Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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n 'K % " ~ * UNCONQUERED. I Hig"h o'er the city's roofs a storm-blown guU. Driven landward from the sea, Battles against the wimU without a lull, Yet inland farther, ever back Helpless is tossoi with flying rank; But, messenger of constancy to uio, I joy to see him facing ocean still, As beaten souls through storm and night May changeless face the hidden light By heaven-sent power and strength of steadfast will. M. A.DcW. Howe, Jr.,in Youth's Companion ] "A LITTLECHILD." 15 Y HELEN FOR REST GRAVES. It was a cheerless September afternoon, the gray sky hanging close to the salt marshes, that seemed to close up the horizon, and tall reeds swaying in the moaning wind. , A single sailing boat was heading for the open sea, and Miss Nancy Dear- , born, resolutely digging for clams on the j beach, looked out toward the dull, flat landscape with a shudder. Her niece, Fanny Sweet, was with j her. Both were dressed in strict accord- , ance with their employment, in calico | frowns, with knit worsted jackets, and j scarlet shawls tied over their heada. ' I Miss Nancy was tall and gaunt. Fanny I, Sweet?"Sweet Fanny," as the girls of , the neighborhood jokingly called her? i was small and round acd rosy. The wind, which turned Miss Nancy's ] nose to a tine purple, only added a fresher glow to Fanny's peach-like , cheeks, so unevenly does Dame Nature i dole out her gifts. I, And as the two women dug diligently in the wet sand, and piled their dripping treasure-tro'*e into the spliut basket be- j side them, a brisk dialogue wcut on. ''I, for one, shan't consent to it,'' said Miss Nancy. "It's bad enough for you . to marry a fellow like Asa Litchfield, , with nothin' but a mortgaged farm and his own two hands, when you raig&t | j have Hebe Holt, with the whole rubber ! factory at his back." ? Fanny's checks were real peony color j now. I * "I wouldn't have Ilebe Holt," she . cricd?-'not if he had all the monev in j, the?" ' "That'll do!" curtly observed Aunt j < Nancy. "I hcerd all that afore?no j need ro repeat <t. It's bad enough, 1'ra ' j savin", for you to make such a choice as th:i*. auyhow; but when Asa has the im piioiT.ce to ask you to take them two or- ; ph::?: young 'uns of his sister's to bring up, :uto the bargain, I say that's tuc la-: -.raw on the camel's back!'' ] i i:kc children, Aunt Nancy!" i " ?.-t out!" sharply retorted the old wonu.u. "Children! meddlin', torment- < in' iKt'.e things! I don't b'lievo there's a ciectur livin' that really likes children! ] If Av.i was to bring you a pair o' young 1 rat*.U-*u?kcs or a pair o' catamount kits iu a basket, you'd say you liked 'em!" , "But, Aunt Nancy?" "Will you let mc get a word in edgenaysf" peremptorily demanded Miss Nancy. "I never see such a one as ytm < i-- * "A-if. i\ru?4. r TT UU lUltllli. M IIUU L HrtUl JUU UlObiUCblJ to understand is that I draw the line at | tiiem young 'uns, and I refuse to give my . consent!" i "They have got to be provided for, ] Aunt Nancy." ] "Well, where's the poorhouse and all the asylums we're taxed to nay for?" "Asa never would allow?" "Neither will I," said Miss Dearborn, uncartWDg a whole colony of different sized clams. "A I won't hear onother word! I'm sick o' the whole busi- | ness." ] A briet silence ensued, during which >Miss Nancy dug assiduously on, and Fanny followed suit as well as she could, stopping ever and anon to brush away ; the tears that blinded her vision. "We don't seein to liev much luck, today." observed Miss Nancy. "Needle Rpnrh ain't what it used to be for clams. I'd like to get enough for supper to-night aDd a br'ilin' for breakfast to-morrow mcrnin', and a mes3 to send to "Widow Clements, and? My laws! what a gust o' wind that 'ere was! I guess. Fanny, we'd better strike work if it's blowin' up from the east like that! There goes my head-shawl! Quick?help me hoist the basket outer the way o' that big tidal wave! I ain't made no mistake in the alqianac, hev I?I don't uuderstacd this." Fanny Sweet abandoned the basket of clams to its fate and clung to her aunt, while at the same time she tried to drag her shoreward. "Aunt Nancy," she shouted iu the old woman's ear, "it's a squall! I knew there was a black cloud coming up, but I didn't think it would reach us so soon. Let us run?let us make haste to the - Smuggler's Hole I Quick. Aunt Nancy! Never mind the clams and the spades. It's beginning to rain so terribly!" Miss Nancy Dearborn was a woman of irpnuine courage and SDirit. but the D " 1 r black sky, the rising surf and the howling of the wind terrified her iuto rapid retreat. "Oh, why didn't we keep a watch on the clouds?" she bewailed herself, holding desperately to Fanny's arm, while her gray hair streamed wildly from her uncovered head, and every step iu the wet sand became a greater difficulty. "What's goin' to become of us? The last equinoctial they had on Needle Beach lasted three days and tore away?" "This won't last three days, Aunt Nancy," said Fanny, cheerily, as she dragged the old woman under the shelter of a ruinous log hut built up against a beetling rock, where, according to the voice of popular rumor, smugglers had once made merry rendezvous, aud where the black mouth of a cave was said to lead to the bones of drowned people innumerable. "But I shouldn't at all wonder if we had to stay here until the tide made it unsafe to go back home to- j night. Don't fret. I've got some gin- ; ger cookies in my pocket, and there's al j ways dry wood up against the rock. And . besides," she added with 3 laugh, "I know where Asa Litchfield's fishing friends keen their malohes in a little < cubbyhole in the rock. We can make a , fire :ind eat out cookies, aud?. Why. I Aimt Nancy, M'hat's the matter? Why do you scream so?" For evea as the two women pushed their way into the hut, a little child, with long yellow locks floating around her bke a sea-sprite, came running to them. "Docs it rain?" said she. "But it's cicc and dry here. And Johnny is coming back when he's caught some fish. And I've got a basket of lunch here? ?ee?' "Mercy on us, child! who be you?" Said Miss Dearborn, staring in amaze- [ ment. - I "I'm Daisy!