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DE QUINCY'S DEED. A TRIZE POEM. Red on the morn's rim rose the sun; Bright 011 the field's breast lay tha dew; Soft fell the light on sabre and gun Grasped by the brave and true. Death to the many and fame to the one Came ere the day was through. Loud on the sweet air rang the c ill Blast from the bugle and quick command; Bwift to their saddle they vaulted ali, Sat with the reins in hau l, Spur to the steed's flank, fears in thrall, Heady to sweep the land. " Straight to tiio hi^-top! Who's there first, We or the foe, shall win this day." So spake De Quincy; then, like a burst Of splendor, ho led the way; He and his white steel both athirst For the mad sport of the fray. 'Charge!'' "What a wild leap! One bright mass Whirls, like a storm clou J, up the hill; Hoofs in a fierce beat bruise the grass, Clang of the steel rings shrnl; Eyes of the men flash fire as they pas3, Hearts in the hot raco thrill. See! from an oaen cottago lane, Saliies a child, where tho moadow dips; Only a babe, with tho last refrain Of tho mother's song on its lips. Straight in tho path of tho charging train. Fearless, the little one trips. Under tha iron hoof ! whoso the fault? Killed? It is naught if the day be won. On! to tho?"Halt!' How he thundere it! "Halt!"' What has DeQuincy done* Checked, in a moment, tho quick assault, Struck back sabre and gun. "Back!" till tho horsc3 stand pawing tho air, Throwing their riders from stirrup to mane. Dov.t. froji his saddle ho ben Is to vrliero The iittlo one fronts tli3 train, Lifts her with caro till hor golden lnir Falls on liisclieik Ilka rain. Bears her from harm as ho would his child, Kisses and leaves hor with vanquished fears, Thunders his ''Forward!"' nn l s?es tli3 wild Surg3 of his troops through tsars. The fight! Did tliey win it? Aye! victory smiled On him and his men for years. ?Ilomcr Green, in the Courier-Journal. Mother's Rocking Chair. by nrcr.r.n forest grates. It was n rainy Monday morning?one of those proverbial 4'blue Mondays," when everything went wrong, and even inanimate things seemed as if they were possessed by an evil spirit to set their dumb bulk persistently agaiast the current of human effort. The hired man had overslept himself. 'Can't nobody expect a feller to get up ef there ain't a ray o' daylight in his room," grumbled O/.ias Breakwatei. "I tell ycou these "ire dark October morain's du b^nt everything!" The red calf had got into tho winter wheat; the old turker was dragging her late brood through acres of tall, dripping weeds and drenched huckleberry bushes; the pin of tho garden ga^e had somehow got loose, and it was swinging on one hinge; wlrilc the speckled rooster and his tlock of hcus scratched and clawed exultantly ia the vegetable beds and among Mrs. Parley's seedliug verbenas and slips of geranium. The children were clamoring for their breakfast. "We'll be late for school, mother, as sure as the world," said Jenny, the eldest. > r. 11 t 1 M viouicr, i cnn t iiuu my siaie pencil, and school ma'am says she won't give out no more till the end o' the month," squeaked little Joe. "I hain't no idee what I done with the key to the barn," said Ozias, peering first in one corner, then in another. "Ain't breakfast 'most ready, mother?" questioned little Kate, fearfully eyeing the clock, which, with its porcelain face half covered with asparagus sprigs, appeared to be winking balefully at her. And, to place the final capstone on all thiq f-pmnlp. of tribulation. thrvft rnrriR n. Soft tap at the doer, and Mis3 Mix, the preambulating dress-maker of the neighborhood, made her appearanco with a flat basket on her arm, and a pair of silver spectacles bowed over her nose. "I hope I don't inconvenience yc,Mr3. Parley," she began, in ingratiatory fashion, "bypoppin' in this a-way, but Mrs. Squire Ingram's go! a niecc come unexexpecteuly from the West, and can't hev me this week as I calkilatcd on; so I've come here instid." Sirs. Parley stood aghast. Of all gossips and newsmongers, Miss Mix was the most inveterate, and to be caught thus of a Monday morning, with the floor unswept, the breakfast half cooked, the children in their very worst stages of fractiousncss and demi-toilettes?she well knew that this was a death-blow to her reputation as a model housekeeper. It was true that circumslanccs were against her: but what did Miss Mix know about circumstances? "Can't I help yo with the breakfast?" said Miss Mix, with ready officiousuess. Mrs. Parley shrank from the seeming amiability of the offer. She had no desire that this spy should discover the secrets of cracked china, puttied bowls, handlelnss dippers, and such other mekeshifts as the country housekeeper consistently hides within her own breast. "I'm oblceged t' ye," said Mrs. ParIcy, "but " At this moment, just as she was lifting the stone pipkin of oatmeal oil the stove, tho little cherrywood rocking-chair,with somewhat of that almost human malevolence which pieces of furniture will sometimes deliberately assume, caught her dress in one of its rockers, and rip?rip ?ri-i-ip it went, inflicting a jagged and hopeless rent down the skirt. "Bother that old chair!'.' said Mrs. TV. _1 ..1 1? ? /"!? 1 :&1. *4 1 jruney, snarpiy. "i ve umi; wnu u niajj enough; 1 won't bear no longer. It's all Sprung out o' shape ami warpe<'l to pieces, and ic was only yesterday Jane caught her apron in one of its splinters anJ tore it 'most off her. I shouldn't 'a stood it as long as I hcv if it hadn't belonge.l to Parley's mother, and he set store by it." "Old Widder Parley was a dreadful smart woman, as I've allays heard," said Miss Mix, who was taking oil' her black siik bonnet before the little, square lookiug-glass. between the windows. "Heard!" sharply ejaculated Mrs. Parley. "I'm sick to death hearin' of her. That there cheer Iris aggravated me more than any other piece o'furniture in the house. Parley's mother is dead and buried, but she haunts rnc wor3e th.".n any ghost, aad always hasl" > She caught up the offending rocking- | ehair sis she spoke and whisked off with it into the open shed, which, in common with most other New Hampshire houses, had a door of communication with the kitchen, for convenience sake. "Mercy on us," said .Miss Mix, "what be youdoin' Mis' Parley?'1 "I'm makin' kiudlin' wood of this'ere cherry-wood rocker," returned Mrs. Parley, who had taken up the hatchet and split the offending rocker off, and now flung it on the pile of kindling and dry firewood beyond. "I won't be bothered | with it no longer." And then, with a round, red