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FRIVi A Story of the Ver Written for BY MAXW] CHAPTES J. I The villacrestraeeles over a windy,tree lees level above steep cliffs, the ba6e6 of which are eaten away and tunneled under by the perpetual action of the sea. Thence in quiet weather comes the low lullaby of a scarcely audible surge; there at the broken base of the storm-battered wall it murmurs on caressingly through sunny noons and moonlit nights, rarely quite still; it deepens at times to a mellow roar, when a white sheet of surf spreads over the far-stretching reef. From this low roar, through many a oresoendo, the sea music rises to a complex symphony of warning thunders and blending harmonies, heard far inland, then the soft surf rolls and rages into tumbling avalanches, the breakers rise a I rush up the clifff till these are lie*J1 ouuacu iu a nuiw *tMvw ??. ?vw? and crowned by a blinding Bpray mi6t Sometimes the billows rush like winged monsters out of the very heart of the sea and hurl themselves crashing on the limestone walls, till the spray flies far over the summits and dissolves, dream-like, upon tne windy waste. That Is why the square, rock-like tower, rising above the graves of ehipwrecked strangers, is often crusted over with fine salt, and only sea-loving things grow near it. All tftis fury of waters has so wasted the shore that only the hardest rocks remain in towering cliff and ragged reef: the ssndstone has either been torn out bv the sea or worn out by a tiny rill wandering seawards and mak lng a chasm, irregular and broken into many a ledge, steep at the bottom and shelving broadly toward the top. Here is short, 6cant pasture, and many a sea-loving plant, with heather and Korse feathering, away at the top. And here, high in a sheltered nook, commanding the southward sea, is, or rather was some years ago, Mary Deane's low stone cottage, in its welltended garden, with its shining myrtles and fuchsia bushes. Walled from the north and east by the cliff, partially screened from the west and fully open to the south, this garden was a paradise, and was for many years the chief support of Widow Deane and her son, now a strong, broad-faced man of much resource, partly fisher, partly gardener, and partly boatman, who tended tne cow, me pigs, me iew umuj | sheep browsing on the broken cliff, and the donkey which drew garden stuff, crabs and lobsters, eggs and butter to market weokly. ltobert I)eane could knock up a shed out of a few planks of driftwood, and most things out of odds and ends. He was a comely, squarebuilt fellow, with bright, merry blue eyes, and short, curly brown beard and hair. One gray still October afternoon he was whistling in front of a lean-to shed at the foot of the cliff chopping firewood, of which he had already piled a good stock, made chiefly from the spars and ribs of a bark that went to pieces on the reef in the last winter. Through the open cottage door he could see his mother sitting at work by a crackling iearth fire, over which a swinging can tr An nall.MSfld rlnnk t.ifkftfl aosily by the staircase. The dark oak dresser displayed its gleaming crockery. Flowers bloomed in the window. All was tidy and clean, including "Widow Deane in her white cap and gray hair. Bea shells, coral and foreign figures on the mantelpiece, the shell of a large tortoise, and the model of a full-rigged man-of-war gave the little cabin a full Bea flavor. Presently Robert's rough-coated dog Beefer cocked his ears, Robert's face brightened, foot steps sounded along the cliff, the gate clicked open, and two women stepped up the single path. "Here we be, Robert," said the elder of the two. "Ay, ay, Mrs. Fielding," he replied, dropping his bill-hook and coming forward; "here you be, and welcome you be, and here's a fine lot of fire-wood for Rosle come winter." The younger woman colored with happiness and spoke to the dog dancing round her. "Reefer knows the new missus already," said "Widow Deane, coming out and kissing Rosie's fresh, firm eheek. A man was passing down the steep path, screened from their sight by a fuchs>ia-tree growing by the gate, but not so thickly that he could not see through its outer sprays. When he saw the two mothers and Robert and the 3 ' * "4^ ** * he stopped and swore quietly to him8 elf. sunshine bringing out the gold gleams In Rose's hair, and the red coming to her cheeks at Robert's voice, he stopped and swore quietly to himself, until the fair one went in by the fireside and the door was partially closed. Then he turned away. "Cursed jilt!" he muttered, pursuing his downward path, with his lobster pots on his shoulder. "Ay, Bob Deane, you smiles superior on me, do ye? Married a Monday and me to ring your bells, eh? George Attrill ring lor another chap's wedding his own girl! Look to youn-elf. Bob Deane; a deal may chance between this and Monday!" He stot)p?>d airain at. a lower turn of the narrow patch and looked once more at the 1 aint glow from the cottage window. fronting the moaning sea. then he Suddenly dashed his lobster-pots to the i 'ground and hiri.'Self beside them, face -idownwards. The wail of a sea-gull ^'flying homewards and tho low murmur Jof the surf at the cliff bases alone ;broke the silence of the desolate place. ; "But I'm not to be mistress here," iRose was saying, standing in the glow ^of the hearth, so soon to be hers; "the jhouse and all is yourn, Mrs. Deane; ''tisn't even Robert's." So she said in 'her courtesy, looking round tho pretty neat nest she meant to keep and arrange bo carefully. " 'Taint all shipshape yet, Rosie," said Robert; "but mother and mo reuk.ons to get all trim and taut by bed'time.'' "To be sure, Robert yvorked like 5.LS. lgeance of the Sea, This Paper. I SLL GRAY. horse," added nis motner; -out xnings ie thirtover when anybody's in a hurry." Everything was perfect, the Fieldings said. They admired the various contrivances effected by Robert's Ingenuity?the fresh curtains he had nailed up, and the sofa he had made out of a chest, covered with chintz, the new crockery, the large new family Bible. "And father's present ain't come yet," Mrs. Fielding 6aid mysteriously. Hose grew brighter as each treasure was displayed. She thought of the short winter dayB, when Mrs. Deane was to be with a brother ten miles away, and 6he and Robert were to be alone together. How sweet the cottage would look in the early dusk, when Bob came home tired anu com to ms Drignt are aDd nis tea. And then the long evenings with the concertina and a book and her needle, and hi6 pipe and the pleasant chat. And then "Come od, Eo6ia," Robert said, holding the stair-foot door open; "mother its gone