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V *. vw." ?. _? - N .-?X ... THE CADET. Oh. Fm a fellow, my good sir. Who never knew a breath of fear; My back is straight as any spear; My shoulders stretch a good three span. To say I am right you'll not demur. Hurrah! I'm an Auiericau. I wear the uniform, my friend, That strikes m? as the best on earth. Though wildly gay, my fiercest mirth Ne'er hinte.l at the drummer's bau. Let revel die ere I offend The flag.' I'm an American' To run and leap, to ride and spar, To swim, make lore, and catch a sword Flung round my head like flaming cord, I'm usually first, my man. Keen-eyed, steel-pulsed, an I muscular; ha! ha! I'm an American! Six feet of spring and joy and pride; Six feet for victory or a shell; A voice to mate with wine, or yell Orders from Beersheba to Dan; Six feet with nothing base to hide, Thank Good! I'm an American! You know I'm not a vain young blade; The best I say is not enough When speaking of such human stuff, That in no age turned face and ran. I did not make it, when all's said, For I was born an American! ?Rose Hawthorne Lathrop, in Harper's, j KETURAH'S OMEN. | Mrs. Tot+cn sat before tire- -fire with"" an open letter in her hands. "I am going to Burdctt to-night, . John,'' she said, decisively. '-I gather ! from this that Mary must be quite sick." "Yes, I think myself that's what you'd i better do, mother," answered Farmer ] Totten. L'vrtVar? im frnm hpr Qtnrlcinrr UltbU lUV/IVb'A U|? AtVW* *?V4 . basket. "It is such ft Ions? drive to Bur- | aett!" she said, glancing, with a look of ! concern, at her mother's tired face. "It seems too bad to have you go to-night, 1 mother." "Oh, I wasn't thinking of that. It i bothers me most to think of leaving \ 'Turah and you here alone all night, ! though really there is no danger. Is Silas coming up, 'Turah?" "No, he aint!" came sharply and curt- 1 ly from the pantty. Any mention of Silas always vexed Keturah. "Well, thcD, Ruth, I'll stop in at the j Maywoods.and ask the girls to come up and stay all night with you. There arc three of them, and you can pop corn and boil candy and have a regular frolic, i That'll take the edge off your loneliness. Now pa, you go out and hitch up, and \ I'll be ready iu a few minutes." Left alone, Ruth drew closer to the ; fire and resumed her darning. 1'iic lurni- j ture cast shadows over the yellow-painted j floor. Taddy executed a series or noise- j less yawns, which made him look more j like a griifin than a cat. Through the : window a long bar of deep orange light j was fading slowly on the distant horizon. ' The clock-ticks became peculiarly dis- i tinct. Ruth's needle stopped its swift weav- i ing, and she stared dreamily into a corner. | A noise in the buttery startled her. It ; was only Keturah nutting up the milkpans, but something in the vigorous clat- j tcr bespoke unusual agitation on the part . of that eccentric handmaid. At length the buttery door opened. and Keturah appeared on the threshold. J T-r - 1 ?11 t jnujr 1ULU?, Sttliuvy liti <3 trvic <? puw^uuuij morose aspect, and the glance she cast ou , Ruth was portentous. "I don't like it, your ma takin' this trip to-night." "Why, "Turah?" "Well, while I was a-milkia' I sec seven crows flyin' up from Seneca, and. j to begin with, that's a bad number, j Then, to make it more sartin, they flew . in a zigzag across this house, and that argufies that something unfortunate i3 bound to happen here to-night." Th<? silpnr** sf>r?mnd trt irrnw dronpr. and Ruth stirred uneasily in her chair. "Nonsense. 'Turah! Seven crows fly- i ing up from the lake are not at all unusual. I don't believe in your signs." * "Well, you hain't lived as long as me. ' ?a' seen as mauy of 'em come true. The j rei7 night my father died my mother see i fce white death-horse peerin' in at the j winder, waitin' to carry him off." Ruth's Involuntary glance out into the i fathering darkness was not lost on Ke- j turah. "And the night my Uncle Eph died ! the clock threw the shadder of u coflin j two hour3 before any of 'em expected { him to die. And the day before Aunt j Sallie died all her boes swarmed and left j Kieir hives, and hung for nearly five | minutes in front of her bedroom winder j before they left the farm. It's plain to j see. Ruth, ve hain't h;id the nroner ex- i perience in signs to jedge of 'em. . ''But the greatest sigu of all," ICeturah j continued, beginuing to lay the supper- | table, "was when HankLoomis died over i to Sugar IliU. Ever hear of that? Ye , hain't' Well, I wonder!" "Hank was a tunible sinner. He just j driuked himselt straight to the edge of j the gmve, and the summer afternoon lie j laid a-strugglin' with death Deacon ! Brown urged him to repeat, but he ( wouldn't. Says lie, 'I'll die as I've lived, ; an' you git out!" "Three o'clock in the afternoon the hall j door stood open, ail' it was s;> hot the doorvard flowers lonned over on their stems and hung still. Suddenly there I come a sound like a long, cold blast of j wind. Everybody felt the icy chill. It howled uuairthly, an' the die-away moan made them shedder down their spines, j Follcrin' it came three soundin' raps on i the brass knocker. They were awful! "HiinkV sister Bclindy, she crop' out j and peeked over the bannisters, an' there I was the hall empty, an' not a liviu' soul j in sight high or low. Jest then Hank ! give a gasp an' a groan, an' up an' died. Want to go down sullar with :ne for the victuals?" Ruth hesitated and shivered. "Yes, I'll go, 'Turah, but I don't want ; to hear of another omen to-night. I'm gettiug nervous." The cellar was dark and gloomy. Ruth ! ? < * 1- M ? I. i __"l. 1 neui tne lamp want: ivumran luuiv uuwu the oeccssary eiible* from the swinging shelf. Thr return to thf warm, in?v kitchen wa< ixeeeuiitgly ple.Kant. lluth ! ate her supper sitting opposite Keturah, ! and speculating on the nature of omens j in general, while Iveturah discoursed j volubly of her wouderful "knack for presentiments." ' And I feel sure." she declared, over J her fourth cup of tea, "that them crows - meant trouble hereto-night." The sound of wheels and voices out- , Bide gave a quick, bright turn to affairs. Belle, Kitty and Grace Maywood came , rushing into the kitchen, britnmiag over with merriment, and bringing a joyous atmosphere with them. "This promises fun!" cried Grace, whirling Keturah around giddily in spite of her protestations. "'Turah. we want some nf your very buttericst molasses taffy. What makes you look so sober, Ruth?" They settled comfortably around the fire. 