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ATTHETURN OF THE ROAD. rhe glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume. The purple-hued astors still linger in bloom; The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red. The maples like torches aflame overhead. But what if the joy of the summer is past. And winter's wild herald is blowing his bias:For me dull November is sweeter than May, For my Love is ;ts sunshine?she meets me to-day! Will she come? Will the ring-dove return to her nest? V? ill ttie neeuic swing oacs irom iu? easi, ur the west? At the stroke of the hour she will be at her gate; A friend may prove laggard?love never comes late. Do I see her afar in the distance? Not yet. Too early! Too early! She could not forget! When I cross the old bridge where the brook overflowed, She will flash full in sight at the turn of tho road. I pass the low wall where the ivy entwinesI tread the brown pathway that leads through the pines; I haste oy the boulder that lies in the field, Where her promise at parting was lovingly sealed. Will she come by the hillsiio or round through the wood? Will she -wear her brown dress or mantle and hood? The minute draws near?but her watch may go wrong; My heart will be asking, What keeps her so . long? r Why doubt for a moment? More shame if I do! "Why question? Why tremble? Are angels more true? She would come to the lover who calls her bis own, Though she trod in the track of a whirling cyclone. ?I crossed the old bridge ere the minute had passed. Ilooked: lo! my Love stood before me at last. Her eyes, how they sparkled, her cheeks how tcey glowed, As we met, face to face, at the turn of the road! ?Oliver IK Holmes, in Atlantic Monthly. THE CAPTAIN'S SECRET. BY MBS. M. A. KIDDEB. It was a pretty cottage where Captain Jonas Smith lived, standing back from the road, and almost overshadowed by a large oak tree,, that had spread its protecting branches over the lovely Eden land below for nearly a century. A long row of poplars on cach side of the pebbly path leading to the front door reared their prim and stately forms, and shot their pointed peaks toward the , sky. Yet a scene of sadness and loneliness, not easily to be accounted for, took possession for ons as soon as the gates - _ closed behind him with its sharp click, j and by the time the front door was ( reachcd, it seemed as if one was entering a tomb. Curtains down; blinds closed , from the garret to cellar, and no sign of , life except the thin, vapory stream of ( smoke issuing from a small chimney j built in the L. Mary Foster and myself had been Nina Smith's schoolmates two years before, at ] the Academy, so on returning to < our native town we sgreed between our- ! selves to call upon her on our way home. , The reverberations of the heavy knock- j er filled us with dismay, as they sounded s through the length and breadth of the ' house, long after we had brought the ] massive lion's head down three times i lightly, as we thought, upon the polished 1 brass plate. f " ~ After waiting fully fifteen minutes, a < tall, bent figure, crowned with a shock of white hair, made its appearauce, not at the door, but around the corner of the ( house. i "Fine ladies, in full rig," muttered 3he old man, seemingly undecided what < to do on the occasion. "Good morning, Captain Smith," cried 1 sweet-voiced Mary. "Don't you know us, Jane Robertson and littly Mury Fos- i ter, who used to visit Nina, and who took such comfort listening to your 'sea i yarns,' as you called them?" i "Oh, yes, yes. Them was happy < days, young misses. Then Nina's i mother was alive, and things went right, i and " ? Here the old man stopped short, as if suddenly remembering that he had left ! us young ladies on the door-step too long i already. "If you wouldn't mind coming in the ] back way, young misses. The wife has < gone out and took the front door key ] with her, for fear I'd let some tramp in, ] and 'sile' the new hemp mat, and 'kid minister' carpet. She'll be back soon. ( "Won't you sit down here in the kitchen?" \ ftnd the garrulous old man placed a chair ] ior us on each side of the mammoth , cooking stove. "Cozy room this," said Mary, trying , to put the Captain at hi3 ease. "Old- | fashioned brick oven and all. Oh, , wouldn't I like being here about Thanks- j giving time!" , "Yes, miss; this room's good enough j in its proper sphere to cook in; but when i my first wif# was alive the whole house wasn't too good to use; and wheu I got i home from a long v'yage, the village was : alive to the fact by receiving invites to a ' studding tea-party, or something of that sort." "You don't co to sea now, do you, Captain?" I ventured to remark'. *, "No: and everything is as dead as a1 door-sail. Even my little sun-beam can't1, stay here to shine on me. She's gone, j too?my 2s"ina." "Nina gone!" we both exclaimed in a , breath. "Why, vrc came to call on j her." "Well, you see, she and the old wothat if. my present wife?didn't seem to sgree very well thcy spatte l ait the time. 'vow, my Nina, as you both know, young misses, is as sweet tempered as a south wind, but she's got spunk, she has?took it from me,you see; isn't responsible,and she would have her rights; so she's gone." "Where has she gone, Captain?" "To her Aunt Hepsy's, in Attleboroutfb. They've got no children, and they lo?'o her, aud they'll give her a ^>od Hnf f-Vint nin't mn/?h rnmfnrf'. tn ? ? * ? I me, 'who have a home for her as good as the best, if she could feel free in it, i which she don't, young misses, being j like a woodland bird shut up in a cage." And the old man's voice faltered, and I his dim eyes were drowned in unshed I tears. | Sweet Nina! We all loved her at school, Captain Smith," said Mary; "and wc are truly sorry for both her and you." The Captain brightened up. "Everybody loves her, I know, cxccpt the old?my wife, I should say; and she hates her, it seems io me. Now she's good enough to me. But 'love me; love my dog,' is my motto, young misses, and atween you au' me, I've got a nice littie secret. My neighbors?and Mrs. Smith, too, as to that?thinks me a comparatively young man. I own this house, and land adjoining, and ten thousand iu the bank. But here comes in my little secret. Mum's the word yoimg misses, for Nina's sake, till I'm anchored