upstairs." She woke from golden dream to golden reniitr inok and returned Robert's kiss, and followed him up the steep stairs opening upon the sitting-room below to the sleeping-rooms above, one on the right band, which was Mrs. Deane's, and one on the ieft, screened from the open stair by a partition of Robert's contrivance, with an adapted door bought second-hand and put into a rough lintel of hi6 making. "That is nice." Rose exclaimed. "Why, Robert, you're as good as any 'prenticed earpenter!." All was made ready, neat and spotless by Robert's deft hands. A satisfied smile crisped his brown face when he looked at the simple plenishings and askek if all were as Rose wished. The mothers commended and commented; Rose, looking shyly on, thought everything perfect; the new lookinggla^s, the clean, coarse linen, the geraniums blooming in the small diamond-paned window set nest-like in the thatch! ihfi row of Decs fixed aeainst the gay, new wall-paper for the wife's gowns; Robert's wedding suit folded neatly on a chair. Rosy morning sunbeams would steal in through that window, turning to gold and tracing a cross-barred pattern on the boarded floor that she would keep so white?on the strip of carpet and on the patchwork quilt. Through dark winter nights the 6ea would roar its hoarse lullaby, shrieking winds would coil themselves round the safe cottagenest till it shuddered in their grasp; at time6 the deeogroundswell would boom through the stillness of the coming storm. Summer moonbeams would weave a silvery glamour about the rnnm while soft, airs stirred the mvrtle bloBsom, and the low murmur of surf on tho beach sounded faintly through the charmed silence. The mothers were busy putting seme final touches: Robert called Rose's attention to a lettered scroll on the wall: "Lord, Thou hast been our dwellingplace In all generations." A sudden bewildering, half-grasped sense of the deep significance of life, the solemnity of human ties, and the divinity enfolding all, rushed up from hidden depths to the girl's unawakened soul and broke upon her, just as a giant billow rushes out of the 6ea's heart, and breaks on the cliff-face in 6torm; her face crimsoned: her heart throbbed. Robert led her to the window. "Look," he said; "a vessel in the offing! j Many a craft you'll make out of a summer's day. And here's myrtle still abloom." He leaned out of the open casement and plucked a spray, leaning over it and talking of the sea, while the mothers laughed with nodding heads and hands held before their mouths, together. A robin wa6 piping 6oftly in the sheltered garden. The song of the sea came up from below, louder now and with something more of menace in it than a while 6ince. Robert's brown face was traced upon the wide, slowheaving sea-plain; and far down at the mouth of the chasm, by the white surffringe on the yellow 6hingle, was the figure of a solitary man, too far oil to be recognized. But it came into Rose's mind that it , mi?ht be George Attrill, and the thought was like a cloud passing across the sun. "'Tis a pleasant lookout," she said, taKing tne myrue oiososm. x nevei could seem to get on for long without I could 6ee the sea." "Me and you like the same things mostly." he replied; "I seem lost away from the sea. Look at her now! Storm's coming. There's a groundswell growl- | inr? \Tnfhor oho dhirlfi fhA crrriiinH- I swell. Minds her of father," he added, in an undertone. "But it's meat and drink to me to hear it. Many a time I've said I 6hould never have nor a wife, only the sea. She was my first sweetheart." "That's true enough," broke in his mother, for whose sake Bob had given up his wish to follow his shipwrecked lather's calling. The inspection over, and all pronounced in order, they went down 6talrs. The earthenware teapot was set on the round table, and Bob took up the mushrooms and potatoes which had v.aon rnnstinfr in th? wood aahe?. and they fell to with country heartiness, while Reefer looked on, bolt upright, with his paws dropping beseechingly on his chest, and a heedless and improvident kitten played with his tail and frisked about in irresponsible gayety. Many details had yet to be discussed, because, as Mrs. Fielding said, "Folks don't get married every day," and each arrangement evoked some reminiscence of her wedding and that of Mrs. Deane, and they suggested some sage counsel j to Robert and Rose, 60 that before they rose from table dusk had begun to close ; in, with little shivering gusts of wind ! and ominous rumblings in the chimney. ! The sea-song was rising in fitful cres- j cendo; the firelight played upon Rosa's j face and bright braided hair. Her ! lover thought her more and more like her own flower, especially when he drew something bright from his pocket and fitted it on her finger under the table. 'It's a big 'un for to last," he whispered, replacing it in his pocket. Just as the Fieldings stepped out onto the winding path on the way home with Robert they almost ran against a man climbing up from the shore. "Good night," Bob sang out "Good night," the other returned, grullly, f-nmiKing back in tne aim ngnt that still lingered. "Why, 'tis .large Attrlll," cried Robert; "come on, Jarge, say you'll come a Monday. Me anil you was always mates, you rnind." I "Me and you'll never be mates no more. Robert Deane," he growled, striding on, a tall, strong fellow, with a sailor's gait and dark eyes Hashing through the ol scurity. Then he turned on a sudden and shouted: "When that light wench gets tired of .you, same as she done of me, you'll wish you'd a let marryin' alone, uoo Deane," and marched on again, whistling. "It's a 6hame!" cried Hose, bursting into tears. "I never favored him, Robert." All that night the sea's song was loud a/id exultant. Next morning the waves came rolling in like long-ranged cliffs of glass}' green, with beetling foam summits, raging into 6now cataracts and clashing up the cliff face in blinding masses of spray; the groundswoll 6ucked the shingle back with a threatening rattle that sounded like an angry cry above the continuous thunder of - t- _ i 1 If.? 1 rrnrjinrt cflO. 1II UrCilK^iD. iuru Muua gt*?iijj? DVU wards, battling with the gusty wind, and talking of'the lifeboat house in the adjaccnt bay, 6aying that it < ould never round the point with such a surf. Rose was little troubled by the gathering storm, her heart was too full of personal matters. The church bells rang out from the windy tower in fitrui clashes as the sound was caught and tossed about by the gale, now pealing loud on the blast, now unheard lor minutes together, and then pealing out, jangled again. She did not go to church, partly because her banns were