'Turah brought in the molasses jug and the butter jar. Ruth took dowu several ears of pop-corn from the back kitchen rafters, and the girls shelled them while Turah made the candy. At length it was finished, and set out on the side porch in two goodly-sized milk pans. A pyramid of snowy corn was piled up on the blue platter, and then Grace and Ruth fell to cracking hickory nuts on flat irons. Kitty had just returned from a visit to Ithaca. She was overflowing with "new ideas," and after describing the latest fashions, she began to dance. Keturah snilled. She had been sitting by the table, listening with a pleased air to the girls' chat, but at the sight of Kitty's dancing her face lengthened again. "That must ha' been the very place where ' " * -"! -1 _ 1 L 4-U* he stood," sne sam, uoiuuim, cum very same kind of a double-shuffle he danced. I don't like to see it, after them seven crows to-night." There was a solemn mystery in her words which made itself felt, and the girls all huddled together as she told again the story of the sign she had seeu that night. "But I can't sec that the dance is very l dangerous!" pouted Kitty. "Ever hear how your Uncle Bije died, I Ruth? My mother told me. Forty j year ago Bije Totten lived in this house, i and he was a great feller for to dance a | double shuffle. He was the greatest j dancer in the country, Bije was. "Well; he had company here one j ni^ht, and of course they asked him to j heel and toe it for 'em. He stood up and ; begun to whistle the tune he danced to, when all on a suddent he stopped. He tnld 'em scriouslv he felt he oughtn't to <];ince it. Somcthin' told him not to. But they persisted and joked him, till finally he give iu. " 'I do it,' says he, 'agin my convictions.' And when he comes to the place where he give three high hops, he just fell'over, spang! and up and died before his wife could get to him. But he seemed bound an' determined for to finish that dance. "Once a year, on the night that he died, at twelve o'clock, the family regularly heard that double shuffle a-goin' on in this kitchen, and then all to once a heavy thud " ??n 'Tnmh sfnn!" cried Kittv. in an agony of terror. Ruth was white, and j both Grace and Belle looked frightened, j Kettirah paused, a little dismayed at the consternation she had produced. "I don't think I shall sleep a wink j to-night!" cried Kitty. "Hark!" said Ruth, sharply: "What's that?" It sounded as if a step was approaching i the house. There was a footfall on the 1 porch, and then a knock. "The seven crows have come!" mut- j tered Keturah, under her breath, as she listened intently. The kuock was repeated, and then I eamc an imperative rap. "No one shall open that door this night!" declared Kcturah, with a white ' lace. Again they heard the step, and sud- j denly a noise arose, so terrific and j deafening that it seemed as if a cyclone i had struck the house. The windows rat- j tied, the door-latch shook, and w'fc'i the j general uproar were mingled frightful i stamps and slams. These sounds doubled j in violence, and low, angry growls were distinctly heard. Panic-stricken, the girls shrank together in numb terror. Keturah stood as if frozen, but she presently managed to say: liU'smTcJnm! What has liaDoened? I Oh! what has happeucd? It's awful! j It's awful!" The uproar died away all at once into ! light cchoes. "Ruth. Ruth!" wailed Kcturah, "cither Mary is dead or somcthiu' turri- j hie has happeucd to your mother! Didn't j I say so?" But before she hid finished speaking a j hearty man's voice on the other side of; the door called out: "Won't you let me in? I'm Silas Vandevender!" There was no mistaking it, and in a : transport of relief Ruth sprang to open ( the door. Silas hobbled across the Hoor, over which he usually strode, and, carefully lifting first one foot and then the other, he shuffled toward the centre of the kitchen. One glance at his feet told what had I ' -i T?1--t_ r-.i. ?| Happened, r^ucu iuui, wus mmiv ?aaioucd in the centrc of a milk-pan full of soft taffy, and Silas, with a queer griu, stood regarding the pans curiously. ' So that's what it was, was it?" he slid, after the girls, in a strong reaction from intense fear, had laughed till the tears came. "Only some of 'Tury's taffy. Well, it's tol'ablc sticky, 'fury! I wonder at you settin' this stuff to cool on ; the porch. Did you calc'latc to ketch a ! burglar? I come here to-night primed | for stealiu', but 'twas in a fair way. I 1 only wanted to steal you from Mrs. Totlen!" A phenomenal blush overspread the jrathcrimr chagrin on Kcturali's face. Kitty giggled outright. "I set one foot in somethiu' soft," j Silas went on, "an'while I was tryin1 to j stamp it off, I set the other foot inter the ' same stuff. I was kind o' su'prised, ye ! see, an' I danced consid'ablc out the.e J tryin' to git out o' the trap. I couldn't j contrive what on airth had caught me that seemed so sudden fond o' my boots!" j lie removed the pans, each with a sticky impress of his great cowhidc boots j in the centre, and with an apology for having spoiled the taffy, placed his adhc sive feet on a newspaper. "I do hope, Kctury," he went on, f "that when we're married you'll stand by ' ine like your taffy.*' Although this was intended in strict compliment, Kcturali took it very ill. "You haint got mc yit. Si Vandcvcn- 1 der!"she said, crisply, aud retired into | the buttery. Ruth brought out her father's slippers aud ?ave Si some idea of the nervous , state they had been in. Me laughed at 1 their uneasiness over " 'Tury's rubbishy yarns,"' as he callcd them, and so reassured them that the little household was once more in a state of calm aud contentment before he went away. Next morning the girls found not only j a beautiful breakfast awaiting them, but I Ivetura'u with an astonishing emerald ring on her finger and a self-conscious smile on her face. Broad daylight had turned her thrilling signs into mirth-provoking myths,and she herself had quite discarded the mood of prophecy. "So," said Ruth, when Mre. Totteaj had returned with the news that Mary; was better, " 'Turah, if your seven old crows meant anything, it was that you were to become Mrs. Vandevender; and that must be a good sign which proves you all wrong." "Mebbe," said Keturah. ? Youth's Companion. The Power of Hasheesh. A Cairo (Egypt) correspondent of the Pittsburg Lcadtr thus describes hi3 first experience as ahasheefh eater: Seeing my companion conveying a picce of this sugar eagerly to his mouth, I was encouraged to do likewise. It was an aromatic, somewhat bitter-tasting pastille, dissolving quickly like soft peppermint on the