Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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1' r r.' fer.. t PERMANENCY. ? A lover carved upon a bed of stone His lady's name, and set thereto a rhyme And on the rock were marks beside his owe i : Scratched by a glacier in primeval time. k And yet the passion that his spirit stirred f I The while he cut her fond and fleetin; name, Methinks was more eternal than the word The ice age spoke?time's snow agains love's flame! ?Richard E. Burton,in Harper's Weekly. K* *. Her Love Saved His Honor W- ? A RECENT INCIDENT OF NEW YORK LIFE It was nearly 4 o'clock in the after noon. People who were going dowr W* Cortlandt street stepped quickly to on< side. Those who were coming up die likewise. This action made a free pas sageway for a man who was hastening ai the top of his speed to the ferry. Wher he came to where another street inter sected Cortlandt he dodged in and oul between the wagons with surprising agil? " ity and without perceptibly slacking hi: pace. He wa3 a peculiar looking man. Scarcely five feet tall, with shoulders of t.Tip hrp.iHlh nf a laro-e and nortlv man. a O ? ? <J 1 large head, set upon a thick, short neck, " a derby hat two sizes too large resting on his prodigious ears and exposing a broad, bulging forehead; small at the waist, with slender legs bowed almost to deformity and toes that lapped over eacb L other as he ran, he attracted scrutinizing attention. He passed the ticket punchers before they had time to call upon him to halt, g. By the time they thought of their duty the dwarf was tapping a man on the arm. W- Tim man stood near the gate leading to the boat, which was just coming in. The man whom the dwarf tapped on the arm was fully six feet tall. He was _ dressed m the somewhat worn and ill fitting garments of a laborer. Over his right eye was a green patch. His beard was two days old, and he had been clcan I ' Bhaven when a razor last touched his Er face. Elis slouch hat was pulled well down on his forehead. The dwarf spoke to the man as he turned about and bent his head downward. "But I cannot come, Jimmy," he said. Again the dwarf spoke to him in a whisper. Then the two turned away together. They went directly to the Sixth Avenue Elevated Station, the dwarf walking behind. When they reached Twenty-eighth it was dark and rain was falling. fThey went briskly toward Fifth aveuue, where they turned up town, walked a few minutes, and the dwarf's companion paused1. When Jim came up he said: ''You must go in." "But I cannot." ' She is waiting for you. W The man went up the steps, reaching ' the threshold just as the door opened. [ He stepped iuside. The door closed, r Jimmy waited until he heard a sob just | as the door was closing. Then he hurried away. His work was only partly I5-- done. He walked briskly and in a little j; while ascended the steps of a residence on Madison avenue. The door opened ?. before he had touched the bell. He sy?' went inside and a young woman closed the door. The dwarf followed t'i her up one flight of stairs into a sitting room, which was evidently her own. "When she closed the door she said: 'Well, Jimmy?" . "He is with his mother." \! "Thank you, Jimmy. You can go." "When the dwarf had gone the young woman stood looking apparently at the j figures of the carpet at hc;r feet. But if she had ever known what the figures fcO were thev were then as far from her thoughts as the date of the discovery ; that the world was round. This young woman was Elizabeth Dalow. She was not beautiful. Her lace was too strong for beauty. But a novice in character reading must have seen that she would be impressive anywhere. She was above the medium height, with a good figure. Her eyes were a clear gray. Her lips were suited to a mouth that could be ? ' cither firm or sweet. Now it was firm. Her forehead was not high, but it was broad, and her head sat well upon a fair, white neck above shoulders that did not droop. She was a woman who would be a heroine if put to the test. The test was coming. Courage and strength were required of her. When she raised her head nobody would have said that either was wanting. * Passing in to another room she quickly returned in a mackintosh and was ready to go out. She passed quietly down the stairway, opened the door gently and a moment later was walking swiftly down jg the avenue. Later she passed up the steps where the dwarf had left the man r. with the green patch over his eye. The door opened at her touch. She, too, was r". /urirlpritlr OTnpr>fpd An plrlprlv tromnn _ - ?I- ? J ? conducted her to a room at the rear of ! the hall, smothering her sobs as they ! -went. Before she touched the door knob I she turned in response to a hand upon her shoulder. Elizabeth spoke?only a word: 'Courage." Then they entered the room. B^th Btood, looking at each other. The eyes of the elder woman was suffused with tears; those of Elizabeth were filling, but her face was no longer stern. Mrs. Julia Gaylord was sixty years of ^?age. Her face was sweet, pure, womanly?such a face as a boy who loves his mother never forgets, as a mau instinctively trusts, aud is better for the trusting, as her husband had beeu, and who had died leaving a smile in return for a kiss that had opened for him the gates to the visible sunshine of eterual dav. Mrs. Gaylord left the room, softly w ? closing the door behind her. In a few minutes the door opened and a young man entered. He was neatly and carefully dressed. Tall, slender, pale, and with his eyes upon the floor, he advanced to the middle of the rjom. His face was clean shaven. Elizabeth sobbed, but her courage did not escape. She arose, went up to him au l said: 4'I am glad you are here." He raised his head. He could not speak at first, however hard he tried. Tears came to his eves and then ran j3:>wn his face. Again Elizabeth said, and there was that in her voice to give a much weaker man strength "Courage." Then William Gay lord's voice came to j._ him. He said: "This means State prisou." Elizabeth shuddered, but William did not. For a moment he was the stronger of the two. At length he said: "Not yet!" Young Gay lord looked at her as U | scarcely comprehending. Then she | aaaeac "There is always hope." This roused him aod brought him back to himself. He said: "Not for me.'' "Let us see. Tell me all." 5 4'Have you not heard?" "Something from my father, but perhaps not all. Tell me." t "In three words. I robbed the bank." "Yes, I know. But that is not all," and Elizabeth gently laid her hand upon his arm. "I have come to see you," she added; "to help you, if I can. "Will ' you not trust