Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE BAIN IN THE SPOUT. cabin's still thar by Sycamore Crick, Th" deares' spot on th' yearth, Bnt th' roof's fell in, 'n' the latchstring's gon*, 'N' Bilonco is roun' th' herth; Til many a night neaf 'at rocf I've laid, When on'v a leetle chap, "TT heard ih' rain in th' ole eave-spout Goin': Drop, drip, drop. Drip, droppity, drap. Ob. how I loved th' drizzly nightH (Though th' drizrly days was bes'. For I c< uldn't plow 'or hoe in ;L' fiel'), When I climid to roos' 'n' to res', Tp thar' with th' shingles chis to my bead, Through which th' r:iiu 'ud slip; But what waB that to th' olo eave-spout Goin': Trap, drippity, drap, Drop, dripi ity, drip i K' when I p-owed to a great big boy, 'N' fell inter love hed tirs', K' pot vnnked out by a rival o' m:'nn, 'N' my heart was thumpiu' to burs', I thoit I never ud sleep cgin, 'N" t-pceied all night to tit p, ** * ' 1 u'"I" ennnt AJV rrie: C?vbi hi mivu luc \'jb va>c-ffuuv \\cnt: Drippity. drap, arip, Drop, d'rippity, drop. V artcr I mnrriol 'n' tuck th* place, 'N' cot to eitmin' notes Which I tfcort receipts for li'ienicg rods, Er somo new-fangled < at?, I'd climb up inter th'carrot thar 'N' lis' to th" thunder's clap. Is' ferpit it nil winn th* ole ?ave-spont Went: Drippity, droppity, drip, Drappity, drippity, drap. I'm bp.l'headed now e?. ft threa.lb&r' coat, 'JC' a citizen o' the to?n. I pole tb' farm fer sake o' tli' pals; But when 1 come to lay down I'll like to dream o" that cubiu roof 'N" the rain a-faiiin' on to]>. 'N' pink asleep with th' ole cuve-spout Coin': Drop, drip, drap, Drap, dri;>, ilrop. Lost Lina; -OR,THE BITTER AND THE SWEET. A Tals of Two Continents. BY MRS. NINA LAWSON. CHAPTER XXI.?Continued. A few minutes before it was time to go to the dining lic.ll Kay entered the drawing-room, wh;-remostof the guests were assembled. Jeannette was sitting by one of the north windows, while quite a group of ladies and gentlemen had gathered round her, and all were laughing and talking and did not see Kay when he first entered. Neither did he seo Jeannette, but it was not her he was looking for, it was a lovely flushed face, with dark, dreamy eyes and a halo of long golden cur^s." "When he did not see that face among the crowd a shadow of disappointment Tested on his broad brow. As that shadow gathered Jeannette saw his face, and, not knowing the cause, presumed it was because she had not noticed him when ho first entered the 1UW111. Poor foolish girl: what a delation! Every owe was delighted to sec Ear, and he, of course, was equally pleased tLat so many of his old friends had come to the mansion for a week or so. He gave Jeannctte his arm as they vent to the dining hall; just why he did so he could not imagine. Perhaps he was glad to see her, yet he did not exactly feel happy. "Ha! ha! Kay, I have such a livoly # little joke to tell you by-aml-by, but it would be impossible to mention it just now. Wait until after dinner, and ] will give you a little secret the first chance I get." "All riglit, Jeannetfce; but don't keep tne in suspense too long. If the joke is not on mo. you know that I shall enjoy it." "Oh, well, we'll see; but don't let's Bay anything about it just now. "You will feel better after dinner, and will be more able to have a good laugh." mi x i:_ i. .en.. S _.:n. jLiie great uiumg-uuii nut-u nilij brilliant guests, and a merrier party never sat at the tables of the Bristol mansion. Later in the evening, othei guests arrived, and what a pretty picture the mansion made. Every room in the house was brightly lighted and trimmed with the richest flowers and evergreens. The ball-room was one perfect glow of beautiful bright flowers. and tlio tall marble pillars of the halls were covered with flowers and evergreens. A short time before all the guests arrived, Mrs. Bristol stole quietly from lier prists and went to see what had "become of Lcr.or.i. *"1 sec that you are feeling b tter, my dear, and now you are ready to go down to 111 j drawing-room, are vou not: Miss Ball and Jeanuette are anxiouslv waiting for you. I am ko glad that you j are bettor." "I do not wish to deceive you in any j way, Mrs. Bristol. 1 felt well enough I that I could have gone down to dinner, j I 7,7,C afraid: and, perhaps, the woay amt fear made me feel a little weary. I co ild not have gone there among so hiuny strange, grand p< ojile, tor you know I never wr.s at a ball before and would not know how to act Had I not foolishly promised } on thai I would go down to-night I "hould not leave my room." "My dear child, yon must not feel that way, for I know that you will feel as much at home in the ball-room 01 the parlors as you do here in your own room. Your natural grace aui easy manner is something that you cannot li<lp, and that is all that is necessary; 60 cjme on with me now, d<>ar." Lenora followed her downstairs and into the drawing-room. Mrs. 1'ristol drew the trembling little hand through her arm and led her across the room to the little circle of which Jeaunettewas the center. Before they came in Jeanne'te had Til nr?orl hprfnlf in such a nosition thai I ehe could see Kay's face; she wanted to see what effect Leuora would Lave on him. It was impossible for anyone to form other than a favorable impression ol this i>oor, beautiful girl as she entered. She was looking lovely to-night, even more beautiful thau she had ever done before. It seemed that Mrs. liristol had tried to see how lovely