University of South Carolina Libraries
'A-ir.- " " ~ " *. , < " j PATHS. The paths that lead to a Loaf of Bread Winds through the Swamp of Toil, And the path that lisads to a Suit of Clothes Goes through a flowerless soil, 'And the paths that ler.J to the Loaf of Bread i And the Suit of Clothes are hard to tread. And the path that lends to a House of Your [ Own j Climbs over the bowldered hills, ' And the path that leads to a Bank Account f Is swept by the blast that kills; ; But the men who start in the paths tc-day In the Lazy Hills may go astray, In the Lazy Hills are trees of shade i By ti Ireamy Brooks of Sleep, And the rollicking River of Pleasure laughs, | And gambols down the steep; But when the blasts of the winter come, The brooks and the river are frozen dumb. Then woe to those in the Lazv Hills f When the blasts of the winter moan, Who strayed from the path to a Bank Ao^ count, And the path to a House of Their Own; These paths are bard in the summer heat, But in winter they lead to a snug retreat. ?5. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade, : A WOMAN OF SPIRIT. BY LILT TYXE.lt. My poor, dear husband had been dead two years and over and, though I still wore my mourning, tempered with the most becomiag of heliotrope, I had begun to feel quite reconciled to my widowhood. The dear man had been ever generous during his life time, as well became one more than thirty years the senior of his wife, and, dying, had left me well provided for. There wa* my city house and my rent roll, my various securities and my cottage by the sea. Many a young woman had greater cause for discontent. So I reasoned find forth with determined to cheer up and take a more active interest in life. I was down at my cottage for the summer. My chaperone was with me, but I began to long for companions of my own age. It occurred to me that I might ask some of my girl friends to come and stay with me. I picked out two of my bridesmaids and wrote them. Not long after I received two letters and was overjoyed at their contents. One was from Edith Westcott, a Boston friend. It said: 4'Your most kind letter received. It will give me great pleasure to go to you next week. I will let you know by telegragh. Mother wishes to be remembered. Your most loving friend," etc., ctc. The other was from Charlotte?or Charlie, as she liked to be called?Foster. It was to the first as prestissimo is to allegro : "You dearest darling 1 1 will fly to you. Iam dying to tell you of all my latest triumphs. I will talk you to death. It seems a century since we last met. Meet me day after to-morrow morning. Tour own," etc., ctc. Edith was two years Charlotte's senior, but it was not all a difference in age. However, they were both children of fortune and my very dear friends. And how they would brighten up the cottage I could very well imagine, for the cottage was a little sombre, though I pride myself on its general arrangement. The interior was just as I could wish it. A wide passage through the center; a goodsized room on the right, with polished floor far dancing and a piano; back of this the dining-room; on the left a sitting-room, rather luxuriously furnished for the seaside; back of this and connected by a doorway draped with a portiere of antique lace, a small library reading-room, well stocked with summer fiction and the like; beyond this a breakfast-room. The upper chambers were mostly sleeping-rooms. I spent the afternoon seeing that everything was properly arranged and nest morning went down to meet Charlie Foster. ,;Is Edith coming?" she asked, almost the first thing, for I had written her I should ask Edith. "Yes," I answered; "she'll arrive later." "Did you know she is engaged?" "To be married? ^o; to whom? and when?" "I dcn't know him," said Charlie, tossing her pretty head. uHe i3 a Mr. Haskell?of Boston, of course." Charlie was a perfect little beauty." She stood about tive feet two inches and weighed 125 pounds. Her eyes were hazel and danced like sea water in the sun; her hJir was a splendid mass of golden chestnut. She was a precious lump of vivacity. Four days after arrived Edith Westcott. Edith wis very tall and slender, exceedingly pale, with black-lashed, serious gray eyes. Her hair was black, without a thread of color. She was the quintessence of grace, moving deliberately, laughing softly and speaking always in a low tone. ' yif? three were happy enough during the first few days, chatting together about old friends and old times. Then solicitude came to me. Edith, I found, had some peculiar notions of her otto. Being engaged, she discouraged even the slightest attention from gentlemen other than her betrothed. Of course there wero many young men in cur circle of acquaintances, but perceiving Miss Westcott'a lack of interest they would naturally all turn to Charlotte, and I feared that Edith would presently find it very stupid in consequence. "Why don't you -write Mr. Haskell to come down?" I finally ventured to ask her. Edith colcrod dclicately. 'I believe I will," she said, and Mr. Haskell, whoso first name wa3 Harold, in due time presented himself at the beach. He was a charming blonde of thirty-five or more. I liked him very much; so did Charlie. "Oh, Edith!" she sighed. "Whatan fnll/Mi-1 isn't CIC^UUU IVilVH ItlVU, WW, -w ? ? You're a lucky girl!" Edith's betrothed, ia turn, took a great fancy to Charlie. She had such buoyancy, such glowing health. lie could not keep his eyes from her. There! I might stop at once and let you guess at the sequel; but you would probably not guess it quite right. Some things come to pass curiously. It did not trouble me, a9 time passed, that Mr. Haskell evinced a great liking for little Charlie. Perhaps I did not give it much thought at the time, though afterward I remembered that he danced with her a good deal and was very fond of her singing. Nor do I know what Edith thought. I only know of the awakening. A month had gone and Haskell was still at the beach. Ono morning five of as?includ'ug a Mr. Marshall* whom I had intended as Charlie's escort, but who had chosen to attach himself to poor old matronly me?went for a long walk back into the country away from the seashore. Returning we took a ort cut to desend a rather steep hill, llow it happened I do not quite know, but it seemed that Charlie m?de a misstep, fell and rolled downward for some little distance, until her dress caught on a shrub or stone and stopped her. It all transpired in an instant, but Harold Haskell was quick to lift her in his arms and insist that he should carry her home. But, Charlie though trembling, managed to laugh. 