called, and the hours flew swiftly on to the wedding day. Robert came up to tea in the afternoon, all blown about and staggering in the gusts, which grew fiercer with the "I NEVER FAVORED HIM." close of the day; he was to take Rose to church, but her father advised her to stay in. "You'll be blown over the cliff, and then there won't tie no weaaing, ne said laughing. But they set off in the "Twilight, which wa6 prolonged by a moon fitfully breaking through black clouds. -The Loid help any vessel anigh this coast to-night," said Robert, as they heard the sudden swirl of church bells above the roar of the sea, aud Rose pressed closer to him. When the moon sailed out from the wruck they could see the great breakers caught sideways by the wind and thrown up in tall white columns, moving ghostlike and vanishing in a white whirl of foam: misty o ? white wings of it flew over the land, the salt was in their faces ana hair. The church was some way inland by the village proper, a second village having grown up about the seaward gorge, the ancient haunt of smugglers and wreokers. When the lovers reached the church they drew up breathless in the lee of a buttress to recover before going in. Rose was to go home with her brothers, Robert having promised to get back early to his mother, who wa6 lonesome in etormB. "Bo good-night Rosie,"he said, "this here's the last unmarried kiss, my dear. m ' -1 ~ -.1- ?J H n a til u uiucn euaip, uiiuu, As he spoke, a low, sullen boom sounded, through a slight lull in the wind. The heavy stroke fell as if on their hearts. "Hark!" cried Bob, and through the fury of the storm and the broken pealing of the bells they heard the low boom again, the guns of a 6hip in distress. "The Lord keep her off this coast!" said Robert, lingering after Rose went in, and looking seawards in a moonglimpse, and seeing nothing but the raging waste and the light on the headland. His heart yearned to his first love, ttie Deautliui, lerrioie seu; an? WHO caning him; he did not go into the church. Try as 6he would to fix them on the prayers, Rose's thoughts wandered to tne iris-tinted ruture, ana u-eorge Attrill's words haunted her. Conscience told her that she had given him some slight encouragement before she knew that Robert cared for her. Poor George! She heard him come in with the other ringers after the service bt>gan. The clergyman's voice sounded thinly through pauses in the wild revelry without. The church shuddered at the tierce onset of the winds, the roof shook, now and then a bell gave out a tremulous vibration, the storm noises were multiplied and prolonged in the lofty spaces of the high vaulted building, which had battled with and echoed the tempests of centuries. The congregation was small and thinly scattered about the large, dimly lighted church; the responses died in ghost-like murmurs; the clergyman's raised voice was drowned from time to time inloudw guste of wind; the hymn was Jike a fn nt. nrv nf distress heard fitfullv thiough the tempest. Oh. hear us when we cry t;> Thee For those In peril on the sc-a. ro;>e quaveringly from the choir, -when through the dying cadence of the last line there broke forth a loud and hurried knocking on the solid church doors, which were shut and barred against the storm. The organ rumble stopped abruptly, the more resolute voices beginning th? next verse were left solitary and ceased in half-ultered notes; the knocking was repeated more loudly and urgently, a veritable stroke of doom to some present. It was the call for 6uch of the lifeboat's crew as were there. The congregation stood silent and expectant. The heavy tramp of men's feet dow\ the wlndv aisles sounded through the rumble and crash of the storm, and echoed in the hearts of women. Rose was ignorant of Robert's absence; the young men sat behind her; but 6he knew, though she could not see, that George A'trill, one of the crew, went out, as did most of the men. A heavy 6adnesB fell upon her; the sound of the church doors closing with an echoing clang struck to her very heart. The organ rumbled out again, the grand hymn, with its surge-like rhythm and long-gathering swell, became, in the tremulous women's and boys' trebles, a piteous wail, dying away into the storm and darkness. Rose's full voice failed her, and she sang no xnoro. The sparse congregation were visibly disquieted, they could scarcely keep their seats, the pulpit candles went out in a gust, the unheeded sermon broke off prematurelv, the clergyman dismissed his flock, and went down to the shore. Late that night Rose's younger brothers came home with tidings that the vessel had struck on the reef, the iifeboat had twice gone out to her, and twice nad to put back; nothing could live near her. Midnight came, but Moses, the grownup son, had not roturned. The mother and daughter sat up for him,far into the night, listening to the roaring storm and talking fitfully, now of bygone wrecks, now of the approaching wodding, until Rose was sent to bed, and immediately fell asleop, with the golden tissue of her dreams perpetually broken by that loud and hurried knocking on the church doors. |TO BE CONTINUED, | REV. DR. TALMAQE. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THF NOTED DIVINE. Subject: *'11037- and Ruth." Text: "And she went and came anc gleaned in the field after ihe reapers, anc her hap was to light on a part of the fielc belonging unto Boaz, who was of i:'ae kin drerl of Eiimelech."?Ruth ii., 3. The time that Ruth and Naomi arrive al Buthlehem is harvest time. It was t:he custom when a shea! fell from a load in th< harvest field for the reapers to refuse tc gather it up. That was to be left for th< poor who might happen to come along thai way. If there were handfuls of grain scat tered across the field after the main harvesl had been reaped, instead of raking it, a: farmers do now. it was. by tho custom ol the land, left in its place so that the poor, coming that wav, might glean it ?.nd gel their bread. But you say, "Whal is the iico nt oil thpsA harvest fields to Ri:th and Naomi? Naomi is too old and feeble to gc out and toil in the sun, and can yor, expect that Ruth, the young and the beautiful, should tan her cheeks and blister her hands in the harvest fleldV" Boaz owns a large farm, find he goes out to seethe reapers gather in the grain. Coming there, right behind the swarthy, sunbrowned reapers, he beholds a beautiful woman gleaning?a woman more fit :o bend to a harp or sit upon a throDe than to stoop among the sheaves. Ah, that was ac eventful day! It was love at first sight. Boaz forms an attachment for the womanly gleaner?an attachment full of undying inlerest to the church of God in all