*' musically answered the Bprite. "Daisy who?" "Johnny's Daisy!" laughed the child, a chubby four-year-old tot. "Johunv left me here. He's catching fish. He'll be back soon." "I hope to goodness nothin' happened to turn!" s:ua iiuQt iNaucy, ?iui .i-iwu. "What's bis ether uame, child?" "Just Johnny," said Daisy, with a puzzled lifting of her eyebrows. "Is he your brother?" Daisy nodded. "I'm his little sissy," said she, contentedly. "And where do you live?" "In the city, to-be-sure." "What city?" Daisy stamped her small foot. "The city," said she. "Don't you know? The city, where every one else i:?? 11VV3* And then she snugged up to Fanny and laughed aloud to see the flames burning upward through the network of driftwood which the girl had artistically built up on the smoke-blackened hearth. "Is the creetur'a fool?" observed Miss Nancy. "I can say 'Mary had a litttle lamd,''' said the child, suddenly, smiling up into Miss Nancy's perplexed face, "and 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star.' " "Oh, ves, I dare say!" said the ancient spinster, irritably rubbing the side of her nose. "But whore's the use o' teaching a child such jingle-jangle3 as that, when 3hc cau't tell her own name, nor where she lives? I've no patience with folks. Fanny, that lire's blazin' up real good now. Put the little mite in front on't. She's fairly blue with cold; and I'll open the basket and see what there is for her to eat." But the child offered her poor remnants of dry sandwiches aud bakers' cake to the two women. "I?I'm not hungry I" said she, with " "T T_1 1.1 i quivering up. wisa jouuuy wuuiu come back.'" Fanny and her aunt exchanged pitying glances, and the latter cuddled little Daisy close to her in the cheerful fireshine. "Don't be afraid, Daisy," said she. "We'll stay here with you. It'll be fair weather prfitty soon, and then we'll all 50 home." The storm raged pitilessly until sunset. Black waves roared, hoarse winds whistled, and sheets of spray came flying up the boac'a like spectres. ii.SU ljilUUUL'lU, 1U mo ObUUb-WTCl&VA wagon, came for the two women as soon 13 the tempest had abated sufficiently for i horse to make auy headway against it. "I reckoned likely you'd take shelter acre," said he. "I am awfully worried ibout you." He looked down at the child who lay deeping iu Aunt Nancy's lap. "And what are wc to do about the little 'un?" said he. "Where docs she belong?" "Why, nowhere!" said Fanny. Aud she told the strauge history of the little waif. Asa whistled under his breath. "There's been two wrecks below," said he. "One was an orange-boat from Florida. Cut to splinters ou the rocks; but the cappen an' the crew managed to ^et ashore all right. T'other was a lit tie sailboat flung up ou Rowiter's Reefs like a sheet o' paper, vrith a yellowliaired young chap all tangled up in the riggin"' -Miss Nancy mechanically stroked Daisy's flaxeu locks. "Doacl?" whispered she. ' Dead!" nodded Asa Litchfield. "It must be Johnny,'' said Miss Dearborn , her old lip quivering. Don't let lier know." Asa turned away, with a lump in his throat. "The wagon's ready,'' said he. "And if we calculate to get ahead of the tide, we'd better be startin' pretty lively.'' "Aunt Naucy, let inc take her," said Fanny. The old woman drew back. "No one shau't touch her but me," she muttered, almost augrily. And Fanuy said no more. Little Daisy slept that ni^ht in a trundle-bed which had been Miss Nancy's as a child and Fauuy Sweet's afterward. And as the old woman sat vending her "chapter" by the fire, and heard the wind shriek down the chimney and the waves thunier along the beach, she whispered many a sccret prayer. And toward dayoreaK, wnen tiie gate shook the loosely-fitting fioat door like touch of a human hand, she got up, and creeping out into the hall, softly opened it. "Ef that's you, Johnny," said she, "you needn't worry no more. She shall be took care of!" And after that, strange to say, the wind suddenly went down, and the door shook and trembled no more. With sunrise the great storm?as it was afterward known along the coast? seemed to abate it3 rigor a little. Aunt Naucy was up bright and early, cooking ham and eggs and frying fritters for breakfast. The fragrance of the coffee already filled the room when Fanny Sweet came in. "Yes, I know," said Aunt Naucy, as she saw her niece's eyes turn toward the open bedroom door beyond?"I know jest exactly what you're thinking of, and you may as well know what I've made up my mind to do. I'm goiLg to keep that pretty little girl and adopt her for my own." 'Oh. I'm so glad!" cricd Fanny, bursting iuto tears?she scarcely knew why. "Yes, I be," said Aunt Nancy, flourishing the tin skimmer. "I never had no one?not even you, Fanny, when you was a little chick and your mother died ?take holt o' m?. heart as she's done. I know I'm an old fo'ol, and I know folks'll laugh at me, but I don't care twopence for that. I mean to keep her. And, Fanny?" "Yes, Aunt Nancy!" "I was sort o' thinkin' when you're married to Asa Litchfield, and have them two little gals co:ne to live with you, they'll be lots o' company for Daisy." Fanny's eyes sparkled. "Yes,"said she, "they will." "And, Fanny?" "Yes, Aunt Nancy!" "Why couldn't they come here right ?> ? it? -i away, ratuur suut'pisuij i|ui;3m;utu Auut Nancy, "and stay a spoil with mc. Daisy '11 be lonely jest at first, anil?" Fanny threw both her arms around Miss Dearborn. "You are the dearest aunty in the world," said she. "Now I lecl free to tell you that A?a wants me to be married right away?and Kitty and Rosy shall come here while we are gone to Bridgeport for our wedding trip.'' So the arrangemeut was made. They , " ^ - never knew what Daisy'8 other name was, nor whether the fair-haired boy who perished in the great storm was in rcalitj any relation of hers. But at all cventi ( she was never claimed, and her little lift brightened into a sunshine that cast equal light on Aunt Nancy's fading down hill of existence. "I always knew there was a warm cor ner in Aunt Nancy's heart," said Fanny. "But I never could tell quite how tc ' j reach it." "I guess the Lord understood human ' naiure better'n we do," said Asa Litch- j field, in his slow way, "when 'He took \ a little child and set him in the midst of < them.' '*?Saturday Night. ' - I Trick Doers. I Taking everything together, I think ! the poodle is the be9t adapted for tricks I of any breed of dogs. Still I have seen 1 mongrels that could perform marvellous j feats with grace aud ease. For summer- ( saults the compactly built terrier is prob- I ably the bc9t breed of dogs. I once 1 knew an artist who had a French poodle | of wonderful sagacity. It lived with him in his studio, and was taught