Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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V;;?v. ZT'iv '* ; ? J i x JIMMY'S WOOINO. Ore wind came blowing out of the West, As Jimmy mowed the hay, fie wind came blowing out of the West, stirred the beach trees out of their rest bid rooked the storm-thrush up in. his nest, As Jimmy mowed the hay. fhe swallows skimmed along the ground, As Jimmy mowed the hay; v? ?n.M oMmmaH nlonc the ground, |UO snauvno oa**umV?. .... 0 _ w bid rustling leaves made a pleasant sound, tike children babbling all around, As Jimmy mowed the hay. ffilly came with her bucket back, As Jimmy mowed the hay; Billy came with her buoket by, I7ith a wee light foot so trim and sly knd sunburnt cheek and laughing eye, As Jimmy mowed the hay. Ind Milly's heart was good as gold, As Jimmy mowed thetiay; Jh, Milly's heart was good as sold, lot Jimmy thought her shy and cold, Lnd more than that he never told, As Jimmy mowed the hay.' ' Che wind came gathering up his bands, As Jimmy mowed the hay; 171th the clond and the lighmlng in his hands, The wind came gathering up hi3 bani3, *? " ?--J oil tlio lands. LQd a snaaow unrnouau m. ? As Jimmy mowed tho hay. rhe rain came pattering down amain, Where Jimmy mowed the hay; rhe rain came pattering down amain, tad under cover of the wain, fimmy and Milly, a cosey twain. Sat sheltered by the hay. ot Mlily nestled to Jimmy's breast. Under the thatch of hay; for Mllly nestled to Jimmy's breast, k wild bird fluttering home to nest, ind then I vow she looked her best, Under the thatch of hay. Ind when the san came laughing out, Over the ruined hay; * Ind when the son came laughing out, tlilly had ceased to pet and pout, ind twittering birds began to shout As if for a wedding day.' ?E. C. Mlllbroob, In Home and Country. ri TFTF. TREASURE. XUJJ II 'W a long time Roou X? had lived alone with ^Jt?/1 1/ his Bon, in his house Lir built of reeds and - CI A ^ stones by the road, p|M|* 6ide, under the hill overlooking the far*?wn> -?e WftS owner ?' rich lands planted with vines, both on ^ the hillside and in the plain. Only on rare occasions he quitted his own paths to climb into the mountain woods, to shoot the hare 4r gather mushrooms and salads. Persons sometimes came ^o see him, most on the eve of th? vintage, to t fnr thft rmrchase of the fruit, which he sold on the vines for ready money, and on no other terms. At those times, after business, he would invite the dealers or his comrades to drink a bottle of wine, over which he would gayly talk about the doings of his youth, his health; all the while laughing the laugh of the master, sitting at his door in the sun, his fowls picking and scratching in the straw tnd dust around him. His son Michel resembled him closely?blonde, square-shouldered, with beard and ? air tufted like the brambles in a ravine. The old man was becoming gray, and bushy eyebrows protected his keen little eyes, which took a>dreamy expression when, at the close of the 3 1 """> > V.io afAna honpVl otlH , i ilftVj iltj Daw upuu U10 owuw vvmvm ? aaw the trembling sea of darkness overspread the plain, lie was a miser. He mended bis own olotbes, repaired his own plows, re-plastered tbe wornout walls of bis house and trimmed the hedges of bis domain. He and his son, -without any beast of burden to help them, did all tbe work. They dug deep, and opened out their cultures to tbe sun with energy and confidence. Their vines were the best in ,. the country. They never quitted them?never ceased thinking of them day and night, and so, lived by them. Boch took pleasure in this kind of existence. He loved money?religiously, with all his strength. He hungered for gold?more and more? that he mixht handle it, imbibe its powers, bide it in corners, at the foot of trees, nnder heaps of rocks. On sunny Sundays he colleofced his fortune from its hiding places and fcdaped it on his table in front of hie door, in the midst of his fowls?alone ?counted his silver and his gold {>ieoes, making them glitter in the sunight and fall through his horny fingers in a clattering shower. Near him, within instant reach, he had his double barreled gun. And he laughed and fed his eyes with his large fortune. A glory sang within him, he swelled with the pride of being rich. Hp thought of Michel, of the happiness which this treasure, amassed with so much fervor and patience, would give him at some future time, when he would no longer be there. At ease in his solitude he gave himself up to this enjoyment; he enjoyed his lands, still full of riches, while his son, down yonder, behind the trees, dug bravely at the foot of a vine. Then, suddenly overtaken by terror, he hurriedly returned his gold to a canvas bag and bore it away; made a fresh hole in the ground, no matter where, sometimes in the most open and noticeable spots, so as to ward off suspicion. And when he had thus buried his treasure the old man stood nnirorloBB nrmrftasflri with remorse. rv ??> ~i-1 > as if he had buried his happiness, his eyes lost in an ecstasy. He planted himself for a moment before his cottage, lifted his eyes toward the blue sky, scanned the high road along which were passing the dull and indifferent wagoners, and ever fearful of having been watched, he looked for son, still working yonder behind the trees. When he returned to labor and health the joy of the soul came back to him abundantly. Yet he was pursued by an anxiety, a miser's care, a peasant's pride in his lands. After him what would become of the patrimony? What would become of his gold? He had confidence in his son ?who resembled him?but his son would not remain alone. He ought to be married already. And the young irife and the new relatives would, per haps, destroy the order and prosperity of his possessions. He would himself choose a wife for his son. Michel bowed humbly before his father, whom he regarded as a superior fcemg, since, out of nothing, from the depths of poverty, Roch had raised himself to opulence. They went forth together at dawn one Sunday in spring. The clear sky hung over all like a robe of innocenoe. Fresh voices murmured in the solitude. I "We will not go into the town," said the old man. "we snau IIU L UUU r there what we want; the girls there are too fond of luxury and amusements. Let us try what we may see in the villages." Michel tired of these proceedings after awhile. None of the girls pleased him. He thought them all too much dressed up and too forward in their bearing. The father grumbled at the young man's ill humor and exaction. II. On the further side of the mountain, on the border of a torrent and shadowed by trees, stood a farmhouse, poor and isolated, the only house' to which Michel sometimes paid a visit. Its inhabitants were a man named Bruno, taciturn, always at work,'rusted by the sun. The wife, Olympe, a dried plant of the mountain, burned up like a cinder, like her husband, forever at work, sewing and tending the flowers I and vegetables; then the daughter, a tall, brown haired girl, sweet as the grass about a spring, the pure and | />aracainor crcwth of the peace of the | v?