she could make her little pet look, for the dress that she had ordered from l'aris wat rich and very expensive. The overdress and train was the palest blue Bilk, and the finest quality that could be had. It fitted her slender perfect form very closely, and the snow-^hite throat and little dimpled arms were bare, .lust before Lenora went down stairs Mrs. liristol clasped a string of the most beautiful pearls around Lenora's neck, and on each solt, plump wrist was a broad band of pearls, while in th? center was arosette *>f diamonds. There was also a diamond cross lastened to tne necKiaCe ol pearls. The underskirt of Lenora's dress was white brocade velvet, with a fan of pearls on tho front J breadth. Tho overdress was beauti- ! fully draped and fastened with rosettes I of_pearls, while on her. little feet were ' dainty "white satin slippers. Those long gold cnrls were carelessly looped up and fastened with a few half-blown tea-roses. As she entered the drawing-room she looked like a fairy goddess of light, and Raynard Bristol never forgot the sight as long as .he lived. It j>eemed that his mother had arranged the surprise for his benefit, for as she entered with Lenora on her arm she east a swift glance at her son. Hay was standing in the shade, in a curtained alcove, and could see Lenora, but she could not see him. As she entered the liulit shone fall upon her dazzling beauty; tho color and expression of Hay's faco changed. Jeannctte, from hor corner, saw itall and wondered at the strange and sudden change in the expression of his face. Her heart sank low, for she coul| not tell what the change meant. It wns now hone atrainst hope. Possiblv, Lor Ray had seta this girl some place, and recognized licr as sha entered. Perhaps she was a low-born woman, and a fear for the honor of his houso had caused the strange paleness; sho could not toll, but she felt miserable, that sho knew. Ceriainlvno one could help admiring Lenora; even the envious Jeannetto, in her elegant robe3, of the palest tint of groon, and lior magnificent diamonds, realized that she had n rival in beauty, and, to think that that rival was her "little tramp!" "Ah! the thought of it was mo; bittor than wormwood or gall to tL4 proud, haughty gill. ClIArXEIt XXII. After Mrs. Bristol had presented Lenora to most of the guests she went over to where Hay had sank down upon a sofa. "Is she the young lady yon saw at | the window, Kay?" "Ye*," lie replied, in a lew, sup. pressed tone. "What do you tliink of her? Is slie an adventuress or not?" "'So. She is no adventuress, but looks to uie like a pure and innocent child, and is the loveliest ceeature I aver saw in my life. I hope you won't ivC.-p me in suspense any longer, mother, as to who she is." "Well, really, Kav, I do not exactly know who she ii myself, nor do I think she knows her light name. There seems to he a great mystery that surrounds her entire life; she says she has no home, no friends, and does not know how slie came hero. l>ut, Kay, my boy, search your memory and see it' you cannot think of some one or some picture that slie resembles. Tor some reason or e ther I have taken a great fancy to h -r, and every time 1 look in li r face some incident of my childhood days comes to my memory. What do you think, Kay? What about Annt Mnri.Vs daucrhter. vo'nr cousin. ! llega? Isn't there a roseniblauccV" "Oh, impossible, mother, for you know how teirib'e it ail was, and. what is more. Cousin llega nevei had a l>ut what did she say, mother, about her horn?, her past lil'e, and?and Oh, mother, I wish you would not soy any more t j me just now. "Everything seems all confusion and I would like to be alone for a few moments." "Well, well, Ray, I won't bother you, for no doubt you are tired over your long ride to-day. I must go and attend to my guests now, or they will think that I have forgotten them." Mrs. Bristol had noticed the cliango in Hay, but said nothing, and did not otter to introduce him to her pet. It seemed that she was trying him that night. As yet Lenora had not seen the youDg man that she saw coming up the walk, and was wondering which of the many gentlemen was the master of the mansion. She was too shy and timid to look around the room at first, or sho might have seen that same face and those large brown eyes looking so wistfully at her. He was near enough to hear her voice, but did not dare to speak t i her. "Oh, how awkward it all is. Why didn't mother introduce mo when she fir.st came in. I wonder if she waltzes. Hope so, at least, and what a sweet voice!" He left the gay little group and went i'lto the parlors and tried to talk to the pests there, but everything seome.l anil to him,, and ho felt exceedingly uncomfortable, while every few moments he would glance toward the drawing-room in the hope that he m ght see her. "Ah! There is the music, and now the dancing will begin; perhaps it will drive this miserable feeling away." He had a partner for the first dance. ' but ha,l none engaged for the secon.l : and third, peifher for the fourth nor tlie fifth. Jittiinetto had saved most of the waltzes for Hay, but her card was almost full. Charley Hall had engag. J L.