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< foUT RoTW.3noAl.HC \j ?RJ- OANICU WltHAMS v, \ MA^toH, VU?(I. 'MicutAH "1* "y 0 country has a more splenI did system of lighthouses I^V than the United States, and here, where so few professions or calllnes are barred to woman, the position of light-keeper is opeu to her; provided, of course, she can stand the examination that is necessary before she can be placed upon the roll of eligibles for appointment. The position is both congenial and remunerative. and for a great many years women from time to time have found their way into the profession, until now there are few States with a coast line that do not number at least one among their light-keepers, and frequently a greater number. The accommodations of a lighthousestation are, of course, varied. Sometimes they are simple, but in the case of the new structures they are very elaborate. In the ordinary building there are usually a service-room, livlng-room, bed-room, oil-room and a Btore-room. The duties of the lighthouse-keeper are many and important. The top of the tower is usually a tiny room, all glass windows. The lantern is in the nf tho rnnnr It ia n <?rpat Ol'ism of glass In shape like a beehive. The lamp Is set into this, and the leii6cs magnify the comparatively small light of the lamp and make it a great beacon seen far off over the waters. Should the luminant be a flash-light, there is machinery to be wound up every few hours to cause it to revolve. At sunset the keeper climbs the steep steps in the high tower, takes down the curtains that darken it throughout the day, and sets the lamp inside the lantern. As ) she makes out the last dim sail upon the horizon and feels a thrill of isolation, and that the sun has left "the world to darkness and to me." she may have a serene sense of consolation in remembering that hundreds of other keepers are climbing upward in the night, and her soul's cry for companionship is answered. At midnight the (amp is changed; a freshly filled one jpfl Mfeif i -//' /t'wrw -a. i i UBS. 'WILLIAMS AT THE FOOT OF THE . LIGHTHOUSE STAIRS. is put in the place of the first lighted one. When storms are raging or fogs prevailing the keeper stays awake to wind the machinery that keeps the fog signal booming over the water. Many Sleepless nights are thus spent by the light-keepers in devoted vigil of the aids to navigation. At the gray of dawn the keeper is again climbing the steep iron ladder to the tower-top. x1? ?J *]?/? pm> onnnarc! Dtfiore lut? rt'u 11 in 1/1 tuc ouu ?i/^vi4*o the lamp is extinguished, the fine, prismatic lenses are covered, and the huge panes of glass that form the walls of the room are curtained. The large lamp is carried down the flights of an almost perpendicular ladder, and when filled, trimmed and cleaned is ready for the sunset hour. The work of the keeper is not concluded with this feat; the most perplexing portion of the daily routine is now to be performed. The light-keeper must give an account of bis stewardship. A record is kept of every gill, pint, quart and gallon of oil that Is nightly consumed by the }amps, the fractional parts ofInches of wick burned, the lamp-chimneys broken, and the general consumpfl I, gam LIGHTHOUSE DWELLING'AND m ERSE LIG1 tlon of all supplies furnished yearly la large quantities by the Government. The accounts are plied up In pamphlets full ot figuring, and the minutest ac- j curacy la absolutely necessary. Trust i c nt(ne "* r .5; "* \\ ? in a keeper Is imperative. Daily, monthly, quarterly and annual reports are rendered to the inspector, and each report is a detective upon the other, every light is a watch-tower, and every visible light-station reports the others on the log:book or daily journal. The pathetic story of Lena, the six year-old keeper of a port light on the Mississippi River, brings tears to many eyes. The blind grandfather pleaded with the child not to venture to the island post that night, in vain. Lena had promised the inspector never to forget that light, and, although a J-"-""? ?mmmmmmmmmammrn i ? ~ SIRS. N0RV3LL ON LIGHTHOUS TRAIN, LO" storm swept the river, she hastened to reach the post, only to have her frail life dashed out by the waves. While Mrs. Fowler, wife of the keeper at the North Dumpling light, Fisher's Island Sound, Rhode Island, was ia charge Of the tower in her husband's absence, during a thick fog a break occurred in the machinery by which the bell is rung as a warning to sailors. The bell was at the top nf the tower, with no regular means of reaching it. Nothing daunted, Mrs. Fowler set a ladder againstxthe tower, climbed the height, tied a rope to the bell, and rang it until the fog