spot on cither check and a nervous quickness of step, she returned, gave little Joe a slice of bread and butter, and straightened the tic of Kate's pink gingham apron. "Breakfast's ready," said she. "We'll set down now." A certain sense of grievance seemed to have taken possession of her every time she looked at the rent in her gown. "I'm glad that rocker's out of the wr>v " sha thought, bustlinir around to "J 1 o J bring the delayed tide of housekeeping up to high-water mark. "It's somehow bceu a standin' aggravation to me. Parley he's always bringin' up his mother, and what she used to do and "what her ways was. And he says, so often, ''Pears to me I can most fancy I can see mother settin' there, where she used to set, in her old rockin'-cheer, a-creikin' back an' forth,'till I've got downright nervous about it! Parley may a* well understand, first as last, that I ain't agoin' to stand so much of his mother 1 Yes, I'm glad I had the moral courage to split up that there cheer. Is'pose Parlcy'll miss it when lie comes down from Canacly; but " And she finished the half-formed reflection with aa energetic manipulation of the broom in a neglected comer of the back kitchcn, which sent the gray cat and a litter of brimlleu kittens living in j various directions. Yet, aside from these sudden tempests i ' of discontent and disloyalty, Mrs. Parley ! j was an ailectionatc wife, who truly loved J j and honored the kindly-natured man | whom she called husband! And, after j 1 all, the blue Monday morning was more ! responsible than Mrs. Parley. J "I s'posc," said Miss Mix, turning a ; I paper pattern around and around on the . piecc of maroon-colore.l merino that was about to be transformed into a Sunday ! I gown for Mrs. Parley, "theWidder Par-1 ! ley was a dretful trial to you, afore sho ! was took away?" "X-no, I can't justly say she was," I rather reluctantly acknowledged Mrs. I Parley. "She was a quiet, pleasant | I spoken creaturc enough, no more trouble | ! than a kitten, and a deal of help when 1 Jenny was littlo. She didn't live long 1 after I came here. It wasn't that. It I was Parley's perpetually bringin' her up. I If the bread chanccd to be a trifle heavy, 1 or the soft soap was too thin, or the dried ! sweet corn moulded?his mother done I this, and that was the way his mother j managed. It was enough to try the paj tience of a saint. Doyes'pose, Miss Mix, I it'il trim well with velvet? Or would ye try a shade darker of repped silk, the way Sarah Coning has her serge?" "A letter for you, Mrs. Parley," said j the voice of Ozias Breakwater, outside,as J something white and oblong skimmed j into the room and alighted in the midst of the red meriuo breadths. 41 Jim Ilall 1 I just came up past the postofiicc, aud he ! j iclt It." I "It's from Parley!" cried the wife with ' asuddeuly brightening face, as she broke ! j open the envelope. "To tell inc when 1 ; he's coram' home." A blank expression came over her face ; as she perused the contents. "I dew wonder what he's wrote," j thought Miss Mix, as she furtively j watched Mrs. Parley's countenance and ! scissorod her way tlirougii divers aud i sundry side gorc3 at the same time. "lie's well, I hope?" she ventured to say aloud at last. "Yes," Mrs. Parley succinctly answere d. And then she read, for the second time, its paragraphs, with a strange stirring at her heart. "I'vo got n real pleasant surprise for you, my dear wife," wrote haaest Jamas Parley, in the somowhat formal phras?olo*y of th<j "Complete Latter Writer," that had been his - * J.I 4. U 4 4 f +rx guide ana iiiuuei us a juuiu, x wwtcu uv? come across your aunt Asenath up hero at Lake E J ward. It seams tho saw mill your Uncle Eben started has proved a failure, and he's dead, and she's all alone and li03 had a paralytic stroke. "And they was sort o' plannin' to send her to th3 town house, poor soul, because there didn't seem to be nobody to take her part, j and she was too proud to let on who her relations was. "8j I've told her just what I'm certain you would do if you wero hero, and that she's kinily welcome to a ho.no with u* so long as she live3. You was always good to my mother, dear wife, and 1 foel that I owe yoaadebt of gratitude that I never can repay. And so she's picked no her few belongings, and we shall be dowa home in a week. "I trust you will approve what I have done, for I really did not fool that I could leave your venerable old relative to the grud^iug care of the public authorities. Tue Lord lias seen lit to p.-osper, an l your relations, dear wife, will ever seem to me as my I : own!" "My dear Aunt Asenath?my dear j j mother's only sister, who brought her up!'' thought Mrs. Parley. "Oh, how good : Jame3 is! How can I ever thank him for i this generous kindness! And"?with a sudden revulsion of feeling?"how false I have been to the memory of his good mother! I could cut off my hand when I think of the cra^y thing I've done!'' Peter Schenek, the village cabinetmaker, chanced to be pasting just then on the top of a load of furniture. Mrs. Parley rushed frunctically out and hailed him with voice and gesture. "Eh?"' said Peter Schcnck, drawing rein at last. "I want you to come in," said Mrs. Parley. "I want you to mend up this j cherry wood rocker as neat a? you can. I j think one or two rivets '11 do it, but I | don't mind expense if more is necessary." Miss Mix stared over the top of her spectacles. Peter Schcnck eyed the dismembered chair with professional ! scrutidy. j 4iAnv hurry?" ?aid he. j "Ye;*, there is hurry!" excitedly ut- ! | tcr:*'.l Mrs. Parley. "I want it all I ! mended aid polishe I and back here in j my keepin'-rooin iu a week from now." "Wall, I'll manage it somehow," said Peter, carrying out the remains, with slow exactness. "And I want yon to understand, Miss Mix," added Mrs. Parley, "that I'm dreadful sorry I said what I did about his mother?it was only because I was overtried and put out?and that the Parley family, from beginning to end, are the best folks in the world." "La!" raid Miss Mix." And when James Parley and Aunt Asenath arrived, in the orange bright ncss of a fall sunset, they received the I warmest of welcomes, and the little cherry wood rocker stood jn the glow of the fire, like aa old friend, to greet them. "I allays feel a3 if I'd got home," said cheerful James, "when I see mother's rocking-chair afore the stove." "Oh, James," cried his wife, flinging her arms around him, "I never was so glad to see you in all my life before?" "Bless the little woman?" said Parley, laughing. "Come in, Aunt Ascuath? come in!" And good old Aunt