-nora for tho fir it waltz, while l!av i and Jeannctte were partners. In a few t minutes tho dancing began, and as ) Lenora had no partner she was left t quite by herself. She quietly slipped , into the'family sittingroom, ami as that part of the house was entirely deserted she sat down to the piano and began to . play. It happened that Hay's paitmr accidentally tore one of the lloumes on J her dress as she was going to tho ballroom, and, of course, Kay had no 1 partner for that dav.ee. Ho stood in tho ballroom door for a \ <hile looking at tho merry throng ' .Vithin, but for soma reason or othei 1 the music was not sweet to his ear and ! there was a continual discord. ! Ho left tho ballroom and etrof i fhrough the hall toward tho drawingroom door. \ "I will go and jee who is left on the first, dance, and perhaps I can get some sld lady to talk to me a while and then [ may feel hotter. But?hark! That anisic?that voice! How very sweet md soothing it is. "Wonder who is jinging; just for the fun of it I will slip in and see." And he did see, for wh( n lie reached !he sitting-room no one was there but the little stranger, and it was she that played so divinely. How radiant his face was as he saw her there alone, and the music seemed to sootn ms nerves, as it rose ana icu into tliG sweetest melodies be had ever heard. Lenor.i, too, w.;s strangely restless .bat night. dear me! I wish I bad not seen tliat gentleman get out of the carnage, for?for some reason or other?lii< face has been before rue ever since. Wonder who be is! I have not soen him hire this e vening. Perhaps if I sing some of my old s >ngs I shall feel better, and then the faco will go away." As lier voice rose li'ce a nightingale's, sending the sweet tones ringing through the empty rooms, it was wafted on the perfumed air into the "halls and then mingled with that of the hall-room. It was that sweet voice in the distance that Ray had heard, and he had lieen drawn to the sitting-room -where he had found her, who was before him all the time. "Ah! this must be paradise, and she the reigning queen; I feel happy here, and could listen to that sweet voice all mj life." He could not stay away from her, nnd yet he did not wish to go nearer than the doorway. She did not see him. His face was still in front of her, with the prreat dark eyes looking down into the sweet, dreaniy depths of her own. She sang on and on, looking at that face, not thinking that any one might have heard her, and entered the room. No, she was too happy there; the room might have been filled with [icople, and she would not know it. Iiay, too, as he stood there so close to her that his breath almost fanned knv Tvne tnn lmrmv to think that -"I-i-., ? some one might be listening. "Why he had been drawn to Lonora lie could not t?ll, neither did she ns ret understand why that face was ever in front of her. For the first time in flaynard Bristol's life he was not able to control his feelings; he wanted to leayo the room and run away, but he could not move. He stood there for some time, feasting his eyes on tho lovely foim of the girl who had so strangely drawn him near her. The little fingers cease.l to movo over the keys; as the echoing sounds were growing fainter ^h j turned from the piano, as if she were going to leave the room. As she ccased playing tho face seemed to come nearer, and she felt somewhat disappointed that the music had not driven it away. Lmnra was looking down nt lier hands as she turned from the piano, and did not look up she rose to leave the room. She could scarcely believe her own eyes, but in front of her stood the gentleman with the handsome face that had been haunting her all the evening, and her head touciicd his arm as she i? ii i..l rose irom me moot. They met each other's glances, and for an instant lenora's cheeks were crimson. For an instant only (lid her great, luminous eyes feast on the handsome face of the man in front of her, and then the eyelids drooped and her face became pale even to the lips; but tho color soon came back to her face. Her iTttlo hands were tightly clasped, while the scarlet lips were quivering. An expression of perfect happiness came into Hay's face as ho looked at Lenora; he seemed to read her thoughts and she his. The contest had been severe for both, yet Bay knew t-liat he had -won the victory, and Lenora, after a terrible battle with herself, was willing to surrender. As yet not a word had been spoken between them, yet they seemed to understand each other. Lenora raised her eyes and looked up in hia face, while a happy smile played about her mouth. IJay knew then that the victory wa3 complete, nnd lie asked gently: "Now please, Bing for me." .. Lenora would not answer him, but that same sweet, submissive &mile played about her lips that he had just seen, and she knew he would. Eav moved to the side of the piano, and leaned up against it while his eyes rested upon the lovely face of the girl. Lenora sang as Bhe never had done before; her soul seemed filled with a new life and happiness. The music at times seemed weird, and then became very low and touching. Now it would rise bo sweet, so grand, that every nerve in the body would twinge with its grandeur, and aH the words were of a new-found love. It seemed to Ray that Lenora did not realize where Bhe was, and it all seemed like paradise to him. "T onon Vinn/Jcnmn nnnnlo nnrl J. ^ X' I heard grand music, but nothing to compare to this. Oh, where nm I, and what will become of me ? I thought I was a man, and have never known what it is to be ruled by others, but she is my ruling queen. The laurels and the crowns, with my whole kingdom. I lay at her feet. Wonder whether she knows how I feel, dear little soul, an l fchnll I ever be able to tell her how much I lovo Ler? I btlLve she knows already." The first and second dance were over, and it was almost time for the third, but Kay and Lenora had forgotten all about the ball-room. l)ut Ji-annette had not forgtten about her partner for the waltz, and, as ho did not come for her, 6he and Charley Hall stnrfn/1 in cor.r/?]i nf liim ixo.ite conti.ni.tdJ The Boll-bird. A few times t.he writer has heard the jell-bird in the forests of British Guiana oil out its solemn note for vespers. The >ell-bird is white and about the size of a love. A Heshy horn grows from the niddle of the forehead, and this hangs lown, except when the bird is calling; t is tliQn inflated with air and stands up iearTy three incites high. It is by men.'