Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t It Never Pays. It never pays to fret and growl Whan fortune s erns our foe: The better bred will look ahead And strike the braver blow. Your luck is work, And those who shrink Should not lament their doom. But yield the play, And (dear the way. That better men have room. It never pays to wreck the health In drudging after gain. And he is sold who thinks that gold Is cheapest bought with pain. An humble lot, A oozy cot, Have tempted even kings, For station high. That wealth will buy, Not oft contentment brings. It never pays! A blunt refrain Well worthy of a song. For age and youth must learn the truth That nothing pays that's wrong. The good and pure Alone are sure To bring prolonged success. While w hat is right In heaven’s sight Is always sure to bless. THE BASKET SELLER. “Well, I declare!” said Mrs. Gibson, slowly and emphatically. “What will happen next? There was the eclipse a-Wednesday night, and the earthquake shock a week ago, and Jane Ann Shorey’s runaway match with Phil Par kinson last night; and I swan to gracious if here don't come along Emma Ellis, ridin’ on top of a load o’ wilier ware, j.st fer all the world as if she was a man!” “Don’t you want to buy a clothes- basket, Mrs. Gibson?” callei out Emma Ellis’ clear soprano voice, as the sturdy sorrel pony came to a pause in front of the painted garden fence, where the yonng quinces w r erc just beginning to assume shape and form among the downy, green leaves. “A clothes-basket?” repeated Mrs. Gibson. “That’s just exactly what I do want. Got any good, substantial ones, with bars o’ wood across the bot tom to strengthen ’em?’’ By way of answer, Emma Ellis swung down a solid-looking willow receptacle, springing after it herself, and a lively discussion ensued. “Goin’ into the peddlin’ business, eh?” said Mrs. Gibson. “Well, I thought I’d sec how I liked it,” Emma answered, with a cheery, good-humored laugh. “Do you like this basket? I’ve got some capital easy- rockers for the old grandmother here, and a doll s cradle that will exactly suit the baby; and as for work-baskets—’» And she made a triumphant motion of her hand that expressed marvels. “Well, I’d like ’em all,” said good* Mrs. Gibson, “but I don’t feel able ioj % ♦y ‘Cm!, niur-t- ing. Sellin’ on commission, 'eh?” “No—out and out. Let me see; you want two dollars and nineteen cents change, do you?” And Miss Ellis opened her flat leather pockctbook and counted out the money in true business-like fashion. “Well—I—never!” repeated Mrs. Gibson, staring after the cloud of dust that followed the load of willow-ware in its progress down the street. “Why, what is the matter?” said Charles Borden, who had just stopped at the gate to see if he could borrow Farmer Gibson’s mowing machine for the morrow. “It’s Emma Ellis,” said Mrs. Gibson, •klrivin’ a lead o’ wilier-ware, and scllia’'baskets and hampers and things.” “Nonsense!” cried Borden. “I jest bought this ’ere clothes-basket of her 1” declared Mrs. Gibson. “I tell ye what, Charley Borden, she’s been disappointed in the dcestrick school, and the squire he must have come plumb up agin a snag in the marble-mantel busi ness, and as sure as you live Emma's got to earn her own livin’, with all them genteel ways and piano lessons and crayon pieters o’ hern. My! what a come-down it is for that family! I don’t see how Emma can bo so chirk abou* it. Where’s that Borden fellow?” she cried, staring about her. ‘ ‘Gracious me, if ho ain’t cut across the m?dder! I guess most likely he*s seen Gibson there.” And Mrs. Gibson tied on a green- chceked sun-bonnet and ran down the street to Mrs. Dalrymple to tell the news. “Serves 'em right!” said Mrs. Dal- rymple. “A fambly o’ reg’largoin upstarts! I never did take no stock in Emma Ellis.” “Your son Oliver did though,” chuckled Mrs. Gibson, with a meaning glance. “That ain't neither here nor there,’’ said Mrs. Dalrymple. sharply. “Oliver ain’t goin to squander on no girl the money that his father laid up. unless she’s a real savin’, hard-workm' creetur , as will know how to take care cf it.” “There she is now!” said Mrs. Gib son. “Stoppin* here!” “No-o-o!’ bawled Mrs. Dalrymple, opening the window a mere crack. 