ages, while Ruth, with an ephah. or nearly a bnsnel of barlty, goes home to Naomi to tell ber the successes and adventures of the day. That Ruth, vrho left her native land of Moab in dnrkmss, and traveled through an undying affection foi her mother-in-law, is in the harvest field of Boaz. isnfflancpd to one of the best iamilies in Judah, and becomes in after time the ancestress of Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. Out of so dark a night did there ever dawn CA n nrniry fv') I learn in the flrst place from this subject how trouble develops character. It wa3 bereavement, poverty and exile that developed, illustrated and announced to all ages the sublimity of Ruth's character. That is a very unfortunate mnn who nas no trouble. It wa? sorrow that made John Bunyau th>s better dreamer, and Dr. Young the bett er poet, and O'Connell the better orator, and Bishop Hall the better preacher, and Ravelock the better soldier, and Kitto the Detter encyclopaedist, and Ruth the better daughter-in-law. I once asked an aged man In rega :d to his pastor, who was a very brilliant man, "Wbj is it that your pastor, so very briiliart, seems to have so little heart and tenderness in his sermons?" "Well," he replied, "the reasor is our pastor has never had anv trouble, Wheu misfortune comes upoc him, his style will be different." After awhile the Lord took a chlid out of that pastor's house, and though the preacher was just as brilliant as j he was belore, oh, the warmth, the tenderi ness of his discourses! The fact is that trouble is a great educator. You see sometimes a musician sit down nt an instrument nnd his execution is cold and formal ana unfeeling. The reason is thf.t all his life he has been prospered. But let misfortune 01 bereavement come to that man, and he sits down at the instrument, aod you discover i nftthns in the flrst a ween of the keva. Misfortune and trials are great educators. A young doctor comes into a sickroom where there is a dying child. Perhaps he is very rough in his prescription and very rough in his manner and rough in the feeling of the pulse and rough in bisanswerto themother's anxious question. But years roll on, and there ha? been one dead in his own house. anil now he comes into the sickroom, and wit h tearful eyes he looks at the dying child, and he says, "Oh, bow this reminds me oi I my Charlie!" Trouble, the great educator. I Sorrow?I see its touch in the grandest 1 painting, I h-ar its tremor in the sweetest ! song, I feel its power in the mightiest arguI ment. ) Grecian mythology said that the fount&in of Hippocrene was struck out by the fooc oi j the winged horse Pegasus. I have often noticed in life that the brightest and most j beautiful fountains of Christian comfort and ' spiritual life havn been struck out by the iron 1 shod hoof of disaster and calamity. I net ; Daniel's courage best by i he flash of NebuI r?hnrlnp*!uir'a fnrrnpfl I s<>fi Paul's nrflW^W best when I find him on tho foundering ship und'ir the glare of the lightning in Iht breakers of Melita. God crowos his children amid the howling of wild beasts and the chopping of blood splashed guillotine and the crackling fires of murtyrdom. Ii j took the persecutions of Mircus Aurelius tc | develop Polvcarp Hnd Justin Martyr. II | took all the hostilities against the Scotch j Covenanters and the fury of Lord Claverj house to develop James Renwick and AnI drew Melville and Hugh McKail, the glorl' ous martyrs of Scotch history. It took the stormy sea and the December blast and ihe desolate New England coast and the wni wnoop of savages to show lorth tne prowest of the pilgrim fathers. When amid the storms they s.mg. And tho stars heard, and the sea, And the sounding aisles of the dim wood Bang to the anthems of the free. It took all our past national distresses, and j it takes all our present national sorrows tc ! lift up our nation on that high career whert ' It will march long after the foreign aristocracies have mocked and tyrannies that have jeered, shall be t-wept down under Ihe omnipotent wrath of God, who hates despotisrr ann wno. dv ine srrengcn oi nis own rec right arm, will make all men free. And so it is individually, and in tho family, and in | the church and in the world, that through darkness and storm and trouble men, ; women, churches, nations, are developed. Again, I see in my text the beauty of un! faltering friendship. I suppose there were plenty of friends for Naomi while she was in ! prosperity, but of all her acquaintances how I many were willing to trudge off with her to> ward Judab, when she had to make that lonely journey? One?tho heroine of m\ text. One?absolutely one. I suppose wher Naomi's husband was living, and tbey had plenty of money, and all things went well, they had a great many callers, but I suppost that after her husband died, and her prop, erty went, and she got old and poor, she waj not troubled very much with callers. All tht birds that sung in the bower while the sur shone have gone to their nests now the nigh! has fallen. Oh. these beautiful sunflowerR that spread out their color in the morning hour! Bui they are always asleep when the sun is nninn /tnwn Job had nlentv of friend.' when ho was the richest man in Uz, bui when his property went and the trinls enm< then there were none so much that pesterec ns EliphHZ the Temanite, and Bildad th< Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. Life often seems to be a mere game, where the successful player pulls down al the other men into his own iap. Let sus picions arise about a man's character, and he becomes like a bank is a panic, and al the imputations rush on him and break dowi in a day that character which in due tim< would have had strength 10 defend itsplf, There, are reputations that have b'en half j century in building which go down unrlei one pufh. as a vast temple is consumed by the touch of a sulphurous match. A hoj can uproot a century plant. In this world, so full of beartlessness am hypocrisy, how ttrillinp: it is to find som< friend as faithful in days of adversity as ii (lays of prosperity? David had such a friein in Huslmi; the Jews had such a friend ii Mordecai, who never forgot their cause Paul had such a friend in Onosiphorus, wli< visited him in jail: Christ had such in tin Marys, who adhered to Him on the cross Naomi had such a one in Jtutb, who criet out: "Entreat me not to leave thee, or to re lurn from followir.i; after thee, for wtiithei thou goest I will go, and whither thoi lodgest I will lodge. Thy people shall bi my people, and thy Go ! my God. When ihou diest will I die. an 1 there will I l? buried. The Lord do so to mo, nnd mon also, if aught but