-*vww?0 0 . fields. This was Justine, the sunshine of the hearth, the pride of her parents. For her sake Bruno put off his taciturnity after the day's work, and on Sundays went to the town and to the fetes, exhibiting his heiress dressed in bright colored gowns, with gold chains about her neck?the jewelry of a long forgotten grandmother. Justine was not yet twenty, and there had been no thought of marrying her. Michel and Jnstine had grown up together on the same soil. They regarded each other as if they had been old people, talking and laughing together without restraint, their con-1 versation always turning on the same I subjects, their labors and the seasons. !||On the evening of the day following that on which he had been with his father on that strange excursion to the town and the adjacent villages, Michel met Justine; they looked at each other, then suddenly flushed, and * ? _ * J their ejes grew moist wnn iouuuuao. They walked side by aide. When they were near the farm, already dim amid the shadows that were creeping to the brow of the hill/ Justiae asked: "You and your father were away from home yesterday?why ?" "Oh, yes! f Fancy I" And with laughter Michel related to her the story of the pilgrimage in search of a wife. "It was all nonsense," he added; "I don't know what my father has been thinking of lately. I have constantly seen him, spade in hand, removing his treasure from one place to another. And now he wants mo to marry?a thing I never thought of," a look of dreamy helplessness in his VJI vu? "Well, don't worry yourself about it, stupid!" cried Justine. "One would think you were going to cry!" "Do you want to get married?" Michel?" asked Bruno. The young man blushed redder still, shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and replied: "My father has ideas?stupid'ideas that come into his head?and insisted on going about the villages?" "But?what need was there to search so far away?" And Olyme, with her large hands widespread, boldly indicated her daughter. It was Justine's turn to blush. "Why not?" continued Bruno. "We are fond of you, Michel. But it was not for us to say anything; your father has money." "Oh!" This question of money*shamed the young man. "My father would have it so," he said, resolutely. Justiue raised her eyes to him, took his hands between hers and extended them on the table. It seemed like au oath taken, and a bright vision passed before all of them in silence. Justine moved nearer to her lover, pressed closely against him and encouraged him to trust and to will. He went away filled with regrets, tormented by a r#morse. All accompanied him to the threshold, Bruno in advance. Then, with a movement of courage and will, Michel said to the master of the farm: "My father esteems you; he will only do what I wish." And he departed. Justine saw him through the shadows mounting the hill path. He walked quiokly, agitated by his new suffering. For the first time in his life he thought things no longer appeared to him as they had hitherto appeared. A voice spoke to him confusedly, awakening dreams in his soul. He tried to drive away the memory of Justine; but this memory clung to him. went before him, shining like a tender light. In his absorption he went by the gate of his father's inclosure. On discovering what he had done he ran back, entered the cottage hurriedly, and, face to face with his father, felt as if he had suddenly been turned into a block of ice. Roch scolded. "Where have you come from?from Bruno's Oho!" and bursting into a loud laugh he added: "By your hangdog look one would imagine that you had been up to some mischief. What ails you?" The old miser then tranquilly seated himself at table and helped the stew. While they were eating Michel eyed his father furtively, watching for the moment to explain himself. "Well?what's the matter with you?" repeated the old man. "I daren't?" "I know; you need not tell me. It ie this marriage business that worries you, and you have some notion of your own." Michel nodded. "Justine pleases you then?" The young man looked at his father, and resolutely replied "Yes." "What about me?" Michel was silent; his weakness and covrardice came back; he was afraid of offending the miser. "Don't be uneasy," said the old | man. "Justine is to your taste, but what dowry will she have? Her parents are not rich, I believe, while you will have money and rich lands, you know." "Yes.* "Oh! I know that they are honest people, and with them my vines have nothing to fear." Filled as he was with anxiety, Michel knew not what to say; his heart was overflowing with love and entreaty. "You are an odd fellow, but well, after all, why should I not accept Justine? I prefer people who have surmounted privation and poverty." And with a deoided tone and gesture he added: "Well, we'll see about it ?that will remind me of past happi i.1 If I ness and ot your poor momer. He scratched his forehead, dried his eyes, big tears were running down hi* cheeks. "I'll have it so?but on one condi- | tion. It's a fancy of mine." Michel turned pale and hia lipg quivered and he leaned bask a little in J his chair, as if terrified by these strange exuberances. I "What is this condition?" "You will marry?that is settled; but I'll not give you the money till 1 j have a grandson?an heir to my name." And he laughed boisterously. Michel j observed him dubiously. "So be it, father?I accept!" They struok hands on the bargain made. Three months afterward, Michel and Justine were married and living at Bruno's farm by the torrent. Michel I still worked at his father's vines, but j Justine never went beyond the inclosure. All were happy. The miser's I fortune slept tranquilly underground 1 in some unknown nook. But near all this happiness and hopefulness death was keeping watch. One evening