4'I am not hurt," she quavered. "Put me down quick. I'm a terrible Weight!" We all laughed hysterically. But Haskell was still pale with fright. Immediately we had reached the cottage Charlie sank upon a sofa. "I'm awfully shaken up, you know," she said. "I shall not stir a step for an hour," she said. Edith was going to her room before luncheon. Unarne called alter ner: "Would you mind tossing down ray book, Edith, dear?" "I will bring it down," Edith answered. Neither of the girls had brought maids. Charlie always preferred to dispense with hers when she could, and Edith had ray own at her service. A tew minutes later I was in the breakfast room giviog some orders about luncheon and talking to Mrs. "Webster, my chaperone. Mrs. Webster, good crtnl fnrnorl from fhr* rnrtm rmf. fVirmirrV* a rear passage aud I turned to re-enter the library, when the sight I saw through the antique portiere beyond transfixed me. Harold Haskell, the betrothed of Edith Westcott, had clasped Charlie Foster to his [heart and was kissing her passionately. "My darling, I love you!" he murmured. I slipped from the breakfast room into the main passage, feeling cold with horror, when, glancing up, I saw Edith midway on the staircase, white as death and supporting herself by the handrail. Had she seen or heard? I felt I must say something. "Are you coming down?" I asked. "I was coming down," she replied in a strained voice, "but I don't feet well. X Liliuzv tui; juu xiao ullcccuu. uiu. x >uu go back and lie down. Here is Charlie's book. "Will you give it to her?" She dropped it to me and crept on up. "I am so sorry," I said, vaguely. "Shall I send you anything?" "No; I will be better presently," she answered in a weary way, and I heard her door close with a sharp sound. Luncheon was announced then. The others must have thought me unusually quiet. I felt as if I were the guilty one and dared not look in their faces. And yet I was not angry, only sorry. It seemed like misfortuue. After luncheon they went out on the piazza together. I waited a little, then went up to Edith. She was lying down, with her hand to shade her eyes. The room was darkened and I could barely sse her face. "Yes, I am much better now," she said. "Where is Charlie?" "Gone out with Mr. Haskell," I an C^m^V.^TTT T felt almost as if the fault were mine. Edith spoke abruptly then. "Charlie is in love, I believe." I started. "In love! You think so?" "Yes, I am sure of it. It may surprise you when I tell you." "Surprise me?" I repeated, with indecision of tone. "Yes, because Charlie is in love with Mr. Haskell." "Edith," I said, with a shocked accent which was not all assumed?for it seemed really horrible to hear the fact announced in cold-blooded English? "Edith, your fiance?" "A few words will alter that," she replied, calmly. "You see, Nora, we are all apt to make mistakes." "You do not love him," I interrupted. Edith forced a laugh. "You see. it will be all richt eventuallv ?right for all of U3. They love each other, and I?I never could marry him." I sighed with intense relief to hear this. "I shall want a little conversation with Mr. Haskell alone," she went on. "After dinner will do. If you will take Charlie out, you know?" I promised promptly. That dinner! Shall I ever forget how silent we were?all of us? How painfully the time dragged? Charlie went out afterwards during the evening to walk with me, but we had not much to say to each other. It is almost impossible for me to dissemble. Charlie finally strayed oil and stood alone, gazing out upon the sea. I myself turned back to the house, not intending to enter, nor for a moment supposing I should see or hear aught of that final interview. But Harold Haskell's words camc floating through the open windows: "I thought?l icareu " Then Edith's voice stopped him. "The woman who perists in loving a man who does not love her, but loves another, is fallen very low, indeed. Am I not right?" Yes, you are right," he answered quickly. Edith stepped to the window and called Charlie's name. Charlie had already turned to come back and continued at the same not rapid pace. I did not go in with her, but stood without, gazing through the vvindow. Edith stood before the door into the library. She had reached behind her with one hand to part the curtains. "Charlie," she said, smiling faintly. (I could see her looking very pale.) "Charlie, Mr. Haskell and I have been making a mistake for some time past. T hnve iust been exDlainins mvself on the subject and (returning hia ring) I think perhaps you arc interested in knowing about it." Charlie burst out laughing and crying at the same moment: "Oh, you dear Edith! I am so glad you don't care for him!" and rushed to her arms. Edith moved slowly backward. I have seen just such motion in plays?the slow motion of one suffering yet concealing anguish. The lovers looked in each other's eyes, but I?out in the night?looked only at Edith, moving slowly, with pale face and piteous smile, backward through the parting draperies, back into the dimness of the library, whence she might pass unobserved.?New York Mercury. ItaU&n prisoners all wear redt ^ MY. DB. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "Tho Food in God's Gospel.' Text: "And the manna ceased on tha morrow after they had eaten of the old corn of the land."?Joshua vM 12. Only those who have had something to do with the coinmissiariat of an army know what a job it is to feed and clothe Ave or six hundred thousand men. Well, there is such a host as that marching across the desert. Thoy are cut off from all army supplies. There are no rail trains bringing down food or blankets. Shall they perish? No. The Lord comcs from heaven to the rescue, and Ho touches the shoes and tho coats which in a year or two would have been worn to rags and tatters, and they become stormproof and timeproof, eo that after forty years of wearing the coats and the shoes are as good as new. Besides that every morning there is a shower of bread, not sour or soggy, for tho rising of that 1 J J J~ 1. firv. U1 Id UiOUO ill ilea V cu, UUU UCiUkiai uu gers have mixod it and rolled it into balls, light, flaky and sweet, as though they were the crumbs thrown out from a heavenly banquet. Two batches of bread made every day in the upper mansion?one for those who sit at the table with the King, and the other for the marching Israelites in the Wilderness. I do not very much pity the Israelites for the fact that they had only manna to eat. It was. I suppose, the best food ever provided. I know that the ravens brought food to hungry Elijah, but I should not so well have liked those black