me? I am, I know, only a woman, but, I trust, a true woman and ! one who must be convinced that her ideal j of true manhood is unworthy of her faith i 1 before she will give that ideal up. My ; ' trust in you tells me that there is some- j I ~ J-/\ lio nn^nir/jFij^ nnrl matr nnf 1 kUIU^ J tu tv UO UUVU Vi W? f MUU U4UJ UVV one so leal as I am claim all loyalty from t you? Tell me all, William, and then I 1 can decide for myself that which I can not permit even you, uuder a cloud be; yond which I cannot yet see, to decide ' forme. Come, then, tell me all." * The young man looked at her steadfastly a moment and then said : "I will tell you all. But why should j I? It may break your heart; for, surely, it will shatter your faith where 1 had rather be adjudged a felon than have it * broken. Besides, you may not believe 1 me. Your father is the President of the bank." "But I will believe you?I must bej lieve you. My faith, unto the pleading of my heart, is pledged. >Iy trust in you is immutable until you have made my 1 mind turn traitor to your self and led it J? t-i T-\? w;n;nm CO UUUUt HAY Oiuv^cnuy. 1/U, Trauaul, | tell me all." "Why should I break your heart and j destroy in you a trust which must make | you miserable for life and make you despise me forever? It is better that I should bear this burden alone, for by so doing I may retain, or at least some time regain, some share in your esteem." ! "William, I love youl Now, tell me I all ! ? Young Gay lord hesitated only until he had looked into her pleading eyes. Her ; hand now clasped his owu. He saw her j love in all its sweetness and purity unI folded as ulainlv as he had an hour be i f" , fore seen tlie anguish upon his stricken mother's facc. He spoke: I 4'God forgive me if I do a wrong! |' | You remember, Elizabeth, that two years j 1 ago I was made cashier by your father of i I the bank. My hands were then as clean j1 ! as my mother's name wa3 above sus- j 1 I picion. I worked faithfully. My salary 11 J was small. I do not plead this in extenu- I' i ation of my error, but it was wholly out j : ! of comparison with my dutiss. The di- I | rectors were close fisted men. At the I end of a year I asked for a larger salary, j1 ; The directors said they could set compe- ; ' I tent and more experienced men for what ! ! j I was receiving. My good mother had J! I only income enough to sustain her prop- I ' ! erly, and my salary barely kept me de- j ' ccatly. I saw no prospect of making a home ; ' j of niy own. But I plodded along. Eager- j ' uess to advanco in the world sharpens j( the wits. One day I discovered that the 1 : directors, your father included, were ' ; speculating in a mining trust. One dis- I ' covery led to another. I was not long 1 | finding out that they sometimes used the ( I bank's deposits to add to their personal ' j gains. It was easy for me to persuade , 1 myself that if the officers could make ( I money in this way, I could not fail to i1 I > Ji._ T i I 1 ao SO. oix moutu'i ayi? k ui;:juii iu ucu my own money. I bad saved nearly a thousand dollars. I went into the mining trust. At first I made a little ; money, and I had $1500. Then I went ! deeper. Meanwhile the bank's officers were speculating. The tru3t began to go backward, and I began to steal. The officers were doing the same. They could keep going because their opportunities were better. They had easier ! access to the funds. The deposits were running low. Three days ago the officers called me into their private room. They v j i- 1 ? 1~*:? DH(1 aiscovereu my pccuiaLiuua uuu I>viu j me so. I confessed, and asked for three days in which to uiake my losses good, intending to expose them and drag them down with me in the ruins. They knew that they were, like myself, guilty, and perhaps mistrusting how much I knew, ' they granted my request. Then 1 thought Of you. Your father must go with the crash. I could not drag him down and disgrace you. I determined to run away, t but before I went one of the directors, < more bold than the rest, came and told 1 my mother that I was a defaulter. She t would not believe him, but I was in the I house, and when confronted by them I 1 confessed my guilt, but made no ex- 1 planation beyond the mere confession, j : This afternoon I, having cleanly shaved ( j my face two days before, procured a s j second hand su't of clothing in exchange < j for others and was in the ferry house I I when Jimmy found me and urged me to I come back, "Why I did not resist him I i i do not know, only that you had sent 1 him. I simply could not go, and I re- i j turned. To-morrow my mother will j ] i beggar heiself to try to save me. If she j < ! fails?and I almost pray heaven she may j t ?I must go to jail." i Here young Gaylord broke down com- ; i pletely. Elizabeth did not. She still j t I Vila Vi-iml 1?11f- she almost choked I s as she said * e ' And this is all?" 1 "All!" ( ' And my father wa3 as guilty as the : i rest?" I 1 Gaylord bowed his head. Then Eliz- i : abeth said: j ] "I believe you. You shall not goto ! jail." Here voice was hard, firm.determiued. i When Gaylord looked at her, he saw at j a glance unat ner iuiuu was luuuc up * > , unalterably as the numbering of the days 1 j one upon another. He pleaded with her j to save her father and let him go, but to | ] no purpose. j "God is as merciful a? He i9 just," she 1 , said. "Through him I will sa%*c you ] j both. If in the ruins you are found, he |, | will be there with you. He has done this 1, j wrong as much as you have done it. His , ^ j ability to stem the tide of adversity aug- j I ments rathsr than excuses his crime. He j, | should have saved you. lie shall help to j I do it vet. or the same law which sen- i ( teaces you shall sentence him. Weak though you were, he was weaker, and his sin, if there be a comparative degree iu a sin like this, is greater than yours. You shall he saved or he must fall." Elizabeth's face now softened and tears , ran down her face. Through them she said: "It wa? for me you hid my father's | crime. Surely my love can save you and j in it you can never again go astray. If | you could do this much for me my | womauhood would be false hearted to I falter in my duty. Wait here for me j U?' -- -i-y-sjfofct-jt.,.: iXiS. - until to-morrow. I will come. I will go to your mother now." Mrs. Gaylord's pillow was wet with tears that night, but they were the tears of gratitude, and peace came to her like a ray of hope that never leaves a somber shadow, from the giver of every good and perfect gift. The remainder of this story is quickly told. "What Elizabeth said to her father will never be repeated in words, but