. I had certainly not passed through it with the others. I looked at my watch; it was four hours since I had set out on my return. I must, therefore, have already passed our noon resting-place. But, on the other hand, I must be near the grove of trees that Dick had mentioned as our night halt. I rode on for nearly another hour, and came to a fork in the river. Which way had the others gone? I searched along the bank of the left branch, but found no trail. I forded the stream and searched on the other side. Half an hours labor brought me on the boof-marks of the two mustangs and the mule. To my surprise, after proceeding along the bank for a mile or two, they turned off to the right, and disappeared toward the northwest, right across the great alkali desert of Yuma. It was incomprehensible, but I had no choice but to follow. ***** It was five o'clock in the afternoon, but the sun was nearly three hours high. The air was perfectly still; the sky was of a dull hue, inclining to coppery at the horizon. The white surface of the alkali glittered 011 every side, dazzling my eyes. My horse was jaded; I began to feel grave apprehensions. Could it be that I had mistaken some other trail for theirs? I cast my eyes on the ground. No trail was visible. I had lost it, and was myself lost! For a moment my heart failed me. Then, mauniug myself, I bore on my left rein, and began to ride iu a great circle. In twenty minutes I struck a trail?it wa3 my own. Well, I would try a larger circle still. Just as I started, my mustang raised j his head, snorted and neighed. Iu- j voluntarily I glanced up. What I saw j sent a shock of superstitious terror to my heart. In the cmptv air above my head, at a distauce in front, of me of apparently half | a mile, I saw Giles, Dick, and the mule I jigging slowly along side by side. The j figures were distinct and perfectly recog- j nizable, and, as I say, seemed to be moving on the empty air. I passed my hand over ray eyes and looked again. There ! was no mistake. But this assurance had the elTect of restoring my equanimity. If what I saw was not a mere hullueinution of my brain, there was only one other tiling it could be. It was an extraordinary perfect mirage. The figure phantoms that I saw were the magnified reflections upon the atmosphere of their real fiesh-and-blood prototypes. But, as the latter were nowhere visible, they could not be at less distance than twenty miles. If I took the bearings and rode on, I should overtake them in time. The spectacle was so wonderful, however, that involuntarily 1 thought of my camera. Was it possible to photograph a mirage? At any late I would try. Quickly unstrapping the instruments I pointed it towards the apparition and awaited, a '.. . . i favorable moment to pull the catch. Just then Dick drew rein and stooped as if to adjust his stirrip. The mule and Giles kept on. Suddenly Dick rose erect in his saddle, drew and leveled a revolver and fired. Giles threw up his hands, reeled, and fell from his horse. At the same moment, and involuntarily, I flashed the lens. And then, like the vanishing of a soap-bubble, the whole spectral scene disappeared, and I was alone in the desert. * * * * * * At half-past seven I came upon Giles's body. Luckily there was life in it; the bullet had struck his head and glanced, stunning him and making an ugly wound, but not seriously injuring him. He explained to me afterward that Dick had assured him that by taking a '-short cut" across the desert they would strike the river at the mythical "clump of trees" he had foretold. Later he had borrowed his revolver to shoot at a rabbit, and had kept it. Evidently he had planned from the beginning to murder one or both of us, and to get off with the gold. Two pieces of rare good luck befell Giles and me at this moment of our need. Giles's horse came quietly up out of the darkness, and allowed himself to be caught, being, probably, too much discouraged to travel by himself. In the second place, we succeeded that night in reaching a small stream, with some timber growing beside it. It undoubtedly saved both our lives. The next morning, riding along the stream, we stumbled upon Dick's trail, and followed it north-west by west for thirty miles to Mineral City, on the Colorado. Here we communicated with the Sheriff, Tom Fork, who arrested Dick just as he w^s leaving town, with five thousand dollars in greenbacks on his person. He denied everything; but when confronted by Giles, whom he supposed to be dead, he blanched a little, and when I produced my photograph (which I had meanwhile developed) he was overcome by sheer amazement, and confessed his guilt.? The Ledger. A Beautiful Game Picture. I saw a most beautiful game picture this season while hunting on Vancouver Island, says a writer in Forest and Stream. As I reached the summit of a mountain I saw within fifty yards from me a flat, oval rock, some ten feet across, covered with bright green moss. In the center of this mossv couch a two-vear-old buck lay his left side toward me, his head erect, his large eye glistening. I instantly covered him with my rifle. Then the true sportsman part of my nature came up and prevented me from pressing the trigger. I held the rifle in position and studied the picture, which was one that even a Landseer or Vogt could not faithfully portray?the combination of shades of the dark evergreens in the background and the brilliant coloring of the mossy