tongue, and leaving likewise a slight burning sensation, which, however, passed away after a few puffs from a cigarette. Suddenly the smoking cigarette fell Kno T fnlf tnnsolf im r>r>l lf>f1 UUL UL ULIJf JL iViu aim j 'JVH to talk?to reveal myself to my neighbor?tell him that I was no longer a common, groveling human being, who had to wander through life on this hard earth with wretchedly slow legs, but that I could fly?soar like the eagle through ethereal space. "So, you see, this is the way I do it," I remember ejaculatipg. i The most ineffable exhilarating sensations thrilled my inmost self. I felt myself liberated of all earthly trammels, unburdened of all carnal weight?free to range infinity's vast fields. Some strange, quickening power pulsated through my every vein. My whole being seemed etherized. Encircled with the fragrance of paradise. I was borne aloft on buoyant pinions through immeasurable space. On and on I was wafted unto an clysium of bliss and loveliness. There was neither beginning nor end to ray aerial flight. All was boundless as eternity. I inclined mv head backward and im bibed in torrents the balmy, regenerating air, and the glorious, roseate light which was shed around me. All these momentary sensations I remember imparting to my English friend at the time. I felt that I wished him to share my ethereal enjoyment. I wished to take him along on this soaring asccnsion into celestial solitudes. But my spiritual trance was now nearing its end. Consciousness was gradually returning to me. I experienced a peculiar rushing sensation in my ears. 3Iy mouth felt very dry and parched. Before my eyes rose big dark blotches. The beauiiful, rosy glow is fast fading away, and in place of it rises a grayish fog, through which I dimly see some of the people in the room. Slightly startled, I comc quite to, and find myself leaning far backward in an armchair. My friend is standing near me with his back toward the table gesticulating and apparently endeavoring to push his chair away from him. The evening glow at the window has not quite disappeared yet. I look at my watch and am astounded?the criffantic air voyage has lasted only twelve minutes. An Enormons Stump. Undoubtedly the largest stump in the State of Washington is the one located just below Snoheraish City, on the farm of W. S. Clay. It is a huge cedar, and its diameter is twenty feet?a surface sufficient for forty men to stand upon. The tree was burned down some sixteen years ago, and its wood was used for fence rails, shingles, etc. There was enough material iu the tree to furnish rails for the fencing of a large Texas farm. The wood is red cedar and is similar to the timber from which lead pencils are made, and would also be cherished by any builder for the special wood finish and decoration of a house. The farm upon which the stamp is was taken up as a homestead by Royal Haskell in the year 1873. Mr. Haskell continued to improve hi3 farm for a period of ten years. It was by his hands and his sons' that the giant tree was prostrated by the agency of the flames; and its bulk? to other trees as the elephant to the horse?formed an article of plentiful distribution and utility. Two years ago tne stump was photographed, when five horses, standing abreast, three feet apart, and thirty men were upon it. A circle, whose diameter is 20 feet, must be 63 feet in circumference, and contain an area of 314 square feet. The tree belonging to the big ! stump was 80 feet iu height, and its volume was, therefore, 6374 cubic feet. This was a giant! Poetry has lauded the majestic oak, but its size is often eclipsed by Washington's cedars. The people of this State are aware of I the high estimation of our shingles in Eastern markets. They are manufactured entirely from the cedar tree, which is | usually larger than the ordinary fir. It J is no exaggeration to say that a tree like the giant above mentioned would last a shingle mill of considerable capacity through three months' sawing. No crosscut saw yet manufactured is large enough to make a cut through such a tree at the butt; and if there were, it would take two men two days to saw a tree of that size down.?Seattle Press. A Curious Mcutal Trait. A singular instance of the transmission of hereditary peculiarities has been brought to the notice of the German Anthropological Society. The correspondent tells of his meeting a farmer by the name of Loeweudorf, who had a peculiar habit of writing "Austug" for ''August," his Christian name. Some j*ears ialer he was inspecting a school, and heard a little girl read "leneb" for ' leben," "naled"for "uadel," and so on. Upon inquiring, he found that her name was Loewendorf, and that she was a daughter of his former friend, the farmer, now dead. This defect was noticeable in the speech aud writing of both father aud daughter. It appeared in the father as a result of a fall that occurred some time before the birth of his daughter. An Automatic Boiler. An ingenious little dcvicc has just appeared which will put uu end to one, at least, of the troubles by which the soul of the housewife is vexed. This consists of the automatic boiler, a little clock, which can stand on the range, with its face divided into four spaces of a minute each. Setting the pointer at the minute or fraction which is required, the eggs, contained in a wire basket suspended from a lever connected with the clock, remain in the boiling water the required length of time, when a ratchet is unlatched and the wire basket is lifted out of the water. REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "Would You Like to Live Your Life Over Again." Tkxt: "All that a man hath will he (/ivt j for his life."