death part you and me." A^ain. I learn froari this subject that path! which open in hardship and darkness oftei come out in places ot joy. When Itutb startei from Moab toward Jerusale>m to go alom with her mother-in-law, I suppose the peo pie said: "Oh, what a foolish creature t< go away from her father's house; to ?o oi with a poor old woman toward the land o Judah! Thuy won't live to get ncross tin desert. They will be drowned in the sea, o the jackals of the wilderness will destro; them." It was a very dark morning whei Ruth started off with Naomi. But behold he in my text in the harvest field of Boaz, to bi afflaueed to one of the lords of the land an< become ore of the Rrandmoth?rs of Jesu Christ, the Lord of glory. And so it oftei is that a path which often starts very dark); ends very brgbtly. When you started out for heaven, oh, bow r\ dark was the hour ot conviction; how Sinai j thundered and tho devils tormented and the darkness thickened! All the sins of your life j pounced upon you ana it was toe aarKest hour you ever saw when you first found out your sins. After awhile you went into the harvest field of God's mercy. You besan to glean in the fields of divine promise and you had more sheaves than you could carry as J j the voice of God addressed you saying, j "Blessed is the man whose transgressions are i forgiven and whose sins are covered." A . very dark starting in conviction, a very bright ending in the pardon and the hope . and the triumph of the gospel! 1 So, very often in our worldly business or t " in our spiritual career we start off on a very < dark path. We must go. The flesh may ( shrink back, but there is a voice witbin, or a < . voice from above, saying. "You must go." 1 And we have to drink the gal!, and we have -1 j to carry the cross, and we have to traverse J iuw ueserc, uua we are pounaea ana uauea . of misrepresentation and abuse, and we have to urge our way through 10,000 obstacles ! that havo been slain by our own right arm. ' We have to ford the river, we have to climb , the mountain, we have to storm the oastle, but, blessed be God, the day of rest and re. ward will come. On the tin top of the cap' tured battlements we will shout the victory: J if not in this world, th^n in that world where there is no gall to drink, no bur-lens to carry, , no battles to flght How do I know it? Know ' it! I know it because God says so: "They shr.U hunger no more, neither thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat, for the Lamb which is in the ' midst of the throne shall lead them to living fountains of water, and God shall wipe all tears from their eyes." It wis very hard for Noah to endure the scoffing of the people in his day, while he ' was trying to build the ark and was everv morning quizzed about his old boat that . would never be of any practical use; but when the deluge came and the tops of the ! mountains disappeared like the backs of sea- 1 [ monsters, and the elements, lashed up In 1 . fury, clapped their hands over a drowned j , world,, then Noah in the ark rejoiced in his | own safety and in the safety of his family 1 | and looked out on the wreck of a ruined earth. < Christ, hounded of persecutors, denied a 1 pillow, worse maltreated than the thieves on either side of the cross, human hate smack- } inpr its lips in satisfaction after it had been draining its last drop of blood, the sheeted j J dead bursting from the sepulchers at His r crucifixion! Tell me, 0 Gethsemane and ' . Qolfrothn, were thore ever darker times than , those? Like the booming of the midnight 1 I sea against the rock, the surges of Christ's ] I anguish beat against the gates of eternity, to . be echoed back by nil the thrones of heaven and all tne dungeons of hell. But the day | ' of reward comes for Christ. A.11 the pomp , an-1 dominion of this world are to be hun? p on His throne, crowned heads are to bow be- ' fore Him on whose head are many crowns, j and all the celestial worship is to come up at j His feet, like the humming of the forest, like the rushing of the waters, like the thunder- i , ing of the seas, while all heaven, rising on ! [ their thrones, beat time with their scepters, ' "Halleluiah, for the Lord God omnipotent 1 . reigneth " i That song of love, now low and far, Ere Ion? shall swell from star to star; 1 That light, the breaking day which tips The golden spired Apocalypse. Again, I learn from my subject ttat events j which seem to be most insignificant may be . momentous. Can you imagine, anything more unimportant than the coming of a poor 1 woman from Moab to Judah? Can you imagine anything more trivial than the fact that this Ruth just happened to alight?as , they say?just happened to nlifcht on thnt , field of Bonz? Yet all ages, all generations. ( have an interest in the fact that she was to , become an ancestress of the Lord Jesus j Christ, and all nations and kingdoms must look at that one little incident with a thrill of unspeakable and eternal satisfaction. So it is in your history and in mine. Events that you thought of no importance at all > have been of very great moment. That casual conversation, that accidential meeting?vou did not think of it again for a long while, but how it changed all the phases of your life. It seemed to be of no importance that Jubal invented rude instruments of music, > calling them harp and organs, but they were | the introduction of all the world's minstrelsy, and as you hear the vibration of a stringed instrument, even after the fingers have been taken away from it, so all music now of lute Hnd drum and cornet is only the long continued btraine of Jubal's harp and Jubal's ! oreran. It seemed to be a matter of very lit , tie importance that Tubal Cain learned the , uses of copper and iroD, but that rude foun- i , dry of ancient days has its echo in the rattle i of Birmlncham machinery and the roar and ] , bang of factories on the Merrimac. i It seemed to be a matter of no importance i , that Luther found a Bible in a monastery, . but as he opened that Bible and the brassbound lids fell back they jarred everything, . and the rustling of the wormed leaves was . the sound of the wings of the angel of the i . reformation. It seemed to be a matter of no ! importance that a woman whose name has , teen forgotten dropped a tract in the way of . a very bad man of the name of Richard Bax. ter. H?) picked up the tract and read it, and it was the means ot his salvation. In after days that man wrote a book called "The < Call to the Unconverted," that was the means of bringing a multitude to God, among others PhillipDoddridge. Philip Doddridge wrote a book called "The Rise and Pro ? " ?.VioU linn KdAiimkf 