waiters. Rather would I have the fare that came down every morning in buckets of dew?clean, sweet, God provided edibles. But now the Israelites have taken the last bit of it in their Angers, and put the last delicate morsel of it to their lips. They look out, and there is no manna. Why this cessation of heavenly supply? It was because the Israelites had arrived in Canaan, and they smelled the breath of the harvest fields, and the crowded barns of the country were thrown open to them. All the Inhabitants bad fled, and in the name of the Lord of Hosts, the Israelites took possession Df everything. Well, the threshing floor is cleared, the corn is scattered over it, theoxon ore brought around in Jazy and perpetual circuit until the corn is trampled loose; then it is winnowed with a fan, and it is ground and it is baked, and, lol there is onough bread for all the worn out host. "And tho manna ceased on the morrow after they had eaten or tne old coin or tne iana." From among the mammies of Egypt and Canaan have been brought grains of corn, exactly like onr Indian corn, and recentlyplanted, they have produced the same kind 3f corn with which we are familiar. So I im not sure which kind of grain my text refers to, but all the same is the meaning. The bisection of this subject leads me, Qrst, to speak of especial relief for especial emergency; and, secondly, of the old corn of the Gospel for ordinary circumstances. If these Israelites crossing the wilderness had not received bread from the heavenly bakeries there would first have been a long line of dead children half buried in the sand. Then there would have been a long line of dead women waiting for the jackals. Then there would havo been a long line of dead men unburied, because there would have been no one to bury them. It would havo been told in the history of the world that a great company of good people started out from Egypt for Canaan and were never heard of?as thoroughly lost in the wilderness of sand as the City of Boston and the President were lost in the wilderness of waters. What use was it to them that there was plenty of corn in Canaan or plenty of corn in Egypt? What they wanted was something to cat right there, where there was not so much as a grass blade?in other words an especial supply for au especial emergency. That is what some of you want. The ordinary comfort, the ordinary direction, tho ordinary counsel do not seem to meet your case. There are those who feel that they must have an omnipotent and immediate supply, and you shall have it. Is it pain and physical distress through whijh you must go? Does not Jesu3 know all about pain? Did Ho not suffer it in tho most sensitive part of head and hand and foot? Ho has a mixture of comfort,onodrop of which shall cure the worst paroxysm. It is the same grace that soothed Robert Hall when, after writhing on tho carpet in physical tortures, he cried out, "Ol I suffered terribly, but I didn't cry out while I was suffering, did I? Did I cry ont?" There is no such nurse as Jesus?His hand tho gentlest, His foot the lightest, His arm the strongest. For especial pang especial help. Is it approaching sorrow? Is it long, shadowing bereavement that you know is coming, because the breath is short, and tho voice is faint, and tho cheek is pale? Have you been calculating your capacity or incapacity to endure widowhood or childlessness or a disbanded homo and cried: "I cannot endure it?" Oh, worried soul, you will wake up amidst oil your troubles and find around about you tho sweet consolation of tho Gospel as thickly strewed as was tho manna around about the Israelitish encamp mentl Especial solace for especial distress. Or is it a trouble past, yet present? A silent nursery? A vacant chair opposite you at the table? A musing upon a broken family circle never again to be united? A choking sense of loneliness? A blot of grief so large that it extinguishes the light of sun, and puts out bloom of flower, and makes you reckless as to whether you live or die? Especial comfort that especial trial. Your appetite has failed for everything else. Oh, cry alluie of this wilderness manna: "I will never leave thee, I will never forsake thee." "Like as a father pitiet!i his children, so the Lor 1 pitieththem that fear Him." "Can a woman forget her scckling child, that she should not have compassion on the son of har womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not form thee." Or is it the grief of a dissipated companion? There are those here who have it, so I am not speaking in the abstract, bat to the point. You have not whispered it, perhaps, to your most intimate friend; but you see your homo going away gradually from you, and unless things change soon it will be entirely destroyed. Your grief was well de piULUU uy tt WUlliau, ]MUaiUiU& UV a ITUUMU J meeting in Ohio, when ber intoxicated husband staggered up to the platform, to her overwhelming mortification and the disturbance of the audience, and she pulled a protruding bottle from her husband's pocket and held it up before the audience ana cried out: "There is the causa of my woe! There are the tears and the life blood of a drunkard's wife f And then looking up to heaven 3hesaid: "Howlong, 0 Lord! how long?1' and then looking down to the audience cried : "Do you wonder I feel strongly on this subject? Sisters, will you help me?" And hundreds of voices responded: "Yes, yes, we will help you." You stand, some of you, in such a tragedy fco-day. You cannot even ask him to stop drinkiug. It makes him cross, and he tells fou to mind your own business. Is there ir?y relief in such a cose? Not such as is found in the rigmarole of comfort ordinarily given in such cases. But there is a relief that drops in manna from the throne of urou. un, lire up your lacerate l soul in prayer, and you will get omnipotent contort! I do not know in what words the soothing influence may coma, but I know that for especial grief there is espociai deliverance. I give you two or three passages; try them on; take that which best fits your soul: "Whom the Lord loveth, He chastenetb "All things work together for good to those who love OkxL" "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.J know there aro those who. when thev trv tc comfort people, always bring the same stal< sentiment about the usefulness of trial. la stead of bringing up a new plaster for o new wound, and fresh manna for fresh hunger, they rummage their haversack to find some crumb of old consolation, when from horizon to horizon the ground is whiU with the now fallen manna ol Qod's help not five minutes old I Bat after fourteen thousand