the miser, while doing : something in the interior of his oot- J tage, slipped, felled on his head and expired. When he was found?the next morning?his body was cold and I rigid. Naturally, the old man's treasure j occurred to the minds of all?had he J been murdered by some robber? Every*, j body on the farm, including Olympe, set to searching the whole of Roch's land; but nothing was discovered. I The cottage, with its barred door, would speedily have fallen into ruias under the beating of the rain; but they kept it intact, as a sacred altar. The spring arrived, and Justine became a happy mother. With the spring, too, came a long and heavy downfall of rain. Michel, Bruno and the women, who sometimes tremblingly * * * i J3 entered tne aeaa mau s uomam, wcm to see what effect the deluge had had j upon the empty cottage. They opened 1 the door; a breath as from the tomb exhaled from the deserted dwelling. They sounded the walls; the rain had j eaten into them on every side?the shattered building of stones and reeds was ready to fall at any moment. Michel sadly and vaguely gazed on the ruin. But the clouds had passed to the fax end of the plain; the sky cleared, and suddenly a flood of sunlight spread over the lands of the departed miser, Then from the highest part of the roof of the desolate cottage broken tiles began to fall, and a shapeless ' something was laid bar? to the sun?a 1 coarse canvas bag, which moved and ! * ?I ?- i. I rrha Durst?tue miser? ue?uici peasants sprang back, and pieces of money, white and yellow, poured down in a torrent. Ah!?old Roeh might well have laughed to himself! Vainly the domain might have been searched till doomsday! Doubtless he met his death in the act of forming that final hiding place for his beloved treasure. And still the shower of gold continued ?slowly now?now at intervals?now drop by drop. Michel collected the whole?thousand upon thousands of gold and silver pieces. Silently he and Bruno heaped the treasure upon a hand barrow, covered it with a blouse, and wheeled it I to the farm through the livid half light of the evening. Nothing was said of the dead miser, but thoughts of all turned to him?a little more lovingly. Their wealth was great enough for them to have enjoyed ten years of luxurious life in the great cities far away; but Michel aad Justine, iu spite of their opulence, determined to live on the farm, to change nothing in their way of life?in the peace of their love, and in the delight of dreaming of amassing a great fortune for their children. Who shall say what constitutes the summum bonum of human happiness.?The Strand Magazine. A High Honor. Charles Shartow, of Omaha, Neb., has had a great honor conferred upon him by Kaiser "Wilhelm. The Kaiser has sent him an official letter inviting him to visit Germany at the imperial expense. The letter recalls to Schartow's memory a day, August 16, 1870, when the Prussian army was battling with the French at Mars la Tour, and a mitrailleuse stationed on a hill was i !. ? xi? n i.? decimating tUU UCI UIUU muno. cm ly 150 men bad fallen under its deadly fire, and it was necessary that the gun should be captured, or the Germans could not hold their position. To charge the battery meant almost certain death, and volunteers were called for. Fifteen men went up the hill. The gun was capturrd and silenced, but only three men came back from the deadly assault, anl one of them was Schartow.?New Orleans Picayune. Aluminum Shoe Nails. On the late visit of Prince Bismarck to the Emperor, the latter called the j attention of the ex-Chaucellor to the improvements made in the boots of the Prussian infantry. . This consisted in the displacement of the old fashioned steel nails by nails from | aluminum, which is much lighter and more durable. The extra weight under the sole of the foot imposed by the heavy nails formerly worn, and the added weight consequent upon the dogging mud in nasty weather, made a great and needless extra amount of musoular expenditure necessary. The new arrangement will permit of longer and better marching, with fresher troops at the end of the day.?Detroit Free Press. REY. DR. TALMAGE. THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S S^NDAY SERMON. Subject: "The Looking; Glass." Text "And he made the Iaver of bras* and the foot of it was of brass, of th* looking glasses of the women assembling."? Exodus xxxvlif., 8. We often hear abont the gospel in John, and the gospel in Luke, and the gospel in Matthew, but there is just as surely a gospel of Moses, and a gospel of Jeremiah, and a gospel of David. In other words. Christ is as certainly to be found in the Old Testament as In the New. When the Israelites were marching throush the wilderness thev carried their ohurcfi with them. They called it the tabernacle. It was a pit-jhed tent, very costly, very beautiful. The framework was made of forty-eight boards of aoacia wood set in sockets of silver. The curtains of the place were purple and scarlet and blue and fine linen and were hung with most artistic loops. The candlesticks of that tabernacle had shaft and I branch and bowl of solid gold, and the figures 'of cherubim that stood there had wings of ??old, and there were lamps of gold, and snuffers of sold, and tonars of gold, and rings of gold, so that skepticism has sometimes asked, Wbere did all that preoious material come from? It is not my place to furnish the precious stones. It Is only to tell that they were there. I wish now more especially to speak of the laver that was built in the midst of that ancient tabernacle. It was a groat ba3in from which the priests washed their hands and feet. The water oame down from the basin in spouts and passed away after the cleansinc. This laver or basin was made out of the looking glasses of the women who had frequented the tabernacle and who had made these their contributions to the furniture. These looking glasses were not made of glass, bat they were brazen. The brass was of a very superior quality and polished until it reflected easily the features of those who looked into it, so that this layer of looking glasses apoken of in my text did double work. It not only furnished the water in which the priests washed themselves, but it also, on its shining, polished lurface, pointed out the spots of pollution on the face which needed ablution. I have to say that this is the only lookingglass in which a man con see himself as he is. There are some mirrors that flatter the features and make you look better than you are. Then there are other mirrors that distort your features and make you look worse than you are, but I want to tell you that this looking-glass of the gospel show." a man Just as he Is. When the priests entered the ancient tabernacle, one glance at thft? burnished side of this laver showed them their need of cleansing. So this gospel shows the soul its need of divine I washing. "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." That is one showing. ; ^All we. like sheep, have gone astray." 