carpet that covered the rocks, then the deer as it lay there a model of symmetry and alertness. As ray arm began to tire in holding out the gun the old Norse feeling took possession of me. A quick glance along the sights, a pressure of the trigger, then the report, and the air was full of smoke, and the beautiful deer lay on its side motionless. I approached it, and saw that the bullet had gone true to its aim and entered the neck near the shoulder. I laid my rifle down, stepped on the rock and took it by the hindlegs to turn it, so that its head would hang over the edge of the rock as I bled it. The next moment I was where?no matter where. It's nobody's business but my own?and the deer'6?where I was, whether reeling or erect, head or heels up. Whew! but talk about a mule's kicking; no double team I of mules could kick out as that dead deer did. I picked myself np and also picked up my gun hastily. There lay the deer apparently dead. I cautiously approached it again and punched its head with my rifle. Not a move. Then I touched his shoulder, which caused a slight quivering of the muscles of the shoulder and forward. I touched his hind-quarters; then how his heels flew out. There it lay without further motion. I stooped over and placed my hand over its heart and felt it beat, and came near getting my head kicked off, which caused that kind of nonsense to be summarily stopped. Knt Tticnncpri ti? Invent in Silverware. "We meet some queer people among the many who are constantly flitting into and out of this store, but an old man and his wife, upon whom I waited a few days ago, took the prize for pure, unadulterated simplicity. The couple were evidently on their first visit to New York from the country. When I approached them the old lady, who was undoubtedly master of ceremonies, stated that they wanted to purchase a soup tureen. 41 'Do you want plated ware or silver?' I asked. " 'Solid silver, ter be sure,'the woman responded, with a glance that, had I been anybody else than a salesman, would have frozen me. "After seeing a number of designs the * i * 3?'J-J 3 : a oia may acciucu upou uuc auu imjuncu the price. " 'One hundred and twenty dollars,'I answered, as I called to a boy to take the article to the shipping room. " 'What!' she almost screamcd. 'One hundred and twenty dollars fer that? Wall, I swan.' For a few minutes they gazed at me, as if I had expressed an intention of robbing them, after which they conferred together. Presently the old gentleman turned around, and in a quivering voice said he guessed they'd better buy a plated tureen, as that was just as good. "We have several dozen designs -in plated ware in stock, and after critically * ' * -U 1-J 1 examining eacu one rnc oiu iuuj up couragc enough to ask the price of one that had only recently been produced, and was selling for $18. When I mentioned the price, she looked blankly at her husband and said she guessed we didn't have anything to suit them. As they were goiug out of the store, I [ overheard the remark: 'What mighty ! dear stores these in New York arc, terbe j sure. I wouldn't pay mor'n. $3 for a , soup tureeu?no, not if it was the only one ia the country.'"?Jeweler* Weekly. A Feline Curiosiiy. Judge G. A. Ringwald is the happy possessor of a feline curiosity. This particular tabby is nearly thirty years of age and, therefore, so far as his species is concerned, the oldest inhabitant in the territory. He is also blind, deaf and dumb, and otherwise eminently decrepit. The animal, however, finds his way about with ease, -through tho sense of smell, despite his several littlo infirmities. Florence, for years, gloated over her tobacco chewing dog, but we defv. hor to produce a cat that can hold a ca^le to this one.-7Ynma (Cal.) Timet. ' ~y v.. - ' > . ... ;v. ' ' ' '"' heave up the wood, half a dozen shoulders under the weight, and they put the end of the cross to the mouth of the-hole, and they plunge it in, all the weight of His body coming down for the first time on the spikes; and while some hold the cross upright, others throw in the dirt and trample it down, and trample it hard. 0, plant that tree well and thorou^h y, for it is to bear fruit such as no other tree ever bore. Why did Chr st endure it? He could h <ve taken tnose rocK ,ana wiin mem crusnea ms cruciflers. He co Id have reached up and grasped the sword of the omnipotent God and with one clean cut have tumbled them into perdition. But no, He was to di . He must d e. Hia life for my life. H s life for you life. In on? of the European cities a young man j died on tin scaffold or ihe crime of murder. Some time after, the mother of this you ig ma i was dying, and the priest came in, and she made con ession to the priest that she was the murdere-, ant not her son; n a moment of anger she had struck her husband a blow that slew him. The son came suddenly into the room, and was washing away the wounds and trying to resuscitate his father, when some one looked through the window and saw him,and supposed him to be the criminal. That young mau died for his own mother. You say: "'It was wonderful that he never exposed her." But I tell you of a grander thing. Christ, the Son of God, died not for His mother, not for His father, but for His sworn enemies. O, such a Christ as that?so ljmng, so self sacrificing?can you not trust REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON Subject: "The Philippian Earthquake." (Preached iu London, England.) Text: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved."?Acts xvi., 3L Jails are dark, dull, damp, loathsome places even now; hut they were worse in the apostolic times. I imagine, to-day we are standing in the Philippian dungeon. Do you not feel the chill? Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who for ten years have not seen the sunlight, and the deep sigh of women who remember their father's house, and mourn over their wasted estates? Listen again. It is the cough of a consumptive, or the struggle of one in a nightmare of a great : horror. You listen again, and hear a culprit, his chains rattling as he rolls over in his I J ?j ur?~j A uruttius, aiiu yuu saj; \jtuu pivj i/no jjiiaoner." But there is another sound in that orison. It is a song of joy and gladness. What a place to sing in I The music oomes winding through the corridors of the prison, and in all the dark wards the whisper is heard: "What's that I What's that!" It is the song of Paul and Silas. They canot sleep. They h ive been whip; ed, ver/ b;dly wnip^ed. The long gashes on ther bacVs are bleeding yet. They lie flat on the coldiroun their feet fast in wooden sockets, i nd of course th^y cannot sleep. But thpy can sing. Jailer, what are you doing with these people? Why have they been put in here? 0, they have been trying to make the world bett.-r. Is that all? That is all. A pit for oseph. A lion's cave for Daniel. A blazin* furnace for Shadrach. C ubs for John Wesl :v. An auat .ema for Philip MelI a- cthon. A dungeon for Paul and Silas. But while wo nre sta d.ng in the gloom of that Philippia i du geon, and we near tho mingling voices of sob, and groa'i, and blasphemy, and hallelujah, suddenly an earth auakel The ir >n bars of t'.ie prison twist, the pillars crack off, the solid masonry begins to heave and rock till al the doors sung open, an 1 the walls fall with a t rrific crash. The jailer, feeling himself respons ble fdr these prisoners, and foeling suicide to be honorable?since Brutus killed himself, and Cato killed himself, and Cassius killed himself?puts his sword to his own heart, proposing with one strong, keen thrust to put an end to his excitement and agitation. But Paul cries out: "Stop! stop! Do thyself no harm. We are all here." Then I seo the tho jailer running through the dust and amid the ruin of that prison, and I see him throwing himself down at the feet of theso prisoners, crying out: "What shall I do? What shall I dp?" Did Paul answer: "Get out of this place before there is another earthquake; put handcuffs and hopples on these other prisoners, lest they get away?" No word of that kind. Compact, thrilling, tremendous answer; answer memorable all through earth and heaven: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." Well, we have all read of the earthquakes - ? t j? ? - ? T 4m A 1ai\?v\ anrl m I 'or?_ Ill JjIbUUU) III JJliuo, Hi rxiviryv auu ui v?t av cas; but we live in a latitude where in all our memory there has not been one severe volcanic disturbance. And yet we have seen fifty earthquakes. Here is a man who has been building up a large fortune. His bid on the money market was felt in all the citiesHe thinks ho has got beyond all annoying rivalries in trade, and he says to himself: "Now I am free and safe from all possible perturbation." But a national pauic strikes the foundations of the commercial world, and crash! goes all that magnificent business establishment. He is a mau who has built up a very beautiful home. His daughters have just came home from the seminary with diplomas of graduation. His sons have started in life, honest, temperate and pure. When the evening lights are struck, there is a happy and an unbroken family circle. But there has been an accident down at the beach. The young man ventured too far out in the surf. The telegraph hurled the terror up to the city. An earthquake struck under the foundations of that beautiful home. The piano closed; the curtain^ dropped;, the laughter hushed. Crash I go all those domestic hopes, aud prospects, and expectations. So, my friends, wo have all felt tne shaking down of some great trouble, and there was a time when wo were as much excited as this man of the text, and we cried out a3 ho did: "What shall I do? Wtat shall I do?' The same reply that the apostle made to him is appropriate to us: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be j savod." Thero are some documents of so little | importance that you do not care to put any ! TrinrA than vntir last name nndai* them or even I your initials; but there are some documents I of so great importance that you write out | your full name. So tho Saviour iu some j parts of the Bible is called "Lord,'' and in | other parts of the Bible He is called "Jesus," | and in other parts of the Bible He is called "Christ;" but that there might be no mistako j about this passage all three names come in together?"tno Lord Jesus Christ." Now, who ! is this Being that you want me to trust iu j and believo in? Men sometimos come to me with credentials and certificates of good j character; but I cannot trust them. There ; is somo dishonesty in their looks that makes j me know I shall be cheated if I confide in j them. You cannot put your heart's confl- j dence in a man until you know what stuff he j is made of, and am I unreasonable this | morning, when I stop to ask you who this ts that you want me to trust in? No man would think of venturing his life on a vessel going out to sea that had never been inspected. No, you must have tho certificate hung amidships, telling how many tons it carries, and how long ago it was built, and who built it, and | all about it. And you cannot expect me to j risk the cargo of my immortal interests on KsvamsI amaM 4-511 wam fall ma xrliaf. if, ifl I wa?u auj ui am uu juu vou *uv ?