. >f this that it tolls out its sonorous not; 1 is a weird, uncanny sound, and it is : .vonder that the Indians regard the b: .vitli a superstitious awe. To one una-:o a tropical forest the caseless din nsect*, the whirr of some giant haw. noth and the cry of the different anirna: it first sounds deafen'ng, hut one soou jfets used to it. One of the strange sights is the strange lights of t le fire-flies ind their brger cousins, the lantern-liies, is they dash here and there, illuminating the night with nature's own torch.?Xao York Tribune. Condensed 31 ilk. It is only recently that the problem of condensing milk has been solved in a satisfactory manner. In the beginning of the century, a Frenchman named Oppert conceived the idea of subjecting cows' milk to a certain treatment by which i*s natural properties could he preserved for - i ivlnVli would ft-ruler the cl JUUt; IIIIIC. ?I it V4 n UIVM .. ... milk capable cf being transported over long distance*. Numerous attempts were made by all nations to c.irry out this idea. The evaporation of the milk at a temperature 160 degrees below the evaporation in a vacuum, and the addition of thirty to forty per cent, of cane sugar to the milk to he condensed, were applied collectively and separately, until finally an American succeeded in making his experiments of practical value, ami condensed milk was soon placed upon the market.?j.Yew Yuri J)isj?ttr!i. FoRTrKE turns faster than a millwheel, and thoso who were yesterday at the top may liud themselves at the bot? torn to-day. ??$? ~ ri ' ' r. ;'"V'" " - ' - ^ LONG BRANCH. PICTURES OF SUMMER LIFE AT THE SEASIDE. The Surf and Its Perils ? Feminine Bathers?One Woman's Sumptuous Private Bath?Politicians, Dandies and Big Hats. Long Branch, says a letter to the Chicago Herald, is a great favorite with all sorts of people. In has two great advantages. It is near to New York city,auil quite wicked enough to suit the most desirous. The surf is magnificent. Father iCeptune comes in raging and foaming at the mouth. His usual demand froin the Jersey coast is about a man a week, and, although the beach is thoroughly patrolled aud the life ropes arc plentiful, y?it down the victim goes, sucked under r*,*a II 1 Hi ff\ tcmi WANTS TO r.E TIIE SEXSATIOX. by the terrible swirt of the retreating breaker and is carried out, bobbing up 1 - i I--.1 1-.- TT? j ano ciown hkc a waicr-soutvuu iui^. llu rarely makes any outcry. The people on the beach do this. The bathing masters plunge in, the catamarans arc launched, and although everything is done quick as a flash, aid often comes too late. One soul less in the world than five minutes before. Do they omit the hop that evening? Does the giddy throng fail to gather on the hotel verandas after dinner? Is there anything to show that a human being lost his life in the surf that morning? Oh, dear no! We don't come down here to go into mourning. One day Harry McElroy, one of the best amateur swimmers of the New York Athletic, was disporting in the water,exhibiting his superb plnsique to a group of admirers on the beach, when trie cry 1:? 1 M F n n.L r.'*r- -0 I p 'I Sgglll L|^?^ now TIIINGS ARE DIVIDED. was heard: "A man drowning!" Harry struck out for him with a pair of arms that had carried joy to many a fair waltzer?white as ivory and strong as steel?and before the guard was anywhere near, Henry tumbled the fellow through the surf, tossed him on the sand and was back into the water again, flashing his line limbs in the air like Glaucus in pursuit of a ncreid. At dinner the following colloquy took place: "Say, Harry, iu heaven's name, what 1? i rnnr 11fr? cirinrr th.it am jnu nuuibu n.^n ^uui worthless fellow for? Ilis family fed quite offended about it. lie's no good. He's determined to die drunk." "May be," drawled Harry,its lie raised a stalk of asparagus to his mouth, "but. the bathing suit was worth *2.75. I didn't know who was in it." This place is a favorite report of leading actresses, those who support establishments of their own?the few who make aren't there for the surf. ten to fifty thousand a year. Mrs. John Iloey in her day set this fashion. The magnificent drives are well qualified to show off a fiuc turnout, and there are always notables, noble and ignoble, foreign and domestic, at the hotels to make it interesting. Langtry was here last year, but she didn't u?e the surf. She "tubbed it" in her apartments. Your genuine woman of fashion, especially if she is a bit passee, never goes into the surf. She has been told that salt water makes wrinkles. That settles it. No woman wants to lie wrinkled, now docs ?hc? Ocean brine cuts the moisture out of the skin and hardens the flesh. Look nt the old salts. Try a piece of salt pork