?Job. ii., 4. That is untrue. The Lord did not say it, but Satan said it to the Lord, when the evil one wanted Job still more afilicted. The record "So went Satan forth from the presence of the Lord and smote Job with sore noils." And Satan has been the author of all eruptive disease since then, and be hopes by poisoning the blood to poison the soul. But the result of the diabolical experiment which loft Job victor proved the falsity of the Satanic remark?" All that a man hath will he give for his life." Many a captain who has stood on the bridge of the steamer till his passengers got off and he drowned; many an engineer who has kept his hand on the throttle valve or his foot on the brake until the most of the train was saved while he went down to death through the open drawbridge: many a fireman who plunged into a blazing house to get a sleeping chiia our, sacrincing ms me m me attempt, and thousands of martyrs who submitted to fiery stake and knife of massacre and headsman's ax and guillotine rather than surrender principle, proving that in many a case my text was not true, when it says: "All that a man hath will he give for his life." But Satan's falsehood was built on a truth. Life is very precious, and if we would not give up all there are many things we would surrender rather than surrender it. We see how precious life is from the fact that we do everything to prolong it. Hence all sanitary regulations, all study of hygiene, all fear of draughts, all waterproofs, all doctors," all medicines, all struggle in crisis of accident. An admiral of the British navy was court martialed for turning his ship around in time of danger and so damaging tha ship. It was proved against him. But when his time came to be heard he said) "Gentlemen, I did turn the ship around and admit that it was damaged, Dut do you want to know why I turned it? There was a man overboard, and I wanted to save him, and I did save him, and I consider the life of one sailor worth all tha vessels of the British navy." No wonder he was vindicated. Life is indoed very precious. Yea, there are those who deem life so precious they would like to repeat it, they would like to try it again. They would like to go back from ci-rtxr from sixtv tO fiftV. from fifty to forty, from forty to thirty, from thirty to twenty. I purpose for very practical and useful purposes, as will appear before I get through, to discuss the question we have all asked of others, and others have again and again asked of us?would you like to live your life over again? The fact is that no intelligent and right fearing man is satisfied with dis past life. vVe have all made so many mistakes, stumbled into so many blunders, said so may things that ought not to have been said and done so many things that ought not to have been lone, that we can suggest at least ninety-five per cent, of improvement. Now would it not be grand if the good Lord would say to you: "You can go back and try it over again. I will by a word turn your hair to brown or black or golden, and smooth all the wrinkles out of your temple and cheek, and take the bend out of your shoulders, and extirpate the stiffness from the joint and the rheumatic twinge from the foot, and you shall be twenty-one years of age and just what you were when you reached that point before." If the proposi- j tion were made I think many thousands i i wnnlH fl/v>nnt-. if- That feeline caused the ancient search for what was called the Fountain of Youth, the waters of which taken would turn the hair of the octogenarian into the curly locks of a hoy, and however old a person who drank at that fountain he would he young again. The island was said to belong to the group of the Bahamas, but lay far out in the ocean. The great Spanish explorer, Juan Ponce de Leon, fellow voya<rer with Columbus, I have no doubt felt that if ho.could discover that Fountain of Youth he would do as much as his friend had done in discovering America. So he put out in 1512 from Porto Rico and cruised about among the Bahamas in search of that fountain. I am glad he did not find it. There is no such fountain. But if there were and its waters were bottled up and sent abroad at a thousand dollars a bottle, the dej mand would be greater than the supply, aud many a man who has come through a life of uselessness, and perhaps sin, to old age would be shaking up the potent liquid, and if he were directed to take only a teaspoonful after each meal would be so anxious to make sure work he would take a tablespoonful, and if directed to take a tablespoonful would take a glassful. But some of you would have to go back further than to twenty-one years of age to make a fair start, for there are many who manage to get all wrong before that period. Vp-i m order to fret a fair start some would have so go back to the father and mother and get them corrected; yea, to the grandfather ! and grandmother and have their | life corrected, for some of yon $re suffering from bad hereditary influj ences which started a hundred years i ago. Well, if your grandfather j lived his life over again and your father lived his life ow again and you lived your I lifp over again, what a cluttered up place j this world would be, a place filled with | miserable attempts at repairs. I begin to : think that it is better for each generation to | have only one chance and then for them I to pass off and give another generation a j chance. Beside that, if we were permitted to live | life over again, it would be a stale and stupid j experience. The zest and spur and enthusiasm of life come from the fact that we have never been along this road before, and everything is new, and we are alert for what may appear at the next turn of the road. Suppose you, a man in mid-life or old age, were, with your present feelings and large attainments, put back into the thirties, or tho t wenties, or into the teens, what a nuisance you would be to others and what an unhappiness to yourself. Your contemporaries would not want you and you would not want them. Things that in your previous journey of life stirred your healthful ambition, or gave you pleasurable surprise, or led you into happy interrogation, would only call forth from you a disgusted "Oh, pshaw!" You would be blase at thirty and a misanthrope at forty and unendurable at Gfty. The most inane and stupid thing imaginable would be a second journey of life. It is amusing to hear people say: I would like to live my life >ver again, if I could take my present experience and knowledge of things back with me and begin under those improved auspices." Why, what an uninteresting boy you would be with vour present attainments in a child's mind. No one would want such a boy around the house: A philosopher at twenty, a scientist at fifteen, an archaeologist at ten and a domestic nuisance all the time. An oak crowded into an acorn. A Rocky Mountain t-agle thrust back into the egg shell from which it was hatched. Besides that, if you took life over again, you would have to take its deep sadnesses over aeain. Would vou want to trv aeain :ne griers ana the heart DreaKS ana one uereavements through which you have gone? A'hat a mercy that we shall never be called <> suffer them again! We may have others )ud enough, but those old ones never again. Would you want to go through the process r 1 * ?Amnin AM tTAIir TVinfllOP '>i IOSIIig JUUl' 1UIUC1 o^am vra j uui UAWVMV. again or your companion in life again or vour child agafh? If you were permitted r.o stop