4 Wc don’t want nothin’. No, I say!” Emma Ellis smiled to herself as she drove on, stopping next at the Borden farmstead, where, strange as it may ap pear, Borden himself had ^ready ar rived, by means of the short-cut acro-s the Gibson meadows. “Oh, is it you, Mr. Borden?” she asked, carelessly. “Won’t you ask your sister if she requires anything in my way this morning?” * 'But, Miss Ellis, what does this mean?” exclaimed the amazed young farmer. “It mean?—willow-ware,” Emma an swered, composedly. “Has anything happened?” “Things are always happening,’* said Emma, reaching across the load for a particularly pretty market basket. “I think she will like this, Mr. Borden. ” “I’ll buy it for her," said Charley, reckle : sly. “And a scrap-basket, shaped like a little barrel, don't you see,” persisted Emma, “for your own room? - ’ It’s cheap —only a dollar.” “I’ll buy that, too,” said Charles Borden. “And this hamper and this pair of little baskets for Kate’s boys to go blackberrying with, and—■” “Oh, stop, stop,” merrily cried Em ma. “You musn’t buy all my stock in trade, or I shall have nothing left for anybody else.” “Oh, but I really want that big rock er for the front porch,” persisted Mr. Borden. “That’s a necessity.” “The big rocker, then, ” said Emma, half laughing; “but beyond that, abso lutely nothing more.” “But you’ll pioraise me one thing?” “It depends very much upon what it is.” “If you have anything left unsold at the end of your trip, you'll give me a chance?” said Charlie imploringly. “Wicker goods always come handy,you know. ” Emma only laughed and touched up the old horse. “I make no promises,’’ said she. That day, on the high scat among the baskets and rockers, the wash-tubs and clothes-horses,to Emma Ellis it was quite a new experience. The chaffering at shady farmhouse doors with busy housewives, the counting of change, the discussion of qualities and the persist ent standing up against the general dis position to beat down prices and haggle for odd cents, the various views of hu man life which she now obtained for the first time from her aerial pcich, the odd sensation of being “in trade,” the consciousness that sho was looked upon with pity by some of her friends and scorn others—it was altcgcthcr a strange conglomeration of feelings. Toward the close of the day’s work, as she was returning homo with her wagon-load considerably depleted, and her purse somewhat better furnished than it had been, she chanced to come face to face with handsome Oliver Dal rymple, trotting along on the Morgan mare, which once had been the pride of the elder Dairym pie’s heart. She looked him full iu the face. He seemed absorbed in the knot on the end of his whip-lash, and never even looked her way. “So!” she said to herself; “sets the wind that way?” Mr. Dalrymple doas not seem to approve of this new enter- . prise'oTlmno. Well, T rtf' soffy, bur i can’t help it. Charley Borden, now, views things in an entirely different •way. ” And she smiled a little as she saw, leaning anxiously over the gate beyond, the stalwart figure of the young farmer. “Miss Ellis!” he uttered pleadingly. “I’m sure you can’t want to buy any more willow-ware,” said Emma, check ing her horse. “There can’t be room for it in the house.” “No; but won’t you let me put this horse in the stable, or drive it home for you, while you come into tea? Alice will be delighted to see you. And you must be so tired!” urged he. Emma thought a moment, and as she reflected how refreshing a cup of hot tea would be, Alice Borden put her curly head out of the window. “Do come, Emma!” she cried. ‘ ‘We’ 11 have waffles and maple syrup and broiled chickens; and I’ve got ever so many things to tell you.” And Emnvi capitulated. But as Charley Borden helped her down from her high seat, he stood a minute holding both her hands in his. “Emma,” said he, “I know I’ve no business to speak so abruptly, but I can’t help it. I don’t know why you are doing this thing, but if it is to earn money, let me cam it for you, Emma— give me the right to do it. I’m only a farmer, but I’ve got a nice place here, and I can keep you like a lady. And I love you, Emma! I’ve loved you well and truly this many and many a day. Now I’m not going to tease and bother you about this. Take time to make up your mind. I’ll drive the old horse home, and then Til take you back my self in the little buggy when you and Alice have had a good visit. And you can give me my answer when you please, aud not before.” Emma broke from him and ran into the hou^e, blushing yet not displeased. Alice met her at the door. 4 ‘Where is Charley?’’ said she. “Oh, going to take your load of willow-ware home? Now, Emma, tell ms what this really means. Have you lost all your property?” “No.” “Arc you going into trade?” “No.” “You won’t answer me?” “No.” “Then.” laughed Alice Borden, “Fll ask you no more questions. Hereafter I’m as dum as an oyster. Now come in and help me dish up the chickens and waffles.” It was past eleven that night when Charley Borden brought Emma Ellis home to the old house, where the squire was nodding over his evening paper. Well,” said he, viewing her over the edge of his spectacles, with a waggish twinkle in his clear blue eyes, “how did , the thins: work?” “First rate, papa," said Emma. “1 sold twenty dollars* worth—within a few cents. And Mr. Borden here wai one of my best customers. ” “Then,” said the squire, with a sigh of comic resignation, “I’ve lost my wager. You see, Borden,my girl want ed me to buy this stock of willow-ware, with the horse and wagon, to set old Miss Barhydt up in busine s—and I told her no woman would succeed in such an enterprise, let alone their being unwill - ing to undertake this sort of work. But Emma stuck to it that it could be done, and I was weak enough to wager the whole outfit that it couldn’t. Bo Emms declared she would prove it practically —and I didn’t think she had pluck enough; but, by jingo, she has! Yes, yes, Emma, you’ve beat me square and fair!” “And Miss Barhydt is to have the outfit of willow-ware!’’ cried Emma, joyfully, clapping her hands, “and the horse and wagon. Oil, Mr. Borden, you can’t think what a nice old woman she is, nor how anxious she is to cam a livelihood in the open air like this! And now you know,” with the archest and most bewitching of glances, “how it came to pass that I was peddling willow baskets around the country. Wouldn’t you have done it, if you had been me?” Young Dalrymple was in despair when he learned of Charles Borden's en gagement to the prettiest girl—aye, and the richest girl—in the country. “But who was to suppose,” said he, that she would take such an unaccounta ble whim into her head?” And Mrs. Gibson always declared that she never had a clothes-basket wear like the one sho bought of Squire Ellis’ daughter!—Saturday Night. A Humane Frima Donna. A particularly humane little body is Mile. Nikita, the American prima don- ana, s is shown by an incident of lutf last visit to Praguo. Opposite her hotel was a high tower—part of the old bat tlements of the town—with several statues at the summit. One day the young singer was standing on the piazza when she fancied she saw a bird flutter* ing its wings among tho statues. Fetching her opera glass, Nikita de scried a dove entangled in the stone work, and could plainly see blood trickling from one of its limbs. Her pity aroused, Nikita sent word to the commissionaire at the hotel entrance that she would give him fifteen florins if he would fetch the bird down. The man replied that he wou d gladly oblige Mademoiselle, but he was afraid of injuring the statuary, which he dared not do. A message to the mayor brought a reply morfi ornate in form, but very similar in effect. Nikita was in despair; the poor bird was bleeding to^ death and she could do nothing. The next morning she induced the fire brigade, on promising to indemnify them for any damage done to the statues, to bring their escape to the spot. But it was too short to reach the summit of the tower, which was about 250 feet high, and could only be gained by a perilous climb. A large crowd had gathered, having heard of the strange action of the young and famous foreign singer. Nikita was sorrowfully thinking that the dove must be abandoned to its fate, when a young workman rushed up to her and offered to make the ascent. Almost before Nikita could accept his services he was mounting the ladder and climbing to the summit. Having secured the wounded dove he had to be let down by ropes. The descent was safely accom plished, and running to Nikita the young hero placed the bird gently in hej hands. Nikita, full of gratitude, took off a diamond ring from her finger and gave it to the delighted workman. Nikita tended the bird for a fortnight, and then having to leave Prague, and the dove being well, she allowed it the liberty it had nearly lost with its life. Traits that Make a Skillful Cowboy. To be a successful cowboy one must be skillful in four qualities. He must be a good rider, have complete control of his lariat, a good knowledge of