six hundro-l jonsecutive days of falling manna?Sundays ixcepted? tile manna ceased. Borne of them wore glad of It You know they had complained to their leader, and wondered that they had to eat manna instead of onions. Now the fare is changed. Those people In that army under forty years of age had never ?en a corn field, and now, when they hear the leaves rustling and see the tassels waving wd the billows of croon flowing overtho piain as me wind toucnea mem, it must nave been a new and lively sensation. "Corn!" cried the old man, as he opened an ear. "Cornl" cried the children, as they counted the shining grains. "Coral" shouted the vanguard of the host as they burst open tha granarieaof tha affrighted population, tba i granaries that had Deen left in the possesson of the victorious Israelites. Thea the flro rcas kindled, and the oars of corn were thrust into it, and, fresh and crisp and tender, were devoured of tho hungry victors; and bread was prepared, and many things that can bo made out of flour regaled the appetites that had been sharpened by the long march. "And tho manna ceased on the morrow after they had eaten of tho old corn of the land." Blessel be God, we stand in ju3t such a field to-day, the luxuriant grain coming above the girdle, the air full or the odors of the ripe old corn of the gospel Canaan. "Oh I" you siy, "the fare is too plain." Theu I remember you will soon get tired of a fanciful diet. "While I was in Paris I liked for a while tho rare and exquisita cookery, but I soon wished I was hom j again, and had tho plain food of my native Ian I. So it is a fact that we 300n weary of tho sirups and the custards and the whipped foam of the fanciful religionists, and we cry: "Give us plain bread made out of the old corn of the gospel Canaan." This is tho only food that can quell tho soul's hunger. There are men here who hardly know what is the matter with them. They havo tried to get together a fortune and larger account at the bank and to get investments yielding larger percentages. They are trying to sat> isfv their soul with a diet of mortgages and stocks. Theroar 3 others here who have been trying to got famous, and have succeeded to a greater or less extent; and they have been trying to satisfy their soul with the chopped feed of magazines and newspapers. All these men are no more happy now than before they made the first thousand dollars; no more happy now than when for the first time they saw their nauias unrora'*/ .nenfcionel Thay cannot analyz3 or deflaa thjir feelings; butl will tall thara what is tha mattor?they are hungry for the old corn of tha Go3pal. That you muse have, or be pinchel ani wan an! wasted anl hollow-ayel aai shriveled up with an eternity of fatnina. The inflial scientists of this day are offering us a different kini of soul fool; but thay are, of all man, tha most mis arable. I hava known many of them; but I naver knew ona of theaa who carno within a thnu3an 1 mile.: of being happy. The great JohnSfcawart Mill provide! for himself a naw kind of porridge: but yet, when he comas to die, h3 acknowledges that his philosophy naver gave him any comfort in days of bareavemeat, an! in a roundabout way he admits that his life wa3 a failure. So it is with all infi lal scientists. They are trying to live oa telascap33 and crucible3 and protoplasm, anl they chargaus with cant, not realizing that thanj is no such intolerable cant in all tha worll a? this parpatual talk wa are hearinr about ' positive philosophy," and " the absolute," and "the great to be," and "the everlasting ao," and "the higher unity," and "the latent potentialities," an 1 "the cathedral of the immensities." I have been translating what these men have been writing, and I have been translating what they have been ioing, and I will tellyou what it all meansit means that they want to kill God! And my only wonder fs that God bos not killed them. 1 have in other day3 tasted of their confections, and I come back and tell you to-day that there is no nutriment or life or health in anything but the bread maie out of the old corn of tho Gospel. "What do I mean by that? I mean that Christ is tho bread of life, and taking Him, you lire and live for ever. But, you say, corn is of but little practical use unless it is threshed and ground and baked. I answer* This Gospel corn has gone through that process. When on Calvary all the hoofs of human scorn came down on the heart of Christ, and all the Hails of satanic fury beat Him Ion? and fast, was not tho corn threshed? When tha mills of God's indignation against sin caueht Christ between the upper and nether rollers was not the corn ground? Wh9n Jesus descended into hell, and tho flames of the lo3t world wrappeJ Him all about, was not tho corn baked? Oil, 7031 unrist is reaay; tus pardon all ready; Hispeaco all realy; everything ready in Christ. Aro you ready for Him? You say: "Thatis such a simple Gospel." I know it is. You say you thought religion was a strange mixture of elaborate compounds. No; it is so plain that any abecedarian may understand it. In its simplicity is its power. If you could this morning realize that Christ died to save from sin and death and hell not ouly your minister, ana your neighbor, and your father, and your ohild, but you, it would make this hour like tho judgment day for agitations, and, no longer able t? keep your seat, you would leap up crying: "For me! for meP' God erantthat you, my brother, may see this Sospel with your own eyes, and hear it with your own cars, and feel with your own heart that you are a lost soul, but that Christ comes for your extrication. Can you not take that truth and digest it And make it a part of your immortal life? It is only bread. Yon have noticed that invalids cannot take all kinds of food, Tho food that will do for one will not do for ainother. There are kinds of food which will produce, in cases of invalidism, very speedy death. But you have noticed that all persons, howaver weak they may be, can take bread. Oh, soul sick with sin, invalid in your transgressions, I think this Go3pel will agree with you! I think if you cannot take anything else you can take this. Lostfound 1 Sunken ? raised? Condemned ? pardoned 1 Cast out?invited in! That is the old corn of the Gospel. You have often seen a wheel with spokes of different colors, and when tho wheel was rapidly turned all tne colors Dienaea a rainbow of exquisjto beauty. I wish I could to-day, take the peace, and the life, and the joy and glory of Christ, and turn them before your bouI with such speed and such strength that you would be enchanted with the revolving splendors