to go I to the door when the postman came, and ( take the letters from his hand and de- , liver them to its master. One day the I door bell rang and when it was opened, 1 a messenger boy came in instead of the 1 AvnAnfnrl rrinr Wlfhrmf QlmiV. I ing the least temper, the poodle spraug > against the swinging door, and by its 1 weight slammed it in the face of the as- , tonished boy. It appears that once a i messenger boy offended the poodle, and 1 he took this method of ridding the studio ] of his presence. , ( Some dogs have a wonderful bump of locality. This is more developed in some dogs than in others, and those that | possess it to a marked degree can easily i be taught tricks in fetching and carrying that would also seem miraculous. I ( have known of a dog going out hunting i with his master. They went a distance i of more than one hundred miles from ] homq. While they were there the mas- | ter lost his dog, and went home without i him. A day later the truant made his | appearance. He had boarded a traiu and ridden home. I myself have lost my 1 dog in Jersey City, and he has got on a i ferry-boat by himself, and come home 1 - - - ! - t. . J I without loosing nis way or oemg neipcu. i A word or two of good advice to conclude. Do not begin training your dog to do tricks until he is ten months or a year old. After you have taught him i one trick, go on to another, but not before he has mastered it thoroughly. In rehearsing him in his tricks, always ob- , serve the samo order. Do not begin ( with jumping to-day, and with standiug up and walking to-aiorrow. Be orderly rtwl oa will imiip ilr?rr Ka i ituu piuuiai'. auu s\j & juui Harper's Young People. _____ The Best Glasses of American Make. All the glasses aud spectacles sold here ( are of American make, with the single i exception of the very poorest and cheapest, which are imported from France. The latter may be had?sold on the spot ?$6 per gross, or tiftv cents per dozen. And they are real, bona-fide spectacles. The frame is made of hollow wire, bent in shape bj machinery, and left open for them. Su vh cheap spectacles cost in the manufactory in France about two cents apiece. Such spectacles, of course, are not much good, aud arc about as easily broken as a raw c^g. The principle place of manufacture for our American spectucles is Southbridge, Mass., but there are other placts as well, all in the East though. "What is the best to wear, viewinc the thin# from an optical standpoint, spectacles or eyeglasses?"' "Well, said the veteran optician, it depends on circumstanccs somewhat. For tbc eye, of coursc, a well-adjusted pair of spectacles are the best. But with a person whose time is precious eyeglasses are preferable, provided bis nose is suitable." "His nose?" "Yes the bridge of his nose. That must be so built as to give the glasses a firm position. If his nose be flat or snub the glasses will slide and constantly get out of position, thus forever irritating tbc optic nerves and changing his angle of vision."?Chicago Herald. Mnking Great Guns. The forging of the immense guns is a I rrn-iaf infornah'nnr rvrnpflQQ Thf* riflnfl I LUVOb 1UI\<1UOUU^ AMV guns of the present are made by rc-enforcing the tube with rings and repeated layers of steel called jackets, which are fitted one over the other over the original tube or barrel of the gun. The jackets or hoops must fit as clo3ely to the guns as if forming au integral part of its composition. The only way to get them on is, of course, by heating, and thus enlarging them. "VVhen they cool they fit snugly. It is evident that the exact size of the jacket and ring when heated so that it can bs put in its place must be a matter of the nicest mathematical calculation. The coarse powder now used makes such havoc with the rifling of the largest guns that one hundred charges are about all that can be expected from them. The jackets and rinrrs can then be removed and fitted O- - to another tube. The various part9 of a gun are not put together at Bethlehem, but are sent to Washington, to a department of the Arsenal called the assembling-room, where the tube is rifled, and the gun is finally completed. A steel gun of the largest calibre costs about 8100,001). The ordnance of our modern navy is, therefore one of the most costly items for which Congress is expected to display a patriotic generosity.?Harper's Weekly. Origin of the Word Bronze. From an examination of texts due to the Greek alchemists, extracted from a document of the sixteenth century, Mr. Berthelot came to the conclusion, especially after comparing them with certain passages in Pliny the elder, that the name of bronze was derived from the city of Brundusium, the scat of certain manufactures in which this alloy was employed. Now, Mr. Berthelot has found a text that is more ancient by three centuries (for it dates back to the time of nnd fVir> indications ofl VU?u?.u.guv(| which are still more decisive. It is nj question of a MS. found in the library ofi the chapter of the Canons of Luynes,an(fl reproduced by Maratori in his Antiqui-j tatcs Italia?. Iu the Latin text it is ex] pressly specified as "Composition ofj hrindisi:'* Copper two parts, lead ond part, tin one part?a traditional formula that has come down to our time. Ill would, then, seem indeed as if the word] bronze was derived from the city of Brindisi. where bronze was manufac-1 tared on a large scale.?La QenU Civil.j ^ X ' ' REV. DK. TALMAGE. IHE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON. Subject: "The Plague of Lies." Text: "Fe shall not surely die."?Genesis tii., 4. That was a point blank lie. Satan told il to Eve to induce her to put her semicircle ol white, beautiful teeth into a forbidden ipricot or plum or peach or apple. He practically said to her, ''Oh, Eve, just take a bite of this and you will be omnipotent and omniscient. You shall bo as gods." Just opposite was the result. It was the first lie that was ever told in our world. It opened the gate for all the falsahoods that have ever ilighted on this planet. It introduced a plague that covers all nations, the plague of ties. Far worse than the plagues of Egypt, for they were 011 the banks of the Nile, but this on the banks of the Hudson, on the banks T>.* *? ? 