the country and be a keen judge of cattle and their brands. Biding all sorts of horses, as he docs, soon gives him an intuitive knowledge as to whether any particular horse will give him trouble, and when once on he has got to stick for all he knows how. His ropo comes iu handy fifty times a day, either to catch some maddened cow or runaway calf, to haul wood or hundreds of other uses. Without a knowledge of the country he could never pilot a branch of cattle to the main herd or could he look up strays, and finally other cattlemen would palm off the most miserable specimens upon him if he could not tell good beef from tad. His rcaiiness to distinguish and knowledge of the various marks used to denote ownership is exceedingly important, especially in the spring, as disputes frequently arise. A.l these qualities a really good cow boy excels in, and when to these are added cheerfulness, adaptability and good humor, it is hard to find a more plea'ant companion. The life is hard, but the freedom and excitement seem in most instances to outweigh the hard ships. A College Course. Father—What does your college course include? Bon (more fond of boating than book )—A full mile straightaway aad return.— Omaha World. PiEl. DR. TALMAGE. THE tOOKIiYN DIVTXE’S SUN DAY SERMON. Subject: “Tlie Strong Swimmer.” (Preached at Seattle, W. T.) Text: J‘iJs shall spread forth His hands in the win st of them, as he that swimmeth spreadetrjtforthhis hands to stcim.”—Isaiah xxv., 1L At this season of the year multitudes of people wade into the ponds and lakes and rivere and seas. At first putting out cau tiously from the shore, but having learned the right stroke of arm and foot, they let the waters roll over them, ard in wild glee dive or float or swim. So tho text will be very suggestive: “He shall spread forth His hand in the midst of them, as h< that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands tc >^im.” The fisherman seeks out unfrequented nooks. You stand all day on the bank of a river in the broiling sun. and fling out your line, and catch nothing, while the expert angler breaks through the jungle and goes by the shadow of the solitary rock, and in a place where no fisherman has been for ten years, throws out his line and comes homo at night, his face shining and his basket full. I do not know why we ministers of the Gospel need always be fishing in the same stream, and preaching from the same text that other people preach from. I can not understand the policy of the minister who, in Blackfriars, London, England, every week for thirty years preached from the Epistle to the Hebrews. It is an exhiliara- tion to me when I come across a theme which I feel no one else has treated, and ipy text is one of that kind. There are paths in God’s Word that are well beaten by Christian feet. When men want to quote Scripture, they quote the old passages that every one has heard. When they want a chapter read, thej read a chapter that all the other people have been readme, so that the church to-day is ignorant of three-fourths of the Bible. You go into the Louvre at Paris. You confine yourself to one corridor of that opulent gal lery of paintings. As you come out your friend says to you: “Did you see t lat Rem- brandtV”’ “No.” “Did you see that Ru bens?” “No.” “Did you see that Titian?” “No.” “Did you see that Raphael?” “No.” “Well,” says your friend, “then you didn’t see the Louvre.” Now, my friends, I think we are too much apt to confine ourselves to one of the great corridors of this Scripture truth, aud so much so that there is not one person out of a million who has ever noticed the all suggest ive and powA'ful picture in the words of my text. . * This text represents God as a strong swim mer, striking out to push down iniquity and save the souls of men. “He shall spread forth His hand in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim.” Tho figure is bold and many sided. Most of you know how to swim. Some of you learned it in the city school, where this art is taughff; some of you in boyhood, in the river near your father's house; some of you since you came to manhood or wo manhood, while summering on the beach of the sea. You step down in the wave, you throw your head back, you bring your elbows to the chest, you put tho palms of your hands downward and the soles of your feet outward, and you push through the water as though you had been born aquatic. 