The Abbeville press and banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, August 27, 1890, Image 6
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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,