it had its full and perfect effect. She returned to young Gaylord the next evening, and this is what she said to him: "William, my mission has been a success. I believed you and I know that 1.1 J _ i_. .1 ir _ ? . you toiu me me mun. iou are u iree man. Before I rested last night my father, confronted with your words, confessed all. I went with him to the bank to-day and faced the directors with him. His head was only one of all the rest that burned suffused with shame. I demanded your freedom, and my father then admitted that the trust had advanced agaiu and that the bank was now as solveni as it ever had been. Even your investment had made no loss. Indeed, there was something said about the profits gained, and I then demanded a promise from each separate individual that not one penny of this gain should ever be touched by a single officer of the bank. The promise was made, and, William, you will promise, too? I know, my love, you will." And as he promised her tears mingled with his own, while Mrs. Gaylord lifted up her voice from a heart overflowing with gratitude to Him who has promised 4 /-\ V?n nrttns3fn1 /\P Tf a nr' e nAn William Gaylord and Elizabeth Dalow, his wife, are living in the West, happy and as nearly well contented as loving man and wife can be, she still doing him honor, and he as proud of her as an honest man can be of a true and loving woman. If any man or woman is disposed to doubt the truth of this s.tory of real life in all essential details, let it be said, with all the reverence for truth which belief in the Master based upon unfaltering hope inspires, that it is true, and that there are men, for the incident is not of remote date, who can verify it almost within reach of the writer's hand.? W. S. Snyder, in New York Press. Wonders in a Drop of Hay-Water. Let me tell you of some of the wonderful things I have seen. Once I put a little hay in a tumbler, covered it with water, and set the gla93 in a warm place for a day or two. Then, with a medicine-dropper, I put a drop of the water ou a glass slip, covered it with a very thiu glass wafer the size of a cent,placed it under my microscope, adjusted the focus, and what a sight met my eyes. Dozcds and dozens of what looked like animated drops of jelly were darting liere and there, bumping against oae mother, or dodging one another like schoolboys at recess. Perhaps amoag the crowd of smaller ones would dash a much bigger fellow. I fancied it might j je a big brother, older than the others I >v some hours, and so entitled to the leference he seemed to exact. Then, in mother part of the drop of water, the ittle ones formed almost a circle, and i presently in the center of this camc i big fellow?he must have been at least )ne-one hundredth of an inch long?who j , jegan revolving slowly. "P. T. Bar- | ] jum," I thought to myself. "That is | ;xactly the way I have seen hiin address j iu a'idience surroundiug a circus ring." , [iat I can never know what he told the j imall ones, for not even the "little ghost j j )f an inaudible squeak" reached my ears, i | besides these little creatures, 1 could ses 1 vh;it looked like dark specks darting ibove. Determined to find out what hese were, I used a stronger magnifying jlass, and looking through it the specks proved to be other little swimmers such is I had just been examining; and the atter, of course, seemed larger. But iow there were still other specks darting ibout, so a still stronger glass was used, vith the same result. Magnify as I night, I could not reach a point where here were not some moving atoms needng further magnifying. I have siuce earne 1 that no glass has ever been nude powerful enough to reveal the tiniest of nese uniusoria as mey are caueu.? ( St. Nic'iolas. Will the Sua Barn Up? Thousands of curious and ingenious > ;heories have been brought forth to ac- 1 :ount for the fact that the sun, although ^ le has whirled his burning disc across he heavens for untold ages, continues to i jurn without being consumed or his bulk jeing lessoned iu the least. Some earned men affect to believe that the J jreat orb is a monstrous ball of gas, but ivtn a great ball of gas would be conlumcd to its utmost atom in the cov "3 )f a few thousand years. Others p e:end to believe that its fires are kept up jy the remains of wrecked worlds which ire constantly falling into its depths, < >ut even this seems far from probable, lot to say a purely absurd conclusion. 1 [n giving his opinion on the last opinion, >ne of the most eminent astronomers of i he day has figured that a mountain 1 augc consisting of 176 cubic miles fall- ' ng into the sua would only be sufficient i ;o maintain the present heat for a single second; a mass equal to that of our iarth would engender only enough of icat to last ninety-three years. If these 1 >nnr?lt)ciAna opo r?ArrPof ftnrl Wfi VlJlVtt TIO 1 neans of proving tberu false, well may veask the question: Of what wonderful, ndestruclible substance is the suu composed??St. Louis Republic. ? A Po9tal Curiosity. A curiously addressed letter passed lately through the postoffice of Madrid, ivhich was deciphered and correctly delivered, notwithstanding all difficulties, riie address was a perfect rebus. At the left hand side was the figure of a lady; it was clear therefore to which sex the 1 recipient should belong. Over the ladyra head the sun was rising; hence her name was inferred to be Aurora. For her surname stood a hill, with a castle at its foot, which gives us uMontes y Castillo." Next comes the towu, for which the plan of a citj- was drawn, ou wliien tne name A.lhambra was legible. Thi3 indicated Granada, bat in order to leave no doubt possible a pomegranate was drawn beside the plan. To complete the address, a number was indicated in one of the streets of the city plan. The postal authorities took three days to study this curiosity, and then triumphantly delivered the letter to . tC* A n?A?n ATnrtfoa TT 1 lo 'Ot'UUIlUl ixuiuiu iJ&vatw Jf T Azacayjis No. 20, Granada," anil, so far from censuring the sender, they hid the envelope photographed, aud a copy printed in the Madrid papers as a proof of the intelligence of the department.? ManrtwUr (England) Times. _ - REV. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUN DAY SERMON. Subject: "Humdrnm Abolished." Text : " Of Spices great abundance, neither was there any such Spice as tht Queen of Sheba f/ave King Solomon."