cleared away. The Lighthouse Board warmly commended Mrs. Fowler's courage in a letter that is precious to her. These are but a few transcript from official pages. The first woman to act as a lighthouse-keeper was probably Elizabeth Smith, who, 'n 1630, kept the light at Old Field Point, Long Island, and had full charge of it for twenty-five years. Nancy Rose was appointed in November, 1857, as a lighthouse-keeper to succeed her husband at Stony Point, on the Hudson River. She is the first woman keeper whose appointment is on official record. In her seventyseventh year, Mrs. Rose still climbs the ladder to the light with no uncertain step, faithfully keeping her vigil under stormy and starry skies. Her bright eyes are unimpaired in vision. The lighthouse stands on the hilltop. The keeper's cottage is surrounded by a well-kept garden that during the summer-time Is full of blooming dahlias. Mrs. Rose maintains the family tradition in being a light-keeper, as they have held the post ever since the tower was built. She has raised seven children, and kept the position through various political changes because, as she says, "I have done my duty." The first women to be appointed lighthouse-keepers on the Pacific coast are widows, Mrs. Emily A. Fish at Point Pinos, and Mrs. Julia F. Williams, of Humboldt, California. Point Pinos light is situated on a point of land jutting into the sea. Mrs. Fisn obtained permission to add to the accommodations, and built a comfortable residence with modern improvements for herself. Mrs. Fish keeps th* light with great care, allowing no one to relieve her of the official duties of the station. As a result she received, in March, 1901, a letter of special commendation foe the neatness, excellence and faithfulness of her service, a document that is filed with the official records of the Board. Mrs. M. D. R. Nor veil is one of the well-known heroines of the lighthouse service. She was born in Washington, D. C., and her 'great-grandfather designed the Washington monument. bH SLL FOG-SIGNAL, LITTLE TRAVIT-STATION. The romantic, brilliant and versatile girl married a young man of fortune, wbo suffered financial reverses, and was appointed keeper of the light at the Head of the Passes, Port Eada, !s -R'EEPEFCS ,y I ^' l AM- NANCY ^?NC-'it ?ro?t f#u*T, we* Y?AA ' ' Louisiana. At his death Mrs. Norvel succeeded him as keeper of the light la 1891, and she brought up her tw< children in the sunshine and storm 01 a sea-life. Another of thesv heroines Is Mrs Martha A. Keeler, who has spenl twenty-four years In various light houses along the North (jaronna coasi Nine years of this time she was fourteen miles from a postofflce en< ten miles from land, but she bad hei birds and flowers and books, and be tween them and the performance 01 her household duties the time passec ? ~~?? ~ -*"* B TOWER, LAKE PONTCHA?.UISIANA. pleasantly enough. Mrs. Josephim Freeman has kept the light on Blakis ton Island, . near where the broad Potomac joins the bay, since 1876 Mrs. Freeman says the winters an severe and that terrible storms fre quently prevail. She often walks acros; the ice to the distant Maryland short for mail and provisions. Mrs. Daniel Williams, keeper of th( light in Little Traverse Harbor, or Lake Michigan, in a recent interview said this of her work: "I first wenl into the service in 1869 with my bus band, who was the keeper of a lighi upon an island. In 1872 he was urowueu wuiie renuuiu^ u. uuauug yui ty. The appointment was given to me and I continued in my first charge foi fifteen years. I was then transferred to the mainland, and I have been here for more than sixteen years. I love my work?It has its fascinations foi me; and I love the water, although il has been to my beloved ones a erne! friend. I have had many stirring experiences in all these years of l'ghtkeeping. Many are the storms I have seen, watching the wild waves beat ing upon the shore. Every evening as I climb my tower-steps I know that there are hundreds of other light keepers doing the same thing, i navt many sleepless nights when storms are raging. My station is built ol brick and stone, and is very comfortable and warm to live in. We lightkeepers feel a great sympathy wltt our sailors, for we know their eyes an watching to catch the welcome glim mer of the lights as they sail on the stormy deep. The light-keepers an much exposed to danger, and rnanj lives are lost in going to and from the mainland to the lighthouses that arc built upon rocks and shoals. Our livef are given to our work, and we fee! the great responsibility resting upoi us. We are faithful to the duties as signed us, and we keep our lamps trimmed and burning, a goide to mar iners on the way to saf<? harbors ol refuge."