> uuv ? made of, and where it was made, and what ifc is. When, then, I ask you who this is you want me to trust in, you tell me ho was a very attractive person. You tell me that tho contemporary writers describe him, and they givo the color of his eves, and the color of his liair, and they describe his wholo appoarance as being resplendent. Christ did not tell the children to come to Him. "Suffer little children to come unto Me," was not spoken to tho children; it was spoken to Ihe rnarisees. The children had come without any invitation. No sooner did Jesus ap. pear than the little ones pitched from their mothers' arms, an avalancue of beauty and love, into His lap. "Suffer little children to come unto Me." That was addressed to the Pharisees; not to the children. Christ did not ask John to put his head down on His bosom; John could not help but put his head there. Such eros, such cheeks,, such a cbin, such hair, such physical condition and appearance?why, it must have been completely captivating and winsome. I supE>se a look at Him was just to- love im. 0, how attractive His manner! Why, when they saw Christ coming along the street, thoy ran into their houses, and they wrapped up their invalids as quick as they could, and brought them out that He might look at them. O! there was something so pleasant, so inviting, so cheering in eyery thing He did, in His very look. When these sick ones wore brought out did He say "Take away these sores; do not trouble Mo with these leorosies?" No. no: there was a ' *1 1 ?.oo Kina IOOK, Micro WJlOi* {JCUUC T1UIU, rao. <j uiu a healing toucb. They could not keep away from Him. In addition to this softness of character, there was a fiery momentum. How the old hypocrites trembled before Him. How the Kings of the earth turned pale. Here is a plain man with a few sailors at His back, coming off the sea of Galilee, going up to the palace of the Caesars, making tnat palace tpiake to the foundations, and uttering a word of mercy and kindness which throbs through all the earth, and through all the hcaveus, and through all the ages. Ob! Ho was a loving Christ. But it was not effeminacy, or insipidity of character; it was aceompaniod with majesty, infinite and omnipotent. Lest the world should not realize His earnestness, this Christ mounts the cross. "You say: "If Christ has to die, why not let Him take some deadly potion and lie on a couch in somo bright and beautiful home? If He must die, let Hiin expire amid all kindly attentions." No, the world must hear the hammers on the heads of the spikes. The world must listen to the death rattle of the sufferer. Tho world must feel His warm blood dropping on. each cheek, while it looks up into the face o? His anguish. And so the croes must be lifted, and the hole is dug on the top of Olivary. It must be dug thraeloofe deeu and/hen tho cross is laid on the ground, and Uvj sufferer is stretched upon it, and the n&ilg are pounded through nerve, and inuuf'.e, and bone, through tho right hand, through the ftft hand; and then they shi^o His right j hand to 6eo if it is fast, and thay shako His J loft foot to see if it is aad then they % V' i v -'a. ; > > Him? I think there are many under the spirit of God who are saying: "I will trust Him if you will only tell me how;" and the great question asked by thousands in this assemblage is "How? how?' And while I answer your question I look up and utter tho prayer which Rowland Hill so often uttered in the midst of his sermons:. "Master, help!" How are you to trust in Christ? Just as you trust any one. You trust your partner in busi ness with important things. If a commercial house give you a note payable three months hence, you expect the payment of that note at the end of tnree months. You have perfect confidence in their word and in their ability. You go home to-day. You expect there will be food on the table. You have confidence in that. Now, I ask you to have the same confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ. He says: "You believe; I take away your sins;" anu they are all taken away. "What!" you say, "beforeI pray any more? Before I read my Bible any more? Before I cry over my sins any more?" Yes, this moment. Believe with all your heart aad you are saved. Why, Christ is only waiting to get from you what you give to scorns of people every day. Wha't is that? Confidence. If these people whom you trust day by day are more worthy than Christ, if they are more faithful than Christ, if they have done more than Christ ever did, then give them the preference, but if you really think that Christ is as trustworthy as they are, then deal with Him as fairly. "Oh," says some one in a light way, "I believe that Christ was born in Bethlehem, and I believe that He died on the cross." Do you believe it with your head or your heart? I will illustrate the difference. You are in your own house. In the morning you open a newspaper, and you read how Captain Braveheart on the sea risked his life for the salvation of his passengers. You say: "wnat a grana ienuw uo musi