?I) Chronicles, ix., 9. What is that building out yonder glitter Ing in the sun? Have you' not heard? It i! the house of the forest of Lebanon. King Solomon has just taken to it his bride, the Princess of Egypt. You see the pillars of the portico and a great tower, adorned with one thousand shields of gold, hung on the outside of the tower?five hundred of these shields of gold manufactured at Solomon's order, five hundred were captured by David, his father, in battle. Sea how they blaze in the noonday sun! Solomon goes up the ivory stairs of his throne between twelve lions in statuary, and sits down on the back of the golden bull, the head of the bronze beast turned toward the people. The family and attendants of the king are so many that the caterers of the place have to provide every day one hundred sheep and thirteen oxen, besides the birds and the venison. I hear the stamping and pawing of four thousand fine horses in the royal stables. There were important officials who had charge of the work of gathering the straw and the barley for these horses. King Solomon was an early riser, tradition says, and used to take a ride out at daybreak : and when in his white apparel, behind the swiftest horses of all the realm, and followed by mounted archers in purple, as the cavalcade dashed through the streets of Jerusalem I suppose it was something worth getting up at five o'clock in the morning to look at. Solomon was not like some of the kings of the present day?erowned imbecility. Ah the splendor of his palace and retinue was eclipied by his intellectual power. Why, ha seemed to Know everything. He was the first great naturalist the"world ever saw. Peacocks from India strutted the basaltic walk, and apes chatted in the trees and deer stalked the parks, and there were aquariums with foreign fish and aviaries with foreign birds, and tradition says these birds were so well tamed that Solomon might walk clear across the city under the shadow of their wings as they hovered and flitted about him. More than this, he had a great reputation for the conundrums and riddles that he made and guessed. He and King Hiram, his neighbor, used to sit by the hour and ask riddles, each one paying in money if he could ! not answer or guess the riddle. The Solo> ! monic navy visited all the world, and the ' sailors, of course, talked about'the wealth of e their kin?, and about the riddles and encimas 1 that he made and solved, and the news | spread until Queen Balkis, away off south, heard of it, and sent messengers with a few riddles that she would like to have Solomon ' solve, and a few puzzles which she would like : to have him find out. She sent among other things to King Solomon a diamond with a ' hole so small that a needle could not pene- ' trate it, asking him to thread that diamond. r And Solomon took a worm and put it at the 9 opening in the diamond, and the worm S crawled through, leaving the thread in the ! 6 diamond. The queen also sent a goblet to Solomon. ' asking him to fill it with water that did not pour from the sky, and that did not rush out j from the earth, and immediately Solomon nut c a slave on the back of a swift horse and galloped him around and around the park until the horse was nigh exhausted, and from the perspiration of the horse the goblet was filled. She also sent King Solomon Ave hundred boys in girls' dress, and five hundred girls in boys' dress, wondering if h9 would oe cute enough to flud out the decsption. Immediately Solomon, when he saw them wash their faces, knew from the way they applied the water that it was all a cheat. Queen Balkis was so pleased with the acuteness of Solomon that she said, 'Til just i go and see him for mysolf." Yonder it comes?the cavalcade?horses and dromedaries, chariots and charioteers, jingling harness and clattering hoofs, and blazing shields, and flying ensigns, and clapping cymbals, l'he place is saturated with the perfume. She brings cinnamon and saffron 2nd calamus and frankincense and all manner of sweet spices. As the retinue sweeps through the gate the armed guard inhale the aroma. "Halt!" cry the charioteers, as th9 wheels grinds the gravel in front of the pillared nort.iro of tha kina. Oiipati RnR-iq alights in an atmosphere bewitched with per- j fume. As the dromedaries are driven up to I the king's store-houses, ani the bundles of camphor are unloaded, and the sacks of cinnamon, and the boxes of spices are opened, the purveyors of the palace discover what my text announces, "Of spices, great abundance; neither was there any such spices as the Queen of Sheba gave to King Solomon." Well, ray friends, you know that all theologians agree in making Solomon a type of j I'hrist, and making the Queen of Sheba a ' type of every truth seeker, and I shall take I the responsibility of saying that all the | spikenard and cassia and frankincense which j the Queen of Sheba brought to King Solo- j tnon are mightily suggestive of the sweet | spices of our holy religion. Christianity is | not a collection of sharp technicalities and i angular facts and chronological tables and I dry statistics. Our religion is compared to frankincense and to cassia, but never to j nightshade. It is a bundle of myrrh. It is a ; dash of holy light. It is a sparkle of cool fountains. It is an opening of opaline gates. It is a collection of spices. Would God that we were as wise in taking spices to our Dieine King as Queen Balkis was wise in taking the spices to the earthly Solomon! What many of us most need is to have the humdrum driven out of our life and the humdrum out of our religion. The American and English churcn will die of humdrum unless there be a change. An editor from San Francisco a few weeks ago wrote me sayinj he was getting up for his paper a symposium from many clergymen, discussing among other things, "Why do not people go to church?" and ne wanted my opinion, and I gave it in one sentence, "People do not go to church because they cannot stand the humdrum." The fact is that most people have so much humdrum in j their worldly calling that they do not want to have added the humdrum or religion. We | need in all our sermons and exhortations and songs and prayers more of what Queen Balkis brouglit to Bolomon?namely, more ppice. The fact is that the duties and cares of this life, coming to us from time to time, are stupid often and inaDe and intolerable. Here are rren who have been bartering and negotiating, climbing, pounding, hammering tor twenty years, forty years, fifty years. One great long drudgery has their life been. Their face anxious, their feelings benumbed, their days monotonous. What is necessary to brighten up that man's life, and to sweeten that acid disposition, and to put sparkle into the man's spirits? The spicery of our holy religion. Why, if between the losses of life there dashed a gleam of an eternal