of that name which is above every name?the name written once with tears of exile and in blood of martyrdom, but written now in burnished crown, ana nrtea sceptre, and transangelio throne. There Is another characteristic about bread, aul that is, you never get tired of it There are psople hare seventy years of age who flnl it just as appropriate for their appetite as they did when, in boyhood, their mother cut a slice of it clear around the loaf. You have not got tired of bread, and that is a characteristic of the Gospel. Old Christian man, are youtirei of JesusJ If so, let us take His nam 3 out of our Bible, and let us with pen and ink erase that name wherever we sea it. Lot us cast it out of our hymnology, and let "There is a Fountain" and "Kock of Ages" go into forgetfulness. Let us tear down the communion table where we olebrato His love. Let us dash down the baptismal bowl where we were consecrated to Ilim. Lot us hurl Jesus from our heart, and ask some other hero to come in. Let us say, "Go away, Jesus I want another companion, another friend, than Thou art." Could you uo it? The years or your past life, aged man, would utter a protest against it. and the graves of your Christian dead would charge you with being an ingrate, ani your little grandchildren would 9ay: "Grandfather, don't do that. Jesus is the one to whom wo say our prayers at night, and who is to open heaven when we die. Grandfather, don't do that." Tiro I of Jesus! The Burgundy rose you pluck from the garden is not so fresh and fair and beautiful. Tired of Jesus? As well get weary of the spring morninx and the voices of the mountain runnel, and the quiet of your own horn3, an l the gladness of your own children. Jesus is bread, and the appetite for that is never obliterated. Uo not talK to me about a man being doubtful about the doctrines of grace. He is not doubtful to mo at all. Bread is bread, and I know it the moment I see it. I had a cornfield which I cultured with my own hand. I did not ask once in all the summer: "Is this corn?" I did not hunt up the Agriculturist to get a picture of corn. I was born in sight of a cornfield and I know all about ib When these Israelites came to Canaan and looked off upon the fields the cry was: "Corn I corn I" And if a man has once tasted of this heavenly bread he knows It right away. He can tell this corn of the gospel Canaan from "the chaff which the wind drivoth awav." I bless God so many have found this Gfospel corn. It is the broad of which, if a man eat, he shall never hunger. I set the gladness of your soul to the tunes of "Ariel" and "Antiocn." I ring the wedding? bells, for Christ and your soul are marrieJ, and there is no power on earth or in hell to get out letters of divorcement. Batala3for the famine struck! Enough flora, yet it seems von have no sickle to cut it, no mill to grind it, no fire to bake it, no appetite to eat it. Starving to death when the plain is golden with a magnificent harvest! I rode soma thirteen miles to see the Ale*, in Jor, a large steamship that was beached iear Southampton, L. I. It was a splendid vessel. I walked up anl down the decks and in the cabins I said: u What a pity that this vessel should go to pieoas, or be lying here idla^ The coast wreckers had spent $33,003'trying to get har off, and they suo ie&Ul once; but aba canu back again to. th.3 old plow. While I was walk' ag oa aecx every part or tne vessel iremblei with the beating of thj surf oa >na sids. Slnoa thin I heir J that that vestal, which wa3 worth hunlreis of thousands ?f dollars, was sold for $3,503, an i knocked io pieces. They had given up the idea of jetting her to sell again. How suggestive ill that is to ras! There are those hero who ire agroun 1 in religions things. Once you started for heaven, but you are now aground. Several time3 it was thought you had started again hoavan war J, but you soon got back to the old place, and there is not much prospect you will ever reach the harbor of the blessedGod's wreckers, I fear, will pronounce you a hopeless case. Beached for eternity I And then it will be written in heaven concerning some one of your size, and complexion, ana age, and name, that he was invited to be saved, but refused the offer, and starved to death within sight of the fields and granaries fall of the old corn of Canaan. Hainan and Artificial Hair. The bulk of human and artificial hair, and in fact of hair goods, is imported, about ninety per cent, in fact. Of the two, human bair is the most called for. "Hair-raising" is a sort of industry in Europe. The peasant girls, who are I much in the air, get their heads cropped once ft year, and thus furnish a portior of the supply. They are satisfied with a stipend so small that un American woman would 6Com to touch six times it3 value. Of the material imported, France supplies half the trade, and England and Germany (divide the rest. The raw material finds its way here in great quantities and is made up on this side of the water. The business is young yet in this country. People speak of black hair, but there is no such thing. The darkest hair, at best, is but dark brown, as will be seen by ft separate test of each shred. The darkest hair is common to the Chinese race. Thin is used to a large extent in this country in cheap work. The best blonde hair comes from Sweden. Medium shades are best secured in Russia. The best grades of all quality come from France. The durability of hair is little understood. If properly preserved, hair will last forever. An instance recently came to light through the press of a peculiarity of hair. A lady had beeu buried about a year. It was finally determined to remove the body. When the remains were unearthed, the flesh had all decayed; but the hair had so grown that the coffin was full. It has been found, however, that suc'd hair is not durable; it is brittle and without vitality. Considered from the standpoint of her head, woman is, to say the least, peculiar.?New Fork News. The First Cornyopper laughed it. In the winter of 1837 Mr. Francis P. Knowlton, of Hopkinton, N. H., purchased of Mr. Amos Kellej a shert of wire netting Irom his manufactory on tho main road and constructed the first cornpopper ever made. The various parts were cut the required shape and then sewed together with wire. Mr. Knowlton then made some for Judge Harvey and Judge Chase, which they sent to various parts of the United States as curiosities. Thinking that he could see a field of usefulness for the newly-contrived article, Mr. Knowlton made several and took them to Concord to a hardware Btore, hoping to introduce before the public a