Ascnath felt that she was entering into an atmosphere of domestic happiness of which not tno least indication was "Mother's RockingCiiair." Life's book is full of new leaves. Mrs. Parley had turned over one at this juncture of her existence.?Saturday Night. Preventing anil Treating Snnstroke. Sunstroke is one of the afflictions to which humanity is liable in summer, i during the hottest of the weather. Heat and moisture together seem to be the con UiUUU3 UiWU ?v * for moisture in warm -weather prevents the radiation of heat from the body, and thermal fever, or sunstroke, as it is called, is probably an overheating of the blood, producing chemical or fermentivo changes in it which are inimical to health and even to life. When, therefore, during the heated term one who has been exposed to the sun's heated rays iu a humid atmosphere begins to suffer from headache, giddiness, nausea and disturbance of sight, accompanied with sudden and great prostration of the physical forces, sunstroke is probably imminent. If such a one is wise lie will when the symptoms above given manifest themselves, immediately seek a cool place and make use of some simple restoratives, such as aromatic ammonia, etc., and he may avoid further trouble; but if he per- ! sist in his business he will doubtless soon become verjT ill, which illness soon takes I the form of heat exhaustion, heat apo- j piexy, or genuine sunstroke, the thermic j fever of some writers. Those who arc ; exhausted by the heat have a cool, moist j skin, a rapid, weak pulse and respiration j movement, and the pupil or the eye is dilated. In fact, the symptoms arc those of collapse. These patients will probably recover promptly, an event which may be hastened by the use of a tonic and restorative treatment. Those who suffer from heat apoplexy frequently becomo unconscious at the outset. TIig heart and breathing apparatus arc not markedly disturbed and the pupil maybe normal, but unconsciousness deepens and the ease runs on to a fatal termination. An artery has been broken in the braiu, and the poured out blood pressing on the nerve ccutcrs, bring3 about the fatal event. A treatment calculated to draw the blood from the brain to the extremities, hot foot baths, bleeding, etc., promises to be the most useful in such cases. The thermic fever patient is unconscious and convulsed, and his body temperature may be 103 degrees Fahrenheit?that is about ten degrees above normal. The skin of the patient feels as though it j would bum your hand when laid thereon. I In this CU3C the thorough and prompt ap- j plication of cold is needed. Ice to the j head and cold water to the body gener- i ally will be in order. Medical advice j and assistance should be promptly had j in cither of the two cases last referred to. Complete recovery from sunstroke ! Lj rare, the brain being permanently J crippled or affected in many eases. l?csidcuce in a cold climate, it is said, affords most hope for such patients?Chicago Post. Small Arms i:i Warfare. The Springfield rifle was called an "obsolete" affair compared with European small arms by Senator Teller during the consideration of the Fortications bill in the Senate. That may be true, ? ZL ...:4.x. <1% a com purl LI LJ 11 Willi L11C IIC'OC uia^u^tug 44- j flcs; yet it is still an open question whether in actual "contest the Springfield | would not hold its own, especially if the infantry fighting was of any duration. The desirability of transforming the Springfield model into a magazine gun seems to have been decided in the negative by the experts at the national armory, the position taken being that an entirely new model would have to be accepted if the change was decided upon. And meanwhile our small arm9 experts arc closely watching experiments everywhere with improved magazine models, so that when the time comes that 'v ^ l +Vin I me uovernmcui, wuuia auutuu fj"" <-"> best ia the world maybe produced. Oa the other hand, constant tests at the national armory ia this city demonstrate that many of the new models invented in Europe and this country cannot cope with the perfect Springfield loader as an j all around weapon for the battlefield.? Springfield {Muss.) Republican. IJorax Balhs. Delicate women, says the Detroit Journal, writers and sedentary persons whe J feel chily even in the summer should | never sit without foot-warmers or fur- ! lined slippers if at all chilly. Mental exorcises exhausts the bodily heat. You remember how George Eliot always was chilly when writing, aud many a professional worker recognizes the familial fcelin<r. Hot baths, with plenty of borax ia the water, and friction afterward, get up a healthy action of the skin, which leaves the face fair and opal-tinted hours afterward. One of the most beautiful complexions I knew is kept by this practice, joined to care in eating. The eyes will be dark and bright after such a bath, but if you want to insure their brilliancy a pharmacist who studies these things says one must cat freely of tomatoes for the sake of the atrophine or its kindred quality they contain. Certainly, wholesome tomatoes keep skin and eyes in good condition as far as food can do it. Hoiy to Keep Fish When Caught. The angler should take care of his fish after lie has caught theiu. It is discreditable to fetch back a lot of sun and wind j i_! i ,i ol:ir i ill it'll iimi, ai; tiiiiu-j mi* uijit x iu | a handful of grass or ferns in the bottom ! of tin; creel ar.'l kill the lish as soon a.- j caught by hitting thctn n sharp blow on the back of the hcatl. If the weather is hot, clean the morning catch at noon, and every few hours dip the creel in the stream. The best way to keep fish" to take home is as follows: Clean them thoroughly, taking care to remove the gills and the blood under the back-bone, wipe dry inside and out, but do not wash them; sprinkle them inside with black pepper, but on no account use salt. Pack in cool, fresh grass and keep them in the shade. If ice is used it should be put in a tin can or at least at the bottom of the creel, for it spoils the flavor of rish to have them soaking in water? Forest and Stream. . . .... . - - ' : --v." ' ; -r / :;. - ' * REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN'S DIVINE SUNDAY SERMON. "3Ieetlng Our Friends in Heaven." Text: "Ishall go to him."