1 Kress 01 IttMlgluiJ, wniuu uiu uiuu^ui , thousands and teas of thousands i into the kingdom of God and among others . the great Wilberforce. Wilberforce wrote a i book called "A Practical View of Christian. ity," which was the means of bringing a i great multitude to Christ, among others 1 Legh Richmond. Legh Richmond wrote a tract called "The Dairyman's Daughter," which has been the means of the salvation of [ unconverted multitudes. And that tide of , inflfience started from the fact that one Christian woman dropped a Christian tract . in the way o.' Richard Baxter, the tide of tai fluence rolling on through Richard Baxter, i through the great Wilberforce, through r Legh Richmond, on, on, on, forever, for. ever. So the insignificant events of this world, seem, after all, to be the most mot mentous. i i Mme. de Stael did a world ot work in her i time, and one day, while she was s ated | , amid instruments of music, all of which she i > had mastered, and amid manuscript books . which she had written, some one said to her, i "How do you find time to attend to all these > things?" "Oh," she replied, "these are not i i the things I am proud of.' My chief boast is" t in the fact that I have seventeen trades, by any one of which I could make a livelihood if i nBeMsnrv." And. if in secular spheres there t is so much to be done, in spiritual work how vnst the field! How many dying all around i about us without one word of comfort! We want more Abigails, more Hannahs, more > Rebeccas, more Marys, more Deborahs, conI secrated, body, mind, soul, to the Lord who > bought them. Once more I learn from my subject the , value of gleaning. I Ruth going into that harvest field might - have said : "There is a straw, and there is a I straw, but what is a straw? I can't get any 1 Parley for myself or my mother-in-law out i of these separato straws." Not so said ] ; beautiful Ruth. She gathered two straws, . and 9h? put them togother, and more straws, l until she got enough to make a sheaf. Futr ting that down, sho went and gathered more 1 ' straws, until she had another sheaf, and 1 ; another, and another, and another, and then ' she brought them together, and she threshed 1 I them out, and she had an ephah of barley, ' 3 nigh a bushel. Ob, that we might all be 1 gleaners! I 1 Elihu Burritt learned many things while ' 1 toiling In a blacksmith shop. Abercromble, ; the world renowned philosopher, was a < ) philosopher in Scotland, and he got his phil3 osophy, or tho chief part of it, while as a ! ; physician he was waiting for the door ot the i sickroom to open. Yet how manv there are j - in this day who say they are so busy they r have no iime for mental or spiritual im1 proveraent. The great duties of life cross ; i the Hold liko strong renpore and carry off all [i the hours, and there is only here anil there ! * j a fragment left that is not worth gleaning. i Ah, my friends, you could go intothe busiest j day and busiest wo^k of your life and find 1 9 golden opportunities, which, gathered, ' 1 might at last make a whole sheaf for the 1 Lord's garner. It is the stray opportunities j j and the stray privileges which, taken up and - bound together and beaten out, will at lust ' > fill you with much joy. T There are a few moments left worth the f gleaning. Now, Ruth, to the field! May each l is one have a measure lull and running over! r Oh, you gleaners, to the field! And if there ' > be in your household an aged one or a sick ' 1 'relative that is not strong enough to come r forth and toil in this field, then let Ruth take 1 a home to feeble Naomi this sheaf of gleaning, j i "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing s precious seed, shall douhtless come again j a with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with y him." May the Lord God of Ruth and ? Naomi be our portion forever! fflE SABBATH SCHOOL NTERNATIONAL LESSON COMMENTS FOR MAY 16. Lesion Text: "Paul Preachinar to the GentileH," Act* xiv., 11-22 ?Golden Text: "I Have Set Thee to be a Light of the GentileH," Act* xiii., 47?Comment?. The power of God was so manifest in His rrord through the apostles at Antioch that ;he next Sabbath almost the whole city :ame together to hear the word of God |xiii., 44). This filled the Jews with such ;nvy that they contradicted and blasphemed and raised such persecution against tJaul and Barnabas that they were expelled 'rom the city; not, however, before many relieved and were filled with joy and with ;he HoJy Ghost, and were encouraged to continue in the grace of God. From Vntioch they went to Iconium, and so spake ;hat a multitude both of Jews and Greeks jelieved. But they were compelled by persecution to flee from thero also, and so ame to Lystra and Derbo and preached ;he gospel. During the preaching a man ivho was lame from his birth and had never valked was perfectly healed by the Lord ;nrougn .f aui, ana ijere our jessuu ue^ius. 11. "The gods are come down to us in the ikeness of men." These were the words of ;he people when they saw the man that had aeen lame leaping and walking. They saw i supernatural event in the healing of this impotent man, and knowing only of the mythical gods, such as Jupiter and Merjurius, of which Jupiter was the supreme jod of the Greeks and Romans and Mercury the god of eloquence, they supposed :hat their gods had actually visited them. Let us alter their words just a little, "God las come down to us in the likeness of nan," and what a glorious truth we have, ind one fully proved by John i., 14; I Tim. 111., 16; Heb. ii., 14. 12. "And they called Barnabas Jupiter ind Paul Mercurius because he was the 3hief speaker." Canon Fausset says that :he mythology of Ovid represented Mer;urius as having once visited Phrygia with lupiter, his father, and having been refused hospitality by all but two old peasants. Hence the simple people of .Lystra supposed, from the miracle on the cripple, that Paul and Barnabas were these two gods again come to earth. 