useful utensil and to receive a reasonable remuneration. His production nnrl f'rl ismla/I 1"*T7 ?iw OWUiUCU auu iiuivutv\* V ?MV proprietors, and they refused to have anything to do with it. Unwilling to be thwarted in whit looked to him to be a reasonable and sensible product, he proposed leaving -them to be sold on commission, and was told that he could leave one or two if he would pay storage on them. From necessity he took them back to Ilopkiuton. The first ono he made was laid away for a curiosity. It ha9 since been given to the Antiquarian Society and now finds a home in that valuable collection. Soon after Mr. Knowlton's defeat Mr. Arao3 Kelley began pressing them into the required shape, and by slow degrees they found favor before the public. To-day no New England homestead is without one. No patent has ever been applied for so fat as is known.?Concord {Hi. li.) 1'eopie ana Patriot. The Far Trade. It is announced that the take of furs in the Hudson's Bay territory last winter is the smallest known for many years. The company's steamer Erik has just arrived at Montreal with this bad news. 1 Upon the other hand, the Boot and Shot Trade Journal, lately printed some statistics which show the actual quantity of furs sold in London since January at public auctions alone. They were astounding even before we learned that last winter's supply from the Hudson's Bay posts was remarkably small. Three million opposum skins have been sent from Australia, and 40,000 kangaroo or wallaby. Half a million foxes, gray, silver, blue and "common," have ar rived from various parts, 260,000 mink, 30,000 marten, lynx, musquash, otter uncounted. Seals are not referred to, but no fewer than 2600 sea otters have been sold. It must be recollected also that London is not the most important market for fine furs; though it has become the great centre of the trade. Paris, Leipsic, Vienaa, Now York, Nishni Novgorod, demand enormous consignments, which go direct. Russia consumes a vast quantity; so does China. In both countries they say that the best skins of the sorts most favored there never reach the western markets. As regards the "Siberiau" sable, which really comes from the Kirilc Island in the Pacific, this is, doubtless, true in the main; for it is a monopoly of the Russian Government, which sends a vessel ? %>! uvury year tu mc pwuuoc, uau those which; are snuggled through go to China. With such figures before us, and the means of communication, the clearance of land, increasing steadily, it is evident that the world's supply of furs will soon be exhausted.?London Standard. The Rubber Eraser. Attention has recently been drawn to an extract from the proceedings of the Pmnr?K ApArlsmv of Sciences for the vear 1752, in which occurs the following pasI sage relating to the erasivc properties of" india rubber: ' ' Those who make use of pciicils from lead mines in drawing architectural designs, plans of fortifications,, etc., resort to crumbs of bread for rubbing out the pencil marks. M. Magalh'jeus (or, as we spell the name, Magelleo), member of the Academy, a worthy descendent of ? the great navigator who discovered the straits south of Patagonia which now bear his name, proposes. a more effectual and convenient eraser fn tho shape of n piece of rubber^ 'which can always bu . carried about. "Rubbing by this new method fa found to more satisfactorily remove/the marks of tho pencil and all 0th6r4pots which appear oa the paper," ^^Amriccm 8tatmart _ _ t " 4 7 " . . * . . , _ , ; '* ,/. .* -rf *', - "r-. SABBATH SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSON FOR AUGUST 31. Lesson Text: "Entering the Kingdom," Luke xviii., 15-30?Golden Text: Luke xviii,, 17? Commentary. 15. "And they brought unto Him also infanta, that He would touch them; but when His disciples saw it. they rebuked them." The two incidents or this lesson?the little children and the rich young ruler?are ^recorded also in Matt. xix. and Hark" x. According to Mark and Luko the request was that Ho should touch them, but according to Matthew He was asked to put His hands on them and pray. In our last lesson we saw that the true elect, the children of the Kingdom, are such as have a deep sense of their sin and unworthiness; here we shall see that they are such as bring nothing but emptiness and helplessness and dependence. How out of sympathy with the Lord were even the disciples. The world bated Him, and so did the outwardly religious Pharisees, but we might expect His disciples to know His mind; yet see verses 31 0.4 - ?>1 T^UM n nn/1 Aslr 5 a t fr" A?TT OliU OULLLi AiV.f t/| UUU bUUt UJO^ w iu uuj better with me? Am I walking with Him, and understanding what the will of the Lord is? 16. "But Jesus called them unto Him, and said: Suffer little children to ceme unto Me, and forbid them not; for such is the Kingdom of God." See how empty, helpless and dependent an infant is; it has nothing, needs everything; and when we see that that is our condition before God. and come in our helplessness to Him. wo stall bo accepted of Him, and become children of the Kingdom. As to tho safety of little infants wno die before they come to the knowledge of good and evil, see Deut. i., 39, and remember that God knows bow to make the precious blood of Christ avail for them. The streets of the city shall be full of them (Zech. viii., 5). 17. "Verily I say unto you, Whosoever shall not receive the Kingdom as a little child, shall in no wise enter therein." What, then, shall becomo of such as will not accept the humiliating truth that "in them dwelleth no good thing," and that "by the deeds of the. law (our very best doings) no flesh can be justified in His sight" (Rom. vii., 18; iiu. 20), who persist in thinking that if they do as near right as they can God will not cast them out? There is only one thing for all such, and that is to be shut out from the Kingdom, for "except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees ye shall in no case enter into tho Kingdom or Heaven" (Matt. v.. 20). 