uaio been! His family deserves very well of the country." You fold the newspaper aud sit down at the table, and perhaps do not think of that incident again. That is historical faith. But now you are on the sea, and it is night, and you are asleep, and are awakened by the shriek of "Fire!" You rush out on the deck. You hear, amid the wringing of the hands and the fainting, the cries: "No hope! wo are lost! we are lost!" The sail puts out its wings of fire, the ropes make a burning ladder in the night heavens, the spirit of wreck hisses in the waves, and on the hurricane deck shakes out its banner of smoke and darkness. "Down with the life boatsP' cries the Captain. "Down with the life boats!" People rush into them. The i boats are about full. Room only for one , more man. You are standing on the deck I beside the Captain. Who shall it be? You or the Captain? rhe Captain says: "You." You jump and are saved. He stands there and dies. Now, you believo that Captain Braveheart sacrificed himself for his passengers, but you believe it with love, with tears, with hot and long continued exclamations, with grief at his loss and with joy at your deliverance. That is saving faith. In other words, what you believe with all the heart, and believe in regard to yourself. On this hinge turns my sermon; aye, the salvation of your immortal soul. You often go across a bridge you know nothing about. You do not know who built the bridge, you do not know what material it is made of; but you come to it, and walk over it, and ask no questions. And here is j an arched bridge blasted from the "Rock of Ages," and built by the architect of the whole universe, spanning the dark gulf between sin and righteousness, and all God asks you is to walk across it; and you start, and vou come to it, and you t stop, and you go a little way on and | you stop, and you fall back and you experiment. You say: "How do I know that bridge will hold me?" instead of marching on with firm step, asking no questions, but feeling that the strength of the eternal God is under you. O, was there ever a prize offered so cheap as pardon and heaven are offered to you? For how much? A million dollars? It is certainly worth more than that. But cheaper than that you can have it. Ten thousand dollars? Less than that. Five thousand dollars? Less than that. One dollar? Less than that. One farthing? Leas than that. "Without mouey and without | price." No money to pay. No journey to ' take. No ponance to suffer. Only just one decisive action of the soul: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ* and thou shall be saved." Shall I try to tell you what it is to be saved? I cannot tell you. No man, no angel can tell you. But I can hint at it. For my text brings ma up to this point: "Thou shalt be saved." Itmeans a happy life here, and a peaceful death and a blissful eternity. It is a grand thing to go to sleep at , night, and to get up in the morning, and , to do business all day feeling that all , is right between my heart and j God. No accident, no sickness, no i persecution, no peril, no sword can do me | any permanent damage. I am a forgiven J child of God, and He is bound to see me through- He has sworn He will see me , through. The mountains may depart, tiie 1 oni-th mnv hnm. the lierht of the stars may j be bloWout by the bfast of the judgment hurricane; but life and death, things present and things to come%. are mine. Yea, farther than that?it means <* peaceful death. Mrs. Homans, Mrs. SJgourney. Dr. Young and almost all the poots have said handsonw things about death. There is nothing beau* tiful about it. When wo stand by the white and rigid features of those whom wo love, aud they give no answering pressure of the hand, and no returning hiss of the lip, we do not want anybody poetizing around about us. Death is loathsomoness, and midnight, and tho wringing of the heart until the tondrils snap and curl in the torture unless Christ be with us. I confess to you to an infinite fear,, a consuming horror, of death unless Christ shall be with me. I would rather go down into a cava of wild beasts or a jungle of reptiles than into the grave, unless Christ goes with mo. Will you tell me that I am to be Carried out from my bright home, and put away in the darkness? I cannot bear darkness. At the first coming of the evening I must have the gas lit, and the further on in life- I get, the more I like i to have niy friends around about mo. And am I tj be put off for thousands of years in a dark place, with no one to speak to? Wheu tlio holidays come, and the gifts are distributed, shall I add no joy to the "Merry Chr stinas* or tho "Happy New XT Ml At. ,1? I-I. .1 XCIU'f -n.il, iiu uuu. jiuiuv uuna iaj uuu -.ww | in the ground, tho grave, ami cull it a beautiul place; unless there bo some superuatur.il illumination, I shu tier back from i . My j wiiolo nature revolts a. it. But row thisgl rious lamp is.lilted above the grave, and all tlio darkness is gone, and the way' i.? clear. I look into it now without ;t single shu-.fdcr. Now my anxiet.