safe t'other side." Here the Captain put his forefinger to his lips, and motioned us to do the same, as a silent contract that we would "keep mum." The act was scarcely accomplished when the back door opened, and in tcfllkpfl "M>s Smith, shutting the door be hind her with a bang. We were duly introduced to a tall,thin, keen-eyed woman, dressed in sober gray, and with her hair drawn tightly and knutted at the back of her neck in the smallest and severest possible shape. "We came to call on Nina," I answered, in reply to her interrogation, "and are sorry that she is not here." Mrs. Smith eyed us searchiugly, as she hung her quilted hood on the nail in the corner. "Well, for my part, I'm glad she's got some friends, for she's the biggest torment I ever undertook to govern, and I take it I've brought up a few children in my day, besides managing my first husband's 'prentice boys so that they darsn't say their souls were their own." "We always thought her very sweettempered," said Mary, "and her teachers loved her and felt bad at parting with her." "I'm glad to hear it," said the irate Mrs. Smith; "but I'd as lief have a brace of wild cats in my house as to have 'Nine' Smith. The parlor and spare bedrooms must be opened at any time, or all times, for compeny?my rose bushes stripped for the vases?the best china displayed, and I can't tell you what all." "It was her mother's way," the old man ventured to remark, deprecatingly. "Her mother's way! I'd like to know who her mother was, that her ways should be set up above the ways of Patience Smith, formerly Patience Higginbotham, formerly Patience Brown, known as the best housekeeper the country round;" and Mrs. Smith's eyes shot fire. Not caring to be witnesses of this scene any longer, we rose to go, taking leave of Mrs. Smith at the door, while the old man walked with us to the gate. As we parted with him, he slipped a morocco case into Mary's hand. "It is Nina's picture," he said; "keep it. I have another, and anyhow I shall be gone soon. Only promise me that the day after my funeral you will carefully take it out of its case and have it newly framed. Mary promised, and we went our way. Mary Foster was my cousin, and the next six months I spent with her at her father's house in New York city. So pleasantly did the time pass, that at the end of that time he had nearly forgotten Niua and her troubles, when :>ne morning, at the breakfast table, we received one of her well-known epistles, ft was addressed to Marv: "Dear Map.y?Come to me, my darling. E am at home, and in sorrow. My dear father | died to-day, at t*.vo o'clock in the afternoon, j ivhile the church bells were ringing. His j ast request was that I should sena for you? that you should attend his fuueral.and spend is much time with me afterward as you possibly could. Bring Jane, if she is with you. My poor father, whom I loved so, is 'safely mchored in heaven's lnud-locked harbor,' as iie used so often to express his idea of eternal rest. His life for the last two years, harassed \s he was by 'that woman,' has not been pleasant. 1 trust he is now united to his bo- j loved wife, my angel mother, in a brighter . sphere. Come to me, Mary! Your loving "Nina." Mary and myself started for Lenox the other day, and only arrived there in time for the funeral. After the services were over, and the 2jood old sea-captain had been laid to rest beside his wife in the little churchyard, the will was read in the parlor, where were congregated the immediate friends :uid relatives. There was the hu3h of surprise, and almost horror, when the will had been read md it was found that the widow had some in for the Lenox homestead and money m bank, and that the poor orphan bad been left penniless. It was a hard blow for Nina. 'She can live with me," said Mrs. Smith, "that is, if she will conform to my wavs." Nina refused to be a slave where she had once been mistress; so, with our help, die packed her trunks, ready to start tiome with us, to recruit her shattered health, and determe on her future. As we three girls sat around the fire in Dur cozy chamber that night, Mary bethought her of the miniature the Captain aad given to her on the occasion of her risit to his house. She took it from her bureau, and we nournfully compared the rosy, laughing face with that of the pale and sorrowful i sne of the original. "I'll take it out of this lumbering morocco case," said Mary, "for I promised the Captain to have it newly framed the day after his funeral." ''Dear father," said Nina, I thought be loved me too well to leave me a beggar;" aud she laid her head down on the tabic, and cried as if her heart would break. "What is this?" said Mary, as she unfolded a sheet of thin tissue paper that was neatly folded in the back of the large morocco case. It was elosely written over, and ran thus: mu icqi wxriuuc* ixtu, jooi. "I, Jonas Smith, hereby bequeath to my beloved daughter, Nina (independent of the disposal of any other property hereafter) my estate in Bordeaux, France, aud ten thousand ' pounds deposited to my credit in the Bank of England. "(Sicne.1), Jonas Sziith. " Witnesses?John Linwool. i Charles Janes. ' November 11.1SS1.'' "Good, noble Captain!" said I. "Happy Nina!" cried Mary. "How could I have doubted him?" ] murmured the contrite Nina, siuking on her knees. 1 Suffice it to sav that the two happiest < years of her life (after her orphanage) were speut on her estate in sunny France. ] After that, she sold her property, re- ] turned to America, married, and is now , the happy mother of three olive branches. , So much for the Captain's secret I?New { York Weekly. , The truth nerer apologizes for coming. ^ AGRICULTURAL. TOPICS OF INTEREST RELATIVE TO FARM AND GARDEN. BLOATING OF COWS. Bloating indicates indigestion and is due to the formation of gas in the stomach from the fermentation of the undigested food. The remedy is to get rid of the indigestion, which may be done as follows: Give one quart of raw linseed oil, then feed bran mash twice a day with cut hay if the pasture is not good, with one teaspoonful each of powdered sulphate of iron and gentian root. Salt should be given daily.?JSew York Times. JUDGING TIIE ACE IN POULTRY. "A correspondent writing from Cumberland, TV. Va., asks how to tell the age in poultry. If