gain; if between the betrayals of life there came the gk-aui of the undying friendship' of Christ; if in dull times in business wo found minis tering spirits flying to and fro in our office and store and shop, everyday life, instead of ' being a stupid monotone, would be a glorious inspiration, pendulutning between calm ' satisfaction and nigh rapture. i How any woman keeps house without the i religion of Christ to help her is a mystery to s me. To have to spend the greater part of i one's life, as many women do, in planning c for the meals, in stitching garments that will 1 goon be rent again, and deplorinz t reakages < and supervising tardy subordinates and 1 driving off dust that soon again will settle, ( and doing the same thing day in and day ; out, and year in and year out, until their j hair silvers, and the back stoop3, and tha ' spectacles crawl to the eyes, and the grave 1 breaks open under the thin sole of the shoe? i oh, it is a long monotony! But when Christ < comes to the drawing room, and comes to j the kitchen, and comes to tha nursery, and 1 comes in the dwelling, then how cherry be- ] comes all womanly duties. She is uevaf < alone novt; Martha g-ets through fretting 1 and joins Mary at the feet of Jesus. All day long Deborah is happy because 6he can help Lapidoth; Hannah, because she 1 can make a coat for young Samuel, Miriam, j because she can watch her infant brother; Rachel, because she can help her fathc-r water the stock; the widow of Saropta. because the cruse of oil is being replenished. O woman! having in your pantry a nest of boxes containing all kinds of condiments, why have you not tried iu your heart and J*- i-t-- * ~ tialUrAMl me tuo spicerr ui uur uuxj "MarthaI Martna! thou art careful ani troubled about many things; but one thin* is needful, and Mary hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from ner." I must confess that a great deal of the religion of tbia day is utterly insipid. There f : : : . vt :' .v"? is nothing piquant or elevating about It. Men and women go around humming psalm? in a minor key, and culturing melancholy, and their w orship has in it more sighs than rapture. We do not doubt their piety. Oil, no. But they are sitting at a feast where the cook has forgotten to season th9 food. Everything is flat in their experience and in their conversation. Emancipated from sin and death and hell, and on their way to a maznificent heaven, thev act as though they ?rere trudging on toward an everlasting Botany Bay. Religion does not seen to agree with them. It seems to cat?h in th9 windpipe and become a tig&Q strangulation instead of an exhilaration. All the infidel books that have been written, from Voltaire down to Herbert Spencer, have not done so much damage to our Christianity as lugubrious Christians. Who wants a religion woven out of the shadows of the night? Why go growling on your way to celestial enthronement? Come out ot that cave and sit down in the warm light of the Sun of Righteousness. Away with your odes to melancholy and Hervey's "Meditations Among the Tombs." Then let onr songs abound, And every tear be dry; We're marching through Emmanuel's ground To fairer world's on high. I have to say, also, that we need to put more spice and enlivenment in our religious teaching, whether it be in the praver meet ing, or in the Sabbath school, or in the church. We ministers need more fresh aii and sunshine in our lungs and our heart and our head. Do jou wonder that the world ii so far from being converted when you find so little vivacity in the pulpit and in the pew? We want, like the Lor<i to plant in our sermons and exhortations more lilies of the field. We want fewer rhetorical elaborations and fewer sesquipedalian words; and when we talk about shadows, we do not want to say adumbration; and when we mean queerness, we do not want to talk about i.Mosyncracies; or if a stitch in the back, we do want to talk about lumbago, but in + U 4.1 4. 1 wug uiatu TCi uawuiOi picawu tlittb which proposes to make all men happy, honest, victorious and free. In other words, we want more cinnamon and less gristle. Let this be so in all the different departments of work to which the Lord calls us. Let us be plain. Let us be earnest. Let us be common sensical. When we talk to the people in a vernacular they can understand they will be very glad to come and receive the truth we present. Would to God that Queen Balkis would drive her spice laden dromedaries into all our sermons and prayer-meeting exhortations. More tlianjthat, we want more life and ipico iu uui kjutlsuan. worn. ?no poor ao lot want so much to be groaned over aa sung x>. With the bread ana medicines and the ^armenta you give them, let there be anac:ompaniment of smiles and brisk encouragenent. Do not stand and talk to them about ;he wretchedness of their abode, and the lunger of their looks, and the hardness of ;heir lot. Ah! they know it batter than you :an tell them. Show them the bright side >f the thing, if there be any bright side, fell them good times will come. Tell them bat for the children of God there is imnortal rescue. V, ike them up out of their itolidity by an inspiring laugh, and while "ou send in help, like the Queen of Sheba, ilso send in the spices. There are two ways of meeting the poor. Dne is to come into their house with a nose devated in disgust, as much as to say: "I lou't sea how you live here in this neighborlood. It actually makes me sick. There is :hac bundle; take it, you poor, miserable vretch, and make the most of it." Another vay is to go into the abode of the poor in a nanner which seems to say: "The blessed. Irord sent me. He was poor himself. It is jot more for the good I am going to try to do rou than it is for the good you can do me." doming in that spirit the gift will be as aroliatic as the spikenard on the feet of Christ, ind all the hovels in that alley will be fragrant with th9 spice. We need more spice and enlivennient in rnr church music. Churches sit discussing vhether they shall have choirs, or precentors, or organs, or bass viols, or cornets. I iay, take that which will bring out the most lispiring music. If we had half as much :eal and spirit in our churches as we have in ;he songs of our Sabbath schools it would lot be long before the whole earth would luake witn the coming God. Why, in most hurches nine-tenths of the people do not iing, or they sine so feebly that the people it their elbows do not know they are" singng. People mouth and mumble the prai3es >f God; but there is not more than one out >f a hundred who makes 4,a joyful noise" into the Rock of Our Salvation. Some* imes, when