1# is a grand thing to know how to swim, not only for yourself, but because you will after a while, perhaps have to help others, I do not know anything more stirring or sublime than to see some man like Npjrman McKenzie leaping from the ship /Hydras into the sea to save Charles Turner, who dropped from the royal yard while trying to loosen the sail, bringing him hack to the deck amid the huzzas of the pas sengers aud crew. If a man has not enthu siasm enough to cheer iu such circumstances he deserves himself to drop into tho sea and haVe no one to help him. The Royal Hu man? Society of England was established in 1774, it* object to applaud and reward those who should pluck up life from the deep. Any one who has performed such a deed of daring has all the particulars of that bravery recorded in a public record, and on his breast a medal dono in blue, and gold, aud bronze; anchor, and monogram, and inscription, telling to future m-nnn p”*"“ , Tien who saved sJmtf one from drowning. But, my friends, if it is such a worthy thing to save a body from the deep, I ask you if it is not a worthier thing to save an immortal soul? And you shall see this hour the Bon of God step forth for this achievement. “He shall spread forth His hand in the midst of them, as fye that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim.” In order to understand the full force of this figure, you need to realize, first of all that our race is in a sinking condition. You sometimes hear people talking of what they consider the most beautiful words in our lan guage. One man says it is “home,” another says it is the word “mother,” another says it is the word “Jesus,” but I will tell you the bitterest word in all our language, the word most- angry and baleful, the word sat urated with the most trouble, the word that accounts for all the loathsomeness, and the pang, and the outrage, and the harrowing; and that word is “sin.” You spell it with three letters, and yet those three letters de scribe the circumference and pierce the •flameter of everything bad in tho universe. Sin! it is a sibilant word. You cannot pronounce it without giving tlie siss of the flame or the hiss of the serpent. Sin! And then if you adfl three letters to that word it describes every one of us by n iture—sinner. We have out raged the law of God. not occasionally, or now and then, but perpetually. The Bible declares it. Hark! It thunders two claps: “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” “The soul that siuneth, it shall die.” What the Bible says our o wn conscience affirms. After Judge Morgan had sentene'ed Lady Jane Gray to death his conscience troubled him so much for the dec i that he became insane, and all through his insanity he kept saying: “Take her away from me! Lady Jane Grey. Take h r away! Lady Jaue Grey.” It was the voice of his conscience. Aud no man ever d** * 1 * * 4 ■; anything wrong, however greater small, but his conscience brings that matter before him, and at every step of his misbehavior it sows: “Wrong, wrong.” Bin is a leprosy, sin is a paralysis, sin is a consumption, sin is pollution, sin is death. Give it a fair chance and it will swamp you. body, mind and soul forever. In this world it only gives a faint intimation of its virulence. You see a patient in the first stages of typhoid fever. The cheek is somewhat flushed, the hands somewhat hot, preceded by' a slight chill. “Why, you say, “typhoid fever does not seem to be much of a disease."’ But wait until the patient has been six weeks under it, and all his energies have been wrung out. and he is too weak to lift Ids little finger, and his intellect is gone, then you see the full havoc of the disease. Now sin in this world is an ailment which is only in its very first stages: but let it get under full way and it is an all consum ing typhoid. Oh, if we could see our unpar doned sins as God sees them our teeth would chatter, and our knees would knock together, aud our inspiration would be choked, and our heart would break. If your sms are uulorgiveu. tney are bearing down on you, _ aud you are sinking—sinking away from happiness, sinking ; way from God, sinking away from everything that is good and blessed. Then what do we want? A swimmer! A strong swimmer! A swift swimmer! And, blessed he God, iu ray' text we have him an nounced. “He .shall spread forth His hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth his liands to swim.” You have noticed