fdong with your broiled chicken and see for yourself. Chickens never touch salt. U is death toth^ni. Married women who love their husbands go into the ocean brine, l?ut young widows never! Young girls go in, but with them surf bathing is only a means to an end, and wc all know what the chief end of a girl's life is?a rich husband, of course! It is the end of her fun and the commencement of his. Mrs. M. Estelle du Jiuis-Long has arrived with twentv-seven trunks, some of them large enough, to set up housekeeping iu. She is popularly known as "the woman with the hundred dresses." She is a widow, and there arc two things about her that no fellow will ever find out: What the ' 'AT' stands for, and how old she is. Mrs. M. Da Bois-Loiag is what is known as a "well preserved woman." Some say she is sixty and some thirty-five. It cost nothing but the effort to make your choice. Well, Mrs. Du Bois-Long never goes into the brine. She is a "tubber," and such a "tirbber!" Her private bath consists of a porcelain tub with silver mountings. It is surrounded by mirrors to enable her to discover any lines or shrinkages in her figure, which is wonderfully round and white, whether you call her thirty-Ove or sixty. This sumptuous tub is filled twicc a day with spring water brought in barrels from two miles away. Its temperature is raised to t>Uand it is then softened iy boric acid and milk of almonds, and and perfumed with cologne. There is no rubbing done and no soap used on the wonderful skin of the "woman with a hundred dresses." Oh, no, that would be a sacrilege? Her maid simply pats the skin while it is thoroughly moistened, and dashes the water gently against it. 0 0L M / CEASED TO RE SELF-SUrrOKTIXG. After rising from her bath, a French preparation, pate du serail, is applied to shield the skin from too rapid evaporation, which means wrinkles. Such is the secret of this modern beauty who comcs to the salt seaside to keep fresh. Long Branch has always exerted a peculiar fascination upon statesmen, political bosses, ring masters, ward magnates and that ilk generally. Politics needs a greaf deal of salt to check decomposition. The political leader is not always what you would think him to be?something towering and impressive. Some of the strongest of them are about as insignificant looking as a last year's mullein stalk. But the Branch is alive with all sorts of politicians, impressive and otherwise, from the real statesman to the New York saloon Alderman", whose dyed moustache, diamond pin, flash tie, new clothes and vulgar manner stamp him at once as a product of rank soil?a quick rrrntvtli ni'lHlcr fruit. fi0WCl\ Vegetable, ? ^ , v_. oflorous or edible! What good is he? Well, he is a money spender, and great summer resorts wouldn't be possible without him. lie drops his money in showers is gently as Jupiter did his on the bacx.s of the Dame, and quite as generously, too. Money may be the root of all evil, but it is never an unmitigated evil. The political manager comes here to continue the game of chance, to bet on the color of cards as he does on the complexion of parties, for no roulette in its rotations ever equaled the fickleness of the sovereign people. Now, where the King goes, there goes the jester. That is to say, the political boss is always attended by the political bummer, who never earns a dollar, never pays for anything, never does a stroke of work, never drinks a glass of water, and yet he is an important factor in machine politics. He's the grease. "*"* 1 - J- 1 A XTaht .Every uanay liltu wears a om>u. nun, a sash may look very well on a slira man, but to increase a rotundity of sixty inches by adding a Gordon sash shows to what profundity of absurdity men descend when once infected with a craze. They wear it in place and out of place; at the races, in church, on the beach, with evening dress and negligee, all the same. The only regret seems to be that they cannot be worn into the water. Thus far the cuests at the hotels have the sashes to themselves, but next week is expected that the waiters will don them, and after that the porters and hotel hands generally. The women have their craze, too. They run to big hats. Brims are so broad thai they have ceased to be self-supporting One verv indulgent husband, to gratify Ins wife, has invented a brim supporter. It may be atttachcd to auv carriage and, so he says, is bound to become ver.y popular. Brutality of a German 0Ulcer. A brutal German sublieutenant stood sword in hand over a private soldier and compelled him to keep his hand iti boiling water over a lire, under the pretense that it was the doctor's order to remove a contusion. The hand was ruined and the man crippled for life. lie has been invalided, and given a pension of ?2.25 a month. The inhuman ofriccr was sent to prison for two months.?Chicago Time*. The Milkman's Mistake. Mis. Jones (somewhat deaf)?"Can yon let me have ten cents' worth of cream to-day?"' d^^^S^8?81 Jlilkmau?"Yis, mum, but I must say that's the funniest looking can I ever poured milk into."?Mun&cy's Wetkhj. wwmr?^- ' in . '* >*!.