for the table, examine the feet and legs; the size and appearance of the spur form a guide. The skin of the pullet or cockerel is smooth and has a fresh appearance, while that of the adult fowl yearly grows coarser and shriveled. Place the thumb and forefinger on either side of the back, near the ' 'pope's nose" or oil receptacle, and press it; in young birds thae part is supple, and in old birds it is difficult to bend. Another test is feeling of the top end of the breast bone. If the grizzle forming there is tender and supple the bird in young. It is a more difficult matter to judge the age of ducks. Those ducks that have arrived at two and three years have a deep depression down the breast feathers, and their Yraddlc becomes more and more ungainly.?New York World. SAVING. SEED CORN. There is no better practice on the farm than that of saving seed corn in the early part of autumn. Great loss and vexation are avoided therehv nnri t.hf> tvnn^pr ia j , ?. ~ that so many farmers still refuse to avail themselves of this investment, which always yields a profit of a hundred to a thousand per cent. The methr.d is so simple and easy that all may partake thereof. In this latitude, corn begins to ripeu about the first of September. All things considered, the earliest ears are the best ones to select and save; go through and examine the earliest that are ; maturing, having in view well-developed cars, medium sized grains, and bright- : ness of color. In selecting yellow corn, ; choose golden-colored cars; for these ; possess characteristics of oilness and hard- ; cess as well as that of beauty. Remove < all of the shuck except enough to suspend : by, and then the ears are hung in a high i and dry place and allowed to remain ] there until wanted. I have never known seed to fail when gathered and cared for in this way, even when the temperature went down to thirty degress below zero., ?American Agriculturist. PAVIXG CHANNELS. It is impossible to rid ourselves of water courses where the inclines of the land meet. On hillsides we may lessen gullying by stopping some chaunels as soon as they are made. But we must have some channels, for the water will flow ofi the land. It is idle to stop streams, for the water will make another 1 way for itself and the loss of soil will be greater than if nothing had been done, i Wise measures consist in closing unnecessary channels, and in so managing the , others that the loss of soil and the inconvenience in cultivation will be the least possible. "Where the amount of water 1 to be carried of! is not large, and the incline is not sharp, the deepening or 1 widening of the channel can be prevented by seeding it to grass and leaving the < grass when the field is put in cultivated crops. It may be necessary to raise the ( channel somewhat first, which can be done by putting in occasional dams of brush, stumps, or stones, to catch the "wash." The chaunel should be no deeper than is necessary to carry off the 1 water, that the difficulty of crossing with teams and implements may be reduced to i the minimum. "Where stones are abundant it will be profitable to pave the , streams which are too large to be con- \ troled by grass. If this work at first sight seems laborious, it is well to reflect that it need not all be done in a day, a ^ week, or a year. "We have in mind sev? eral farms of which some fields are so stony that the land must be kept clear ' for cultivation, while in other fields ' streams cut through a loose soil so deep that they cannot be crossed by a mower > or gram arm. rnese cnanneis coma De i raised and then paved with the stones from the other fields, and, if the work s was done with reasonable care, it would ? laut for a lifetime.?American Agriculluriit. ? 1 MAKING VINEGAR. | To make vinegar from apples by the natural process requires at least a year, , and often, under unfavorable conditions, 1 a still longer time, but when thus made g it is so much superior for all family purposes to the quickly manufactured vine- ^ gars that no comparison can be fairly made between them. With farmers vine- 1 gar-making begins with the early drop- S ping of apples in the fall or late summer. 1 No one variety is considered better than another. All ;ire mixed indiscriminately 1 for this purpose. Not much care is ex- * ercised iu gathering them from the * ground, but rotten apples should not be 3 used. The apples are ground in any lund of f a mill and the juice expressed in the I same way as for cider. It is, however, I better to shovel the pomace into large ? casks or vats and let it so remain until nuile Knur, when t.hn iiiirn will ho mnw thoroughly pressed out. This should v then be put into casks and remain long a enough for the lice particle of pomace to j; settle to the bottom and remain as sediment. After this the sour cider should be a drawu off into barrels and not quite full, j These should stand where they will get the influence of the warm fail weather. Until fully made,let barrels remain without bungs, insects being; kent out bv a c Eiauze covering over the bung-hoie. On the sdvent of winter the ban-els should 50 to a vinegar-house, warmed by arti- a ticial heat,or if no provision of that kind has been made, should be kept from se- f' vere freezing in isome other way aud be e brought out into the sun again in the i> spring. h The desired acidity is pioduced sooner I' by keepmg the liquid in barrels than id e large casks or vats. Vinegar barrels should be iron-hooped and be kept well a painted. Where the juice is so rich in h jugar as to be slow in turning to vinegar fi ind remains as hard cider instead some r; iilution with water is often Becessary to I fasten the change. The change to vina- d gar may also be brought about sooner by running the liquid slowly iri a small stream from one barrel to another, by . which it is more exposed to the atmosphere than when remaining at rest in a solid body. Leaching it through beach dips or corncobs that have been saturated with old vinegar or putting a gallon or two of old vinegar into each barrel ere other methods for accomplishing the same purpose.?New York World. FEED FOR THE FARM TEAM. The question sometimes arises with the farmer if the farm can be kept to good advantage on hay alone, and if such feed would keep them in good