?Woman's Home Companion John Barleycorn Fleer. Before the Ad vaace of the Fersoraive Vegetable. ^ o\ ? .*, ? & <5 ?.* "Prominent workers In social scl ence, addressing the Internationa Vegetarian Congress in London, test! fy that a vegetarian diet Is a certair I nnro fnr thn llnnnr hjlhif." Machine Threads Needlei. A little machine which threads 1001 needles a minute is in Minneapolis The purpose of the machine, whicl was made in Switzerland, is to threac needles that are placed afterward ii an embroidery loom for making th< Swiss or Hamburg lace. The devici is almost entirely automatic. It takei the needle from a hopper, carries i along, and threads, ties the knot, cut! the thread off a uniform length, thei carries the needle across an opei space and sticks It in a rack. Thi work of threading these needles wai formerly done by hand, and rue ad vanee from 'what may be done bj hand to 1000 a minute by machiner; Is an index of the progress of thi Swiss republic. ' ' rmnoinltp roiv 1I1AI 1 rtnuuiwua unn I *Ywi_vto. formidable Creature of the Plains? Dsn* jjerons Foe to Domestic Anlmsln. Lib Vincent, one of Wyoming's oldtime cow punchers and now riding on the Powder River ranges, says that the gray wolves of his section are legion in number and as fearless as they are ferocious. These gray and greedy scourges of the Powder River stock areas do their raiding in .bands ranging in numbers of from six to thirty, each band being organized and disciplined under the leadership of an old dog wolf especially chosen for his wariness, speed and endurance. To this captain these en tint nnrl srrlzzled marauders vicld an implicit and unswerving obedience?a statement evidenced from the fact that If one of these wolf leaders is slain cr crippled his band at once amalgamates with some other troop possessing a leader of like capacity. The age or size of their quarry Is of little moment with these wolves, as they pull down and devour alike cows, calves, steers, mares, colts and geldings. Their attack is always strategi* cal and systematic, one portion of th? * band assaulting from the front and ) fastening on to shoulder, ear or muz^ zle, and thus giving the big, wild gray dogs who are ever closing in from the * rear the objective, opportunity of hao* stringing the victim- Once hamstrung * it is all over with the quarry, and the * entire band feasts at leisure. Mr. Vincent has often seen on tho Powder * River ranges the mere empty hide and : polished bones of what was once a lusty steer or polished gelding as sad f souvenirs of the raid cf a gray wolf I band. The cattle h^rds are open and easy prey to the bold caninc bandits, the cattle fleeing from tho pursuers and thus rendering individual attack easy and successful. Tho horses, however, with their superior intelligence, very frequently beat cC tho wolvc3 by forming on the open ground an equine square, with the mares and colts in the centre, the gallant stallions on the corners, and the best and bravest geldings distributed in the outer lines of defense. Not only do these equine cquarea frequently beat off their assailants, but they sometimes x-out the wild dogs entirely, slaying numbers of them by striking, kicking and trampling. This is an cspecial result when the horse herd has with It a stallion experienced in ranee life. He can smell a wolf farther than he can see him, and at his 'shrill and warning neigh the herd rushes together and quickly forms the protecting square. The wolves fully appreciate this fact, and instances have been known of a gray band numbering scores of raiders trotting leisurely around one of these embattled squares aud then seeking other and easier prey. The gray wolf reaches a weight of 125 pounds, and boasts alike brain, brawn, a noiseless, tireless foot, a savage ferocity in a given length of time than any other known animal. He is a prolific breeder, eight or ten pups being a not uncommon litter, r while there is a Powder River instance t of thirty-five pups being slain as the . progeny of three wolf dams. ; Up to six>months old the gray wolf j pup is awkward and unwieldly, and it . is a favorite cowboy pastime of the t Towder River ranges to locate a gray wolf litter on the prairie and shoot I the pups from horseback as they ) skulkingly roll and tumble from their ? coverts in the grass and sagebrush. Crack shots with the pistol have been ; known to got a pup with every bullet [ from""their sis-shooters.?Itocky Mount. ain News. k Why They Louged For Homo. "One meets odd characters on shipi board," said a Baltimore woman who : visited the Paris Expositfon. "I recall vividly a lean Yankee of i about fifty-five years who on my reJ turn voyage spent hours near the prow . or nis snip wirn nis race steaurasuy turned to bis native land. " 'Yes, I'm glad to be going back,' i he said one day, when inclined to cons versation. 