?II Samuel xii., 23. There is a very sick child in the abode of David the King. Disease, which stalks up the dark lane of the poor and puts its smothering hand on lip and nostril of the wan and wasted, also mounts the palace stairs, and bending over the pillow blows into the face of a young Prince the frosts of pain and death. Tears are wine to the King of Terrors. Alas! for David the King. He can neither sleep nor eat, and lies prostrate on his face, weeping and wailing until the palace riugs with the outcry of woe. What are courtly attendants or victorious armies or conquere.i provinces under such circumstances? What, to any parent, is all splendid surrounding when his child is sick? Seven days have passed on. There in that great house two eyelids are gently closed, two little hands folded, two little feet quiet, nr.a i,<><> rf ct.ii I Thp servants come to bear the tidings to tha King, but they cannot make up their minds to tell him. and tlioy 6tand at the door whispering about the matter, and David hears them and he looks up and says to them: "Is the child dead?" "Yes; he is dead." David rouses himself up. washes himself, puts on new apparel, and sits down to food. What power hushed that tempest? What strength was it that litted up that King whom grief nad dethroned? Oh, it was the thought that he would come again into the possession of thatdarlingchild. Nogravedigger'sspade could hide him. The wintry blasts of death could not put out the bright light. There would be a forge somewhere that with silver hammer would weld the broken links. In a city where the hoofs of .the pale horse nover strike the pavement he would clasp his lost treasure. He wipes away the tears from his eyes, and he clears the choking grief from his throat and exclaims: "I shall go to him." Was David right or wrong? If we part tv;ii ? ? mont. a?raiii in the next world? "Well," says some one, ''that seems to bo an impossibility. Heaven is so large a place ve never could fin 1 oar kindred there." Going into some city, without having appointed a time and place for meeting, you might wauder around for-weeks and for months, and perhaps for years, and never see each other; and heaven is vaster thau all earthly cities together, and how are you going to find your departed friend in that country? It is so vast a realm. John went up on "one mountain of inspiration, and ho looked oif upon the multitude, and he said: "Thousands of thousands.'' Then he came upon a greater altitude of inspiration and he looked off ulion it again, and he said: "Ten thousand times ten thousand." And then ho came on a higher mount of inspiration, and looked off again and he said: "A hundred and forty and four thousand and thousands of thousands." And he came on a still greater height of inspiration, and he looked oir again and exclaimed: "A great multitude that no man can number " Now I ask, how are you goins to find your friends iu such a throng as that? Is not this idea we have been entertaining after all a falsity? Is this doctrine of future recognition of friends in heaven a guess, a myth, a whim, or is it a granitic foundation upon which the soul pierced of all ages may build a glorious hope? Intense question. Every heart in this audience throbs right into it. There is iu every soul here the tomb of at lfnst one dead. Tremendous question. It makes tho lip quiver, and the cheek flush, anrl the entire nature thrill. Shall wo know each other there? I get letters almost every month asking ine to discuss this subject. I get a letter in a bold, scholarly hand, ou gilt-edged paper, askiug me to discuss this question, and I say; "Ah. that is a curious man, and he wants a curious question solved." But I get another letter. It is written with a trembling hand, and on what seems to be a torn out leaf of a book, and here and there is the mark of a tear, and I say: "Oh, that is a broken heart, and it wants to be comforted." The object of this sermon is to take this theory out of tho region of surmiso and speculation into the region of positive certainty. People say: "It woul 1 be very pleasant if that doctrine wore true. I hops jt may be true. Perhaps it is true. I wish it were true." But I believe that 1 can bring nn accumulation of argument to bear upon this matter which will prove the doctrine of future recognition as plainly as that there is any heaveu at all, uni that the kiss of reunion at the celestial gate will ba as certain as tho dyiug kiss at the door, of the sepulcher Now, when you are goinjj to build a ship i frou must get the right kind of timber. You | ay the keel and make the framework of th9 very best materials, the keelson, stanchions, plank shear, counter timber-knee, transoms, ali of solid oak. You may build a ship of lighter materia^ but when'the cyclone comes on it will go down. Now we lnay have a great many beautiful theories about tho future world, built out of our own fancy, and they may do very well as long as we have smooth sailing in the world, but when tho storms of sorrow come upon us, and the hurricane of death, we will be swamped?we will be foundered. We want a theory built out of the solid oak of.lxod's eternal Word. The doctrine of future recognition is not so often positively stated in the Word of God as implied, aud you know, my frieuds, that that is,after all, tho strongest mode of affirmation. Your friend travels in foreign lands. He comes home. Ho does not begin by arguing with ?ou to prove that there are such places as ondon and Stockholm and Paris and Dresden and UerJin, but his conversation implies it. And so this Bible does not so positively state this theory as, all up and down, its chapters take it forgr.inte 1. What does my text imply? "I shall go to him." What consolation would it be to David to go to his child if he would not know him? Would David have been allowed to record this anticipation for the inspection of all ages if it wero a groundless anticipation? We read In the first book of the Bible, Abraham died and was gathered to his people. Jacob died and was gathered to his people. Moses died and was gathered to his people. Wliir tliftir frinmlc 1 h<?ir ?r iiuu |iiuj/ac.