order for work. Hay varies greatly in quality, and it is not therefore easy to compare its actual feeding value with that of grain. In a general way corn is estimated to be worth twenty-two dollars per ton, and good ** * * it _i_ J i medium nay, oy cue same scanuuru, is considered to be worth thirteen dollars, and extra at as high as seventeen dollars per ton. If corn is worth fifty cents a bushel it is as cheap as medium hay at twelve dollars per ton. Any horseman will tell you that it is not good policy to feed hay alone to the work team, even if there were the same nutritive value in it as in a part grain ration. Hay is a bulky food, and the horse has to eat teo much of it to get the same benefit that he would derive from the part grain ration. He should have at least thirty pounds a day to furnish him the proper nutriment if fed on that alone, but such an amount would fill his stomach too full to allow free action of the muscles. It would make him logy, and he would require more time to eat than he might always be allowed in the busy season of the year. The better way, undoubtedly, is to feed say fifteen pounds of hay a day and make up the balance of the ration in grain. What shall the ration be? If it ba -? -1 u i._ J3 ?;i corn, it snouiu oe grouuu uuu un?u with a little fine cut hay wet a little, so that the particles of the meal may not go into the stomach in a plastic condition, but be separated by the hay so that the gastric juices of the stomach may easily act upon it. Oats and corn, or oats, corn and rye can be ground together to good advantage and mixed with moistened hay. If oats are scarce, mix twice the amount of bran with the corn meal. Middlings are a good feed,' and contain from thirty to fifty per cent, more nutriment than hay. Oats nlone with good hay are about as good a ration as most farmers need look for. Of coursc, if a horse is used for light work only he can get along with a very little grain; may sot need any, and if the hay doesn't cost more than eight dollars or even ten dollars a ton it is an economical food.?Ncio York Independent. FARM AND GARDEN* NOTES. Provide plenty of dry fuel. How about that farm dairy? Milk fast and vex not the cow. Have you cleaned out the well? How about your Farmers' Club? Make tramps work or go hungry. Prepare for the farmers' institutes. Take good care of the corn fodder. Some prefer tile to "earthing up" for bleaching celery. Exercise your breeding animals; they will do better for it. Cows and cattle at pasture need more salt than oil dry hay. A variety of farm9 or soils call for a variety of farm practice. The wild grasses generally do not ;hrive under cultivation. No better or cheaper insect destroyer :an be found than the toad. Good books and periodicals pay large lividends. Invest in them. There -will be no loss of ammonia if :he manure heap is kept moist. It pays abundantly to drain wet softs; it makes them surer and better. Don't allow Jack Frost to put a blighting mortgage on any of your crops. The man who always has strictly fresh jggs to sell need never suffer for a market. Corn is good feed; but something more albuminous fed with it makes it better. Be careful not to bruise apples and jtber fruit. The bruised spots are wnere iecay begins. Old pastures afford richer and more lutritious feed than new ones, and in greater variety. Clear out all the old rubbish where inlets can lire and breed next year to destroy your fruit. Don't wait until the beans are half ihelled out on the ground before you larrest them, and then complain that here is not "half a crop." The alert fruit grower will endeavor to nake everything he grows bring in some eturns, and will avoid waste of every iort. Are you on the alert? If you have any late sown peas dust hem with flour of sulphur to prevent nildew. The dry pods of Lima beans ihould be gathered for winter use as fast is they ripen. If von cot the turniDS in too thick it ~~ tf O JL nay pay to go over the patch and thin hem out; it will not be much work, and hose you pull out will not be lost, as rou can feed them. Pick grapes after the dew has dried rom them, and without disturbing the >loom.upou them. After standing a few lours pack carefully and closely iu bask:ts, if desired for marketing. In digging potatoes get no more out of he ground in a day than you can get inrier cover; it may freeze some night, ] nd this year people who pay for Irish i otatoes don't want sweet ones. ' To obtain pansies early next spring the 1 eetls should be sown early this fall in 1 , finely prepared soil. Sow in rows, two 1 uches apart, dust fine soil over it and 1 iress down with a brick or board. j The winter crop of celery should have j arth enough to keep it erect until the , feather gets cnol. In earthing keep tho ' ilunts drawn tightly together so as to void getting the soil into the heart. , A rhick thfit is not kent warm and drv i or the first five or six weeks of its exist- r nee will become stunted and stop grow- 1 ag fast. This is where brooder hatched irds grow the best and avoid dampness. & t is a very important matter to the breed- * r to look after. * Plymouth Rocks, barred or white, will v lirays have admirers; slowly but surely ^ ave they won the admiration of the J irmer and breeders, and to-day they 8 ank among the first and best. The c trahma is also a very popular fowl, and t eserves'ita poaition. x REV. Ml TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUN PAY SERMON. Subject: "In Jerusalem." Text: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem., I, rl h /?v. )) ?1, ?iy JV ,UM ..W UUWHIiy. ? Psalm cxxxvii., 5. Paralysis of his best hand, the withering of its muscles and nerves, is hero invoked if the author allows to pass out of mind the grandeurs of the Holy City where once he dwelt. Jeremiah, seated by the river Euphrates, wrote this psalm, and not David. Afraid I am of anvtning that approaches imprecation, and yet I can understand how any one who has ever been at Jerusalem should in enthusiasmof soul cry out, whether he be sitting by tie Euphrates, or the Hudson, or the Thames, "If I forget thee, 0 Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning!" You see it is a city unlike all others for topography, for history, for significance, for style of population, for water works, for