- *. ' --v'v RELIGIO US_RE ADINGTHE HAND OF GOD. Loose not Thv hold, O hand of God! Or utterly we faint and fa'l. Tbe way is rough, the way is blind, And buffeted with stormy wind: Thick darkness veils above, below, From whence we come, to what we go; Feebly we grope o'er rock and sand, But still go on. conliling all, Lord, to Thy hand! In that strong hold salvation is; Its touch is comfort in distress, Cure for all sickness, ba!ni for ill, And energy for heart and will. Securely held, unfa'tering. The soul fan walk at ease and sing. And fearless tre-ul each unknown strand, Leaving each large thing, and each less, Lord, in Thy hand! A HARD HIT. One of the pastors of tbin city preached not long ago a very pithy and pungent ser mon from the text, "Will a man rob God?'' The question was answered in the affirmative?as regards some men, judging both by past history and present examples. This was illustrated by an anecdote, very felicitouslv told. We*shall aim onlv to give the ?t. ??_i?it ivnll IJUlJU. it Wiia avy auiu j/ iv wum uv? cape the listener. A man asks another, "Are you a believer in the Christian Religion?' "Oh, certainly.". "You are a member of some church, then, J suppose?" "Meinoer of a church? No, indeed. Why should I be a member of a church? It is quite unnecessary. The dying thief wasn't a member of a church, and he went to heaven." "Hut of course you've been baj tized? You know the command"? "Been baptized? Ob, no. That's another needless ceremony. I'm as safe as llie dying thief was. and* he never was baptized." "Hut surely, since you will not join a church or be baptized, you do something in acknowledgment of your faith? You give of your means ?you help the cause in some way?" '"No, sir. I do nothing of the kind. The dying thief?" "Let me remark, my friend, before you go any further, that you seem to be on "prelty intimate terms with the dying thief. You seem to derive a great deal of consolation from his career; but, mind you, there is one iniportart difference between you and him. ilc was a dying thief?and' vou are a living one."?[Michigan Herald. * nr.0P THAT NOVEL. Drop that novel, and read something which will make you know more when you have finished it"th in you did when you began. What would one think of a young man preparing for active life, who, instead of reading history, biography, science, or studying geography, phosiology, a-tronomy, philosophy, chemistry, medicine, or mechanics, spent bis time day afier day listening and bearing some yarn-spinning talker lie to him by the hour? What would we think of a man who would hire a liar by the day for five or ten years to tell him stories which were entirely untrue, or in which truth was so mingled with falsehood that no mortal could separate otTo from the other. How much would such a man know about history, business, or science, after a course of five or ten years of such training? He would know just as much as we could expect of a man or a woman to know who waited life in reading novels. What position could a person till with such an education? "Who would want such a man? What would he be good for? A shipwrecked dandy, unable to do anything for his fellows in" their struggle f 'r existence, was finally utilized by being"clad in bird's skin garments, and made to sit on a ucst of eggs, and so earn his living. But in the ordinary walks of busy life, the man of f- cts is of use, the man of fiction is a man that no one wants; full of imagination he soars after I he incomprehensible, dives into the unfathomable, but never pays cash; he wastes the spring-time of his life, and begs in harvest and has nothing. Drop that novel, and read something that amounts to something, so that when you have read it you will amount to something too. "who is my neighbor?" Neighbor is a word we arc constantly using without, perhaps, ever having examined its full meaning. It is a word of the simp'est construction, and points back to a primitive peri d. It is one of those compounds which in the childhood of speech man made, na children make such compounds now, by putting together two words to express an idea which combines them both. It is simply, near dweller, and was coined to designate those whose dwellingplaces were near together. It still retains of course this original meaning, but with the advance of thought and the perception of other relations between men than those ol mere local vicinity neighbor has obtained a broader application. And iooking at our duties as neighbors with this wider vision, we hhall see that those dutie* do not depend upon any mere outward conditions, and that it is impossible for any of us to cscape their obligation. We are by our common hum in nature each other's neighbors, and li m over we may disown or dishonor, wc cannot destroy tho"rf>l:itiori!<liir>. Tlio irreat English iurist Burke has said, thai there is a law of neighborhood which does not leave a man perfectly master on his own ground. And it is equally true that there is a law of moral and spiritual neighborhood which puts it out of our power to i-olate ourselves in absolute independence from each other. 1'laced then, as we arc by the will of God, in the great general ueigfiborhoo.l of humanity, and e.cii one of us in the immediate specific neighborhood in which we live, there can be no lesson of Jesus that we need more to learn, none iif on which we have more constant occasion to act, than the lesson He tcachcs us of our duties a* neighbors. ? Taking first the literal and familiar sense of the word, we all know well enough what it is to be agocd neighbor. There is no reputation more to be prized than that. There is nothing which we are better pleased, nor with better reason uleased, to have said of us by the people we live among than that we are good neighbors, llut such a reputation, however a man may desire it, can only be won by deserving it. That is a title which is never empty and unmeaning, but always vouches for a'realitv of ch;i!actcr. A man's weaith. or social or business or po'itical in/i .,,i cnlimissioti nr fear or ilUUIIlt', XU ?