at the sixtieth milestone or the fiftieth milestone or the fortieth milestone and retrace your steps to the Twentieth, your experience would be something like mine one day last November in Italy. I walked through a great city with a friend and two guides, and there were in all the city only four persons and they were those of our own group. We went up and down the streets, we entered the houses, the museums, the templed, the theatres. We examined the wonderful pictures on the walls and the most exquisite mosaic on the floor. In the streets were the deep worn ruts of wagons, but not a wagon in the city. On the front steps of mansions the word "Welcome," in Latin, but no human teing to creet us. The only bodies of any of the citizens that we saw were petrified and in tbo museums at the gates. Of the thirty-five thousand people who once lived in those homes and worshiped in those temples and clapped in those theatres, not one left! For eighteen hundred years that city of Pompeii had been buried before modern exploration scooped out of it the lava of Vesuvius. Well, he who should be permitted to return on the pathway of hia earthly life and live it over again would find as lonelr and sad a pilgrimage, It would be an exploration of the dead past. The old ? school Iiouse, the old church, the old Some, the old play ground either gone or occupied by others, and for you more depressing than was our Pompeian visit in November. Beside that, would you want to risk the temptations of life over again? From the fact that you are here I conclude that though in many respects your life may have been unfortunate and unconscerated you have got on so far tolerably well, if nothing more than tolerable. As for my.self.thoueh mv life has been tar from being as consecrated as I would like to have had it, I would not want to try it over again, lest next time I would do worse. Why, just look at the temptations we have all passed through and just look at the multitudes who have gone completely under. * Just call over the roll of your school mates and college mates, the clerks who were with you in the same store or bank, or the operatives in the same factory with just as eood prospects as you. wno nave come to complete mishap. Some young man that told you that he was going to be a millionaire and own the fastest trotters on "Westchester turnpike and retire by the time he was thirty-five years of age, you do not hew from for many years, and know nothing about him until some day he comes into your store and asks for five cents to get a mug of beer. You, the good mother of a household and all your children rising up to call you blessed, can remember when you were quite jealous of the belle of the village who was so transcendly fair and popular. But while you have these two honorable and queenly names of wife and mother, she became a t>oor waif of the street, and went into the blackness of darkness fornror T.itro li fa nvor arm in* W hv if manv of thos9 who are now respectable were permitted to experiment. the next journey would be demolition. You got through, as Job says, by the skin of the teeth. Next time you might not getthrough at all. Satan would say\t "I know him now better than I did before, and have for fifty years been studying his weaknesses, and I will weave a stronger web of circumstances to catch him next time." And Satan would concenter his forces on this one man, and the last state of that man would be worse than the first. My friends, our faces are in the right direction. Better go forward than backward, even if we had the choice. The greatest disaster I can think of would be for you to return to boyhood in 1890. Oh, if life were a smooth Luzerne or Cayuga Lake, I would like to get into a yacht and sail over it, not once, but twice?yea, a thousand times. But life is an uncertain sea, and some of the ships crash on the icebergs of cold indifference, and some take fire of evil passion, and some lose their bearings and run into the skerries, and some are never heard or. surely on such a treacherous sea as that one voyage is enough. Besides all this, do you know if you could have your wish and live life over again it would put you so much further from reunion witn your friends in heaven? If you are in the noon of life or the evening of life you are not very far from the golden gate at which you are to meet your transported and emparadised loved ones. You are now, let us say, twenty years or ten years or one year off from celestial coniunction. Now suppose you went back in your earthly life thirty years or forty years or fifty years, what an awful postponement of the time of reunion I It would be as though you were going to San Francisco to a great banquet, and you got to Oakland, four or five miles this side of it, and then came back to Hoboken or Harlem to get a better start; as though you were going to England to be crowned and having come in sight of the mountains of Wales you put back to Sandy Hook in order to make a better voyage. The further on you got in life, if a Christian, the nearer you are to the renewal of broken up companionship. No; the wheel of time turns in the right direction, and it is well it turns so fast. Three hundred and sixty-five revolutions in a year and forward, rather than three hundred and sixty-five revolutions in a year and backward. Hut hear ye! hear ye I while 1 tell you how you may practically live your life over again and be all the better for it. You may put into the remaining years of your life all you have learned of wisdom in your past life. You may make the coming ten years worth the preceding forty or fifty years. When a man says he would like to live his life over again because he would do so much better, and yet goes right on living as he has always lived, do you not see he stultifies himself? He proves that if he could go back he would do almost the same as he has done. If a man eat green apples some Wednesday in cholera time and is thrown into fearful cramps and says on Thursday? '! wish I had been more J i. J!a4 if T oAnlrl litra pruutmtiu uiy uicir, wix, i* x wuiuu.v .? day over again," and then on Friday eats apCles just as green, he proves that it would ave been no advantage for him to live Wednesdaj over again. And if we, deploring onr past life and with the idea of improvement, long for an opportunity to try it over again, yet go on making the same mistakes and committing the same sins, we only demonstrate that the repetition of our existence would afford no improvement. It was green apples before and it would be green apples over again. As soon as a ship