ruins, for towers, for domes, for ramparts, for literature, for tragedies, for memorable birthplaces, for sepulchers, for conflagrations and famines, for victories and defeats. I am here at last in this very Jerusalem, and on a housetop, just after "the dawn of the morning of December 3, with an old inhabitant to point out the salient features of the scenery. "Now," I said, "where is Mount Zion?' "Here at your right." "Where isMount Olivet?" "In front of where you stand? "Where is the Garden of Gethsemane?" "In yonder valley." "Where is Mount Calvary?" Before he answered I saw it. No unprejudiced mind can have a moment's doubt as to where it is. Yonder 1 see a hill in the shape of a human skull, and the Bible says that Calvary was the "place of a skull." "NV%f iq ff. olm1l cVinnAr? hut insfc hrx. neath the forehead of the hill is a cavern that looks liko eyeless sockets. Within the grotto under it is the shapa of the inside of a skull. Then the Bible says that Christ was crucified outside the gate, and this is cutside the gate, while the site formerly selected was inside the gate. Besides that, this skull hill was for ages the plac3 where malefactors were put to death, and Christ was slain as a malefactor. The Saviour's assassination took place beside a thoroughfare along which people went "wagging their heads," and there is the ancient thoroughfare. I saw at Cairo, Egypt, a clay mould of that skull hill, made by the late General Gordon, the arbiter of nations. "While Empress Helena, eighty years of age, and imposed upon by having three crosses exhumed before her dim eyes, as though they were the three crosses of Bible story, selected another site as Calvary, all recent travelers agree that the one I point out to you was without doubt the scene of the most terriflo and overwhelming tragedy this planet ever witnessed. There were a thousand things we wanted to see that third day of December, and our dragoman proposed this and that and the other journey, but I said: "First of all show us Calvary. Something might happen if we went elsewhere, and sickness or accident might hinder our seeing the sacred mount. If we see nothing else we must see that, and see it this morning." Some of us in carriage and some on mule back, we were soon on the way to the most sacred spot that the world has ever seen or erer will see. Coming to the base of the hill we first went inside the skull of rocks. It is called Jeremiah's grotto, for there the prophet wrote his book of Lamentations. The grotto is thirty-five feet high, and its toD and side are malachite, green, brown, black, white, red and gray. Coming forth from those pictured subterraneous passages we begin to climb the steep sides of Calvary. As we go up we see cracks onrl orarnVac in tha rnMra whinh 1 fchinlf WPrA made by the convulsions of nature when Jesus died. On the hill lay a limestone rock, white, but tinged with crimson, the white so suggestive of purity and the crimson of sacrifice that I said, "That stone would bs beautifully appropriate for a memorial wall in my church, now building in America; and the stcne now being brought on camel's back from Sinai across the desert, when put under it, liow significant of the law and tne gospel! And these lips of stone will continue to speak of justice and mercy long after all our living lips have uttered their last message." So I rolled it down the hill and transported it. When that day comes for which many of you have prayed?the dedication of the Brooklyn Tabernacle, the third immense structnre we have reared in this city, and that makes it somewhat difficult, being the third structure, a work such as no other church was ever calle 1 on to undertake?we invite you in the main entrance of that building to look upon a memorial wall containing the most suggestive and solemn and tremendous antiquities ever brought together?this, rent witn the earthquake at the giving of the law at Sinai, the othar reLt at the crucifixion on Calvary. It is "impossible for you to realize what our emotions were as we gathered a group of men and women, all saved by the mood of the Lam'o, on a bluff of Cavalry, just wide enough to contain three crosses. I said to my family and friends: "I think here is where stood the cross of the impenitent burglar, and there the cross of the miscreant, and here between, I think, stood the crcss on which all our hopes depend." As I opened the nineteenth chapter of John to read a chill blast struck the hfll and a cloud hovered, the natural solemnity im fjressing trie spiritual solemnity, x reau ? ittle, but broke down. I defy any emotional Christian man sitting upon Golgotba to read aloud and with unbroken voice, or with any voice at all, the whole of that account in Luke and John, of which thess sentences are a fragment: "They took Jesus and led Him away, and He, bearing His cross, went forth into a place called the place of a skull, where they crucified Him and two others with Him, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst;" "Behold thy mother!" "I thirst;" "This day sbalt thou be with Me in Paradise;" Father, forgive them, they know i not what tbey do;" "If it be possible, let this cup pass from Me." What sighs, what sobs, what tedrs, what tempests of sorrow, what surging oceans of agony in those utterances! While we sat there the whole sceue ayne before us. All around the ton and the sides and the foot of the hill a mob raged. They gnash their teeth and shake their clinched fists at Him- Here the cavalry horses champ their bits and paw the earth and snort at the smell of the carnage. Yonder a group of gamblers are pitching up as to who shall have the coat of the dying Saviour. There are women almost dead with grief among the crowd?His mother and His aunt, and some whose sorrows He had oardoned. Here a man dips a sponge into sour wine, and by a stick lilts it to the hot and cracked lips. The hemorrhage of the Ave wounds has done its work. The atmospheric conditions are such as the the world saw never before or since. It was not a solar eclipse, such as astronomers record or we ourselves have seen. It wass bereavement of the heavens! Darker! untii the towers of the temple were no longer visible. Darker! until the surrounding hills dis appeared. Darker I until the inscription above the middle cross becomes illegible. Darker! until the chin of the dying Lord falls upon the breast, and He sighed with this last sigh the words, "It is finished!" As we sat there a silence took possession of as, and we thought, this is the centre from ' *' 1 l A 1.