13. It was the supernatural power manifested through the apostles which caused these people to attempt to worship them. We may not perhaps have the working of miracles of healing seen in us, for the Spirit divides His gifts to every one severally as He will (I Cor. xii., 11), but we may all be Qlled with the Spirit and manifest in us the supernatural life of meekness and quiet ess, of patience and long suffering, with joyfulness, to the glory of God. 14. "They rent their clothes and ran in among the people, crying out." While we should earnestly desire the manifestation of Christ in us, we should also tremble lest pre get any credit for it. The Lord alone must be exalted and no flesh glory in His presence. Most of us are too prone to enloy a little honor and flattery, but it must aot be tolerated. "See thou do it not; worjhip God," must be our word. 15. "Turn from these vanities unto the iving God." Assuring the people that they (Vere but men of like passions with themselves, men such as themselves but for the 4-Vtott Iham r\f fho nnp tmA 4iov;c ui v.uu, ^uv, ? ind Jiving God, the Creator of all things. [ have been greatly interested in noticing how often the first verse in all Scripture is ased by prophets and apostles?as for example, in Deut. x., 14; Neh. ix., 6;Isa. xliv., 24; Jer. x., 10-12; xxxii., 17; Acts iv., 24, etc., ind the connections In which they use it, ind I believe we do not sufficiently consider it. 16. "Who in times past suffered all Nations to walk in their own ways." While He draws us unto Himself and would have as "set apart for Himself," "kept for Jesus Christ," "a special people unto Him," yet if we insist on our own ways He will suffer as, to our eternal loss in many respects. While He is not willing that any should perish, but that all should repent and be saved, yet if people insist upon rejecting His love He will let them (Ps. Ixxz., 11-14; [I Pet. iii., 9; II Cor. ii., 15,16). 17. "Nevertheless He left not Himself without witness." His eternal power and Sodhead are seen in the works of His hands &nd in His great goodness to all, so that all ire without excuse (Rom. i., 20, 21). Paul would direct their minds to the goodness of God manifest in His daily mercies to all, for -ii ??-- 44T> 4o fhtt T.nrri'q I 1111 LIIU. V L1U1JT Baj . IB 10 v> mercies we are not consumed because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning" (Lam. iii., 22, 28). 18. "And with these sayings scarce restrained they the people, that they had not done sacrifice unto them." They saw Paul and Barnabas, but not Jesus Christ. They saw the miracle, but not God. Only the opened eyes can see God, but He is willing to open the eyes of all who will turn to Him. Only the unwilling must stay blind. ' "Ye will not come unto me!" (John v., 40.) 19. "And there came thither certain Jews from Antioch and Iconium, who persuaded the people, and having stoned Paul drew him out of the city, supposing he had been dead." A persevering devil goeth about seeking to destroy. 11 ne cannot get the soul he will do his best to kill the body; but this wo are told not to fear (Math, x., 23), for the breaking of the body only sets the spirit free to be with Christ. Paul was to all intents dead, though in speaking of this experience be says twice, "Whether in the body or out of the body I cannot tell; God knoweth" (II Cor. xii., 2, 3). 20. "Howbeit, as the disciples stood round about him, he rose up and cnma into the city, and the next day he departed with Barnabas to Derbe." I do not doubt that the vision described in II Cor. xii., 1-4, was iis actual experience while they were dragging his seeraingly lifeless body out of Lystra, and by this experience he was fitted for greater and .better things for his Lord and Master, concerning whom ho couid say, "Whose I am, and whom I serve" (Acts xxvii., 23). 21. "And when they had preached the l?03pel to that city and had taught many, they returned agaiu to Lystra and to Iconium and Antioch." The margin says they made many disciples. So wherever they went the souls were saved, God glorified and the devil made angry. What courage to go right back to Lystra where he had been stoned, and to the other cities, from whence thev had been driven out. But they knew that God was with them, and they feared nothing. What denial of self to turn his back upon his native Tarsus when he was so near home and go the long journey over again to strengthen the diseU pies! 22. "Confirming the souls of the disciples and exhorting them to continue in the faith, and that we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. " We can only be confirmed or established Ly believing God (II Cliron. xx., 20;.?Lesson Helper. Representative* ofr All Nations to Meet In Washington. On the 17th of next May a congress of representatives of all the nations belonging :o the Postal Uaion will meet in Washington. One subject which it will consider is the nioption of a universal postage stamp, which will be good in all the countries of the world, it Is not proposed that the stamp shall be jojd botween points in any given country, but only from one country to another A proposition has been urged before Congress to the effect that every State in the Union shall have its own distinctive postage stamp. This would be a very pretty notion, particularly if the stamps bore designs representing in emblematic fashion the various States. Tim United States Government prints and sells 4,000,0(i0,000 stamps annually. Up to two years ago all the stamps were printed under jontract by the Bank Noto Company in New i'ork, but it was decide I that the Government could save monov by taking charg e of the business itself. Very little machinery bad to be bought for the purpose, inasmuch as the Treasury already possessed one of the llnest engraving and printing plants iu the world. The printing is done bysraall presses, unch of which turns out 1600 stamps a minute, or about 100,000 an honr. The fad for collecting postage stamps lias grown greatly in popularity during the last few years, so that the market value of rare specimens generally has about doubled within a decade. A good collection of stamps represents as definite a value as so much real estate, and will fetch u corresponding price fit auction any time. 1 "Divine Henler'' In n Dime Museum. Schrader,the "Divine Hualer," is in adime nuseum in Allegheny, Penn. A TEMPERANCECOLUffi^B THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST IfflH MANY WAYS. Frozen Pudding Barred by Grand Chief 1 Fancy, of the Grand I*odge of Good Templars?Convention of the Worlrt'i I W. C. T. C. at Toronto Next Octa^r, ^ There was an old toper, As I've heard tell, And he bought a bottle . His head for to swell; He bought a bottle, All on a summer's day, And he fell asleep On the town's highway. -5* M.? There came by a pedler ISflfllfl And bis name was Stoat, . And be took the toper's pockets fljMH And he turned them inside out^^HSH He left bim not a penny jeflHj To bay another dram, And tbe old man woke, exclaiming^^^H "What a bloomin' fool I am!" True Moral Strength. hHH It is not only unmanly, says Charl^^Hn Follen Palmer in "Inebriety," but meai^^^M spirited, for the intemperate man to de^^^H clare that, although he is weak on the on^^^H point of getting drunk, he is especially strong on other temptations; that, although be gives way to inebriety, he does not do