'mat is another snowing. ".from tne crown of the head to the sole of the fool there is no health in us." That is another showing. The world calls these defects, imperfections, or eccentricities, or erratic behavior, or ''wild oats," or "high living." bat the gospel calls them sin, transgression, tilth?the abominable thing that God hates. It was just one glance at that mirror that made Paul cry out, '-Oh, wretched can that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" and that mado David cry out, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean," and that made Martin Luther cry out, "Oh, my sins, my sins'." I am not talking about bad habits. You and I do not need ar y Bible to tell us that bad habits are wrong, that blasphemy and evil speaking are wrong. But I am talking of a sinful nature, the source of all bad thoughts as well as of all bad actions. The Apostle Paul calls their roll in the first chapter of Bomans. They are a regiment of death encamping around every heart, holding it in a tyranny from which nothing but the grace of God can deliver it. Here, for instance, is ingratitude. Who has not been guilty of that sin? If a man hand us a glass of water we say, "Thank you," but for the lO,OuO mercies that we arc every day receiving from the hand of God how little expression of gratitude?for thirst 9laked. for hunger fed, for shelter, and sunshine. and sound sleep, and clothes to wear, how little thanks! I suppose there are men fifty years or' age who have never vet been down on their knees in thanksgiving to God for His goodness. Besides that ingratitude of our hearts there is pride?wno has not felt it??pride that will not submit to God; that wants its own way?a nature that prefers wrong sometimes instead of right; that prefers to wallow Instead of rise up. If you could catch a glimpse of your natural heart before God, you would cry out in amazement ?nd alarm. The very flrat tning this gospel'does is to cut down our pride and self sufficiency. If a man dues not feel his loss and fulned condition before God, he does not want any gospel. I think the reason that there are so few conversions in this day is because the tendency of the preaching is to make men believe that tney are pretty good anyhow?quite clever, only wanting a little fixing up, a few touches of divine grace, and than you will be all right ?instead of proclaiming the broad, deep fmtli thnf Pavann ond WhUflflflld thundered ^ a race trembling on the verge of infinite and eternal disaster. "Now," says some one, "can this really be true? Have we all gone astray? Is there no good In U9?" In Hampton Court I saw a room where the lour wans woro covered wun loosingglasses and it made no difference which way you looked you saw yourself. Ana so it Is in this gospel of Christ. If you once step within its full precincts, you will find your whole character reflected, every feature of moral deformity, every spot of moral taint. If I understand the word of God, its first announcement Is that we are lost. Glory be to God, I find that thi? laver ot looking glasses was filled with fresh water every morning, and the priest no sooner looked on its burnished side and saw his need of cleansing than he washed and wa9 clean?glorious type of the gospel of my Lord Jesus, that first shows a man his sin and then washes it all away! I want you to notice that this laver in which the priest washed?the laver of looking glasses?was filled with fresh water every morning. The servants of the tabernacle brought the water in buckets and poured it into this laver. So it is with the gospel ol Jesus Christ. It has a fresh salvation every day. It is not a stagnant pool filled with accumulated {corruptions. It is living water, whi?h Is brought from the eternal rock to wash away the sins of yesterday, of one moment ago. "Oh," says some one, "I was a Christian twenty years ago That does not mean anything to me. What are you nowV We are not talking, my brother, about pardon ten years ego. bui about pardon now, a fresh salvation. If I want to find out how a friend feeis tc ward me, do I go to the drawer and find some old yellow letters written to me ton or twelve years ago.' No. I go to the letter that was stamped tne day before yesterday in the postofflce, and I find how ho feels to ward me. It is not in regard to old com* munications we had with Jesus Christ. Jt is the communications we have now. Are wh not in sympathy with Him this morning, and is He not in sympathy with us? Do not spend so much ol your timo in hunting in the wardrobe for the old, wornout shoe? of Christian profession. Come this morning and take the glittering robe of Christ's righteousness from the Saviour s hand. You say you were plunged in the fountain of the Saviour's mercy a quarter of a century ago. That is nothing to me. I tell you to wash now in this laver of looking glasses and have your soul made clean. I notice also iu retfara to inn mvor 01 looking glasses spoken of in the text that thu I priests always washed both han ts and leet. ' "xhe water cane down in spouts, :io that without leavinc* any tilth in tne nasin. the priests washed both hands and feet. So the gospel of Jesus Christ must tonch thu very extremities of our moral nature. A mon cannot fcnce off a small part of his soul and say, "Now, this is to be a ganlen In which I will have all the fruits and flowers of Christian character, while outside it shall be the devil's commons." No, nc. It will be all garden or none. I sometimes hear people say, "He Is a very good man except in politics," Then he Is not a good man. A religion that will not take a man throucrh an autumn election will not be worth any thing to him in June, July and August. They say he is a useful sort of a man, but he overreaches In a harjralD. I deny the statement. If he is a Christian anywhere, he will be In his business. It la very ?asy to be good In the prayer