^4 ^11 rviiicii continents nave oeuu wucucj, auu an tho world shall yet be moved. Toward this hill tho prophets pointed forward. Toward this hill the apostle3 and martyrs pointed backward. To this all heaven pointed downward. To this with foaming execrations perdition pointed upward. Round it circles ill history, all time, all eternity, and with this scene painters have covered the mightiest canvas, and sculptors cut the richest marble, aud orchestras rolled their grandest oratorios and churches lifted their greatest inxologies and heaven built its highest tb roues. Unable longer to endure the pressure Oi this scene we moved on and into a garden oi. olives, a earden which in the right season is uu or nowers, and here is the reputed tomb f Christ. You know the Book says, "In tho aidst of the garden was a sepulchre." I hink this was the garden and this tho sepulchre. It is shattered, of course. About our steps down we went into this, which eemed a family tomb. There is room in it or about five bodies. We measured it and ound It about eight feet high and nine feet ride and fourteen fe;t leng. The crypt rhere I think our Lord slept was seven ieet >ng. I think that there once lay the Kins: trapped in His last slumbar. On some of heae rocks the Roman government -sot its eaL At the gate of this mausoleum on the in the first Easter morning tbe angels rolled he stone thundering down the hill. Hp these teps walked th9 lacerated feet of the Con[ueror, and from these heights He looked ofl icon the city thzt had cast Him oat and v ' , upon the world He bad come to redeem ana nt the heavens through which He would soon ascend. But we must hasten back to the city. There are stones in the wall which Solomon had lifted. Stop here and sea a startling proof of the truth of the prophecy. In Jeremiah, thirty-first chapar and fortieth verse, it is said that Jerusalem shall be built through the ashes. What n^Aa. noonla have been asking. Were those ashes put into the prophecy to fill up? No I The meaning has oeen recently discovered. Jerusalem is now being built out in a certain direction where the ground has been submitted to chemical Analysis, and it has b9en found to be the ashes cast out from the sacrifices of the ancient temple?ashes of wood and ashes of bones of animals. There are great mounds of ashes, accumulation of centuries of sacrifices. It has taken ali these thousands of years to dia* cover what Jeremiah meant when he said, "Behold the days shall come, saith the Lord, that the city shall be built to the Lord from the tower of Hananesl to the gate of the corner, and the whole valley of tue dead bodies and of the ashes." The people of Jerusalem are at this very time fulfilling that prophecy. On9 handful of that ashes on which they are building is enough to prove the divinity of the Scriptures 1 Pass by the place where the corner stone of the ancient temple was laid three thousand years ago by Solomon. Explorers have been digging, and they found that corner stone seventy-five feet beneath the surface. It is fourteen feet long, and three feet eight inche3 high, and beautifully cut and shaped, and near it was an earthen jar that was supposed to have contained the oil of consecration used at the ceremony of laying the corner stone. Yonder, from a depth of forty feet, a signet ring has been brought up Inscribed with the words "Haggai, the Son of Shebnaiah," showing it belonged to the Prophet Eaggai, and to that seal ring he refers in his propphecy, saying, "I will make thee as a signet." I walk further on far under ground, and I find myself in Solomon's stables, and see the places worn in the stone pillars by the hal xers 01 some oi uis iweive i>auusiuiu uuraos. Farther on, look at the pillars on which Mount Moriah was built. You know that the mountain was too small for th9 temple, and so thev built the mountain oat on pillars, and I saw eight of thosa pillars, each one strong enough to hold a mountain. Here we enter the mosque of Omar, a throne of Mohammedanism, where we are met at the door by officials who bring slippers that we mu3t put on before we take a step further, lest our feet pollute the sacred places. A man attempting to go in without these slippers would b9 struck dead on th9 spot. xnese awkward sandals adjusted as well as we could, we aro led to where we see a rock with an opening in it, through which, no doubt, the blood of sacriflca in ths ancient temple rolled down and a war. At vast expense the mosque has been built, but so somber is the placa I am glad to get through it, and take off the cumbrous slippers and step into the clean air. Yonder is a curve of stone which is part of a bridge which once reached from Mount Moriah to Mount Zion, and over it David walked or rode to prayers in the temple. Here is the waiting place of the Jews, where for centuries, almo3t perpetually, during the daytime whole generations of the Jews nave stood putting their head or lips against the wall of what was onca Solomon's temple. It was one of the saddest and most solemn and impressive scenes I ever witnessed to sea scores of these descendants of Abraham, with tears rolling down their cheeks and lips trembling with emotion, a book of psalms open before them, bewailing the ruin of the ancient temple and the captivity of their Tac*, and crying to God for the restoration of the temple in all its original splendor. Most affecting scene! And such a prayer as that, century after century, I am sure God will answer, and in some way the departed grandeur will return, or something better. I looked over the shoulders of some of them and saw that they were reading from the mournful psalms of David, while I have been told that this is the litany which some chant: For the temple that lies desolate, We sit In olltude and conm; For the palace that 1b destroyed, We sic in solltnde and moarn; For the walls that are overthrown, We sit In solitude and mourn; For oar majesty tuat is cepsrtea. ^Ve?it In solitude and mourn: For oar great men that lie dead, We Bit in solitude and mourn; For priests