that when a swimmar goes out to rescue any one he puts off his heavy appar el. He must not have any such impediment about him if he is going to do this great deed. And when Christ stepped forth to save us He shook off the sandals of heaven, and His feet were free; and then He stepped down into the wave of our transgressions, and it came up over His wounded feet, and it came abeye the spear stab in His side—aye, it dashed to the lacerated temple, the high water mark of His anguish. Then, rising above the flood, “He stretched forth His hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth his hands to swim.” If you have ever watched a swimmer, you notide that his whole body is brought into play] The arms are flexed, the hands drive the water back, the knees are active, the head is thrown back to escape strangulation, the whole body is in propulsion. And when Christ sprang into the deep to save us. He threw His entire nature into it—all His Godhead, His omniscience, His goodness. His love, his omnipotence—head, neart, eyes, hands, feet. We were far out on the sea and so deep down in the waves and so far out from the snore mat nothing short of an entire God I could save _ us. Christ leaped out for our rescue, saying: “Lo! I come to do thy will,” and all tho surges of human and satanic hate beat against Him, and those who watched Him from the gates of heaven feared He would go down under the wave, and instead of sav ing others would Himself perish; bat patting His breast to the foam, and shaking the surf from His locks, He came on and on, until He is now within the reach of every one here. Eye omniscient, heart infinite, arm omnipo tent. Mighty to save, even unto the utter most. Oh, it was not half a God that trampled down bellowing Gennesaret. It was not a quarter of a God that mastered the demons cf Gadara. It was not two-thirds of aGod that lifted up Lazarus into the arms of his overjoyed sisters. It was not a fragment of a God who offered pardon and peace to all the race. No. This mighty swimmer threw His grandeur. His glory. His might, His wisdom, His omnipotence and His eternity into this one act. It took both hands of God to save us—both foet. How do I prove it? On the cross, were not both hands nailed? On the cross, were not both feet nailed? His entire nature involved in our redemption! If you have lived much by the water, you notice also that if any one is going out to the rescue of the crowning he must be independ ent, self reliant, able to go alone. There may be a time when we must spring out to save one and he cannot get a lifeboat, and ho goes ont and has not strength enough to bear himself up, and bear another up, he will sink, and instead of dragging one corpse out of the torrent you will nave two to drag out. When Christ sprang out into the sea to deliver us Ho had no life buoy. His father did not help Him. Alone in the wine press. Alone in the imnr. Alone in the darkness. Alone in the mountain Alone in the sea. O, if He saves us He shall have all the credit, for “there was none to help.” No oar. No wing. No ladder. When Nathaniel Lyon fell in the battle charge in front of his troops, he had a whole army to cheer him. When Marshal Ney sprang into the contest and plunged in the spurs till the horse’s flanks spurted blood, all France applauded him. But Jesus alone 1 “Of the people there was none to help.” '‘All forsook him and fled.” O, it was not a flotilla that sailed down and saved us. It was not a cluster of gondolas that came over the wave. It was one person, independent and alone, “spreading out His hands among us as a swimmer spreadeth forth his hand; to swim.’* Behold then, to-day, the spectacle of a drowning soul and Christ, the swimmer. I believe it was in 1848, when there were six English soldiers of tho Fifth Fusiliers, who were hanging to the bottom of a capsized boat—a boat that had been upset by a squall three miles from shore. It was in the night, but one man swam mightily for the beach, guided by the dark mountains that lifted their top through the night. He came to thebaach. He found a shore man that consented to go with him and save the other men, andthej put out. It was some time before they conic find the place where the men were, but aftei awhile they heard their cry: “Help! Help!’ and they bore down to them, and they savec them, aud brought them to shore. Oh, that this moment our cry might be lifted long, loud and shrill, till