4.w~ aP nuu JL LUD JJOdb XVIV CI , UI1 LU^ UUU1VS UL UUU WUIV, and the Mississippi, and the Thames, and the Rhine, and the Tiber, and on both sides of all rivers. The Egyptian plagues lasted only a few weeks, but for six thousand years has raged thi3 plague of lies. There are a hundred ways of telling a lie. A man's entire life may be a falsehood, while with his lips he may not once directly falsify. There are those who state what is positively untrue, but afterward sav "may be" softly. These departures from the truth ire called "white lies;" but there is really no such thing as a white lie. The whitest lie that was ever told was as blact as perdition. No inventory of public crimes will be sufficient that cmit3 this gigantic abomination. There are mou high in church and state actually useful, self-denying and honest in many things, who, upon certain subjects and in certain spheres, are not at all to be depended upon for veracity. Indeed, there are many men and women who have their notions of truthfulness so thoroughly perverted that they do not know when they are lying. With many it is a cultivated sin: with some it seems a natural infirmity. I have known people who seemed to have been born liars. The falsehoods of their lives extended from cradle to grave. Prevarications, misrepresentation and dishonesty of speech appeared in their first utterances, and were as natural to them as any of their infantile diseases, and were a sort of mnrnl rrnun op Knirifcliftl scarlatina. But many have been placed in circumstances where this tendency has day by day and liour by hour bean called to larger development. They have gone from attainment to attainment and from class to class until they have become regularly graduated liars. The air of the city is filled with falsehoods. They hang pendent from the chandeliers of our finest residences; they crowd the shel7?s of some our merchant princes; they fill the sidewalk from curbstone to brown stone facing; they cluster around the mechanic's hammer, and blossom from the end of the merchant's yardstick, aud sit in the doors of churches. Some call them "fiction." Some style them "fabrication." You might say that they were subterfuge, disguised, delusion, romance, evasion, preteusb,fable, deception, misrepresentation, but, as I am ignorant of anything to be gained by the hiding of a God defying outrage under a lexicographer's blanket, I shall call them what my father taught me to call them?lies. I shall divide them into agricultural, mercantile, mechanical, ecclesiastical, and social lies. First, then, I will spoak of those that are more particularly agricultural. There is something iu the perpetual presence of natural objects to make a man pure. The trees never issue "false stock." Wheat fields are always honest. JKye ana oats never more out in the night, not paying for the place they have occupied. Corn shocks never make false assignments. Mountain brooks are always "current." The gold on the grain is never counterfeit. The sunrise never flaunts in false colors. The dew sports only genuine diamonds. Taking farmers as a class, I believe they are truthful and fair in dealing and kind hear red. But the regions surrounding our cities do not always send this sort of men to our markets. Day by day there creak through our streets and about the market houses farm wagons that have not an honest spoke in their wheels or a truthtul rivet from tongue to tailboard. During the last few years there have been times when domestic economy has foundered on the farmer's firkin. Neither high taxes, nor the high price of dry goods, nor the exorbitancy of labor, could excuse much that the city has witnessed in the behavior of the yeomanry. By the quiet firesides in Westchester and Orange Counties I hope there may ba seasons of deep reflection and hearty repentance. Rural districts are accustomed to rail at great cities as given up to fraud and every form of unrighteousness, DUC our Clues au UUl UUSUt U ail tuc awuiiuations. Oar citizens have learned the importance of not always trusting to the size and style of apples iu the top of a farmer's barrel as an indication of what may bo found farther down. Many of our people are accustomed to watch and seo how correctly a bushel of beets is measured, and there are not many honest milk cans. Deceptions do not all cluster round city halls. When our cities sit down and weep over their sins, all the surrounding countries ought to come in and weep with them. There is often hostility on the part of producers against traders, as though the man who raises the corn was necessarily more honorable than the grain dealer who pours it into his mammoth bin. There ought to be no such hostility. Yet producers often think it no wrong to snatch away fiom the trader; and they say to the bargain maker, "You get your money easy." Do they get it easy? Let those who in the quiet field and barn get their living exchange places with those who stand to-day amid the excitements of commercial life and see if they find so is very easy. While the farmer goes to sleep with the assurance that his corn and barley will be growing all the night, moment by moment - J-1 ? ~ fKa mofolionf frioc fn an 11 lug IAS HIS 1CVDUUU, vuu uv*v,w?*??v W..W w go to sleep conscious that that moment his cargo may bo broken on the rocks or damaged by the wave that sweops clear across the hurricane aeck, or that reckless speculators may that very hour be plotting some monetary revolution, or the burglars be prying open his safe, or his debtors fleeing the town, or his landlord raising the rent, or the fires kindling on the block that contains all his estate. Easy! Is it? God help the merchants! It is hard to have tho palms of tho hands blistered with outdoor work, but a moro dreadful process wheu through mercantile anxieties the brain is consumed. In the nest place wo notice mercantile lies, those before the counter and behind the counter. I will not attempt to specify the different forms of commercial falsehood. There are merchants who excuse themselves for deviation from truthfulness because of what they call commercial custom. In other wnr.ln thn multiolication and universality of a sin turns it into a virtue. There have boen large fortunes gathered where there was uot one drop of unrequited toil in the wine; not one spark of bad temper flashing from the bronze bracket; not one drop of needle woman's heart blood In the crimson plush, while there are other great establishments in which there is not one door knob, not one brick, not one trinket, not one thread of lace but has upon it the mark of dishonor. What wonder if, some day, a hand of toil that had been wrung and worn out and blistered