meeting, with surroundings kindly and blessed, but not so easy to be a Christian behind the counter, when by one skillful twitch of the goods you can hide a flaw in the silk so that the customer cannot see it. It Is very easy to be a Christian with a psalmbook in your hand and a Bible in your lap. but not so easy when you can go into a shop and falsely tell the merchant you can get those jfoods at a cheaper rate in another store, so that he will sell them to you cheaper than he can afford to sell them. I remark, further, that this laver of look ing pleases spoken of in the text was a very l*3p*ya*er. I always thonarht. from the flKT'that so many washed there, and also from the fact that'Solomon afterward, when he copied that laver in the temple, built it on a very large soale. that it was large, and so susrgestlve of the gospol of Jesus Christ and salvation by Him?vast In its provisicus. The whole world may come and wash In this laver and be clean. When our Civil War had passed, the Government of the United States made proclamation of pardon to the common soldiery in the Confederate army, but not to the chief soldiers. The gospel of Christ does not act in that way. It says pardon for all, but especially for the chief ot sinners. Now, my brother, I do not state this to put a premium upon great Iniquity. I merely fhof man whrtotror Via Is. who feels he is so far gone from God that there is no mercy for him. I want to toll him there is a good chanoe. Why. Paul was a murderer. Ho assi3ted at the execution of Stephen, and yet Paul was saved. The dying thief did everything bad. The dying thief was saved. Richard Baxter swore dreadfully, but the graco of God met him, and Rlobard Baxter was saved. It is a vast laver. Go and tell everybody to come and wash in it. Let them come up from the penitentiaries and wash away their crimes. Let them come up from the alms bouses and wash away their poverty. Let them come up from their graves au<2 wash away their death. If there be any one so worn out in sin that he cannot get up to the laver, you will take hold of his head and put your arms around him. and I will take hold of his feet, and we will plunge him in this glorious Bethesda, the vast laver ol GcrtJ's mercy and salvation. In Solomon's temple there were ten lavers and one molten sea?this great reservoir in the midst of the temple filled with water?these lavers and this molten sea adorned with figures of palm branch and oxen and lions and cherubim. This fountain of God's meroy Is a vaster molten sea than that. It is oot adorned with palm Dranohes, but witli the wood of the cross; not with the cherubim, but with the wings of the Holy Ghost, and around its great rim all the race may come and wash in the molten sea. But I notice also. In regard to this laver of J looking glasses spoken of in the text, that nrnqhlnc in It was lmDerative and not jptional. When the priests came into the I tabernaole (you will find this In tlie thirtieth ;vapter of Exodu3), God tells them that they nous.?"'.h in that laveV or die. The priest J might havfe said "Can't I wash elsewhere? [ washed in the ?mro? at. borne, and now you | want me to wash here." "God says: "No matter ^whether or not you have w^ied before. Wash in this laver or die.' "But," says the priest, ''there Is water just as clean as this. Why won't that do?" "Wash here," says God, "or die." So It la with the gospel of Christ. It is Imperative. There is only this alternative?keep our sins and perish, or wash them away and live. But, says someone, "Why could not God have made more ways to heaven than one?" I do not know but He could have made halt a dozen. I know He made but one. You jay, "Why not have a long line of boats running from here to heaven?" I cannot say, but I simply know that there is only one boat. You say, "Are there not troes as luxuriant as that on Calvary, more luxuriant, for that had neither buds nor blossoms, it was stripped and barked?" Yes, yes, there have been taller trees than that and more luxuriant, but the only path to heaven Is under that one tree. Instead of quarreling because there are not more ways, let us be thankful to God there is *-- nntn mm whstshv wi> ULLC, uug uaiuQQifVM ? .. can bo saved, one laver In which all the world may wash. So you see what a radiant gospel this is I preaoh. I do not know how a man can stand stolidly and present it, for it is such an exhllarant gospel. It is not a mere whim or caprice. It is life or death. It is heaven or hell. You come before your child, and you have a present in your hand. You put your hand9 behind your back and say "which hand will you take? In one hand there Is a treasure; In the other there is not." The child blindly chooses. But God our Father does not do that way with us. He spreads out both hands and says: "Now this shall be very plain. In that hand are pardon and peace and life and the treasures of heaven. In that hand ure punishment and sorrow and woe. Choose, choose for yourselves!" "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that beli$veth not shall be damned." An artist In his dreams saw such a splendid dream of the transfiguration of Chlst that he awoke and seized his pencil and said. "Let me paint this and die.'" Oh, I have seen the glories of Christ I I have beheld something of the beauty of that great sacrifice on Calvary, and I have sometimes felt I wniiM ho willlnar to crive any thine if I might just sketoh before you the wonders of that sacrifice. I would like to do it while I live, and I would like to do it when I die. "Let me paint this and die." He comes a*ong, weary and worn, His face wet with tears, His brow crimson with blood, and He lies down on Calvary for you. No, I mistake. Nothing was as comfortable as that. A stone on Calvary would have made a soft pillow for the dying head of Christ. Nothing so comfortable as that. He does not lie down to die .He stands up to die. His spiked hands outspread as u to emurace a world. Oh. what a hard end for those feet that had traveled all over Judaaa on ministries of mercyWhat a hnrd end for those hands that had wiped away tears and bound up broken hearts! And tjiat is all for you' Ob. can you not love Him? Come around this laver, old and young. It is so burnished you oan see your sins and so deep you cau wash th6m all away. 0 mourner, here bathe your bruised soul, and, sick one, here cool your hot temples iu this laver! Peace' Do not cry any more, dear soul! Pardon for all thy