'I've done Europe as my - family said I should, and when I left s Rome, the last place I had to do, I } shook ni3r fist at her and said: Gonrir by, old Rome, I'm going home to s pumpkin pie.'. s "An equally amusing fellow-passen1 ger was a young man from the far I South, who confided to me his intence yearning to get back In order to enjoy once more his mother's buckwheat cakes. *1 can scarcely wait for them,' he said. 'First you smear them over f with butter and then you smear them over with molasses, and then'?his eyes took on a rapt expression?'you eat them!'"?Baltimore Sun. Surely a Gentleman. In far-off years Sir Walter Scott visited the first Lord Plunkett, who was tnon T.nrrl fMmnppllnr nf Irplnml nrirl was taken to seo the ruins of the Seven Churches of Glendalough, one of the sights of Ireland. One of the most romantic spots is St. Kevin's Bed, a cave which requires a scramble over rocks to enter. Sir Walter, in spite of his lameness, pene trated the "shrine," an old peasant , woman lending him a willing hand. On the return, the Lord Chancellor ' asked her if she knew how great la I man she had assisted, adding. "He is I Sir Walter Scott, the illustrious poet." | "Begorra, your honor," the old woman replied, "he's no poet! He's a gintleman born an' bred?for hasn't he " he left in me hand a piece of silver?" I Truly, there is more than one way ' of knowing a man by his works. Oaalnt San Antonio. "San Antonio is one of the quaintest cities in the country." declared Mr. r John I<\ Cunningham, of Austin, Tex. "The sidewalks are so narrow that il j is difficult for two people to pass with1 out stepping into the street, and the 1 streets hardly permit of two vehicles 2 moving abreast. But the buildings i are modern and substantial, and there a is much wealth within the municipalt ity. The ancient structure of the Alas mo, where Davy Crockett, Colonel i Bowie, inventor of the Bowie knife, i and other early heroes of Texas gave i up their lives, is well preserved. It g -was bUilt as a church, but at the same . time was surrounded by a wall for y purposes of defense. Bullet holes, y mode at the time of the siege by the e Mexicans, are still visible."?Washington Post. THE CHINCHILLA. Whence It Come*, What It Eat), How II 1* Trapped. Very few people seem to know much about that finest and most delicate of furs, the chinchilla. Were it not for Its lack of durability, the skin being thin and light, this loveliest of pelts wanI/) 1\<-i /\ma mrtayl /rttt titVi aIa r?n r* nuuiu uu uiuic uocu iUi nuuic baL ments. As It is, most of ns are content to have it for collar and revers, facings, collarettes, and muffs. It Is expensive to start oat with, about the price of a sealskin, and doubly so, when you consider that Its wearing qualities are quite below seal. But it Is lovely and becoming, and when you consider that it will last a number of seasons if no strain be put upon It, you can't wonder that so much of it is sold. Some make the mistake of thinking that yellowism, or dull gray, or greasy skins are imitations; rather are they i the coats of different sorts of chinchillas which come from Chile, Buenos Ayres and La Plata. The real chinchilla, the sort which Is worth having, and which has made this fur fashionable, comes from the mountainous dlstrlcts of Peru and Bolivia. The chinchilla, rodent that it is. lives upon vegetaDie matter, ana ia about nine Inches In length., The tail measures five or six Inches, and the ears, which are almost hairless, are rather large, broad and silky. Grey Is the color of the fur, with blue for ? THE CHINCHILLA. the ground color. The light parts are a slate-white, while down the back it Is of a dark blue or black cast. While the half savage South American Indians still do the catching of these nimble and cautious animals, they no longer surround their holes in the earth with a network of cactus upon which the poor little things used to Impale themselves after being lured out and scared into trying to escape. Besides this punctured the skin, making it less valuable. \ Then they tried smoking them out, but this turned the skin yellow. Now they use dynamife! Having located their victims they form a network of grasses and hardy plants around a hill on the side of which the chinchilla burrows. A dynamite cartridge with a fuse attached is then discharged in the centre of the network and the poor little things are frightened into running out and scampering about, when the Indians dash into