who have stumbled, W?sitln soUtude and mourn. I think at that prayer Jerusalem will coma again to more than its ancient magnificence; : it may not be precicus stones ana architecj tural majesty, out in a moral splendor that I shall eclipse forever all that David or Solomon saw. But I must get back to the housetop where I stood early this morning, and before the sun sets, that I may catch a wider vision of what the city now is and once was. Standing here on the housetop I see that the city was built for military safety. Some old warrior, I warrant, selected the spot. It j stands on a hill 2600 feet above the level of [ the sea, and deep ravines on three sides do the work of military trenches. Compact as | no other city was compact. Only three miles I journey round, and the three ancient towers, i Hippicus, Phasaelus. Mariamne, frowning death upon the approach of all enemies. As I stood there on the housetop in the midst of the city I said, "O Lord, 'reveal to me this metropolis of the world that I may see it as it once appeared." No one was with me, for there are some things you can see ) more vividly with no one but God and yourself present. Immediately the mosque of Omar, which has stood for ages on Mount Sloriah, the site of the ancient temple, disappeared, and the most honored structure of all the ages lifted itself in the light, and I saw it?the temple, the ancient temple! Not Solomon's temple, but something grander than that. Not Zerubbabel's temple, but something more gorgeous than that.* It was Herod's temple, built for the one purpose of i eclipsing all its architectural predecessors.. There it stood, covering nineteen acres, ^ Viori Kaon I auu ICU luuuwuu nviauieu uui* wbbu vtsix years in building it. Glaze of magnifl| cence! Bewildering range of porticos and I ten gateways and double arche3 and Corinthian capitals chiseled into lilies and acanthus. Masonry beveled and grooved into such delicate forms that it seemed to tremble in the light. Cloisters with two rows of Corinthian column?, royal arches, marble steps pure as though made oat of frozan snow, carving that seemed like a panel of the door of heaven let down and set in, the facade of the building on shoulders at cach end lifting tho glory higher and higher, | and walls wherein gold put oat | the silver, and the carbuncle put out the , gold, and the jasper put out the carbuncle, until in the changing light they would all seem to come back aeain into a chorus of harmonious color. The temple! The templet Doxology in stone! Anthems soaring in rafters of Lebanon cedar! From side to side and from foundation to gilded pinnacle the I frozen prayer of all ages! From this housetop on the December after- ' noon we look out in another direction, and I I sea the king's palace, covering a hundred and J sixty thousand square feat, three rows of i windows illumining tha inside brilliance, the hallway wainscoted with styles of colored marbles surmounted by arabesque, vermilion and gold, looking down on mosaics, music of waterfalls in tho garden outside answering the music of the harps thrummed by deft fingers inside; banisters over which princes and princesses leaned, and talked to kings aid queens ascending the stairway. O Jerusalem, Jerusalem 1 Mountain cityl City of j God! Joy of the whole earth I Stronger than Gibraltar and Sebastopol, surely it ! never could have been captured! But while standing there on the housetop | that December afternoon I hear the crash of | the twenty-three mighty sieges which have come against Jerusalem in the ages past. Yonder is the pool of Hezekiah and Siloam, but again and agaiu were those waters reddened with human core. Yonder are the towers, but again and again they fell. Yonder are the high walls, but again and again they are leveled. To rob the treasures from her temple and palace and dethrone this queeu city of the earth all nations plotted. David taking tho throne at Hebron decides that be must have Jerusalem for his capital, and coming up from the south at the head of two hundred and eighty thousand troops ho captures it. Look, here comes another siege of Jerusalem I . The Assyrians under Sennacherib, enslaved nations at his chariot wheel, having taken two hundred thousand cantives in his oue campaign: Phoenician cities kneeling at his feet, Egypt trembling at tho flash of his sword, comas upon Jerusalem. Look, another siege! The armies of Babylon under Nebuchadnezzar come down and take h plunder from Jerusulem such as no other city ever had to yield, and ten thousand of her citizens trudge off into Babylonian bondage. Look, another siege I and Nebuchadnezzar and his hosts by night go through a breach of the Jerusalem wall, and the morning finds some of them, sea tod triumphant In the temple, and what they could 1 not take away because too heavy they break - ' - / ; " [ up?rue orazen sea, and the two wreathed pillars, Jachin and Boaz. Another riege of Jerusalem, and Pompey with the battering rams which a hundred men would roll back, and then, at full ran forward, would bang against the wall of the city, and catapults hurling the rocks itnnn fVin rtOAnlo loff fmalin* fhAiiMnJ AaaA and the city in the clutch of the Roman war eagle. Look, a more desperate siege of Jerusalem ! Titus with his tenth legion on Mount of Olives, and ballista arranged on the principle of the pendulum to swing great bowlders against the walls and towers, and miners digging under the city making galleries of beams underground which, set on Ore, tumbled great masses of houses and human beings into destruction and death. All is taken now but the temple, and Titus, the conqueror, wants to save that unharmed, but a soldier, contrary to orders, hurls a torch into the temple and it is consumed. Many strangers were in the city at the time and ninety-seven thousand captives were taken, and Josephus says one million one hundred thousand lay dead. But looking from this house top, the siege that most absorbs us is thatof the Crusaders. England and France and 'all Christendom wanted to capture the Holy Sepulchre and Jerusalem, then in possession of the Mohammedans, under the command of one of the loveliest, bravest and mightiest men that ever lived; for justice must be dons him, though he was^a Mohammedan?glorious Saladjnl Ridiard Cobut de Lion, King of Iltogland; Philip Augustus, King of France; Tancred, Raymond, Godfrey and other valiant men, marrhtnzon th^oneh f?vers and olaroesand battle charges and sufferings as Interne as the world ever saw. Saladia in Jerusalem, hearing of the sickness of King Richard, his chief enemy, sends him his own physician, and from tne walls of Jerusalem, seeing King ' Richard afoot, sends him a horse. With all the Torid looking on the armies of Europe come within sight of Jerusalem. At the first glimpse of the city they fall on their faces in reverence and then lift anthems of praise. Feuds and hatreds among themselves were given up, and Raymond and . Taccred, the bitterest rivals, embraced while the armies looked on. Then the battering rams rolled, and the catapults swung, and the swords thrust, and the carnage raged. Godfrey, of Bouillon, Is th9 first to mount the wall, and the Crusader.