- is not about i loath; my anxiet is that I may live artght, for I kuow that, if my life is consistent whon I coma to the last hour, and this voice is silent, and theso eyes arc closed, aud those bands witi which I beg for your eternal salvation to-cky arofoldod over tho still heart, that theu I suall ouly begin to Hvo. What power is there in anything to chill me in the last hour if Christ wraps around ino th$ skirt of of ELis j own garment? What darkness can i fall upon my eyelids then, auiid ( the heavenly daybreak? O doath, I will not j fear thee then! Back to thy cavorn of darkness, thou rohber of all the earth. Fly, thou dospoilor of families, "With this battlo ax I how thee in twain from hamlet to sandal, tho voicc of Christ sounding all over the earth, I and through tho heavens; "O death. 1 will j be thy plague, 0, grave, I will be thy eta struotlofl." , ;_ * ' " ' v..'V:'-.' - ' jk.. "... to do raved 13 to watte up fn tbe presence of Christ! You know when J?sus was upon earth how happy He made every house He went into, ana when He brings us up to His house how great our glee. His voice has more music in it than is to be heard in all the oratories of eternity. Talk not about banks dashed with efflorescence. Jesus is the chief bloom of heaven. Wo shall see the very face that beamed sympathy in Bethany, and take the very hand that dropped its blood from the short beam of the cross. O, I want to stand in eternity with Him. Toward that harbor I steer. Toward that goal I run. I shall be satisfied when I awake in His likeness. Oh, broken hearted men and women, how swoet it will be in that good land to pour all your hardships, and bereavements, and losses into the loving ear of Christ, and then have Him explain why it was best for you to be sick, and why it was best for you to bo widowed, and why it was best for you to be persecuted, and why it was best for you to be tried, and have Him point to an elevation proportionate to your disquietude here, saying: "You suffered with Me on earth, come up now and be glorified with Me in heaven." Some one went into a house where there had been a good deal of trouble and said to the woman there: "You seem to be lonely." "Yes," she said, "I am lonely." "How many iu the family?" "Ouly myself." "Have you had any children?" "I had seven children." "Where are they?" "Gone." "All gone?" "All." "All dead?" "All." Then she breathed a long sigh into the loneliness, and said: "O, sir, I have been a good mother to the grave." And so there are hearts here that are utterly broken down by the bereavements of life. I point you to-day to the eternal balm of heaven. Are there any here that lam missing this morniug? 0, you poor waiting maid! your heart's sorrow poured in no human ear, lonely and sad 1 how glad you will be when Christ shall disband all your sorrows and crown you queen unto God and the Lamb forever! 0, aged men and women, fed by His love- and warmed by His grace for throe-score-years-aml-ten! will not your decrepitude change for the leap of a hart when you come to look face to fase upon Him whom, having not seen, you love? O, that will be the Good Shepherd, not out in the night and watching to keep off the wolves, but with, the lambs reclining on the sun lit bill. That will be the Captain of our salvation, not amid the roar, and crash, and boom of battle^ but amid His disbanded troop3 keeping victorious festivity. That will be cne Bridegroom of tha Church coming from afar, the bride leaning upon His arm while He looks down into her face and says: "Behold, thou art fair, mj love I Behold, thou art fair." CURIOUS FACTS. Aboriginal Australians have the smalle8t heads of any race. A man has been held for trial at Johnstown, Penn., for stealing 84,000 shingles. Three eggs of different sizes, one inside the other, were deposited by a ben in a Lehigh County (Penn.) barn. In England and "Wales the average duration of married life has been computed at about twenty-seven years. It required an act of the Italian Parliament to permit the burial of the poet Browning beside his wife at Florence. A thief stole a pair of shoes from a policeman at Sedalia, Mo., the other night. The guardian of the night was sound asl?fep. In the Cape de la Hogue lighthouse in t rance a winamiu is usea to anve two dynamos, the current being stored up in accumulators. A perfect penknife, which measures three-sixteenths of an inch in length, has been made by Dr. John Temple, of Marshallton, Penn. An Akron (Ohio) man after eating half a rabbit on a wager, ate forty raw clams, a dozen fried oysters and a pumpkin pie. He suffered no ill effects. Phil Baumau, of Lancaster, Penn., sold for $200 to parties in New York city a hog which is throe years old and weighs 1215 pounds. The monster is in a museum. A Salem (Ore.), man recently sold a three-quarter short-horn cow to a Portland butcher. It weighed 1630 pounds. The same farm owns a sheep that weighs 263 pounds. The two tallest convicts in the Salem (Ore.) Penitentiary were sent from Jackson County. Caldwell, a life-termer, stands 6 feet 5| inches, and Roten, who weut in for one year, is 6 feet 4^ inches. Recent excavations in Rome show that the ancient plumbers of the Eternal City i were obliged to be very particular with j their work. There have been unearthed j great quantities of lead water-pipe, each plainly stamped with the name of the owner of the house, the year of the plumbing, the name of the consuls for that year, and that of the reigning Emperor. Toad Against Spider. A story is told by a Baltimore Suncorrespondent of a striking instance of the toad's indomitable pluck, which was observed in his boyhood at the door of a ; farmhouse in Fairfax County, Ya. The doorsteps, says the correspondent, were cut from the trunk of a large tree, and a large spider had spun a strong web in a