- ?? uj , ? ?. *v- .w, radcs. their old comnanions. Of course it means that. It cannot; mean anything else. So in the very beginning of tho Bible four times that is taken for granted. The whole New Testament is en arbor, over which this doctrine creeps liko a luxuriant vino full of the purple clusters of consolation. James, John and Peter followed Christ into the mountain. A light falls from heaven on that mountain and lifts it into the glories of celestial. (Jurist's garments glow and His face shiues like the sun. The door of heaven swings open. Two spirits come down and alight on thut mountain. The disciples look at them and recognize them as Moses and E!ia5. Now, if tho-e disciples standing on the earth coul i recogniza these two spirits who had been for years in heaven, do you tell mo that we, witii our heavenly eyesight, will not be able to recognize those who have gone out from among us only five, ten, twenty, thirty years ago? The Bible indicates over and over again that the angels know each othor, aud then tlie Bible says that we are to bo higher than the angels; and if the angels have tue power of recognition shall not we, who aro to bo higher than thev in the next realm, have as good eyesight aud as goo.l capacity? What did Christ mean in His conversation with Mary and Martha when He s-aid, 'Thy brother shall rise again.' it was us muai u.i to say, '"Don't cry. Don't wear yourself out with this trouble. You will see Him agaiu. Thy brother shall rise again." The Bible describes heaven as a great home circle. Well, now, that wouM be a very queer home circle where the members did not know each other. The Bible describes death as a sleep. If we know each other before we go to sleep shall we not know each other after wo wake up? Oil, yen. We will know cne'a other a great deal better then than now; "for now," says the anostle. ' we see through 11 class darkly, but tuen race to race." It will bo iny puritied, enthronod and glorifiol body gazing on your purified, enthroned and glorified body. Now I demand, if you believe tlfe Bible, that you take this theory of future recognition out of the realm of speculation and surmise into the region of positive certainty, and no more keep saying: "I hope it is so, I have an idea it is so, I Ruess it is so." Be able to say, with all the concentrated energy of body, mind and soul, '! know it is so." Thero are in addition to these Biblo arguments other reasons why I accept this theory. In the first place bocausa the rejection of it implies the entire obliteration of our memory. Can it be possible that we shall forget forever those with whose walk, look, manner we have been so long familiar? Will death come, and with a sharp, keen blade hew away this faculty of memory? , . ' - : ' * . . - . . . .-v. ; ^ *;" lilv.- : . ;. / ' Abraham said to Dives: "Son, remember." ! If the exiled and lost remember will not the enthroned remember? You know very well that our joy in any circumstance is augmented by the companionship of our friends. We can not see a picture with less than four eyes or hear a song with less than four ears. We want some one beside us with whom to exchange glances and sympathies, and I suppose the joy of heaven is to bs augmented by the fact that we are to have our inenas witn us wueu there rise before us the thrones of the blessed, and when there surges up in our ears tho jubilate of the saved. Heaven is not a contraction; it is an expansion. If I know vou here 1 will know you better there. Here I so3 ycu witi only two eyes, but there the soul shall have a million eyes. It will b? immortality gazing 011 immortality, ransomed spirit in colloquy with ransomed spirit, victor beside victor. When John Evans, tho Scotch minister, was seated In his stu iy nis wire came in and said to him: "My dear, do you think we will know each other in heaven?" I He turned to her and said: "My dear, do you think we will be bigger fools in heaven than we are here?" Again I accept this doctrine of future recognition because the world's expectancy affirms it. In all lands and ages thi3 theory is receiveil. What form of religion planted it? No form of religion, for it is received under all forms of religion. Then, I argue, a sentiment, a feeling, an anticipation, universally nlnnfcori must nave been uod lmDlanted, and if God implanted it is rightfully implanted. Socrates writes: "Who would not part with a great deal to purchase a meeting with Orpheus and Homer? If it be true that this is to be the consequence or deatn l couia even be able to die often." Cicero, living before Christ's coming, said: "Oh,glorious day when I shall retire from this low and sordid scene to associate with tha divine assemblage of departed spirits, ancl not only with the one I have just now mentioned, but with my dear Cato, the best of sons and the most faithful of men. If I seemed to bear bis death with fortitude it was by no means that I did not most sensibly feel the loss I had sustained. It was because I was supported by the consoling reflection that we could not long be separated." The Norwegian believes it. The Inlian believes it. The Greonlaniler believes it. The Swiss believes it. The Turk believes it. Under every sky, by every river, in every zone, the theory is adopted, and so I sav a principle universally implanted must be Go:l implante I, and hence a right belief. The argument is irresistible. Again I adopt this theory because there are features of moral temperament and features of the soul that will distinguish us forever. Plow do we know each other in this world? Is it merely by the color of the eye, ? ~ fKrt liotf av tVn* fnninl nrn. I ur U1B 1CIJ?C11 Ul l/UO HUM, w* ?..v |,.v portions? Ob, no. It is by the disposition as well, by natural allinity, using the word in tho very best sense and not in the* bad sens?, and if in the dust our body should perish, and lie there forever, and there should be no resurrection, still the soul has enough features and the disposition lias enough features to make us distinguishable. I can understand how in sickness a man will becomc so delirious that he will not know his own friends; but will we be blasted with such insufferable idiocy that, standing b:side our bsst friends for all eternity, we will never guess who they are? Again, I think that one reason why we ought to accept this doctrine is because wo never iu this world t ave an opportunity to give thanks to those to whom wo are spiritually indebted. The joy of heaven, we are told, is to bo inaugurated by a review of life's work. These Christian men and women who have been toiling for Christ, have they seen the full result of their work? Oh. no. In the church of Somerville, N. J., John TT.A^ntiKi<w/vU fnr n rrm11 niflliv > i CULHUUJ bMVUVU fcvr. ?, Q.v- j years. He felt that his ministry was a failure, although he was a faithful minister, preaching the Gospel allthe?time. He died, and died aima discouragements, ana went home to God; for no one ever doubted that John Vredenburgh was a good Christian minister A little while after his death there came a great awakening in Somerville, and one Sabbath two hun Ired souls stood up at the Christian altar espousing the cause of Christ, among them my own father and mother. And what was peculiar in regard to nearly all of those tvvo hundred souls vas that) they dated their religious impressions from the ministry of John Vredenburgh. Will that gooJ Christian man before the throne of Go t navur meet those souls brought to Christ through his instrumentality? Oh, of course he will know them. I remember one Sabbath afternoon, borne down with the sense <JT my sins, and knowing not God, 1 took up Doddridge's "F.iso and Progress." Oil, what a dark afternoon it was, and I read the chapters, an 11 read thu prayers, an 1I tried to make the prayers my own. Oh, I must sie l'ailip Do Idriige. A glorious old b jjk lie wrote. It is out of fashion uo.v. There is a mother before the throne of God. You say her joy is full. Is it!