sins, comfort for all thy afflictions. The black oloud that f hiinHorinfrnvoi- Sinn! hns floAtad ftbova Calvary and burst into the shower of a Saviour's tears. I saw in Kensington Garden a picture ot Waterloo a good while alter the battle had passed and the grass had grown all over the field. There was a dismounted cannon, and a lamb had come up from the pasture and lay sleeping in the mouth of that cannon. So the artist ! had represented it?a most suggestive thing. Then I thought how the war be- | tween God and the soul had ended, and instead of the announcement, "The wuges of sin is death." there came the words, "My peace I give unto thee." and amid the batteries ot the law that had once quaked with the fiery hail of death I beheld the Lamb of God, which taketh away the eta of the world. I went to Jesus as I wa3, Weary and worn and sad. I found in Him a restingfplnce, And He has made me clad. 112 DROWNED AT SEA. Dashed on the Rocks Off the New Zealand Const. The Union Lino steamer Wairarapa, bound from Sidney, Now South Wales, foi j Auckland, New Zealand, was wrecked on ! Great Barrier Island, offthe northeast coast j of New Zealand. The steamer had a largt I number of passengers, and 112 of them wer? i drowue.l. The niuht was very dark, and the officers I and lookout on the steamer were ignorant of the proximity of lan 1 until the steamer 1 - 1-- /i? u- I Struelv Oil tae rOCIva. Vy.ipiaiu I'lumusu, UJC I master ol the Wairarapa, was oa the bridge I at the time. He, together with most of tlio J crew, was lost. TRAMPLED TO DEATH, Panic Follows the Cry ot Fire In a ' Church In Russia. During tho consecration ot a church iQ the village of Trokh, near Ostroviansk, la the Don Province, Russia, a lamp was upset. A cry of fire was raised and a panic followed. During the rush for the doors two women and three ohildren were trampled to death, and twenty-seven people were seriously IniurecL SABBATH SCHOOL, INTERNATIONAL LESSON FOR NOVEMBER 18. Lesson Text: "The Sermon on the Mount," Luke vl., 20-31?Golden Text: Luke vi., 31? Commentary, 20. *'And He lifted up His eyes on HU disciples and said. Blessed ho y? t>oor, for yours is the kingdom of God." While this discourse Is In substance the same as a portion of the sermon on the mount, it is evident from a comparison of Math. v.. 1, and Luke vi., 17, that it was spoken at another time and under different circumstances. | This had better be oalled a "sermon on the plain." It follows in the order of events the choosing of the twelve. His first word is "blessed,"' reminding us of the "blesseds" of Ps. L, 1; xxxli., 1; cxix., 1. In Math, v., 3, He speaks of the "poor in spirit:" in Jas. ii., 8, it is the "poor of this world, rich in faithin Isa. Ixvi., 2, it is the "poor and contrite spirit that trembleth at His word." In' every case it is the humble penitent pleading no good in self and looking only and wholly to Jesus. 21. "Blessed are ye that hunger now, for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now, for ye shall laueb." If we suffer, we shall reign with Him (II Tim. ii., 12), and the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glorv which shall be revealed in us (Bom. viii., 18). 8o we are to rejoice In being' partakers of His sufferings because of the exceeding joy at the revelation of HU glory (I Peter iv., 13). Nothing will so fully enable us to do this as a proper understanding and appreciation of the kingdom of which He speaks?the kingdom of God, the kingdom of heaven. It is nftt the church- not Ghriut In tm nnt hnairon where God dwells, but this earth filled with the glory of God and His will done on earth as in heaven In the days when He and His glorified church shall return to reign over the earth (Dan. ii., 44; vii., 27; Zech, xiv., 9, Rev. v., 9, 10). 22. "Blessed are ye when men shall hate you and when they shall separate you from their company and shall reproach you and cast out your name as evil for the Son of man's sake." Some have thought that if the perfection of goodness could bo seen on earth In human form all would love it, but Jesus has proved otherwise, for He was absolute perfection of love and meekness, of grace and truth, and yet was hated and put to death by religious people. His word to His followers is that they shall be hated of all for His name's sake (Math, x., 22). The blessedness of it is our fellowship with Him. 23. "Rejoice ye in that day and leap for ioy, for behold your reward is great In teaven, for In the like manner did their fathers unto the prophets." Take my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering, affliction, and of patience (Jas. v., 10). Abraham looked for a oity which hatb foundations ; Moses looked for the recompense of the reward; Jesus Himself did not disregard the joy set before Him, Everywhere we are taught that it is suffering now, with glory to follow. The whole Bible story is the humiliation and exaltation of Christ (I Pet. i., 11) foretold, foreshadowed, manifest in Himself and His people and Anally consummated. 24. ''But woe unto you that are rich, for ye have received your consolation." Riches used for the glory of God are indeed a blessing, but riches kept lor the owners thereof to their hurt are a curse. Heaping up treasure lor selfish gratification is only heaping up wrath for eternity. Neither silver nor gold can deliver in the day of the Lord's wrath (Zeph. J., 18), and they that trust in their wealth can by no means redeem a brother nor give to God a ransom for him (Ps. xlix., 6,7). Those who live merely for present enjoyment may have a large amount, but there is always the possibility of a sud den going out into awlul torment (Luke xvl., 23). , 25* "Woe unto you that are full, for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now, for ye shall mourn and weep.*' It is the pleasure of the Lord that His people should be full of joy and peace, full of the Spirit, Ailed Wi.*h all the fullness of God, satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the Lord (Rom. xv., 18; Eph. v., 18; ill., 19; Deut. xxxiii., 23). 26. "Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you, for so did their fathers to the false prophets.' They did not all speak well of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel or the others wno were true to God, as is evident from such passages as Jer. xl., 19 ; xxvlli., 4; Dan. vl., 4, etc. 27. "But I say unto you which hear, Love your enemies; do good to them which hate you." In verses 32 to 34 He goes on to say tnat if we love and do good only to those who love and do good to us we are no better than the unsaved, for any sinner can do that, but if we can by His grace love and do good to our enemies that is Godlike and an evidence that we are His children, and we shall have a great reward (verse. 