the lnclosure with clubs, and kill them by striking them on the head. To date this is counted the best way out of a bad job; It is a quick death, and does not damage the skins, which bring up to $15. The skin3 are immediately removed and placed on bushes to dry, the Indians often making their next meal from their hideless victims. Some Indians hunt them with ferrets. Giant Handa For a New Clock. What are probably the biggest clock hands in the world have recently been completed in France, where they are Intended to adorn the face of a giant clock upon the railroad station at Lyons. The diameter of the face is twenty-six feef, and each of the Roman numerals is three feet long. Tho minute hnnrt of the clock is thir teen feet long.?New York Herald. To Hakii 150 Miles aa Hoar, An electric engine has been invented which is expected to attain a speed of one hundred and fifty miles an hour. A society, lately formed, comprising the leaders of the most Doted machine works, has for Its sole object the attalnment of phenomenal speed on railroads. The new locomotive was constructed by Slemans & Halske, and the preliminary tests, which, by special order of Emperor William, were made therewith on the military railroad Berlln-Zossen, are reported to have given brilliant results. For Vermont the enumerators report 33,109 farms; in 1880 there were 35,522, and in 1890, 32,573. The number of ' ? - ?? Yonrt to efk'J in of that laillis II* lyw IJ JWJ *? ? ? of 1890, and 2,413 less than in 1880. DK. TALMAGES SERMON SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: Secret Societies?Why Silence Is Sometimes Best ? Organizations That Work For Humanity's Service ? The True Tests For Secret Societies. r Crnivrlffht lfiOLI Washington, D. C.?A practical question which is asked in most houses and for many years is here asked by Dr. Talmage and answered; text, Proverbs xxv, 9, Discover not a secret to another." It appears that in Solomon's time, as in all subsequent periods of the world,- there were people too much disposed to tell all they knew. It was blab, blab, blab; physicians revealing the case of their patients, lawyers exposing the private affairs of their clients, neighbors advertising the faults of tbe next aoor resident, pretending friends betraying confidences. One-naif of the trouble of every community comes from the fact that so many people have not capacity to keep their mouths shut. When I hear something disparaging of you, my first duty is not to tell you, but if I tell you what somebody has said against you and then go out and tell everybody else what I tola you, and they go out and tell others what I told them that I told you, and we all go out, some to hunt up the originator of the D WiY OUU UVUCiO VV UUUV *w uw II Ml ... shall get the whole community talking about what you do and what you did not do, and there will be as man? scalps taken as though a band of Moaocs had swept upon a nelpless village. We have two ears, but only one tongue, a physiological suggestion that we ought to near a good deal more than we tell. Let us join a conspiracy that we will tell each other all the good and nothing of the ill. and then there will not be such awful need of sermons on Solomon's words, "Discover not a secret to another." Solomon had a very large domestic circle. In his earlier days he had very confuscd notions about monogamy and polygamy, and his multitudinous associates in the matrimonial state kept him too well informed as to what was going on in Jerusalem. They gathered up all the privacies and poured them into his ear, and his family became a sorosis or female debating society of 700, discussing day after day all the difficulties between husbands and wives, between employers and employes, between rulers and subjects, until Solomon, in my text, deplores volubility aborft affairs that do not belong to us ana extols the virtue of secretiveness. By the power of a secret divulged fam- ' ilies, churches, neighborhoods, nations, fly apart. By the power of a secret kept chanties, socialities, reformatory movements and Christian enterprises may be advanced. Men are gregarious?cattle in herds, fish in schools, Dirds in flocks, men in social circles. You may by the discharge of & (run scatter a nock of quails or by the plunge of an anchor send apart the denizens of the sea, but they will rather themselves together again, if you by some new power could break the associations in wnich men now stand, they would again adhere. God meant it so. He has gathered all the flowers and dhrubs into associations. You may plant one forget-me-not or heartsease alone away off upon the hillside, but it will soon hunt up some other forget-me-not or