until the skin came off should be placed against the elegant wall paper, leaving its mark of blooi?four fingers and a thumb? or that some day, walking the halls, there should be a voice accosting the occupant, saying, '\5ix cents for making a shirt," and, flying the room, another voice s iould say, 'Twelve cents for an army blanket," and the man should try to sleep at night, but ever and anon be arouseJ, until getting up on one elbow, he should shriek out, "Who there5" One Sabbath night, in the vestibule of my church after service, a woman fell in convulsions, The doctor said she needed medicine Some of the worst villains or the city are the employers of these women. They beat them aown to the last penny, and try to cneax mem uuiui umi. 1110 vyuuiuu &uuow deposit a dollar or two before she gets the garments to work on. When the work is dono it is sharnlj inspected, the most insignificant flaws picked out, and the wages refused, and not so much as something to eat. As sh? began to revive in her delirium, she said, gaspingly: "Eight cents! Eight cental Eight cents I I wish I could get it dono; lam so tired I I wish I could get some sleep, but ] must get it done! Eight cents I Eight cents!" We found out afterward sh? was making garments for eight cents apiece, and that she could make but three of them in a day! Three times eight are twenty-four! Hear it, men and women who have comfortable homes I - i ' 1 N. sometimes the dollar deposited not given back. The Women's Protective Union reports a case where one of these poor souls, finding a place where she could get more wages, resolved to change employers, and went to get her pay for work done. The employer says, "I hear you are going to leave me." "Yes," she said, "and I am come to get what you owe me." He made no answer. She said, "Are yon not going to pay me?" "Yes," he said, "I will pay you;" and he kicked her down the stairs. There are thousands of fortunes made In commercial spheres that are throughout righteous. God will let His favor rest upon every scroll, every pictured wall, every traceried window, and the joy that flashes from the lights, and showers from the music and dance3 in tbe children's quick feet, pattering through the ball, will utter the con i-.i_ t.: -c .1 1 graiuiai/iuxi ul ujou uuu iuo appi uvai vl uyu, A merchant can, to the last item, be the > oughly honest. There is never any need of falsahood. Yet how many will, day by da/, Lour by hour, utter what they know to be wrong. You say that you are selling at le3S than cost. If so, then it is right to say it. But did that cost you less than what you ask for it? If not, then you have falsified. You / say that that article cost you twenty-flve dollars. Did it? If so, then all right. If it did not, then you have falsified Suppose you are a purchaser. You are "beating down" the goods. You say that that article for which Ave dollars is charged is not worth more than four. Is it worth no more than four dollars? Then all right. If it ba worth more, and for the sake of getting It for less than its value, you willfully depreciate it, you have falsified, You may sail it a sharp trade. The recording anzel writes it down on the ponderous tomes of sternity, "Mr. So-and-so, merchant on Water street or in Eighth street or in State street, or Mrs. So-and-so, keeping house on Beacon street or on Madison avenue or Rittenhouse 3quare or Brooklyn Heights or Brooklyn , Hill, told one falsehood." You may consider it insignificant because relating to an insignificant purchasa. You would despise the man who would falsify in regard to some ereat matter in which the city or whole county was concerned; but this is only a box of buttons, or a row of Dins, or a case of needles. Be not deceived." The article parchased may be so small you can put It in your vest pocket, but the sin was bigger than the Pyramids, and the echo of the aishouor will reverberate through all the mountains of eternity. You throw on your counter some specimens of handkerchiefs. Your customer asks: "Is that all silk? No cotton iu in?" You answer, "It is all silk." Was it all silk? If so, all right. But was it partly cotton? Then you have falsified. Moreover, you lost by the falsehood. The customer, though he may live at Lynn or Doyle3town or Poughkeepsie, will find out that you have defrauded him, and next spring when he again come3 shopping he will look at your sign and say: "I will not try there! That is the place where I got that handkerchief." So that by that one dishonest bargain you pick your own pocket and insulted the Almighty. Would you dare to make an estimate of how many falsehoods in trade were yesterday told by hardware men and clothiers and fruit dealers and dry goods establishments and importers and jewelers and lumbermen and coal merchants and stationers and tobacconists? Lies about saddles, about buckles, about ribbons, about carpets, about gloves, about coats, about shoe?, about nats, about watches, about carriages, about books?about everything. In the namo of tba Lord God Almighty, I arraign commercial falsehoods as one of the greatest plagues in city and town. / Id the next place 1 notice mechanical lies. I There is no clas-s of men who administer more to the welfare of tbe city than artisans. To their hand we must look for the building that shelters us, for the garments that clothe us, for the car that carries us. They wifeld a widespread influence. There is much derisi ionofwhatis called "Muscular Christianity," but in the latter day of the world's prosperity I think that the Christian will be muscular. We have a right to expect of those stalwart men of toil the highest possible integrity. Many of them answer ail our expectations, and stand at the front of religious and philanthropic enterprises. But this class, like the others that I have named, has in it those who lack in the element of veracity. They cannot all be trusted. In times when the demand for labor is great it is impossible to meet the demands of the public, or do work with that promptness and perfection that would at other times be n?.o.'kU But there are mechanics whose word cannot be trusted at any time. No man has a right to promise more work than he can do. There are mechanics who say that they will come on Monday, but thay do not come until Wednesday. You put work in their hands that they tell you shall be completed in ten days, but it is thirty. There have been house? built of which it might be said that every nail