(J> VWUII..U,... obsequious "deference? tlicy cannot, lior can any other sucli considerations, make people call liiin a good neighbor unless he is one ami acts I:ke olio. And the true wav to secure this enviable distinction, the secret of being a good neighbor, will be found, I believe, in that for which Jesus commended the .Samaritan?in the spirit which, unconcerned about the duties of others towards us and undeterred even by their remissness, is occupied about our duties towards them. That man is a good neighbor who is always quick to s(e and to use an opportunity for doing a kindness, who is always ready to lend a hand, who thinks of how he can serve and please his neighbors and likes to do it for his neighbors* sake. The service may be what we call a very small one?such as stopping to sec if there are letters for the post, or putting up the bars which had been forgotten; it may be turning in with a heavy good will and a fresh team in some perplexing i ress of work or in a Mock on the road; it may be some of those acts of friendly remembrance and helpful sympathy with which woman can so pleasantly break the monotony of daily <:ire or so elloctuauy lighten the buftien of a miction; liut whether it scorns small or not. t he spirit in which it is done makes it great. For a man or women cannot have the halut of doing such tilings without the Good Samaritan spirit. It is no more possible to be a good neighbor in the ordinary intercourse of life than to he so in such an emergency as that depicted in the parable unless, like the Samaritan, we have the true unselfishness of heart which goes out into action; and that is greatness of character. A stonk coilin i:i r. tomb in Canterbury C'a'hedrnl o.i being opened was found to contain th.> body of an ancient archbishop, fully vedel. It is thought to bo that of Cardinal Stephen Langton,wli > sidod with the barons in extorting Magna Clmrta fom King John. Although buried six centimes ago, the features were still perfect and the vestments nuite sound. There is nothing like a baby in n home. It seem to till a email house so that nothing else is missed. j - ? , ' SABBATH SCIIOOLI INTERNATIONAL LESSON FOR AUGUST S. Lesson Text: "The Prodigal Son^j Lake xv., 11-2*?Golden Text ; Lake xv., 18?Commentary. J~ 11. "Anil He said, A certain man had two ^ sons/' This is the beginning of the third I section of this parable, which is a cont'nua- V tion of the lesson of last week. Tho whole 1 parable teaches the great love of God, the "1 Father, Son and Holy Spirit, for lost, and -J helpless, and erring humanity; and the sym- j patljy of the angels with God in His joy A over the salvation of the lost. Tho lost sheep ^ suggests our inclination, becausoof sin. to go astray from God (Ps. lviii., 3; exit., 176; Isa. liii., 6; I Pet. ii., 25); the lost piece of money indicates our helplessness, our inability to restore ourselves, and our deadncss to a sense of our condition (Rom. v., G; Eph. ii., 4, 5); while tho sons of this lesson iilustrato the . selfishness, ingratitude and rebellion of sinful man, and also the sell righteousness ana iacic cf sympathy with God of many who profess to be His. The deficiency in each case draws out and makes manifest the wondrous lovoof God. 12. "And the younger of them said to his 4 father, Father, give mo tho portion of goods 4 that falleth to me. And he divided unto'., them his living." The sin is seen in the sou's desire for the things of his father rather than _ ^ for the father aud liis love. Tho desire also . for independence of tho father an 1 separa- ! tion from him indicates tho ingratitude of his heart and his insensibility to the father's love and care. ? 13. "Aud not many days after, the . ^ younger son gathered all together, and took ? his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living." Tho first illustration pf this roballiousnaturein man is seen in Cain, who would not sub- ' mit to tho kind requirements of a loving God; but preferring his own way "wentout from the presence of the Lord" (Gen. Iv., 16) to do as he pleased. It is seen in Esan, who Ereferred a mess of pottage to his God-given. irthright (Gen. xxv., 32-3i). It ?3 sean in Israel preferring Egypt and its ground fruits to the God-given manna and the promiMdyJ land (Num. xi., 4-G). It is seen iu all prefer tho thiags of the present world, God'aM good gifts to be enjoyed with grateful hearts, *1 to God Himself and His Kingdom and Glory,* 14. "And when ho had spent all, therearose a mighty famino in that land; an! he . began to bo in want." When wo turn away, from God, who is the fountain of living waters, and seek to satisfy ourselves with aughfc. else, even with tho gifts of God, wo are hew? incout cisterns, broken cisterns, that can. hold no water (Jer. ii., 13), and sooner orlater we shall sure'.y come to waufc. 