18. "And a certain ruler asked Him, saying, Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Mark says that he came running and kneeled to Him. Here is great ear nestness, and in an all important matter. Here is humility also. Ho bad none of the proud, self righteous spirit of the Pharisee in our last lesson; but we shali also sea that He has neither the deep conviction of sin of the publican, nor the empty condition of the little child. And another difficulty in hii way is the idea of doing something to obtain eternal life. He does not know that eterna! life is the gift of God (Rom. vi., 23). He asks a similar question to that asked by others in John vi., 23, 29; to which Jesus replied, "This is the work of God that ye balieve on Him whom He hath sent." 19. "And Jesus said uato him. Why callest thou Me good? None is good, save one, that is God." Jesus knew just bow much he meant by "good," and would awaken him to think. His question may havo had this meaning, Do you believe that I am God. and therefore do you thus address Me? 20. "Thou knowest the commandments.' When the lawyer who tempted Christ was by Him referred back to the law he repeated a summary of the whole (x., 27), and Jesus said: "This do and thou shalt live." He now refers this ruler to five of the commands which refer to our duty to man, seeking thereby, as iu the case of the lawyer, to con< ># ivo- tliA Inw is the knowledge | IU1V& U4 ? w of sin, and cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in %ie book of the law to do them (Rom. iii., 19; Gal. iii., 10). 21. "And he said, All these have I kept from my youth up." He, no doubt, thought ho had. He was righteous in his own eyas. He bad dono all he knew and yet had not eternal life, and his question was what else is there for me to do? He seems to be in dead earnest to obtain what he sought, but being ignorant of God's righteousness he was going about to establish his own righteousness. 22. "'Now when Jesus heard these things He said unto him, Yet lackest thou one thing." Mark says that beholding him He loved him. There must have been something specially sincere about him that commended him to Jesus, who read his heart. "Sell all that thou hast and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." Mark adds, Kim Tirol I "i&Ke up fcUU UrUS?. u UOU3 uiu? " w?-* enough to be frank with him, even though He should lose him as a follower. 23. "And when he heard this he was very sorrowful, for he was very rich." Mors says that he went away grieved. He would not follow Jesus at such a price. The cross was too heavy. His own wealth was more real to him than treasures in heaven. It seems strange to the natural man and unreasonable, but it is the law of the Master for His followers, that to give away is to keep forever, and to keep for one's self is to lose forever. 24. "And when Jesus saw that he was very sorrowful, He said, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the Kingdom of God." This young ruler made his choice, and preferred his wealth to eternal life and treasure in heaven. What a contrast do we see in Moses, who esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than tho treasures of Egypt, for he had respect unto the recompense or the regard (Heb. xi., 20). 25. "For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter into the Ejngdom of God." It is said that the small gate for the foot passengers might possibly be entered by a camel, if unloaded, but for a loaded camel to pass through it would oe au utter impossionity. rf this small gate within the larger one was called the needle's eye, then the illustration is clear. If this rich young ruler had been willing to unload himself of his riches as the Saviour advised him to do, he might have entered the Kingdom; but his burden, which he preferred,, kept him out. 28. "And they that heard it said: Who then can be saved?" Perhaps they did not notice that Jesus spoke only of such as, like this man, clung to their riches. When we look about us and see the race for weal th, may we not well ask: "Who can bo saved?' Dut it is better to look within, or rather ask the Lord to look within us, for His eyes are sharper than ours, and see if thero is any idol in our heart that is keeping us from being saved or, if saved, that is keeping us from being wholly His for His service. 27. "Ana He said, The things which are impossible with men aro possible with God." Or, according to Mark, "With God all things are possible," and "all things are possible to him that believeth" (Mark x., 27; ix, 23). 2*3.. "Then Peter said, Lo we have left all and followed Tbee." According to Matt, xix., 27, he asks, "What shall we have therefore?" It seemed to Peter that ike and the othfr disciples had done, in their measure, ' what Jesus* had asked the rich ruler to do. But t iey were not rich; they had only forsaken boats, and nets, and occupation, and home, and friends; yet it was tiieir all. Will they, too, havotreasuro in bea.ven? 2y, 30. "Manifold more in. this present q onii in. tho wnrld to come Life Ever lasting." -Mark says, "An hundred fold now k this time,* bat odds, "with persecutions." Matthew adds that in the regeneration, when the Son of Man shall sit la the throne of His glory, they also shall sit on twelve thrones, judging the tweLve-tribes of Israek ' ?Lesson Helper. \iHi3 r-mperor o? uniua Bleeps b3& ci carved wcod magnificently inlaid with gold and ivory ^ It is said concorning the Chinese . court that the strictest obsosvanco of etiquette extends even to the parents of the mon arch, who, on visiting their sen, dan pot omit to bend the knee, while th< younger brotherbf his celestial majes ty is subject observances no lesi rigid. I IT is only tffceti a man is oompn mented that he thinks he is Boeing him self 63 others see Mm. # 1 RELIGIOUSJEADING.' "MY TIMES ABE IN THY HAND.'' I need not care If days be dark or fair, II the sweet Summer bring? delight, Or bitter Winter cafes the air. No thought of mine Can penetrate the deep design That forms afar, through bads and bloom, The purple clusters of the vine. I do not know The subtle secret of the show, That hides away the violets Till April teaches them to grow Enough for me Their tender loveliness to sec, Assured that little things and largo Fulfil God's purpose equally. ITow this is planned, Or that I may not understand; I am content, my God, to know That all my times are in Thy hand. "Whatever share Of loss, or loveliness, or carc, Falls to my lot, it cannot be Mere than Thy will for me to bear. And none the less, "Whatever sweet thing come3 to blew And gladden me; Thou art its source? And sender of my happiness. Add this to me, With other gifts so free? H That I may never turn mv face H Id any evil hour from Thee; Hj Nor on the sand M Of shifting faith and feeling stand; D| Bat wnke and sleep with equal trust, B Knowing my times arc in Thy hand H family worship. h The decline of family prayers Is an evil HJ no less serious than toe decline of church H attendance. Family worship should be like H family life, free and unconstrained. The H austerity and sombreness with which many H people conduct family worship make the H children dread rather than love it. Here Is one instance which I know to have occurred sBj in a strict Puritan bouapbold. The only son, ft boy of eight or ten years, was following w best he could the morning lesson. Struck by some startling and paradoxical expression, he ventured to inquire: "Father, what doea that mean?'' ,4IIold your gabble, and study your Bible," was the reassuring and edify* ing answer he received. n And yet I have no doubt that for the thirty ' H| years that followed, in which that son took S no Interest and saw no beauty in religion, <H| the father was secretly praying all the time for his conversion, i>nd wondering why hi* prayers were not answered. Our children . must be taught the masculine religion of thought and outward expression, as well as ' the feminine religion of sentiment and inward feeling, if they are to go out from our homes to found Christian homes of their H own; if their religion is to stand the wear n ' rn ljA.a IT.Ja and tear or reai me.?