35 and Math, v., 44, 45). 28. "Bless them that curse you and pray for them which despitefully use you." These are graces oiiue uew utuure, uui ui iue uiu. The natural man Is not given to this sort of thing, but Christ in us can do it. The Indian understood something of it who, when he heard this command, excitedly walked up and down saying: "This Indian can't do It. If God wouid make a new Indian, he might perhaps do It." If any man be in Christ, ho is a new creature or creation (IICor. v., 17). 29. "And unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek oiler the ofher, and him that taketh away thy cioke forbid not to take thy coat also." It is surely more than human to act thus and yet we read of those who took joyfully the spoiling of their wealth, knowing that they had in heaven a better and an enduring substance (Heb. x., 84). Jesus suffered his enemies to smite Him, to spit on His face, to take away His clothesyes, even His life?and we are told to consider Him who endurethsuch contradiction against Himself, lest we be wearied and faint in our minds, and to remember that we have not yet resisted unto blood (Heb. xll.. 8, 4). 30. ''Give to every man that asketh of thee, and of him hat takoth away thy goods ask them not again." The principles of this sermon and the sermon on the mount shall be fully lived out when the kingdom comes, for they are the laws of the kingdom, but if wo are the children of the kingdom they ought to be in some measure lived out in us now when fully considered in the light of all Scripture. 31. "And as ye would that men should do to you do ye also to them likewise." Not simply the negative form, "Do not to others what 3-0U would not have them do to you," but positively "love your neighbor as yourself." Then see verses 46 to 49 concerning hearing and not doing; also Jas. J.. 22-24, along with Math, vii., 21. The thought "unto Him that loved me" and "for Jesus's sako" will greatly hoip us.?Lesson HelDer. Backcd His Cow and Wou. People in Oakland County, Michigan, are discussing a novel race which occurred on the race traok at Pontlao between a cow and a horse. The race originated in a banter between two neighbors, Edward White and Joseph Russell, residents of Waterford Township. White is the owner of a high grade Durham cow, nine years old, and | about four weeks ago he began to drive her j to a cart. 8he soon developed startling I qual'tios, and many owuers of good horses who triod to pass White have had to take dust from the bovine's hoof. One day Russell attempted to pass White with his sorrel mare. This led to words, and Anally White bet Russell $50 that the cow could beat the horse in a half mile trot or a half mile wane. itug- | sell accepted the bet, nnd the money was put up. The cow was somewhat confused by the 9houts of tho crowd, aud the otUerwise striking contrast with her familiar haunts, but she easily won the half mile walk in seven minutes, tho horse beins a minure behind at the wire. The half mile trot was also won by the cow without an effort in 3.07. White was savins up hi9 cow's wind for the race against time, which he had advertised as tho closing feature. His shepherd dog. which kept close behind tho cart and seomed to feel a welsrht of responsibility in the race, was expected as a last resort to bite the cow's heeis. This proved necessary in the race with the dorse, and the dog refused to do his part in tho t race against time. Wnlte claimed, however, she has trotted a quarter at a four-minute gait on a country road and promises to lowei that with a tew weeks' training. The cow was driven with a regular harness and bit and never made a hreak. Tlie Deadly Trolley. TTilrty lives have been saoriflced by thf trolleys In Philadelphia ?lace January L . - ' ' *. *; ; f < - RELIGIOUS READING. THE MOST EXCELLENT HARVEST. While the wants of the body require us to be industrious and vigilant in gathering in the fruits of the earth, it being our duty to be a3 prudent as the ant, yet it is at the same tim? our obligation not to forget that we have soals, and that there is another harvest equally as necessary for our spiritual nature. He who overlooks this fact mistakes the highest end of his being, and fails to improve the noblest part of his nature. While the one dutv is discharged, the othar oueht not to l?e left undone. As beings of sense and prone to forget God, we are exceedingly liable to allow the things which are seen to absorb onr attention to the exclusion of things which ar# in viable and eternal. The spiritual harvest is as much more Important to be secured than any other, as eternity is longer than time. Think of th6 ceaseless treasures of etornity. Angeli, doubtless, are incapable of surveying thdr vast dimensions. As it was beyond the powftr of an apostle to comprehend the infinite riches of heaven, so doubtless it is beyond jtlie power of human language to express the Infinite folly of those who in this world of probation, fail to secure those treasures wfoch moth nor rust can consume, being contenf to gather together the beggarly elements ot a perishing world, and feed on them alono through all the hours, davs and years of this life, while there is bread enough to spare to supply all the perishing millions upon earth. Every thought, every feeling, every word,and every act of every man, whether high or low, rich or poor in this world's wealth, may be treasured up in that vast granary and storehouse of eternity,, which God in his infinite mercy has permitted to be filled by us while on earth, and to be enjoyed by us forever. This spiritual harvest is not confined to one period of the year. Every good and perfect gift cometh from God. Spiritual blessings being the direct gut of (Jod, it is not for his creatures to confine the work of a genuine revival of religion to any one period of the year. 