15. "And he went and joined himself to a. citizen of that country; and he seat himintohis fields to feed swiuo.'' The far counter" into which he went from his own fathers: house and plenty is all about us. It is this present evil world which lieth in tho wicked, one (Gal. i., 4; I John v., 19), and which allures us away from God. 16. "And he would fain have fillod his belly with the husks that the swine did eat; and no man gave unto him." First want, then worldly helps, and now a beastly appetite. He has selfishly spent all on himself; he lias no friends, for the kind of friends which abound while money lasts and treats are free are very scarca when the money is gone; and ho iinds himself InthOcoinpany of tha most unclean of on? * clean beast?, willing to eat tho food : which satisfied their beastly natures.. ' The husks were probably carob pods, j fleshy jk)'.1s like those of tho honey locust tree, from six to ten inches long and aro broad, sweet-, and not unpleasant when ripe (Smith's Dictionary). 17. "And when he cama to himself, hesaid. How many hired servants of my fath- ' er's nave bread enough and to spare, and I. perish with hunger!-' He had boen so full of self and self seeking that tha Father's home had not been much in his thought^ ex- 1 cept perhaps us the recollection of a restraint whicn he could not submit to. But by har-- 1 iug his desires granted he has been led to sea somewhat of the leanness of hi3 soul IPS. I cvj., 15). lb. "I will arise and go to my father, and say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee." In the story the lost sheep and lost pieca of money the seeking sh9pherd and the woman with the light. The sheap and the money did , nothing, the shepherd and tho woman didL all. But here is a responsible human b&ng who has gone astray like a lost sheep, ana. has been as insensible to his father's love as a piece of metal. In the Provi Jence of God the Spirit of God has been working with him, and now convinced of bis sin he sees that there is something for him to do, and hoooamc roo/lr- f/-? /In it: 19. "And am no more worthy to be called thy son; make me as one of thy hired servants." He was unworthy to be called thoson of such a father when ha had plenty and was living riotously, or even when he leftthat father's home," or when he demanded his share of the goods. But he did not know it, and could not, under those circumstances, bemade to see it. The only way to humbla him and bring him to his senses was the way he was allowed to take. Now ho sees hi3 siufulncss and un worthiness as ho could not otherwise have been made to seo if. 20. "And be arose and came to his father.'* All his conviction, and senso of uuworthiness, and good resolution;!, would have gone for nothing had he failed to take this step. He might have remained in tin far country nnd died there full of conviction and good resolutions. But here is the saving pointr "He arose and came." And now we shall see" ine resuic. "But when hetros yet a great Tray off, his father saw him, and hai compassion, and ran, and feli on his neck, and kissed him." llere is the Lova of Go.l which taid to one poor sinner. "Thy sins aro forgiven; thy faith hath saved thee: go in peace." And R> another: "Neither do I condemuthee: go and sin no more," and which says to all: "Him. that comctli unto Me I will" in no wise cast out" (Luke vii., 4S, 50; Johnviii., 11-vL, 37). 21. "And the son said unto him, Father I have sinned against heaven, and iu thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son." This was not all he Had intended to say (see verse 10), but it seems to have been as far as he got. ([ John i., 0.) 32. "Eat the father said to his servant^. Briug forth the best robe and put -konJuiM0 and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on hii^ foot/' Think of Adam ana live Having josc their fellowship with "God and hiding from llim because of their sin. and see God clothing them with coats of skins which He had made (Gen. iii., 21). fcjee the robe of righteousness, and garments of salvation of Isa. Ixi., 10; II Cor. v., 21. Tha ring and royally, and authority of Gen. xli., 12. Tho shoes and precious piomisa of Deut. xxxiii., J.>. And consider what n welcome is here described as beiug ready for every returning penitent. 23. "And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat ami be merry." If, in the previous verse, we havo forgiveness of sins, and righteousness, and full restoration to position and inheritance and authority, here we have true fellowship and great joy. The foretaste is enjoyed here when He comes in to sup with us ami we with Him (Rev. iii., 20); but the full joy will be whea we eat and drink with Him at His table in His kingdom (Luke xxii., 30). t '.'A. "For this my son was dead, and is alive I again: he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.'' For tho third time ia the parable He tells us of the joy over the . i~.-* .oi.on fminil And atrain iii verse 82. Surely that which gives such joy 1o the Father, Son and Hoty Spirit should give I great joy to every child of God. But is it I not to be feared that the spirit of the elder I brother might Ite still manifest if we should I make much ado over the conversion of some I poor publican or harlot? Let us pray to be I tilled with the Spirit of Him who receivetU I sinners and rateth with them.?Lesson I Tin: most aristocratic society of worn- I c:i in this country is the recently I formed "Colonial Dames of America,1* I ?oin]-osed of women win are descen- I ilants in their own persons of some I citizen who established his residents in I America ]>rior to and rendered I worthy service i:i the building up aur country. The objects of the soci- I ety are social, patriotic and historical. I If you follow the aclviee or stocfc-1 market prophets, your profits are liable I to turn out losse?. . ,