^ a cross on every shoulder or breast, having taken the dty, . march bareheaded and barefooted to what they suppose to be the Holy Sepulcher, and kiss the tomb. Jerusalem the possession of Christendom. But Saladin retook the dty, and for the last four hundred years it has been in possession of cruel asd polluted Mohammedanism! Another crusade is needed to start for Jerusalem, a crusade in this Nineteenth Century greater than all those of the past centuries put together. A crusade la which you and I will march. A crusade without weapons of death, but only the sword of the Spirit. A crusade that will make not a single wound, nor start one tear of distress, nor incendiarize one home* stead. A crusade of Gospel Peace I And the Cross again be lifted on Calvary, not as once an instrument of pain, but a signal of invitation, and the mosque of Omar shall give place to a church of Christ, and Mount Zion become the dwelling place not of David, but of David's Lord, and Jerusalem, purified of all its Idolatries, and taking back the Christ she once cast out, shall be made a worthy type 01 tnac neavmg city which Paul styled "the mother of us all,"and which St. John saw' *the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God." Through its gates may we all enter when our >r/.>lr<o/1nni> onH <n its torrmln orrflfttflr than all the earthly temples piled In one, may we worship.Russian pilgrims liaed all the roads aroani the Jerusalem we visited last winter. They bad walked hundreds of miles, and their feet bled on the way to Jerusalem. Many of them had spenc their last farthing to get there, and they had left some of those who started with them dying or dead by the roadside. An aged woman, exhausted with the long way, begged her fellow pilgrims not to let her die until she had seen the Holy City. As she came to the gate of the city she could not take another step, but she was carried in, and then said, "Now hold mv head up till I can look upon Jerusalem,n ana her head lifted, she took one look, and said: "Now I die content; I have been it! I have seep itP* Some of us before we reach the heavenly Jerusalem may be as tired as that, but angels of mercy will help us in, and one glimpse of the tempi? of God and th9 Lamb, and one good look at the "king in his beauty," will more than compensate for all the toils and tears and . heartbreaks of the pilgrimage. HalJ9lujah! Amen! How Rocky Mountain Sheep Descend From Great Heights. Telling how the big-horn sheep of the Rocky Mountains descend from great heights into the valleys below, a writer in the Kansas City Star says: Their manner of descent ha9 been discovered and is easy enough?for a big horn?when you onco witness it. All through these mouutains you will find seams and rifts which split the precipices from top to bottom. Tha rock has been torn asunder by some force of nature, and the result in many instances is a cleft or split where the walls are not separated twenty feet, and yet run from the bottom to the top of the cliff, some hundreds of feet. That the rocky side3 were once together may be seen in the protuberances of one wall corresponding to the depressions in the other. The big horn is the prince of cautum. Before he is found anywhere he has made a complete war map of the neighborhood which he carrie* locked in his wooly head. When he disports himself on some dizzy plateau he is always sure of an outlet. No cul de sac for him; he is tco good a mountaineer for that. Before he nibbles a mouthful of the crisp herbage he has looked up one of these deep rifts which go down to the valley below. The moment he is disturbed he makes straight for it. Arriving at the verge he never hesitates, but jumps boldly out and down, aiming for the other side of the deep crevice. This he strikes with his four hoofs, which are i J ? ?miH of nrifio loani harlr UUIU 2U3 t'OOt SbCCtf auu av vuvv >wu^/w wvm for the other side. He descends perhaps fifteen or eighteen feet at a leap, and as ho could not restrain a foothold for a moment at any one of the places he strikes the rock, he never pauses in his zigzag leaping until the last one brings him to the valley, hundreds of feet below. That crevice is the big horn's stairway, and that is the way he descends. Great Japanese WeaTlnj?. Advices from Tokio say that an extiaordinary piece of Japanese weaving, which is now in the international exhibition at Tokio, will shortly find its way to New York city, having been purchased for $12,000 by a broker on behalf of a rich American whose name is not given. It is of the design known as tsuzure-ori or pierced weaving. It is of great size, the design being equestrian archery. The distinctive feature of this kind of weaving is that the whole margin of the design is perforated like the joining of postage stamps so that when the whole piece is held up to the light, the design of the cnoma tA h* susnended in the bodv af the fabric. la Japan this kmd of weaving has been regaided as a tour de force of the artist,and this particular piece of tapestry is the largest and finest, and has commanded the highest price of anything of tho kind yet produced.?Chicago Herald. Mrs. Miller, wife of tho Governor of North Dakota, dropped into the office of a newspaper at Dryden, N. Y., recently, and set a couple of stickfula of matter, as a reminder of the old days when she was a oompositflT^ that office and the Governor was "making ud" to her . .