heartsease. Plants love company. YtJu will And them talking to each other in the dew. You sometimes see a man with no o^tbranchings of sympathy. His nature- -is cold ana. hard, ake a ship's mast icei glazed, which the most agile sailor could never climb. Others have a thousand roots and a thousand branches. Innumerable tendrils climb their hearts and blossom all the way up, and the fowls of heaven sing in the branches. In consequence of this tendency we find men coming together in tribes, in communities, in churches, in societies. Some gather together to cultivate the arts, some to plan for the welfare of the state, some to discuss religious themes, some to kindle their mirth, some to advance their craft. So sVery active community is divided into associations of artists, of merchants, of bookbinders, of carpenters, of masons, of Slasterers, of shipwrights, of plumbers. )o you cry out against it? Then you cry out against a tendency divinely implanted. Your tirades would accomplish no more than if you should preach to a busy ant hill a long sermon against secret societies. Here we find the oft-discussed question whether associations that do their work with clpsed doors and admit their members by passwords and greet each other witu a secret grip are rignc or wrong, jl answer that it depends entirely on the nature of the object for which tney meet. Is it to pass the hours in revelry, wassail, blasphemy and obscene talk or to plot trouble to the state or to debauch the innocent, then I say with an emphasis that no man can mistake, "No!" But is the object the defense of the rights of any class against oppression, the improvement of the mind, the enlargement of the heart, the advancement of art, the defense of the Government, the extirpation of crime or the kindling of a pure hearted sociality, then I say with just a3 much emphasis, "Yes." There is no need that we who plan for the conquest of right over wrong should publish to all the world our intentions, fhe general of an army never sends to the opposing troop3 information of the coming attack. Shall we who have enlisted in thrf cause of God and humanity expose our plans to the enemy? No; we will in secret plot the ruin of all the enterprises of Satan and his cohorts! When they expect us by day, we will fall upon them by night. While they are strengthening their left wing we will fall on their right. By a plan of battle formed in secret conclave we will come suddenly upon them, crying, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!'' Secrecy of plot and execution is wrong only when the object and ends are nefarious. Every family is a secret so ciecy, every ousiness nrm ana every Dancing and insurance institution. Those men who have no capacity to keep a secret are unfit for positions of trust anywhere. There are thousands of men whose vital need is culturing a capacity to keep a secret. Men talk too much, and women, too. There is a time to keep silence as well as a time to speak. Although not belonging to any of the ereat secret societies about which there has been so much violent discussion, I have only words of praise for those associations which have for their object the maintenance of riaht against wrong or the reclamation of inebriates or, like the score of mutual benefit societies called by different names, that provide temporary relief for widows and orphans ana for men incapacitated by sickness or accident from earning a livelihood. Had it not been for the secret labor organizations in this country monopoly would long ago have under its ponderous wheels ground the laboring classes into an intolerable servitude. The men who want the whole earth to themselves would have got it before this had it not been for the banding together of great secret organizations. And, while we deplore many things that have been done by them, tneir existence is a necessity and their legitimate sphere distinctly pointed out by the providence of ClnA Cn/tk arrro t> i to f i a -ira tpvinff fft fJta. VlUUt UUV.11 UtgUUK.UblVUO Ui V VI TIK^ ?V UlU miss from their associations all members who are in favor of anarchy and social chaos. They will gradually cease anything like tyranny over their members, and will forbid violent interference with any man's work, whether he belongs to , their union or is outside of it, and will j declare their disgust with any such rule as that passed in England by the Manchester Bricklayers' Association, which ( says any man found running or work 133 j beyond a regular speed shall be fined tiro shillings and sixpence for the first offense, ] five shillings for the second, ten shillings , for the third, and if still persisting shall be dealt with as the committee