so in other vices, such as gambling, V lying, stealing, taking undue advantages ^ of another in a bargain, scandal-monger- 1 ing, bearing false witness, adultery and the like. He deceives himself and attempts to deceive others when he says so, for he knows that he does not exercise any strong force of moral resistance to these, and that the reason he does not yield to them is i Kortn nan Ka Vtna n /\ nfvAmri f nn /i nn n J /in A?t 5n_ ucuauou iiu uaa uv Obi.vu^ bcuucuvia} vx mclinations in sucb directions. If they possessed one-half the power over him that drink does, he would yield to every one of them. There is no manliness in adhering to virtues which are in harmony witn the disposition?no moral advancement whatever; for it might be harder to gamble than not to gamble, to take advantage of another than not to do so, to commit adultery than to 9ubdue the prudent fear of * consequences, to steal than not to steal. The truth is that he will exhibit greater 1 moral strength in fighting against his one great temptation, drink, than in any other direction, and it is in this one direction that his restoration to the full stature of man is to come. The temperance zealot, lacking theapt>etite or desire for liquor, may De much ess the man, as far as arink goes, thaji the inebriate who resists his craving for drink five times out of ten; and so it is with every virtue in the calendar. We are only strengthened, developed, and made rightful claimants and possessors of the title and dignity of manhood by our successful fightings with every form of weakness. A large number of men and women go tnrougn. are witn tne credit 01 oeing mamy men and moral women, who have never had a temptation sufficiently strong and potent for a kitten not to resist on the score of impropriety, and who yet fail to resist even these. Save the Children. Dr. Luc Severin, of Liege, in an article In Le Bien Social, makes an earnest appeal on behalf of the children. Among other things he says: "It has long ago been proved that health has nothing to gain by the use of even a minimum quantity of alcohol, and that, on the contrary, it can only be injured by it. It is, then, indispensable that parents, under whatever pretext it may be urged (except in a case of sickness and under medl> cal prescription), should never give theli children wine, nor beer, nor liquors of anj kind. In fact, one has often seen children whom their parents had taught to tast? alcoholic liquors take advantage of a favorable opportunity to drink rapidly a quan- \ tity of liquor which quickly makes them intoxicated, and often ends in convulsions o> a state of inflammation of the brain, very serious for health, sometimes even fatal." A Poison. '"->J Among tbe radical opponents of the use fl of alcohol as a beverage, whether in | large are small portions, is Dr. A. Fiek, professor of physiology in Wurzburg. He pronounces alcohol a poison, and as a spe-. cialist in physiology he declares that its effect on tbe mind and body is most pernicious. Respecting the strengthening influence of alcohol he says: "It is altogether .beyond question that even the moderate dose of alcohol diminishes the powe rof work. All that is said about the strength produced by ileohol is 'deception. The small glass of the poor man tH-Ktru uurui^ m? uuurs ui muui i? uu* doubtedly injurious. Every penny which the laborer pays for alcoholic drinks is not only wasted, but also works destructively. The laborer would use his money productively if he spent for fat and sugar what he gives for alcohol." Alcohol Makes Liars. i)r. Norman Kerr, in speaking of excessive alcoholic indulgence, says: "One of the most distinctive features of habitual and periodic inebriety is an utter disregard for the truth on the part of many inebriates. Females lose the sense of truth more completely than do males. Seen in the very act of laying down the just emptied glass, patients have coolly and solemnly denied to me that they had partaken of the contents. The perception of truth seems to be destroyed by alcoholic indulgence; the consciousness of truth seems to be lost in the devotee of Bacchus. Even when temporarily sober the brain may be so dominated by the alcoholic obliquity to truth that "no reliance can be placea on any statement made by the man or woman whose soul has, as it were, been steeped in alcohol." Total Abstainers the Best Workmen. At one place in England where a larga amount of brick-inaking is carried on and where the amount of each man's work, the number of days lost by sickness, or otherwise, and the deaths were made matters of record, the rules of the service allowed to every man a mug of beer of each meal. But there were among the workmen quite a number who wholly abstained from the use of the beer and everv other intoxicatine drink. An examination of the recorE showed that the average amount of work done per annum by the beer-drinkers was a large percentage less than that done by those who wholly abstained, while the number of days lost by sickness was greater.? British and Foreigu Medieo-Chirurgical Review. Frozen Fudding Barred. At the annual session of the Grand Lodge of Good Templars in Worcester, Mass., Grand Chief Templar Joseph A. Fancy submitted a number of decisions, one of which was: "If a plate of frozen pudding, saturated with liquor, is placed before a member and he partakes of it, he violates his pledge." Liquor Evil in Ancient Times. The sage? of antiquity were not insensible to the madness of intoxication. Some prohibited all cups beyond three -the first for health, the second for cheerfulness, the third for sleep. Lyeurgus forbade every man to drink more than what was strictly necessary for satisfying the thirst; by the la\vs of Athens, an archon convicted of drunkenness was condemned to duath; and I'ittacus decreed that a crime under the in^ lluenee of liquor could be doubly punished. The prudence of the Romans, who to inspire iheir children with disgust sometimes made their slaves drunk, is well known. To drink on an empty stomach was regarded as gross intemperance. World'* \V. C. T. I*. The convention which is to be held in Toronto will begin October 23d. The convention will be attended and addressed bv Miss Agnes Weston and Mrs. Hannah Whitall Smith. It will be a delegated body, | ;J00 strong, each delegate representing 100 pledged and paid-up members. Temperance News and Notes. No man drinks to please his wife. Strong drink is the devil's way to man, and man's way t<? tin* devil. Every blov/ aimed at the saloon is bound to hit the devil somewhere. Whisky fills a hundred thousand homes with misery, and is poisoning the blood ot the generations. ' -? - - ^