captain strikes a rock in the lake or sea he reports it and a buoy is swung over that reef and marines henceforth stand off from that rock. And all our mistakes in the past ought to be buoys warning us to keep in the right channel. There is no excuse for us ii we split on the same rock where we split before. Going along the ^idewalk at night where excavations are facing made, we frequently see a lantern on a framework, and we turn aside, for that lantern says, keep out of this hole. And all along the pathway of life lanterns are set as warnings, and by the time we come to midlife we ought to know where it is safe to walk and where it is unsafe. Beside that, we have all these years been learning how to be useful, and in the next decade we ouzlit to accomplish more for God and the churcu and the world than In any previous four decades. The best way to nflcf * n GOT AC. ex ivno ivi iuuviouvv vi u v*??uw0* w sion is by future assiduity. Yet you often find Christian men who were not converted until they were forty or fifty, as old age comes on, saying: "Well, my work is about done and it is time for me to"rest." They gave forty years of their life to Satan and the world, a little fragment of their life to God, and now they want to rest. Whether that belongs to comedy or tragedy I say not. The man who gave one half of his earthly existence to the world and of tho remaining two-quarters one to Christian work ami the other to rest, would not, I supSose, get a very brilliant reception in eaven: If there are any dried leaves in heaven they would be approrn iate for his srarland; or if there is any throne with broken steps it would be appropriate for his coronation, or any harp with relaxed string it would be appropriate for his fiugering. Mj brother, you give ninetenths of your life to sin and Satan and then get converted and then rest awhile in sanctified laziness and theugoup to get your heavenly reward, ana I warrant it will not take the cashier of the royal banking house h great while to count out to you all your dues. He will not ask you whether you will have it in bills of large ieuomination or small. I wouid like to put one sentence of my sermon in italics, and have it under scored, and three exclamation points at the end of the sentence, and that sentence is this: As we cannot live our lives over again, the nearest we can come to atone for the pasl is by redoubled holiness and industry in tht future. If this rail train of life has been detained and switched off and is far behind the time table, the engineer for the rest of the way UlUbU pUl? UL1 U1UJU [JlC.vsuio vi steam auu a mile a minute in order to arrive at the right time and place under the approval of conductor and directors. As I supposed it would be, there are multitudes of young people listening to this sermon on whom this subject has acted with tho force of a galvanic battery. Without my saying a word to them, they have soliloquized, saying: "As one cannot live his life over again, and I can make only one trip, I must look out and make no mistakes; I have but one chance and I must make the most of it." My young friends. I am glad you made this application of tho sermon yourself. When a minister toward the close of his sermon says: "Isow a few words by way of application," people begin to look around for their hats and get their arm through one sleeve of their overcoats, and the sermonic application is a failure. I am glad you have made your own application and that you are resolved, like a Quaker of whom 1 read years ago, who, lu substance, said: " I shall be along this path of life but once and so I must do all the kindness I can and all the good I can." My hearers, the mistakes of youth can never be corrected. Time gone is gone forever. An opportunity passed the thousandth part of a second has by one leap reached the other side of a great eternity. In the autumn when the birds migrate you look up and see the sky black with wings and the flocks stretching out into many leagues of air, and so to-day I look up and see two large wings in fufl. sweep, They are th? wings of the flying year. mat Is followed by a flock of three hundred and sixtyfive, and they are tha flying days. Each of the flying days is followed by twenty-four, and they are the flying hours, and each of these is followed by sixty, and these are the flying minutes. Where did this great flock start from? Eternity past. Where are they bcrand? Eternity to come. You might as well go a-gunning for the quails that whistled last year in the meadows or the robins that last year caroled in the sky as to try to fetch down and bag one of the past opportunities of your life. Do not say, "I will lounge now and make it up afterward." Young men and boys, you can't make it up. My observation is that those who in youth sowed wild oats, to the end of their snort life sowed wild oats, and that those who start sowing Genesee wheat always sow Genesee wheat. And then the reaDine of the harvests is bo different. There is grandfather now. He has lived to old age because his habits have been good. His eyesight for this world has got somewhat dim, but his eyesight for heaven is radiant. His hearing is not so acute as it once was, and he nrnst bend clear over to hear what his little grandchild says when she asks him what he has brought for her. But he easilv catches the music raised from supernal spheres. Men passing in the streets take off their hats in reverence, and women say: "What a good old man he is." Seventy or eighty years all for God and for making this world happy. Splendid! Glorious! Magnificent! lie will have hard work getting into heaven because those whom he helped to get there will fill up and crowd the gates to tell him how glad they are at his coming until he says: "Please to stand back a little till 1 pass through and cast my crown at the feet of Him whom having not seen I love." I do not know what you call that. I call it the harvest of Genesee wheat. Out yonder is a man very old at forty years of age, at a time when he ought to be bouyant as the morning. He got bad habits on him very early, and those habits have become worse. He is a man on fire, on fire with alcoholism, on fire witn all evil habits, out with the world and the world out with him. Down and falling deeper. His swollen hands in his threadbare pockets and his eyes fixed on the ground, he passes through the street, and the quick step of an innocent child or the strong step of a young man or the roll of a prosperous carriage maddens him, and he curses society and he curses God. Fallen sick, with no resources, he