the congregation forgets itself, md is all absorbed in the goodness of God or :ha glories of heaven, I get an intimation of fvhat church music will be a hundred years :rom now, when the coming generation shall ivake up to its duty. I promise a high spiritual blessing to any >ne who will sing iu church, and who will ling so heartily that the people all around ;aunot help but sing. Wake up! all the :hurches from Bangor to San Francisco and icross Christendom. It is not a matter of preference, it is a matter of religious duty. Jh, for fifty times more volume of sound, jerman chorals In German cathedrals sursass us, and yet Germany has received jothing at the hands of God compared with America; and ought the acclaim in Berlin be ouder than that in Brooklyn? Soft, long lrawn out music is appropriate for the drawng room and appropriate for the concert, jut St John gives an idea of the sonorous md resonant congregational singing approjriate for churches when, in listening to the lemple service of heaven, he says: ,II heard i great voice, as the voice of a great multi;ude, and as the voice of many waters, aud is the voice of miehty thundering. Hallaujah for the Lord God omnipotent reignith." Join with me in a crusade, giving me not >nly your hearts, but the mighty uplifting jfyour voices, and I believe we can,through Jhrist's grace, sing fifty thousand souls into ;he kingdom of Christ. An argument they :an lauebat, a sermon they can talk down, but a vast audience joining in one anthem is rresistible. Would that Queen Balkis would irive all h?r spice leaden domedaries Into >ur church music. ''Neither was there any >uch spice as th6 Queen of Sheba gave King Solomon." Now, I want to impress this audience with :he fact that religion is sweetness and peror.fi um'Lronnrr? anr] aaflfron and cinna non and cassia and frankincense, and aLl >weet spices together. "Ob," you say, "I mve not looked at it as such. I thought it A-as a nuisance; it had for me a repulsion; I leld my breath as though it were malodor; [ have been appalled at its advance. I have said, if I have any religion at all, I want to lave just as little of it as is possible to get hrough with.'* Oh, what a mistake your lave made, my brorher. The religion of Christ is a present and everlasting redolence, [t counteracts all trouble. Just put it on ;he stand beside the pillow of sickness It latches in the curtains and perfumes the itifling air. It sweetens the cup of bitter nedicine, and throws a glow on the gloom )f the turned lattice. It is a balm for the iching side, and a soft bandage for the te ovale stunc: with pain. Why Sid you look so sad to-day wnen you jarao in? Alas I for the loneliness and the heartbreak, and the load that is never lifted from tout soul. So;ue of you go about feel* ng like Macaulay when he wrote: "If lbai mother month of such days as I have beei ipendmz, I would be impatient to get dowi nto my little narrow crio in the ground liki i weary factory child." And there have seen times in your life- when you wished you :ould get out of this life. You have said, "Oh. how sweet to my lips would be the dust >f the valley,."' and wish you could pull over fou in your last slumber the coverlet of *reen grass and daisies. You ha:ve said: "Oh, how beautifully quiet it must be in the tomb. I wish I was there." 1 see all around ibout me widowhood and orphanage and :hildlessness; sadness, disappointment, per plexity. If I could ask all those tr> risa ic this audience who have felt no sorrow and been buffeted by no disappointment?if 1 :ould ask all such to rise, how many would rise? Not one. A widowed mother with her little child went "West, hoping to get better wages there) oko woo tnknn siek and died. The ovei^ seer of the poor got her body and put it in a bos, and put it in a wagon, and started dowr trie street toward tne cemetery at full trot. The little child?tha only child?ran after it through the streets, bareheaded, crying, "Bring me back my mother! bring me back my mother!" Aud it was said that as the people looked ou and saw her crying after tnac wnicn lay 111 tno dox iu t w ?ugun?uu she loved on earth?it is said the whole village was in tears. And that is what a great many of you are doing?chasiug tha dead. Dear Lord, Is there no appeasement for all this sorrow that I see about me? Yes, the thought of resurrection and reunion far beyond this aoene of struggle and tears. "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any 1 V- ? ? - ?s more, neither shall the san light 00 them, nor any heat; for the Lamb which la in the midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe away all wars from their eyes." Across the couches of your sick and across the graves of your dead I fling this shower of sweet spices. Queen Balkia, driving up to the pillared portico of the house of cedar, carried no such pungency of perfume as exhales to-day from the Lord's garden. It i? peace. It is sweetness. It is comfort. It is infinite satisfaction, this Gospel I commend to you. Some one could not understand why an old German Christian scholar used to bo always so calm and happy and hopeful when ne naa so many inais auu sicanesaes auu ailments. A man secreted himself in the bouse. He said, "I mean to watch this old scholar and Christian;" and he saw the old Christian man go to his room and sit down on the chair beside the stand and open the Bible and begin to read. He read on ana on, chapter after chapter, hour after hour, until his face was all aglow with the tidings from heaven, and when the clock struck twelve he arose and shut his Bible, and said: "Blessed Lord, we are on the tome old terms yet. Good night. Good night." Oh, you sin parched and you trouble pounded, here is comfort, here ia satisfaction, will you come and get it? I cannot tell you what the Lord offers you hereafter so well as I can tell you now. "It doth not yet appear what we shall be." Have you read of the Taj Mahal in India, in some respects the most majestic building on earth? Twenty thousand men were twenty years in building it. It cost about sixteen millions of dollars. The wall3 are of marble, inlaid with carnelian from Bagdad, and turquoia from Thibet ?na jasper rrom vue runjauo, and amethyst from Persia, and all manner of precious jtones. A traveler says that it seems to him like the shining of an enchanted castle of burnished silver. The walls are two hundred and forty-five feet high, and from the bop of these springs a dome thirty more feet high, that dome containing the most wonderful echo the world has ever known, bo that aver and anon travelers standing below with flutes and drums and harps are