cosey corner near the ground, between the rounding curve of the block and the side of the log house. The grass bad been worn from a space four or five feet wide about the entrance to the dwelling, leaving exposed a patch of hard reddish soil. There were locust trees around the ho use-,and bunches of plantain leaves grew . rankly in the thin grass of the lawn. j It was late on a drowsy summer after- ' noon. The spider was basking in the sun waiting for flies, when n valorous young toad appeared on the scene, hopping di- ' rectly toward the spider's citadel. As j the enemy appeared in sight the spider < Beemed to swell in size and put on his war paint, for, whereas he was dull in color j before, he now became ail aglow with i brilliant hues. The toad advanced boldly to the investment of the castle, halting j for a second or two below, and leisurely ? surveying the field, When these obser- 3 vations had been taken he leaped up half j a dozen times in quick succession at the t enemy, and then rapidly retreated to the ' nearest tuft of plantain leaves, from, which he nipped two or three pieces and s owallowed them. Returning to the attack, 1 tlii? same series of operations were re- j plated many times, until the spider had , spent all his venom, it is supposed, and 1 the web was broken down aud the brave ' defender was dead. It was nearly dark before-the combat j dosed. Nothing could exceed the coui- ] aire of the defence unless ii was the per sistencv of the attack. I aroulU n>t venture to guess how many times the toad 1 got a dose of virus from the spiier. and 1 can account for his resost to the plantain | leaves only on the supposition that the i courageous little warrior thejc found a sufficient antidote for the spider's poison. But. throughout the whole of the lengthy j contest it was the gamest assault on an ; 1 entrenched enemy I ever witnessed. Besides this it afforded an example of per- i tinacity on the part of tho despised toad which fully parallels the heroic quality of the spider, made familiar to us in youth by the story of the Bruce oncouragcd to renewed effort by the example of one of 1 these little insects. _ _ i isiim INTERNATIONAL LESSOR F^^fl FEBRUARY 0. Lesson Text: "Childhood, and YouthJ of Jesus," Luke ii., 40-53? JH Golden Text: Lake ii., 52?Commentary. 40. "And the child grew and waxed stron^H in spirit, filled with wisdom." Having per^^fl formed all things according to the lair, Jo^H seph and Mary returned to their humble home at Nazareth, there to abide. And there grew up this wonderful child of whom fl the angels sang and the shepherds testified, and whom the wise men came from the east B| to see and worship; whose advent had fl troubled the King and all Jerusalem, and fotj^f whom many little children had already laid T down the lives (Matt, ii., 3,16). This verse V tells all we know of His life after the return to Nazareth until He was twelve years of age. As to His body He grew and waxed strong t (the Revised Version leaves out the words ''in spirit") as any healthy child would. His 5 body was flesh and blood, just like ours; He i took such a body that in it He might die and -* thus destroy him that had the power of death, ? that is, the devil (Heb. ii., 14). He was born that He might die, that we being born again through Him might never die, but have eter- J nal life for both soul and body. He was * wise child: one of Hisnames is "The Wisdom "V of Qod" (I Cor. i., 24) and as a child soma- U thing of tnis wisdom was seen in Him. In fl wnai way it was manuesiea we are not ioiq, M but we may imagine from what we often see V in children who are thoughtful beyond their years. H "The grace of God was upon Him." The 1 manifest blessing and power of God was .1 upon Him even as a little boy; He was a holy ? child, and the same grace will be upon every boy and girl to-day who earnestly desires it* H that they mayglorify God. jfl 41. "Now His parents went to Jerusalem H every year at the feast of the passover." It H is written in the law of Moses: "Three times thou shalt keep a feast unto Me In the year. 1 * * * Three times in the year all thy I males shall appear before the Lord God" m (Ex. xxiii., 14-17). The passover was kept in. M the first month of the year, to commemorate the deliverance of Israel from the bondara^H of Egypt (Ex, xii., 1-7), and not only poingnH backward to that deliverance, but Also for- 1 ward to a greater deliverance from all ] nations of the earth, when the passover shall 9 bo fulfilled in the kingdom of God (Jer. jfl xxiii., 5-8; Luke xxii., 15, 16). The pass- fl over lamb was a type of this very Jesus, the true passover sacrifice (I Cor. v., 7). It is I B evident from our lesson and from I Sam. i., 3, 9, that the women as well ?8 the men went up to at least some of these yearly jj feasts. 48. "And when He was twelve years old H they went up to Jerusalem, after the custom H of the feast." This was probably His first H visit to Jerusalem since He had been there as ? an infant in His mother's arms; but often had jw uie events oi me um great paasover uwu h talked over at home, as well as the more an-. cient history of Abraham, Isaao. and Jacob, and the later evente under Joshua, the Judges and the Kiugs. B 43. "And when they had fulfilled the days." The paseover was on the fourteenth day of V the month at even, and the nextf day began I the feast of unleavened bread, which contin- I ued seven days, so that the full time of the feast would be eight days (Lev. xxiii., 5). < "The child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusa- 1 lem." It seems strange that they should fl start for home without being sure that their H boy was with them. They probably had such confidence in Him that they relied upon His- jfl keeping near them, not knowing or not un- V derstanding the higher call than theirs al- uH ready dawning upon Him; or perhaps they | did not think enough of Him, and their care- * lessness causes them to lose Him and gave 1 them three days' anxious search. ? 