driven, every foot of plastering put on, every yard of pipe .'aid, every shingle hammered, every brick mortared, could tell of falsehood connected therewith. There are men attempting to do ten or fifteen pieces of work who have not the time or strength to do more than five or six piece3, but by prom! ises never fulfilled keep all the undertakings I within their own grasp. This is what they : call "nursing" the job. How much wrong to his soul and insult to | God a mechanic would save if he promissd only so much as he expacted to be able to do. Society has no right to ask of you impossibilities. You cannot always calculate correctly, and you may fail because you cannot fet the help that you anticipate. But now am speaking of the willful making of promises that you know you cannot keep. J>id you say that that shoe should be mended, that coat reoaired. tho3e bricks laid, that harness sewed, that door grained, that spout fixed or that window clazed by Saturday, knowing that you would neither ba able to i4> ?-?/>? rrekf nnrnna oIqa fcn (in ifc? UU IV JUU2C1I. UV1 gcv uuj VUW ?.w Then, before God and man you are a liar. You may say that it makes no particular difference, and that if you had told the truth you would have lost the job. and that people expect to be disappointed, but the excuse will not answer. There is a voice of thunder rolling among the drills and planes and shoe lasts and shears which says, "All liars shall have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone." I next notice ecclesiastical lies?that is, falsehoods told for the purpose of advancing churches and sects, or for the purpose of depleting them. There is no use in asking inaDy a Calvanist what an Arminiau believes, for he will be apt to tell you that the Armioian believes that a man can convert himself; or to ask the Arminian what the Calvinist believes, for he will tell you that the Calvinist believes that God made some men just to damn them. There is no need *? UoT\ficf nrhflt-. a Rnntfsh liA. Ill UStilllg U [JiCJU- uupuji, nwuv M lieves, for he will be apt to .say that the Baptist believes immersion to be positively necessary to salvation. It is almost impossible for one denomination of Christians, without prejudice or misrepresentation, to state the sentiment of an opposing sect. If a man hate3 Presbyterians, and you ask him what Presbyt?rians believe, he will tell you that they believe that there are infants in hell a span long. It is strange also how individual churches will sometimes make misstatements about other individual churches. It is especially so in regard to falsehoods told with reference to prosperous enterprises. As lon^ as i church is feeble, and the singing is discord ant, and the minister, through the poverty ol the church, must go with a threadbaro coat and here and there a worshiper sits in thi end of a pew, having all the seat to himself religious sympathizers of other churches will say, "What a pity I" But let a great day ol prosperity come, and even ministers of the gospel, wno ought to be rejoiced at the larg& ness and extent of the work, denounce and misrepresent and falsify, starting the suspicion in regard to themselves that the reason they do not like tho corn is because it is not ground in their own mill. How long before we shall learn to be fair in our religious criticisms ! The keenest jealousies on earth are church jealousies. The field of Christian work is so large that there is no need that our hoe handles hit. Next I speak of social lies. This evil makes much of society insincere. You know not what to believe. When people ask you to come you do not know whether or not they want you to come. When they send their regards you do not know whether it is an expression of their heart or an external civility. We have learned to take almost every? ?-: ? - WnrH in sent "Not at muj? au a uijvuuuvi ww ? home," when they are only too lazy to dress themselves. They say, "The furnace has just gone out" when in truth they have had no Are in it all winter. They apologize for the unusual barrenness of their table when they never live any better. They decry their most luxurious entertainments to win a ghower of approval! They apologize for their appearance, aa though it were unusual, when always at home they look just so. They i would make you believe that some nice < V ? ' jnetcti on the wau was tne worz or a master painter. "It was an heirloom, and once nanj on the walls of a castle, and a duke gave it to their grandfather." When the fact is that painting was made by a man "down east," and baked so as to make it look old, and sold with others for ten dollars a dozen. People who will lie about nothing else will lie about a picture. On a small income we mu9t make the world believe that we are affluent, and our life becomes a cheat, a counterfeit and a sham. Few persons are really natural. When I say this I do not mean to slur cultured manners. It is right that wo should have more admiration for the sculptured marble than for the unknown block of the quarry. From many circles in life insincerity has driven out vivacity and enthusiasm. A frozen dignity instead doats about the room, and iceberg grinds against iceberg. You mu3t not laugh outright; it is vulgar. You mu9t smile. You must not dash rapidly across the room; you must glide. There is a round of bows and grins and flatteries and ohsl and ahs 1 and simpering and nambypambyIsm?a world of which is not worth one good, round, honest peal of laughter. From such a hollow rouud the tortured guest retires at the close of the evening ana assures his host that he has enjoyed himself. What a round of insincerity many people run in order to win the favor of the world! Their life is a sham and their death an unspeakable sadness. Alas for the poor butterflies when the frost strikes them I Compare the life and death of such a one with that of some Christian aunt who was pnce a blessing to your household. I do not know that she was ever offered the hand in marriage. She lived single, that untram- I meledshe might be everybody's blessing. I WlinnotTfli' fhaoi'ot mapfl f/^ ha.vkjtAr) ftp thft poor to be provided with bread, she went with a blessing. She could pray, or sing "Rock of Ages" for any slch pauper who asked her. Aa she got older there were days when she was a little sharp, but for the most part auntie was a sunbeam?just the one for Christmas eve. She knew better than any one else how to fix things. Her every prayer, as God heard