testing that echo, and the sounds from below strike up, and then come down, as it were, the voices of angels all around about the building. There is around it a garden of tamarind and banyan and palm and all the floral glories of the ransacked earth. But that is only a tomb of a dead empress, and it is tame compared with the grandeurs wuicu V7UU una uuuucvi iui y\j\ju uviu^ auu immortal spirit. Oh, home of the blessed I Foundations o? gold I Arches of victory I Capstones of praise I And a dome in which there are echoing and re-echoing the hallelujahs of the ages. And around about that mansion is a garden?the garden of God? and all the springing fountains are the bottled tears of the church in the wilderness, and all the crimson of flowers is the deep hue that was caught up from the carnage of earthly martyrdoms, and the fragrance is one prayer ui an but) muiu, auu iuc aiuuu puts into utter forgetfulness the cassia, and the spikenard, and the frankincense, and the world renowned spices which the Queen Balkis, of Abyssinia, flung at the feet of ELing Solomon. When shall these eyes thy heaven ballt wall* And pearlv gates behold, Thy bulwarks, with salvation strong. And streets of shining gold? ' Through obduracy on our part, ana through the rejection of that Christ who makes heaven possible, I wonder if any of us will miss that spectacle? I feart I fear I The queen of the south will rise up in judgment against this generation and condemn it, because she came from the uttermost parts of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, a greater than Solomon Is here I May Goa grant that through your own practical experience you may find that religion's ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are paths of peace?that it is perfume now and perfume forever. And there was an abundance of spice; "neither was there any such spice as the Quaen of Shebagave to King Soloruoa." A Unique Rotifer. At a recent meeting of the Natural History Society Dr. Thomas S. Stevens entertained and instructed the members by an illustrated paper on a rotifer, a microscopic animal that is among the rarest in the group. It was first discovered by a Russian microscopist, next found twice in Philadelphia, once in Illinois, and some years ago in Trenton. It has now been re-discovered here. The creature is unique in several particulars that would be of but little interest to the general reader, but which fill with inexpressible joy the heart of the devoted microscopist, who is happy when he is prying into the little brain or the larger stomach of the animal. The little creature is blessed above the human beast in having two stomachs, which it can fill with other animals, and apparently enjoy itself by digesting them in spite of their wriggling. But in con' * ? ? ~c efAm. ncccion WltU UUC Ul lUC auiiuai a 9WMachs a discovery has been made in Trenton that has never before been made in any part of the world?otherwise it would not be a discovery. This pouch is internally lined with a dense and woolly coating of vibrating hairt. These Etrange internal appendages appear to be unknown to any other than the Trenton rotifer, and are, therefore, of great interest in a scientific way. Another pleasing point, pleasing both to the animal and to the microscopist, is that the rotifer has no means of seeking its food nor of creating currents in the water that shall bring food to its double stomach. It can only rest on a small leaf I nfh?- nhiert- hold its mouth widely V* V.? j r open and wait for Providence to fill it by means of some wandering animal that shall blunder into the trap and be done for, bccause once in those jaws there ia no escape.?Trenton (N. J.) Stale Ga> eette. Ireland oas again been visited by a most alarming failure of the potato crop, and it is feared that there will be a famine of almost as great proportions as that terrible one of 1847, during which many died of actual starvation. Science has found a reasonably sue cessful preventive for potato rot (Peronospora infestans), just as she has for grape rot (Peronospora vUicola). This potato failure in Ireland might have been almost entirely averted had the farmers sprayed the leaves and sterna of the young plants several times, at intervals of a few days?oftener in showery weaiher?with the following solution: Six pounds copper sulphate I blue vitriol) dissolved in ten gallons of water, to which six pounds of slaked lime is added. v/?f onry one occasion^ ana mat prvi/ably as an experiment, Northern Minnesota showed -i4 degrees below zero. Horsi>9 froze to death under twc blankets, and deer were found frozen stiff in the forest. Three days of it would have paralyzed whole counties. On November 24, 1887, a bottle was I thrown from the steamer uepnaiomu ' when about 400 miles out from Boston. | It was recently washed ashore on s little island in the Caribbean Sea, 0,30( miles awav. BENA.TOR .f EFFER wants OOU.UOO.OOL' new Treasury notes of the denomination of $1 issued. The Senator has doubtless been doing business with the sleeping-ear porter since his eleotion. _ .... ^ RELIGIO US_READIN(i. MOTHER AND HOME. A little child in the busy street? A child with a shy face, flower sweet. And brown eyes, troubled, and half afratfV By the noise and hurry quite dismayed. I lifted the baby hanii and said? ciuuummg tut* curis on me goiuen neaa? "Where is your home, my little one?" For the summer's day was nearly done. And the swift tears came at her reply, As she trusting answered, sweetly shr: "Home is where mamma is, you know. "Won't you take me there? I want to go." Where mother is! Oh. the world of love I No matter how far our f?et mny rove; When weary and worn i:i constant strife, Mother and home are the Uat of life. Blessed is he who may -miling say, "I'm going home to mo. hi r tooay." God's mercy haliows that home so dear, Where mother our footsteps waits to hear. Ble s the busy hands and the chcety smile That brighten and comfort all the while; Nothing on earth can with home compare When a loving mother waits us there. THE EIGHT QUAKER WOMKN. When eight Quaker ladies had an appointment and seven were punctual, and the eighth, being a quarter of an hour too late, bpgan apologizing for keeping-the others waiting, the renlv from one of Uiem wm : "I am sorry, friend, that thee should have wasted thine own quarter of an hour, but thee had no right to waste one hour and three quarters more of our time, which was J not thine own." And of Washington it is 1 said, that when hi9 secretary on some im- J portant occasion was late, and excused him- J self by saying his watch was too slow, the reply was, "Yon will have to get another watch or I another secretarv." Napoleon used to say to bis marshals, "You may ask anything of me bur. time." And of John Quincy Adams it is said, that in bis tong service in Congress j be was never known to1>e late, and one day when the clock struck and a member said to the Speaker, "It is time to call the House to order," the rep'y was, "No, Mr. Adams is not in his seat yet. And while i&jvv wire yvt 3|>ens.um, ror.