[rrusiucui, xi;uc v* mm Bowdoin College. TTIE MORAL RESULTS OF CURRENT FICTION. It is undeniable that, outside of a certain M| limited class of scholarly and thoughtful people, the great majority of all who read Hi anything except the newspapers, read books HI of this description. The statistics of popular H and circulating libraries show that seventy* H five per ccnt. of all books taken out are novels of recent production. A library for the general public that did not furnish them could not be sustained, whatever real treas- H| ure of knowledge and literature it might offer. Probably the most numerous readers of novels are to be found among women* H perhaps because they bave more time ana fewer other diversions than men. HR In the large class of them who derive their ideas of life and of the world from thif source, the result is seen in the enormous and increasing business of the divorce courts, of which they and their husbands arc the principal patrons. Aside from the |B loose and vague notions of morality that be- Bfl come familiar to them, unconsciously, from the hooks they read, they enter upon mar- En rietl life with'ideas and e'xpectat'ons to false and theories! so absurd that nothing but dls- mB appointment and unliappiness can follow.^^H Instead of the impossible and self-sacrificiqpl^H heroes of their dreams, they awaken to Una themselves married only to meu, with the Imperfections common to humanity. They perceive that the perfection tbey are H in search of is to be found in other women's . husbands, not in their own; on which point they wou'd be speedily undeceived if tbey Hfl could exchange situations with their apparently more fortnnate sisters. It is cot . B9 long before both parties to a union that has |H proved a disappointment are ready to es- t cape trom it; or. if not. one or the other is determined to break away. It is probable that BB all other causes put together arc not so pro* H lific of divorce amongtbe class in which It commonly takes place, as the fact that Its ivnmmi nrc hrou?ht unOD novels of ? lOVT grade as their habitual and almost only reading.?[Edward J. Phelps In December Hs Seribuer. "cniP THE KNOT.'' ? Such was the advice of Elder Swan to the IB writer years ago. Father Swau, at the time was serving as one of the missionaries of the B| Connecticut Baptist Convention. I had in* vited him and his co-laborer, Elder Shailer, H to spend a few days with the church of which 91 I was pastor in revival meeting?. But the church were not accustomed to bold such meetings, especially at the meeting house and the people did uot verv largely attend. M| After a few davs these two effi- BB clent and beloveJ missionaries passed on to other churches; but as they |D were about leaving Father Swan said that in splitting wood, when he had a ImrH lrnn?fv>tirk to SI>lit. if he W8S opcviani UM4U B . _ not able at once to cleave it through the U middle, be would "chip"' o3' or "slab'7 off the sides and then he could generally sacceed in splitting it through the center. BB "Now," be said, '"I would suggest that yoo Eursue a similar course with your people by BB olding special revival services in the differcnt districts and neighborhoods of your parlsh, and in time you may be successful in HB getting tbem to come to special meetings at the meeting house." I followed his advice and found that those^ IH who would not travel two to four miles Um jM attend special meetings at the ccnter wouljF gladly attend their own little neighborhood Ma meetings. The results were better than I HI expected, and when uncouverted people |H would come to these district meetings, and find Christ, they would without urging, at- 19 tend the S.ibba'h services. HH It is said that in one of our New England states, where statistics have been taken, less than one-half the population attend any religious servicesexcept funerals! Doubtless B| this is approximately true of a large portion of New England, certainly as- regards any regular attendance *t church. ~ 31 How aro these domestic heathen- to be M A? TV reaction uniess we sjoiu im-iu.- u. mc? in India, China or Africa, there-would be Bfl r*vson to hope th-it missionaries-would be sent to them. Hut no missionary? will be sent to our home hratheu, or non-believers, B9 and unless our churches and pa?<xtcs- care:lor tbem they will perish in their sins. The pastor of a popular ohurch frolif the flfl writer that he should not s* into-such outdistrict work. Said he, "They must come to the church if they wish to be-fed."" It is no BH marvel th.it he gave up preaching for farm- KB inc in a fe-w years after this.. If a. farmer's sheep get stuok lit the snow will he sot carry food to them until they are able to goto the barn rather than see them perish before his eyes? Of how isach more BB value art men's sou's, tiian sh*ep? Many pastors have done and are doli-\* this very parish missionary wort, but alas! there are still dark and neglected corner* 5n many New H| | En^lacd towns. A> our cities and larger I villages are being flooded with really antU ! Christian anti- American emigrants, we shall BH ' do well to cvangeliae and ho:d every inch of territory in our power if we would preserve alive our free civil institutions as well as out HQ rr> T? churches. x. r. x>. People in iLe country wao are an- BB cojed by flies should remember that mM clusters of the fragrant clover which grows abundantly by nearly evej^^H roaside, if hung in the room and le^^H to dry and shed its faint fragrant per-^H fume through the air, will drive away } more flies than sticky saucers of mo* lasses and other fly traps and fly-papers can ever coUejt, It is stated that oysters tea iucheiH 1 lonjj are found in New Guinea,