thinks < proper. There are old secret societies in this and other countries, some of them centuries old, wliict have been widely denounced as immorai and damaging in their influence, yet I have hundreds of personal friends who belong to them, friends who are consecrated to God, pillars in the church, faithful in all relations of life, examples of virtue and piety. One of these secret societies gave for i thp rplinf of t.hi> sick in 1873 in this noun try $1,490,274. some of these societies have poured a very heaven of Bunshine and benediction into the home of suffering. Several oi them are founded on fidelity ? \ 'V*' . ' ' ? to good citizenship and the Bible. I luwt ?MiiTiir f r.l-<vn nnn nf fVimr Hacttam TTtM might give me the grip a thousand timet ana I would not recognize it. I am ipnon ant of their passwords, and I must judge entirely from the outside. But Christ hit4 * given us a rule by which we may judgi not only all individuals, but all societies. secret and open. "By their fruits ye shall know them." Bad societies make baq men. Good societies make good men. ^ bad man will not stay in a good society; Then try all secret societies by two at three rules. Let any Christian wife rejoice when het husband consecrates evenings to the serv? ice of humanity and of God or anything elevating, but let no man sacrifice home life to secret society life, as many do. X can point out to you a great many name* of men who are guilty of this sacrilege. They are as genial as angels at the society rooms and aa ugly as sin at home. They are generous on all subjects of wiue suppers, yachts and fine horses', but they are stingy about their^wives' dresses and the children s shoes. That man has made that which might be a healthful influence usurper of his affections, and he has married it, and,he is guilty of moral bigamy. Under this process the wife, whatever her features, becomes uninteresting and homely. He becomes critical of her, dofli not like the dress, does not like the way she arranges her hair, is amazed that hie ever was so nnromantic as to offer her hand and heart. There are secret societies where membership always involves domestic shipwreck. Tell me tnat a man has joined a certain kind and tell me nothing more about him for ten years, and I will write his history if he be still alive; The man is & wine guzzler, his wife broken hearted or prematurely old, his fortune gone and hi# home a mere name in the directory. \ Here are six secular nights in the week. "What shall I do with them?" says the father and the husband. "I will give fonr of these nights to the improvement and entertainment of mv family, either at home or in good neighborhood. I will devote one to charitable institutions. I wilt devote one to my lodge." I congratulate you. Here is a man who says, "Out of the six secular nights of the week I will devote five to lodges and clubs and associations and one to the home, which night I will spend in scowling like a March squall, nna^in/* T ttraa Aiif onan/^in/r if A m T h a w* n iauiu(( x noo vuv opuuiug aw no x uoto spent the other five. That man'? obituary is written. Not one out of 10,000 that ever get so far on the wrong road ever stops. Gradually his health will (ail through late hours, and through too much stimulants he will be first-rate prey for ervsipelas and rheumatism of the heart. The doctor coming in will at a glance see it is not only present disease he must .fight, but years of fast living. The clergyman for the sake of the feelings of the family on the funeral day will only talk in religious generalities. The men who got his yacht in the eternal rapids will not be at the obsequies. They have pressing engagements that day. Tney will send flowers to the coffin, will send their wives to utter words of sympathy, but they will have engagements elsewhere. They never come. Brinij me mallet and chisel and I will cut that man's epitaph. "Blessed are the dead who die in tne Lord?" "No," you say, "that would not be appropriate." "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his?" "No, vou say. mat wouia hoc oe appropriate. Then give me the mallet and the chisel and I will cut an honest epitaph, "Here lies the victim of dissipating associations!" Another test by which you can find whether your secret society is right or wrong is the effcct it has on your secular occupation. J can understand how through such an institution a man can reach commercial success. I know some men have formed their best business relations through such a channel. If the secret society has advantaged you in an honorable calling it is a good one. But has your cr.edit failed? Are bargain makers now more anxious how they trust you with