it, was full of everybody who had trouble. The brightest things in all the house dropped from her fingers. She had peculiar notions, but the grandest notion she ever had was to make you happy. She dressed well?auntie always dressed well; bat her highest adornment was that of a meek and quiet spirit, which, in the sight of God, is of great price. When she died you all gathered lovingly about her, and as you carried her out to rest the Sunday-school class almost covered the coffin with japoDieaa, and the poor people stood at the end of the alley, with their aprons to their eyes, sobbing bitterly; and the man of the world said, with Solomon, "Her price was above rubies," and Jesus, a3 unto the maiden in Judea commanded, "I say unto thee, arise I" But to many, through insincerity, this life is a masquerade ball. As at such entertainments gentlemen and ladies appear in the dress of kings or queens, mountain bandits or clowna, and at the close of the dance throw off their disguises, so in this QlSSlpHtea IIL9 an UUUltttftU pa^iuus muro in mask. Actojs the floor they trip merrily. The lights sparkle along the wall or drop from the ceiling?a cohort of fire I The music charms. The diamonds glitter. The feet bound. Gemmed bands stretched out clasped gemmed hands. Dancing feet respond to dancing feet- Gleaming brow bends to gleaming brow. On with the dance 1 Flash and rustle and laughter and Immeasurable merry making! But the langour of death comes over the limbs and blurs the sight. Lights lower! Floor hollow with sepulchral echo. Music saddens into a wail. Lights lower I The maskers can hardly now be seen. Flowers exchange their fragrance for a sickening odor, such as comes from garlands that have lain in vaults of cemeteries. Lighta lower 1 Mists fill the room. Glasses rattle as though shaken by sullen thunder. Sighs seem caught among the curtains. Scarf falls from the shoulder of beauty?a shroud! Lights lower I Over the slippery boardet in dance of death, glide jealousies, disappointments, lust, despair. Torn leaves and withI ered garlands only half hide the ulcered feet. I The stench of smoking lamp wicks almost I quenched. Choking damps. Chilliness. Feet I cflll TTanrlo fnlrloH Evas shut. Voices hushad. Lights outf THE LABOR WORLD, Chicago plasterers wont fi. Iowa railroaders will federate. Omaha fights convict labor goo Is. Boston has an Electrical Exchange. A Textile National Union is coming. In Chicago thousands of laborers are idle. New York has an Italian Tailors' Union. The International Bricklayers have ?4000. A secret society of cooks has been organized. New York will hold an eight-hour conference. Jersey Citt Heights. N. J., has a workj men's free school. j Carriagemakers and wheelwrights will form a national body. The Greensburg (Penn.i coke strike in ten days cost a half million. New York Government laborers i contly struck against nine hours. The Operative Painters' Union, of New York, was organized in 1S42. Pittsburg's builders' society talks o! I working with the men's unions. A bill preventing the employment of parsons under fourteen years passed in Ohio. The Lehigh (Penn.) Irou Company has re duced the wages of its employes teu percent. a bill before the Massachusetts Legislature fixes the number of cars for each brakeman. The Knights of LabOr decided to send {75,000 to the 20,000 locked out clothing workers at Rochester. The strikers in the coke region of Pennsylvania have been defeated, after sacrificing nearly $1,000,000 in wages. The Lords of the Admiralty have granted I an increase of wages to employes iu the Government dock yards in England. In England, the average annual production of each employe is $496, of which the laborer receives $296 and capital J200. Over 260,000 minors, metal workers, and other organized workmen will strike in Beli zium on May 1 to gain the eight-hour worklay. There are about six hundred woman typesetters in Now York. They are employed chiefly in the publishing houses and oa the afternoon papers. Fifteen conductors on the Michigan Central Railroad have lost their places by show! ing sympathy for penniless unfortunates, j who turned out to be "spotters." -rr-r . ^-IT mm-! nTiTnTrnmn VVAlt UJN Hill UltiUHij lib. Russia Will Drain Some Marshy Islands to (jict Rid oi' the Pests. The Russian Government has just undertaken a rather unusual enterprise. It has made careful investigations in the district of the Kuban River, near the mouth of which | are many square miles covered with low! lying marshy islands, between the river and I the western spurs of the Caucasus. It is found that these islands are nothing but gigantic nests of crickets. These insects I multiply with astonishing rapidity, and from their breeding place scatter in all directions upon devastating expeditions. They have done an enormous amount of damage to farmers in tlio Caucasus aud in the south of Russia. As long as the islands remain in their present condition nothing can be dono i to combat these voracious pasts. It it therefore proposed to turn the islands into dry " land by means of a system of canal drainage. A commission will visit the spot next month to make the necessary studies tor beginning the canals. Mns. John Dun'!? shot and killed a Mexican, three miles from Corpus Christi, Texas. She says that he broke into her house, and after she had tracked him half a mile she came upon his camp. The man made for her with an ax, when she shot and killed him instantly with a Winchester. John w7 touno, son of Brigham Yonng, has made a contract for building 1500 miles of railroad in Mexico, taking in payment 2,500,000 acres of land, on which he will lo-, nMHnHnnH lvub^hIHH INTERN Lesson Text vngHKHjOTEHrei Having learn^H^BEKH^^^n^^XBS both the ten few exceptioas,^M8HiH^HBH^HBI^I ship idols, we ^ consider God's Himself by His ^^BBn3Bfl^H|^BHflE8H we with tMVRVfflHgMj^Hn^KB missionary ever ^BKHn|^HHflN^Hfln9j "Now the name first fou|^^HBHH^HmH^HH| in Rev. xlz., 13, BWH^^BMWBI only Jeremia^^K^BH|BR^g|^HyD^Hj is used forfr^^Hj^H^^B^KHJH^BRHS it begins twent)Hj^H^flfl^^MHMHnS fifty times. It "Came unto saying." Jonai^H^flQHMnM^^^9VH name does not ?iH^HB|^^HnHHHKBl| dove makes us abiding upon Ji (H3j9H^MH^^Bs^HB| does not seem His name is foi^HHffiSKHH^^^QUIH I this prophecy, Old Testament of him twice prophesied aboi^DB^HHHM^^BfB9j| and is one of first, of the so-c^HEH^HHK|^BjEHdHB "Arise, and cry against come up befoi^HHMzfl^BH|nH^B Tigris, nearly walls were aboi^HHX|^^nHMMflS^HflBE 100 feet high, high. Accord ii^H|BnHHK^9B&jHQmn were 120,000 litt^MBHgMMBQ^^HNKMH time, which woi^B?