- You say there can be no augmentation of it. Cannot there be? Her son was a wanderer and a vagabond on the earth when that good mother dieJ. Ho broke her old heart She died leaving him iu the wilderness of sin. She is before the throuo of God now Years c rononts nf hl"?? priniA^ find gives liis heart to Goi aiii becomoi a useful Christian, and dies and enters the gates of heaven. You tell me that that mother's joy cannot be augmented? Let them confront each other, 'lho son and the mother. "Oh,' shesaysto the angles of God, "rejoice with mo. The dead is alive again, and the lost is found. Hallelujah! I never expected to see this lost one come back." The Bible says na tions are to be born in a day. When China comes to God will it not know Dr. Abeel? When India comes will it not know Dr. John Scudder? When the Indians como to God will they not know David Brainard? I see a soul entering heaven at last, with covered face at the idea that it has done so little for Christ and feeling borne down with unworthiness, and it says to itself, "I have no right to be here." A voice from the throne says: "Oh, you forget that Sundayschool class you invited to Cnrist. I was one of them." And another voice says: "You forget that poor man to whom you gave a loaf of bread and told of the heavenly bread. I was that man." And another says: "You forget that sick one to whom you gave inediciue for the body and the soul. I was that one." And then Christ, from a throne overtopping all the rest, will say: "Inasmuch as yc did it to one of the least of these, you did it to Me." An l then the seraphs will take their harps from the side of the throne and cry: "what song shall it be?" And Christ, bending over the harpers, shall say: "It shall be the 'Harvest Home.'" One more reason why I am disposer! to accept this doctriuo of future recognition is that so many in their last hour on earth have confirmed this theory. I speak not of persons who have been delirious in their last moment and knew not what tney were acour, but of persons who diet! in calmn?ss and placidity and who were not naturally superstitious, Often tha glories of heaven have struck the dying pillow, and the departing man has said he saw and heard those who had gone away from him. How often it is 1 in the dying moments parents see their de- ] parted children and children see their departed parents. I came down to tho banks of the Mohawk River. Iu was evening and I 1 wanted to go over the river, and so I waved my hat and shouted, and after a while I saw some one waving on the opposite bauk and I heard him shout, and the boat came across, * and I got in and was transported. And so I < simposo it will bo in the evening of our life. "Wo will comedown to the river of death and give a signal to our friends on the other shore and they will give u signal back to us, and the boat comes and our departed kindred c are the osrsnien, the fires of the setting day s tin?eing the tops of the paddies. Oh, have you never sat by such a death- v bed? In that hour you hear the departing C soul crv, "Hark! Look!*' You hearkened r an 1 you looked. A little child pining away rj because of the death of its mother, gptting I weaker and weaker every day, was taken v into tho room where tiling mo picture 01 ner s mother. She seemeil to enjoy looking at it, 0 and then she was taken away and after a'.vhilo died. In the last moment that wan and wasted little one liftei hor hands, whiio 11 her faco lighted up with the glory of tiie next t world, and cried nut 4*Mothor!" You toil me she (lid not see hor mother? She did. So in my first settlement at Belleville a plain 1 man said to me: "What do you think 1 n heard last niirht? I was in tho room where e one of my neighbors was dying, lio was a j | good man, and ho said ho heard the angels ; of God singing before the throne. I haven't | 1 much poetry about me, but I listened aud I c heard them, too." Said I, "I have no doubt .] of it." Why, wo are to bo taken up to heaven at last by ministering spirits. Who are they to be? Souls that went up from Madras, or Antioch, or Jerusalem? Ob, no; li our glorified kindred are going to troop c around them. Heaven is not a stately, formal place, as I sometimes hear it described, a very frigidity a of splendor, where people stand on cold for* t -- - fil- .-J.,' :?>> malities and go around about with heavy crowns of gold on their heads. No. that is not my idea of heaven. My idea of heaven is more-like this: You are seated in the eveningtide by the fireplace, your whole family there, or nearly all of them there. While you are seated talking and enjoying the evening hour there is a knock at the door and the door opens, and there comes in a brother that has been long absent. He has been absent, for years you have not seeD him, and no sooner do you make up your mind that it is certainly he than you leap up. and the question is who shall give him the first embrace. That is my idea of heaven?a great home circle where they are waiting for us. Oh, will you not know your mother's voice there? She who always called you by your first name long after others had given you the formal "Mister?' You ware never anything but James, or John, or George, or Thomas, or Mary, or Florence to her. Will you not know your child's voice? She of the bright eye and tho ruddy cheek and the quiet step, who came in from play and flung herself into your lap, a very shower of mirth and beauty? Why, the picture is graven in your soul. It cannot wear out. If that little one should stand on the other side of some heavenly hill and call to you, you would heai her voice above the burst of heaven's greal orchestra. Know it? Xou could not nelp but know it. Now I bring you this glorious consolation of future recognition. If you could get this theory into your heart it would lift a great many shadows that are stretching across it. When I was a lad 1 used to go out to the railroad track and nut mv ear down on thf track, and I could hear the express trait rumbling miles away and coming on; and today, my friends, if we only had faith enough we could put our ear down to the grave of our dead and listen and hear In the distance the rumbling on of the chariots of resurrection victory. 