44. "They sought Him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance." Here is another , strange thing that His parents should think that such a child would prefer the company of kinsfolk or acquaintance to that or His own mother. There is evidently some neglect here on the part of Mary of the precious trust committed to her, which is all the more strange at such a time as this when she. is iust returning from this holv feast. s, r\ 45. "Tliey turned back again to Jerusalem, Id seeking Him." Having failed to find Hiin or^BJ rbtain tidings of Him among their kinsfolkj*^H they next retrace their steps to Jerusalem, i full, no doubt, of anxious thoughts concerning Him. A day's journey they had gone J without Him carolessly; a day's journey they ) i-etrace their steps sorrowfully. Do we ever ' jo a day without fellowship with Him and * wander away from Him, our hearts filled jD with other things? If so, let us not wonder fl I it takes more than a day's sorrowful seek ing ere we agaiarejoice in Him. 46. "After three days they found Him in 16 :ho temple." A day's seeking in the city, a ind finally t^ev think of the temple, am I there they find Him. Why did they not go 1 right to the temple as soon as they reached I the city? It looks as if Mary hod forgotten 8 jabriel's words concerning this child, as if J ;he did not know just who her child really j| tvas; as if, though outwardly keeping the feast of the Lord, she was not in fellowship . with Him. 47. "And all that heard Him were astonshed at His understanding and answers." ) rhcy probably found one better versed in nahy things in the law than they were them- 4 selves, able to answer all their questions and io ask them many questions which puzzled J ;hem. tie did not waste Ms time iikg u? i rcftmg people of to-day upon story papers ind magazines, but, no doubt, confined Himself to the one great book of the Law, the Prophets and the Psalms. 48. "aon, why hast Thou thus dealt with, us? Behold, Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing." This was the salutation of Mary when they found Him in the temple. He might have replied: "Why did you go off without me?" But we cannot think of B'm , ever saying anything impertinent or undutifuL In all His life He did no sin. 49. "And He said unto them, How is it that ye sought Me? Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" (It. V.): "In my Fathers house," or literally, "In tht things of my Father." This is the first recorded utterance of the Lord Jesus Christ and tbo one solitary recorded utterance of thirty years. "Thirty years, unknown, He trod Galilee's seouestered sod, yet He was the Son of God. Daily life, at Joseph's call; daily duties howe'er small, yet He was tMu 1 Lord of all." And is it not all summed up ilVl lb \ Vvtuf mw "Paflior'fl hnflfr I UllRl UIM39HIM?iNU? awuw * M?uv? ? ---n 11 ess." ^1 do always thoee things that pleasA. Him" (John viii., 29) covers the thirty years ~j at Nazareth as well as the three and a Mf pears' public work. 50. "They understood not the saying." Unless we are walking very cloee with God, we will not understand His words. Mary had said, "Thy father and I have sought Thee." Ho replied, "I must be about my Father's business,"' but He spake not of Joseph; from first to' last He sets aside the paternity of Joseph. This is said to be the first "'Mr. Father" of human lips in reference to Goat, ilthough there is something very near to it In Isa. lxiii.? 10; lxiv, 8; Mat. ii., 10. 51. "He went dowu with them, and came :o Nazareth, and was subject unto them;" Saving ackuuwledged His surrender to God md to Hi9 wilL He goes aside for eighteen rears more and is subject to Alary and Joseph, md in all this He is still about His Fathers lusiness. If young people could only see that ;o be subject in all tilings to father and mother md to those whom God has placed over them, low much happier they would be. 52. "And J onus increased in wisdom^ and tature, and in favor with God and man.'J irorse 40 describes His life from His birth to he age of twelve, and this verse includes His life from twelve to thirty, while the ?. i fha wiiolfl, neriod. VUIll #r T_ 'Going and growing" (II Sam. v., 10, narg.) should describe the life of every Christian, and will if we earnestly seek to jrow in grace and in the knowledge of our' jord and Saviour Jesus Christ, (if Pet. ill,,', gj.)? Lesson Helper. j^-;v The Jews are &aia to oo rapidly in* creasing in numbers, weijth and influence in New York. Fou? new syna* a;ogue3 were recently opened within the space of ten days, and the city now Las forty-seven of these places of worship, which is a larger number than, can be found in any other city in the world. The Hebrew population h<^ doubled in ten years. Some trades they almost entirely control, Thbee men and one surveyor laid I jut the largest part of Manhattan Isl- fB and in 1813. l I