is carried to the almshouse. A loathsome spectacle, he lies all day long waiting for dissolution, or in the night rises on his cot and fights apparitions of what he might have been and or what he will be. He started life with as good a prospect as any man on the American continent, but there he is a bloated carcass waiting for the shovels of public charity to put him five feet under. He has only reaped what he sowed. Harvest of wild oats! "There is a way that seeinethright to a man, but the end thereof is death." Young man, as you cannot live life over again however you may long to do so, be sure to have your one life right. There is in this august assembly I wot not, for we are made up of all sections of this land and from manv lands, some young man who has gone away from home and perhaps under some little spite or evil persuasion of another, and his parents know not where he is. My son, go home | Do not eo to sea! Don't go to-night where you may be tempted to go. Go home! Your father will be glad to see you and your mother. I need not tell you how she feels. How I would like to make your parents a present of their wayward boy, repentant and in his right mind. I would like to write them a letter and you to carry the letter, saying. "By the blessing of God on my sermon I introduce to you one whom ; ou have never seen before, for he has become a new creature in Christ Jesus." My boy, go home and put your tired head on the bosom that nursed you so tenderly in your fhildhood years. A young Scotchman Was in battle taken captive by a band of Indians, and he learned their language and adopted their habits. Years passed on, but the old Indian chieftain never forgot that he had in his possession a young man who did not belong to I him. Well, one day this tribe of Indians came in sight of the Scotch regiments from whom this young man had Deeu capturea, and the old Indian chieftain said: "I lost my son in battle and I know how a father J feels at the loss of a son. Do you thinK your father is yet alive?' The young man said: "I | am the only son of my rather, and I j hope he is still alive." Then said the J Indian chieftain; "Because of the loss of my son this world is a desert. You go free. Return to your countrymen. Revisit your father, that he may rejoice when he sees the sun rise in the morning and the trees bios- [ som in the spring." So I say to you, young i man, captive of waywardness and sin^ Your [ father is waiting for you. Your mother is i waiting for you. Your sisters are waiting [ for you. God is waiting for you. Go home! J Go home! Worms Six Feet Long. The work of earthworms, in the opera- | tions of nature, is a very important one. j Darwin has shown us that they are constantly occupied in making the soil more mellow by perforating it with their galleries, and that they enrich it by collecting in_thesc subterranean passages earth'iiiat has been subjected to change | in their intestines and also leaves which have fallen to the ground and are dragged | into their retreats. But if these little beings can accompisb sucii wonuers, ic i would be interesting to know whether j the Megascolides Australis (an earthworm I of Australia) his a like mission. This I crcature is the size of an ordinary adder j and at least six feet long. It is usually to be found on the banks bordering ! small rivers, though it occasionally seeks the open country, where one may come upon it by pulling up a stump or upturning the earth. It is not an easy matter to , drag this gigantic worm from the wind- j ing galleres which form its retreat. It j glides about the sinuous passages with . great rapidity, inflating its extremities ! at will and thus braciDg itself against the j walls, which it renders slimy by a secretion from its own boby. Its moist substance slips easily through the hands . which would retain it, and when once fastened to the adhesive walls of its I Vinmn it r>nn nnlw hf> VAmflVPtl I)V break ing its length in two. This giant among worms lives a comparatively peaceful life, since its physical features furnish admirable defence against such ' enemies as it might naturally have. Its body exhales a strong odor similar to j that of creosote, and has the power of j ejecting, to a distance of several inchcs, I J jets of a milky fluid. Moreover, its life j is an entirely subterranean one, thus it is , sccure from the attacks of carnivorous ' animals. Naturalists, of course, have an I interest in its capture, and the aborigines ! use the oily fluid into which the dead j body of the creature resolves itself as a : remedy for rheumatism, but it is not very actively sought. When such worms ! are once dragged from beneath ths sur- j face, however, they lose the agility | which, Auta?us-likef they seem to gain ! from contact with the earth, aud lie ab- j solutcly passive, making no attempt to i move.?La Nature. Largest Fee Ever Paid ? Doctor. "What was the largest fee ever paid , to a physician?" a frieudasks. Doctors, j as a rule, arc rcticcut about tiieir fees; : but there is a story, probably authentic, I that Dr. Willard Parker was paid ?100,- ; ODD for the successful removal of au excresccnce from the face aud neck of the | son of one of the wealthiest families in j the vicinity of New York. Commoduro , Vanderbilt bequeathed $20,000 to one of : his doctors; but millionaires seldom re- j member the physician in their wills. | They leave that to be settled by the executors. Dr. Parker's fee in the case j alluded to is probably the largest ever | paid, in this country at least.?Neio York i Star. J X REL[GIOUS_READING. \ HOW T3?HEKR TUK AOBD. Would you cheer the weary pilgrim, Who has traveled on so far, t That his frame is sad and aching, \ That his feet all weary are? ML, Only tell him of the spring time, That he had so long ago, } Ere his feet had found the briars, \ ^ And his bead had felt the snow. .1 list remind him of the verdure, 1 Of the buds and sprays and blossoms, j And the brook so full of glee. ] He will look upon the picture, j With forgetfnlness of care; '<> You will tind that you have helped him. All his heavy load to bear. Then, in tones more soft and gentle, Like a vesper or a hymn. Just remind bina of the resting That will surely come to liim. Von may see the weary pilgrim, With his eye all upward cast, With his hope all on the future, Cease his signing for the past. ?Anna D. Walker. " THE PCAXK OF FEKE GRACE. A godly minister of Scotland called to a brother minister who was dying, and said to him, "What are you doing, brother?" His answer was. "I'll tell vou what I am doing, brother; I am