^QH|K^^MB3&flHn less than OOO.OOO^^BOb^HM^^^Q^^hI JonahHM^HHHRHBMHHHSH from the present^KHBMBfl^BflflBSB to Joppa.11 TaiHMKEQ|^BMH|^H^Hj| across the sea, tu^HEBa^NSHHH^^HBBQ Africa. Joppa, > about forty milec^^BSK^H^H^B^SMR interest in conne?i^^HflNaEBH^3|^fl|Q and also in connec^^^ma^E^BBlflHB^B^B apostle Peter. the LBOHnn&ffi into the sea." I doing wron? Jonah may liaveJ^^H it it afavon^EBSHSI to find a snip about to sall^W^^^H shish. But ho^^^^Bs may seem to SH^RHB in our dissboc^^^Hrted is watchin^^H^B controlling, r be sure that or later our < us ont. 5. 'Then t'^^B^vrs were &frai(J^HB| cried every msj^^fcntiis god." Herd^HEfM servant of O^^^^V'S(lient to his Mas^HBl and bringing j^^^Bble those who knewi^Bfl God, as whei^^^Her disciple of Chri^HH caused so*. as Christia^BH we do wrong,the only ones vf^MM will suffer by^^^Bchaement lovingly se^^R upon us. MHj "And he la^^^Hd vfast asleep." Whi^Hl these heatben^^^Hors doing all in thaHH power for the^^^Hty the ship and all board, and omir gods, which weiHH no gocis, the o^^^Boe board who knew tfflBH only living am^^^Be Q is fast asleep. Is ii^H not a picture ijority of Christian^M now? BE 0. "What m^^V*t rj, O sleeper?" Thu^Rj was a well me^^HP juke. It would doHN good if the peo^^H^ t world would rebuke^Bg professing Chi^^KlSiore often. |^R 7. 'Tbev casB^B^nd the lot fell uponHS Jonah." In thSHs way it would seem tnat^BK Joshua discover^Hpkan (Josh, vii., 14), and^H Saul found out i^fKan (I Ham. xiv., 4l7^H 42), and an apoJ^B?Va.s chosen instead of ^B Judas (Acts 1., VM} M 8. "Tell us, pr?yiW for whose cause this evil is upon us-'^B car is now awake; and HI in the hands of tl'<a 4pon whom he has ?H brought trouble. jheyihave found him out, M and now questioJnm aS.to his occupation H and people and co# i try wB 9. "I am an He Hew; and fear Jehovah, ^B the God of heaven 8vhi?h hath made the tea and the dry land j H> does better than M Peter when he rai j wayf rom his Master and warmod himself i j the servants' fire; but ^B perhaps Peter mij t ha*e done better, too, ^B if he had found hi self n the midst of a KB raging storm at se >withdeath staring him in the face. U ^B 10. "Why hast toudine this?" A search- ' ing question, to f.hich,his answer ii not given. I 11. "What shall^/e do vito Thee that the sea may be calm u(to u^ Sin must be punished. All nation^'ecognze that the transgressor must suffefe ana jet there are those in this enlightens#' (?) nneteenth century, dwelling in our cijies, in tie very centers of light aud intelligence, wio say and teach that sin is a phanprn, a nonentity, and that punishment for sh is notto be thought of. thus believing in I God of less wisdom ana justice than the batten in darkest Africa or than these sailor?f the days of Jonah. 12. "Take me ip and cast me forth into the sea, so shall be sea be calm unto you; for I know that Jr mv sake this great tern- _ pest is upon ya." He is convinced of his sin and ready D accept the consequences. He is ready to-lie that those whom he has ' brought into trable may be delivered. He reminds us by cotrast of Jesus, ready to die for those whoi he had not brought into , trouble, but whm being in trouble by their own sin. He cam to save. 13. "Neverthaes the men rowed hard to bring it to the'and, but they could not." This labor was V.11 meant. They were sorr* for Jonah; they d not fish to be the means i 0f hi3 death, Dv their well meant efforts | were all in vain, or Jouah must suffer for^ U;? oi r* U13 14. "Whereforthey cried unto the Lord." It is not now "e?ry man unto his god," as in verse 5, but unedly they cry to Jehovah, the Gcd of heavi, earth and sea, the Lord God of the Hebres. 15. "So they tdc up Jonah and cast him forth into these: ana the sea ceased from . her raging." Syibolically the sea repre- 1 sents nations, an nations in tumult (Rev. xvii., 15; Isa. viii.7). Why may not Jonah represent Israel, ad his individual disobedience their natiom disobedience, on account of which they ai now cast forth into the , sea of nations, ad are swallowed up by the "p monsters of ungdly governments (Sam. vii., 3-17), In dueimo to be cast forth from J all nations upon teir own land, there to be A nationally convend, and then spread the ^ glad tidings of salvtion to all the Gentiles. j 16. "Then the ten feared the Lord ex- j ceedingly, and ofired a sacrifice unto the 1 Lord, and made ws." Jehovah, God of heaven, whom Jonh feared, was the same I who long afterwanas God manifest in the 1 flesh stilled ttio sioai on u-aiuee (uu&v tu>., 24), and these men, ?eing His great power in the storm, and in te sea ceasing from her raging, are led to wship Him by sacrifice and vows. It looks a if they had really become believers in thftrueGod. 17. "Now the Lo/i prepeared a great fish to swallow up Jonah' He is as able to prepare a great fish as awind or a gourd or a worm. I see no diftiultv in believing that this fish was specialfyprepared for this purnose. as the words itply. Or it may have been one of the great harks of that sea, con- * cerniug which wo an told that in one was j found 400 pounds of indigested fish, in an! other a whole horse, ^hilefrom the stomach { of another a sailor wasrescued alive. "And Jonah was in the belly of the fish | three days and three rights." The fact that ! Jesus speaks of this asan actual event should ? ! be enough to satisfy" erery believer and for- ever end all controversy about the book or, its story. Humbl; accepting Him who died for our sins, was buried, and rose .-igaia the I third day, let us b His willing and obedient servants, ready t? do whatsoever He may aDtoint.?Lesson 'Ielper. i /iHTntlrt centreWell. If a ooai is not drawn up close to th* neck, it bags or sets loosely in the back; < and if draws ap too high in the neck, it hangs ttwa/ at the waist. If not buttoned when made to be worn so it naturally presents an untidy appearance, and if in any way it is carelessly or indifferently put on, it fails to look lile the same coat as if donned with 1 c?re and brought close to the body at the neck, at the waist, at the syce, etc. ieffore putting on an overcoat the under* i 2of&t should be first buttoned, then the ' overcoat drawn up closely to the neck, ' - " * ?n-j ^nsm j&B(ltQ6 unuercuat punou ?ou uw.ru. /'AYben sitting down the pantaloons J should be drawn up to avoid bagging at i || the koeeu. ?Clothier and Tailor,