0 heaven, sweet heaven I You do not spell heaven as you used to spell it You usfld to spell it h-e-a-v-e-n?heaven. Bui now when you want to spell that word you place side by side the faces of the loved ones who are gone, and in that irradiation of light and love and beauty and joy you spell it as never before in songs and hallelujahs. Oh, ye whose hearts are down under the sod of the cemetery, cheer up at the thought ol this reunion. Oh, how much you will have to tell them when onco you meet them! How much you have been through since you saw thom last. On the shining shore you will talk it all over. The heartaches, thd loneliness, the sleepless nights, the weeping until you had no more power to weep, because the heart was withered and dried up. Story of vacant chair and empty cradle, and little shoe only half worn out, never to be worn again, just the shape of the fool that once pressed it. And dreams when you thought that the departed had come back agaiu, and the room seemed bright with their faces, and you started up to greet them, and in the effort the dream broke and you found yourself standing amid rcom in the midnight?alone. Talking it all over, and then hand in hand walking up and down in the light. No sorrow, no tears, no Hoa+h H honvAn hoaiififnl Vionvon ' T-T^nv^n where our friends are. Heaven where we expect to be. In the east they take a cage of birds and bring it to the tomb of the dead, and then they open the door of the cage and the birds, flying out, sing. And I would today bring a cage of Christian consolations to the grave of your loved ones, and I would open tha door and lot them fill all the air with the music of their voices. Oh, how they bound in, these spirits before the throne! Some shout with gladness, some break forth into uncontrolable weeping for joy, some stand speechless in their shock of delight. They sing, they quiver with excessive gladness, they gaze on the temples, on the palaces, on the waters, on each other. They weave their joy into garlands, they spring it into triumphal arches, they strike it on timbrels, and then all the loved ones gather in a great circle around the throne of God?fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and friends, hand to hand around about the throne of God? the circle ever widening?hand to hand, joy to joy, jubilee to jubilee, victory to victory, "until tho day break and the shadows flee away. Turn thou, my beloved, and be like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether." Oh, how different it is on earth from the way it is in heaven when a Christian dies! We sav, "Close his eyes." In heaven they say, "Give him a palm." On earth we say, "Let him down in the ground." In hea ven thev say, "Raiso him on a throne." On earth it is. "Farewell, farewell." In heaven it is, "Welcome, welcome." And I see a Christian soul coming down to the river of death, anJ he stcos into the river and the water conies to the anlfle. He says, "Lord Jesus, is this death?'' "No," says Christ, "this is not death." And he wades still deeper down into the waters until the flood comes to the knee, lie says "L<jrd Jesus, toll in4, telf lii4, is tin's death?" And Christ says, "No, no; this is not death." And ho wades still farther down until the wave comes to the girdle, au'l the soul says, "Lord Jesus, is this death?" "No," savs Christ, "this is not." And deeper in wades the soul till the billow strikes the lip, and the departing one cries, "Lord Jesus, is this death?" "No," says Christ, "this is not." But when Christ had lifted that soul on a throne of glory, and the pomp and joy of heaven came surging to its feet, then Christ said, "Phis, oh transported goul, this is death." 1V0RDS OF WISDOM. "I will," is a miracle worker. A man without faults has no friends. Our heaviest burdens are those we borrow. The man who won't bend will some day havo to break. Genius may be swift, but pcrseverence has the surest feet. The man who dyes his whiskers never fools but one person. The purchasing power of money is confined to this earth. The man who never looks ahead will always be behindhand. Tombstones are more charitable than a good many living people. The most expensive thing that can happen to you is to be wrong. No rich man was ever happy unless he used his money to make others so. It makes the best of in mad aX over to be told the truth about ourselves. You can't make somebody else happy without getting in the same condition yourself. If you want to find out how much clear dog there is in a man, lind out how lie treats his wife. Thsrfi .ire men who would frrowl that the wind was in the wrong direction if it was raining money. The man who worships a gohlcn coif :au never know the delight of owning :i :ow that gives milk. Substitute for Beef Te.\ Dr. Ris, cf Kloten, emphatically reoramends pea soup as a most serviceable ubstitutc for beef tea in the case of in alids, convalescents, and more espeially for patients suffering from cancer >f the stomach, or diabetes mellitus. i'ho method lie advises is to take peas, rater, and a sufficient amount of some oup vegetables, add one-half per cent. >f carbonate of soda, boiling ihe whol< intil tho peas are completely disintegrated, the soup to stand until ledimeu atioa is complete, and finally decant the lear thin lluid above the deposit. The iroiluct is stated to resemble a good neat soup in its taste, to be at least (ptallv digestible, and, at the same time, o surpass the very best meat soup in nuritivc value. In regard to the latter laini, Dr. His states in explanation tha! icas?as Tell as beans or lentils, cithoi f which may be used instead of peas ?contain a considerable proportion of cgumen, that is, a vegetable albumen, asily soluble in a faintly alkaline water, iot coagulated by heat, readily absorbed, ,nd equal to the albumen of egg in nuritiousness. . .i'r~ , -jS ' ' ' -r : BLOWN TO ATOMS. An Awful Calamity in a Little Ohio Tillage. Fatal Explosion of Sixteen Hub*^ dred Kegs of Giant Powder. A terrible explosion occurred late in the afternoon at King's powder works on tin Little Miami Railroad, twenty miles northeast of Cincinnati, Ohio. Ten personi were killed. Two empty freight cars were being rolled on to a sida -v. track where a car containing 500 kegs of gunpowder was standing. As