gathering together all my prayers, all my sermons, and all my good deeds, all my ill deeds?and I am going to throw them all overboard, and awim to glory on the plank of free grace." HOW RELIGION HELPS CHILDREN. Religion help children to study better and do more faithful work. A little girl of twelve was telling in a simple way the evi-> dence that she was a Christian. "I did not , like to study, but to play. I was idle at school, and often missed my lessons. Now I try to learn every lesson well to please God. I w*s mischievous at school when the teachers were not looking at me, making fun for the children to look at. Now I wish to please God by behaving well, and keeping the school laws. I was selfish at borne; didn't like to run errands, and was ? selfish when mother called me from play help in work. Now it is a real joy to me tnMm help mother in any way, and to show.th|^^| I love her." Such* religion is essential the best interests and moral growth of ] vouth and will make life sunny and cheer- ) ful. l KEEP A CLEAN MOUTH. J A distinguished author says: "I resolved t when I was a child, never to use a word / . which I could not pronounce before my \ mother." He kept his resolution, and tecame a pure-minded, noble, honored gentleman. His rule and example are worthy of imitation. Boys readily le^rn a class of low, vulgar 3* words ana expressions wmcn are never heard in respectable circles. The utmost care on the part of parents will scarcely prevent it. Of course we cannot think of girls as being so much exposed to this peril. We can not imagine a decent girl using words she would not utter before her father or ' mother. Such vulgarity is thought by some boys to be "smart," the "next thing to swearing," and yet "not so wicked;" but it is a haDit which leads to profanity, and fills the mind with evil thougnts. It vulgarizes and degrades the soul, and prepares the wavfor many of the gross and fearful sins which now corrupt society. Young reader! keep your mouth free {I from allimpurity and your "tongue from evil;" but in order to do this, ask Jesus to cleanse your heart and keep it clean, for > ''out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh."?The Christian. ?? iv rvrrnpT. STT.FYren The following is a true story: At a hall in London where unbelievers were permitted to state their objections to the Christian faith, a young man who had often spoken there came forward one evening and said: "Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen,? I have determined to show you tonight what the Bible really is; and in order to be fair I will not take selected passages, bat . will allow the book to open where it wiiijj*! and read you the fir3t verse on which/my! 4| eye lights. You will see in what kind of a ^ bock the Christians believe." He allowed the Bible to fall upon his hand, and read aloud: , "Pure religion and undefiled before God . [ and the Father is this, to % isit the fatherless and widows in their atllic'ion, and to keep himself unspotted Irom the world." James \ 1:27. Somewhat abashed, and amid the joy of the Christians, and confusion to his own party, he opened the Bible again and read: "Is not this the fast whicn I have chosen? 1 To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, a'nd that ye break every yoke?" Isaiah 53:0. Still more abashed he read again as the book opened: "Wash you, make you clean; put away I the evil of your doings from before mine j eyes; cease to do evil; learu to ao wen; sees judgment; relieve the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow/' Isaiah ! 1:16. . 'V" ! ? lie made one last attempt and read: I ! '"He L?ib shfwed thee, 0 man, what is good; ana what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly* with thv God?" Micah 0:8. . : Disappointed and chagrinned. the sceptic left the platform,overwhelmed by the sneers of his companions, and the tumultuous joy \ of the Christians, OXI.Y ONE FAULT. I was riding through a country town in Vermont, when 1 "noticed a concourse of people in a cliirch-yard, encircling an open grave. It w^s a warm day and I had ridien ten miles; sol drew the rein under some trees, to allow the horse to rest. Piesently a villager came towards me and I said: "There is a funeral today in your town." "Yes?Stephen. lie was one of the largest t . - 1 T 1 IT^ ueuneii uiuri x t'vcr *nv;*>. nt* uou abilities. We sent hirti to the legislature^^! three times. They thought of nominating^ him for Governor. But," he added sadly, "Stephen had only one fault." I made no answer, I was tired, and watched the people disperse, leaving the sexton to his solitary work. "A very generous man, Stephen was. Alwuvs visited the sick. The old people all liked liim. Even the children used to follow" him on the streets." ' "A ecood man, indeed," I said indifferHitly. "Yes; he had only one fault." "What was that? 1 asked? "Only intemperance." "Did it harm him?" "Yes, somewhat. He didn't seem to have any power to resist it at last. He got behindhand and had to mortgage his farm, and finally had to sell it. His wife died on account of the reverse?Kind of crushed, disappointed. Then his children turned out badly. His intemperance seemed to mortify them, and take away their spirit. He had to leave politics; 'twouldn't do, you see. Then we had to set mm aswe irom the church; and at last his habits brougnt on paralysis, and we had to take him to the poorhouse. lie died there?only forty-five. I'oor man, he had only one fault." "Only one fault!" The ship had only one leak, but it sank. 'Only one fault!"* The temple had but one decaying pUlar, but It fell. "Only"one fault!" Home gone, wife lost, family ruined, honor forfeited, social and religious privileges abandoned; broken' health, poverty, paralysis and the i>oor* house. One fault, only one.? Youth's Companion. WOMEN" AND T'lE WINE CCP. At a musicale a few days ago I happened to notice that in a roomful of ladies to whom < lip;lit wines were offered there was not on? who refused. At a crowded evening reception it was the men who lingered about the punch-bowl after supper, but this might easily have been because tli^y were so busy serving the ladies in the earlier stages of thj^^^B proceedings. In the confectioneiT est^MiStT V nient patronized by the ultra-fashionable, I where a woman can order anything from a I mint Julep to a sherry cobbler, it excites no I surprise to see a lad y weary with shopping take I clear brandy or whisky straight as another J woman would take beef tea. It would excite much surprise to see any woman show the I slightest evidenec of intoxication.? New I