a bale of goods? Have the men whose names were_ down in the commercial agency A1 before they entered the society been going dpwn since in commercial standing? Then look out. You and I every day know of commercial establishments going to ruin through the social excesses of one or two members, their fortune beaten to death with ball player's bat or cut amidships with the front prow of the regatta of going down under the swift hoofs of the fast horses or drowned in the large potations of cognac Mononeahela. The secret society was the Loch Earn. Their business was the Ville de Havre. Thev struck, and the Vjlle de Havre went under! The third test by which you may know whether the society to which you belong is good or bad is this: What is its effect on your s'"- 2 of moral and religious obligation? K w, if I should take the names of all the peoDle in this audience and Dut them on a roll, and then I should lay that 1 roll back of this organ, and a hundred vear3 from now some one should take that roll and call it from A to Z, there would not one of you answer. I say that any so- \ oiety that makes me forget that fact is a bad society. Which would you rather have in your hand when you come to die?a pack of cards or a Bible? Which would you rather have pressed to your Hdb in the * closing moment?the cup of Belshazzarean wassail or the chalice of Christian communion^ Whom would you rather have for your pallbearers?the elders of a Christian church or the companions whose conversation was full of slang and inuendo? Whom would you rather have for your eternal companions?those men who spend their evenings betting, gambling, swearing, carousing and telling vile stories or your little child, that bright girl whom me Jjora iook.' un, you wouia not nave been away so much nights, would you, if you had known she was going away so : , soon? Dear me, your house has never been the samp place since. Your wife lias never brightened up; she has never eot over it; she never will get over it. How long +he evenings are with no one to put to bed and no one to whom to tell the beautiful Bible stories! What a pity it is that you cannot spend more evenings at home in trying to help her bear that sorrow! You can never drown that grief in the wine cup. You can never break away from the little arms that used to be flung around your neck when she used to say, "Papa, do stay with me to-night?do stay with me to-night!" You will never be able to wipe away from your, lips the dying kiss of your little girl. The fascination of a bad secret society is so great that sometimes a man has turned his back on his home when his child was dying of scarlet fe\*er. He went away. Before he got back at midnight the eyes had been closed, the undertaker had done his work, and the wife, wom out with three weeks' watching, lay unconscious in the next room. Then the returned father comes up stairs, and he sees the cradle gone, and he says, "What is the matter?" On the judgment day he will find out what was the matter. Un, man astray, lioa neip you! 1 am going to make a very stout rope. You know that sometimes a ropemaker will take very small threads and wind them together until after awhile they become a ship cable. And I am poing to take some very small, delicate threads and wind them together until they make a very stout rope. I will take all the memories of the marriage day?a thread of laughter, a thread of light, a thread of music, a thread of banqueting, a thread of congratulation?and I twist them together, and I have one strand. Then I take a thread of the hour of the first advent in your house, fi thread of the darkness that preceded, and a thread of the light that followed, and a thread of the beautiful scarf that little child used to wear when she bounded out at eventide to jrreet you, and then i thread of the beautiful dress in which you laid her away for the resurrection, and then I twist all these threads to* zether and I have another strand. Then I take a thread of the scarlet robe of a suffering Christ, and a thrtv.d of the white raiment of your loved ones before the throne, and a string of the harp seraphic, and I twist them all togelher, and I have a third strand. ' Oh," you say, "either strand is enough to hold fast a world." No; I will take these strands, and I will twist them together, ar.d one end of that roue I will fasten not to the communioa table, for it shall be removed; not to a pillar of the organ, for that will crumble in the ages, but I wind it round and round the cross of a sympathizing Christ, and having fastened one end of the rope to the cross I throw the other end to you. Lay hold of it! PuJJ fr your life! Pull for heaven.' << ,X . . i * ' i