'Ihe idea that a revival should be sought only in the winter, is too prevalent among the laborers in Christ's vineyard. Some of the greatest revivals with which the world ha9 ever been blessed, have occurred in the summer. The Christian Secretary of Connecticut furnished an account of such a revival at Colchester in that State. In the very mid3t of the harvest season, when the farmers were more busily engaged than at any other period of the year, the revival was progressing in its greatest power*, but not-: withstanding this objection, they found time to attend meeting, and secure the more excellent harvest. The revival continued through the winter. Instances of revivals like thia and others similar to it that occur in the land, show that the spiritual harvest may ana should be secured at all seasons of the year. A very deleterious influence is exerted on the minds of Christians, when they think they can cancel all their negligence towards God auu I lien 14 cvu o imuu^u ten uivmuo v* the year, by having what some of them would term a big meeting for a few days or weeks. To keep the Sabbath once In four weeks as a few churches In some parts of the Mississippi Valley are in the habit of doing, is a kindred evil, that sets at nought the institution of the Sabbath, which Goil ordained for man. God being the same yesterday, today and forever, desires to be worshipped and sought unto regularly by his followers.?Watch o? Prairies. CHBISTIASS THAT SHINE. It is almost impossible to-expect conversions in some families, says Dr. Cuyler in the Evangelist The light that ought to shinp there has well-nigh died into darkness. The < oil has given out. Worldliness and selfishness have almost extinguished the love of Christ, and when Christ is no longer loved, his commandments are no longer kept. Spiritual declension comes from lack or loss of love and loyalty to Jesus in the heart When your soul is on fire with the love of your Master and your fello wmen, you will glow andshin? unconsciously. The most effective good which the majority of genuine Christians accomplish ' is not by occasional "special efforts," but by the steady, daily reflection of Jesus Christ In their ordinary walk and conversation. To preach a sermon, to conduct a prayer meeting, to teach a mission class or to visit a sick and poverty-stricken family, is a premeditated act of lamp bearing." But to live right straight along, every day,reflecting the Spirit of Christ distinctly in the home, in the shop, in the store, in the social life, and in the duties of good citizenship and everywhere else, is just "letting your light shine" of its own .sweet will. That is habitual religion;, it worships God not on Sunday, but all the week. Oh, what an aching want there is of more of this in the everyday lives of too many church members? However fluently Brother A may speak in the prayer-meeting, or however brightly Mrs. B may shine in the Maternal Association or the '"holiness meeting," yet, if they end in smoke at home, there is a mischief done to their own souls as well as to others that neutralizes all the good they are attempting to do. Trim the lamp at home I A revival of home piety "will do more for a promotion of a redval in your church this year than any "effort" you can set on foot WHAT IS Youa SOUL WOBTH? Have you ever tried to estimate its value? This is a great problem, and Christ himself has submitted it to you, that you may exercise your thoughts upon it for your own profit How shall we compute the value of the soul? Ail our ordinary modes of valuation fail us. You cannot set it over against houses o.? vancis, silver or gold. Lilft the wisdom spcfc*n of in Scripture "it cannot be valued with, the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire. The gold and the crystal cannot equal it; ana tne exchange of it shall not be for jewels or fine gold. No, all such methods of valuation are rude and superficial, and they fail to touch the real point at issue. The intrinsic worth of Jr?ur soul to you as an individual, Is to be estimated very much by its capacity on the one hand for happiness, and on the other for misery?by the blessedness to which it may attaia, of the despair and gloom to which it may descend; and this for a moment' nor lor a passing day or year, uui uu iuo scale of an eternal existence. If you lose your soul it will not be by annihilation. It is in its very nature an eternal possession. If you lose your sou! if will be by its inheriting for its portion forsver, despair instead of hope? sorrow insfead of joy. What then is your soul worth? Will you not ponder this question, HI I the great realities which it involves open upon your mind? Rest assured, that * you can very sareiy drop some of the petty question? which now occupy your thoughts for calnj .uijt:ontinued meditation upon ttis. ?Congregatlonaiist. KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST. We have no right to say, 4,I know Christ," unless he has spoken to us and we to him. Unless we have access to his privacy, and can tell him our secrets. Unless we go in and out where he dwells, and talk with him, as a man talketh with his friend. Unless we have not only read in Scripture that he is wise and merciful, powerful and long-suffering, but have also acted upon that information, and found him so ourselves. Unless in temptation we have cried to him, and received strength, unless in trouble we have had recourse to him, and our soul has been re freshed, unless in difficulty we nave applied to him and experienced a very present help, a very real direction.?Dean \ uughan. God does not open His band and give us peace and righteousness, and growing knowledge of Himself, and closer union, and the other blessings of the Christian life, but He gives us Jesus Christ. We are to find all these blessinirs in Him. and it depends upon U9 whether we find them oru'tt, or how much of them we find. You will always find as much in Christ as you war.t: but you may not And nearly as much in Him as you could, but you will liever find iu Him as much as there is.? Alexander Madaren. $5000 for the Best American Picture. The announcement was made at Phlladel-' phia of an offer by William L. Elkin3, the traction magnate, through the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, of soOOO for the best American picture painted by an American artist. Mr. Elkins's proposal was presented at the last meeting of the Board of Directors ot the Academy of the Fine Arts by Mr. E. Burgess Warren, a member ol the Board and of the Committee on Exhibition. The conditions and details of th? award are being arranged by Mr. George W. Elkins, Mr. Edward H. Coates, President ol the Academy o? the Fine Arts, and Mr. E. Burgess Warren. ? - - ?/*