^Luaxus tame IU, he being punctual, wbile the clock was three minutes fast ? [Christisn Witness. THE CITAKliliLlS* I EIEND. %. The unchang*able?ess of God In the midst of all the changps of our life is a deep source of comfort. Those ancient saints dwelt upon it more than we seem to do, and they were made very strong by it. It consoled them in the absence of the clear view of their own immortality; it was the soil in r- hich the seed of it lay, and to which we should still ?eek to carry down the roots of our faith. Beneath this shifting face of things where we look on endless change, there is a great liflo that i? not nnlr tho annrpp hnf tha qua. tenance of ours, a life that is uot blind and purposeless, but conscious and wise. It Is in his bosom that we are born and live and die. We have many deaths before we come to the last ?some of them which seem sorer than even the last can be?deaths of desires, deaths of hope, deaths of friends. And yet, if we have carried them to God, there h*s come from these deaths a life, some new and higher hope, some deeper and richer possession of the soul. Amid these changes we have felt that we were taking in something unchanging which could be taken in. And this may give us the hope that the last change will have a like result, the last death a corresponding life to us. We may have the confidence of this, if we realize the thought of ah ever-living God. who not only gave being to our souls, but holds them in his hand, and puts into them desires after himself. All the changcs, whether of life or death, cannot A An* vnlotiAn tn XT i m ov/>onf In in Cfm UUCll VUl iCirtuvii lU IIIIII, CAVV{/|| m w&iuging us nearer. Without nn eternal God wliat refuge would there be for troubled H| souls? When the sea is tempest-tossed we flee to land; when the land quakes we look to heaven; when all things'aie disso'vtd, S then to Him who says, "lam the Lord; 1 * chanire not" We niay lie quietly down in " our little earthly homes when we have the overarching skv of God'a hand above us, the shadow of the Almighty; and we may lie down hopeful in our graves when we comfit ourselves to an unchanging God.?[John Ker. CONDITIONS OF C.OOD SUCCESS. There are but comparatively few people who are indifferent to the ideaoi success. Indeed the vast majority of people make more or less effort to succeed in some line of endeavor to which their tastes and talents incline them. It is true, however, that many do not aim to attain sood success?success in the beat and noblest"sen^e of the word. It 18 0118 miug 10 suuceeu in uic i^iinmunuu ui some purpose, and quite another thing to succced in the line of high principles and pure purposes. Referring now to divine things and man's relation to them we call attention to some vital conditions of good success. To this end, let us look at a text, found in Psalm cxi. 10, which reads thus: ' The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: a good understandiughave all they that do his commandments.'' A margina note, against the words, "good understanding," is this: "good success." Transferring this phrase to the bedy of the text, it would read thus: "Good success have all they that do bis commandments." Here are'given some very impoitant conditions of good success. In the first place the ''fear of the Lord" must be regarded as a primary consideration. If it t>e said that men succeed, without having the fear of the Lord in their hearts, we reply that it cannot be fa:rly denominated good success in any noble and enduring sense. Whatever success they may have is of a merely earthly and temporary nature, and it confers no deep spiritual gooa upon themselves and others. We must insist, therefore, that one of the vital conditions, and indeed a primary one. of good success, is the tender and loving fear of the Lord. We do not say that the success is always what one would naturally admire, cr be delighted witb; that is the natural heart might prefer a different style of success; but it is really eood success, because it leads one to aecep'tablv love God and effectively serve him. fiut note the next condition of good success, which is this: The doing of God's commandments. It is not the repeating of the Ten Commandments, and all others besides, but the doing of them,, which constitutes the rond tion. Nor is it the merely mechanical doing of Use commandments of God, but rather the loving, steady and delightful doing of them, which is the'real condition of good success. They may be quite imperfectly done; but if the heart yearn to do them, as best it can, the condition is acceptably met, and good success is surely attained. The fearing, believingdcer succeeds in pleasing God and building up his spiritual character and exerting a mighty and many-sided influence. God always blesses, with good success that soul who exercises a tili:ii fear toward* him, o?,i invinif'v c?plf4 with all of his mteht. to do whatever he commands him. The only wav to have truly good success?a success which will run into eternity, is to do as God wants us.?[Religious Herald. The fear of God turns other fears out of doors; there is no room for them wliere this great f?>ar is; and, being greater than they all, vet it disturbs not as they do: yea, it brings great quiet as they brought trouble. ? [i-erghton. Men think of their work in sordid ways, and th?vn the sordidness of the work pulls their natures down This is almost the chief evil. We do not let the highest and best rule. Culture of mind and heart we esteem a luxury in which we may indulge, but the chief business is to get a living. Tne mistake is in the thought that if we live in the highest ranges of our being we shall not be able to get a living.?[ttev. 1\ S. Moxom. Apples From Tasmania. The singular experiment was tried by an Australian of shipping 1700 boxes of | apples from Tasmania to Saa Francisco, ! Cal. This venture was somewhat like carrying coals to Newcastle, as even late winter apples are grown in the mountains sufficient to supply all that State demands. It proved disastrouj in this case, as improper stowing or the heat of the hold converted the greater part of the consignment into fine specimens of baked apples.? Mk York Tribune.