the cars struck there was a terrific explosion and immediately afterward another car containing 800 kegs of gunpowder exploded, making 1300 kegs altogether. William Frauley, a brakeman in the service of the Little Miami, was standing on one of the empty cars when the explosion occurred. His body must have been blown to atoms. No trace of it could be found. At least nine other persons were killed. The King Powder Company and the Peters Cartridge Works have shops on both sides of the river alon* the railroad. Th^ explosion occurred on the south side, and the destruction was enormous. There are a num' ber of cottages occupied by workmen in the powder factory and situated close to the track. These were shattered by the explosion and their inmates Injured. Twelve or fifteen girls at work in the cartridge factory were crippled by the explosion. The railway station and the freight-house belonging to the Little Miami Railroad, together with all the adjacent buildings, were set on fire and totally consumed. The track and ties of the railroad were fairly torn out of the ground . and a great hole ploughed in the ground. The Peters Cartridge Factory was burned to the ground, nothing but a mas3 of blackened smouldering ruins remain to mark the spot where the building stood. As soon as the news reached Cincinnati, about 5 o'clock, a relief train was despatched to the: scene of the disaster with superintendent . Peters and a large party of surgeons on m board, and relief was afforded the cufTdrengfl as soon as possible. As most of the girls who^^f were injured live at Morrow and South Leba- flj non, it was most probable that they will be taken to their homes in those places. fl Peters's cartridge factory was a large build in5 and fully supplied with a great amount nFnnstirmnphinorv hoth for the manufao I ture of shells and the loading of shotgun, ammunition. A large force of employes was at work at the time the explosion oc- :f curred. News from King's Mills at nine o'clock that night was that ten dead bodies had been taken from the ruins and thirty were known to be wounded. A messenger of the Adams Expre?3 Company on the local train of the Pan Handle road says that when he passed King's Mill' station at half-past eleven everything combustible was burning,and people everywhere' for a great distance around were fighting! the fire. The roadmaster of the Little1 Miami road, who got on at that station, said' there were three families living in little cot- % tages near the place of the explosion, and six hours' diligent search had failed to find any traca of them. An incident relateq by him was that eight or ten girls in the cartridge factory saved themselves from the flames by catching hold of a rope that happened to bang from the house to the ground and sliding down. * >, HELIGOLAND. The Little Island Which England Has Ceded to Germany. A Berlin dispatch states that Admiral Reinhold Werner declares that tha possession of Heligoland is mora vaiuaoie inaa torn- ? tory in Africa, because it renders a blockade H of the German North Sea almost impossible, H and spares Germany the keeping of a fleet H there. H Speaking of the iittle island which GreatH Britain has just ceded to Germany, rccei^flf^H ing in return extensive territory in Afncaj^^MH writer in Harper's Weekly says: "The relative value of national possessions^? is curiously illustrated by the fact chat England, with her 9,(JOO.OOJ square miles of the earth's surface, receives for this little island, H which is not as large as Central Park, an indemuity representing about half a million square miles of Africa soil. Even this may HELIGOLAND. * prove less than profitable, for Heligoland yields an annual revenue of $10,090, wtiile he would bo a bold prophet to asssrt that any European power will make both ends meet in the administration of the Black Continents ^8 But though as a mercantile exchange'the H| British have received a questionable property HP from Germany, still it is a matter of con* Bp gratulation for the civiiized world that the Bfl two greatest Protc-stant nations of Europe, both belonging to the same Germanic race,v tin:! both rivals in the same industrial field, should have removed from between them the cause of what might at any time provoke a war. BB "Heligoland became English after tn9 de- HI | feat of Napoleon and his exile to Elba. At that time 110 one but Gneisenau dreamed of I such a thing as a mighty German Empire, A1 - ? Oncotan B | stretching rrom me ol-boii tu frontier, and England had little difficulty in holding it bv treaty." A "It lies adjacent to Germany's greate^A-^H port, and commands the approach tWe second in importance as well. If a foreign power should claim possession of Block Isl? and or Fisher's Island, we could realize how HH Germans regard Heligoland in British hands. Or if we could imagine an island off the mouth of the Mississippi, or between Sandy Hook and Fire Island, the cases would be somewhat analogous, provided the British flag floated over them. Fortunately Heligoland has long since ceased to be considered valuable to England, while to Germany it has risen in importanca with every increase in the German navy, every addition toGer>^H many's merchant marine, aud, above all, every ihdication of having to reckon with Hfl Russian or French cruisers." SIXTY DAYS WITHOUT POOD, Hj An Illinois Man Breaks the Fasting ^Hj Record and Then Dies. HH John Roth, who outdid old Tanner in his H9 celebrated fast, died in the County Asylum it Galena, 111., having passed hissixtieth day of total abstinence from food of any kind or nourishment, except a slight quantity of water which was forced into his stomach mechanically every twenty-four hours. For such an absolute fast his record is, no ^B| doubt, the longest ever mado. Recently H9 Roth worked at Scales Mound, near Galena, until attacked by progressive paralysis two months aj;o, which incapacitated him for iv/irlr nml soon made it impossible for him to HBM cat. After a week of lasting lie was brought HH to tho County Asylum ou May 23, and there ^^9 lingered for liftv-three days without food. DEATH AT THE G-RADE, I i'our Women Killed by a Train and^Hx Another Fatally Injured. UH Passengers arriving at Auburn. N. a special from Owego to that on tho Lehigh Valley Railroad, re^^B port that a carriage containing five ladie^Hfl was struck at a grade crossing one and a hal^^H miles from Owego, N. Y., and tour of th^^H occupants of the vehicle were killed outrigh^^H and the fifth was fatally injured. Two of these killed were Mrs. Bert 1 laud and Mrs, Vau Dhzjt, of O wego^ B