Christ the swimmer shall come and take us lest we drop a thousand fathoms down. If you have been much by water, you know very well that when one is in peril help must come very quickly, or it will be of no use. One minute may decide everything. Immediate help the man wants or no help at all. Now, that is just the kind of a relief we want. The case is urgent, imminent, instan taneous. See that soul sinking. Son of God, lay hold of him. Be quick! be quick! Oh, I wish you all understood how urgent this Gospel is. There was a man in the navy at sea who had been severely whipped for bad behavior, and he was maddened by it, and he leaped into the sea, and nc sooner had he leaped into the sea than, quick as lightning, an albatross swooped upon him. The drowning man, brought to his senses, seized hold of the albatross and held on. The fluttering of the bird kept him on the wave until relief could come. Would now the dove of God’s convicting, converting and saving spirit might flash from the throne upon youi soul, and that you, taking hold of its potent wing, might live and live forever. I want to persuade you to lay hold of this strong swimmer. “No,” yon say, “it is al ways disastrous for a drowning man to lay hold of a swimmer.” There is not a river or lake but has a calamity resultant from tho Fart that when a strong swimmer went out lo save a sinking man, the drowning man Hutched him, threw his a——A—kifijL. RELIGIOUS READING. SOUKTUCB—SOUEWHKRK. Unanswered yet! the prayers your lips have pleaded In agony of heart—these many years? Do“s faith begin to fail* Is hope departing! And think you all in vain, those falling tears? 3ay not, the Father hath not heard your prayer. You shall have your desire—sometime— somewhere. Unansw red yet! though when yon first pr* sented This one petition at the Father’s throne. It seemed you could not wait the time of asking, So urgent was your heart to make it known: Though years have passed since then—do not despair. The Lord will answer you—sometime—some where. Unanswered yeti Nay do not say tra- p ranted— Perhtps your work is not yet wholly done. The work began when your first prayer was uttered. And God will flni-h what Tie has begun. If vou will keep the incense burning there, His glory you snail see—sometime—some where. Unanswered yet! Faith cannot be un answered: He feet are firmly planted on the rock; Amid the wildest storms she stands un daunted, Nor quails before the loudest thunder shock. Sho knows Omnipotence has heard the prayer, And cries—“it shall be done”—sometime— somewhere. METHODS OF CHURCH WORK. A largo am >unt of energy is spent in hur rying from place to place, and taking part in all kinds of gatherings witu a more or less veli .ions character. Properly speaking, this Ya hardly bo called work, though it passes jurrent as such with large numbers of Chris tian people. In many cases it is neither more nor less than self-indulgent dissipaiion, and it operates as mischievously as dissipation al ways does. It breeds often an habitual fe verishness of spirit, quite incompatible with that restfulness of spirit without which there can be no healthy growth of Christian character. It results not seldom in the de velopment of a superficiality and smallness of spiritual understanding that are none the more beautiful that they are linked with a calm self-confi lenco and self-importance that irritate and repel. It disinclines to the cultivation of those holy graces that flourish best in the atmosphere of steady loy alty to nearest duty. Evidence of this ten dency surrounds us everywhere, and, in presence of it, it is not unnecessary to insist that our methods should never be such os to lower tho tone of Christian character among our church members. They should do nothing to foster that craving for publicity and excitement that unfits for the quiet work of self culture, which is of such vast impor tance. I cannot stay to apply this principle to such matters as the irrepressible bazaar and interminable soiree. X will only say that my firm conviction is, that neither in the one case nor the other is the game worth tho candle; and that, further, I can con ceive, without any stretch of imagination, what a saving and a profit it would bo, both to pastor and peo le, were it laid down as a law that no member shall be expected to at tend all night long at a tea-meeting, where sermons are resented and speeche» laughed at aud sacred S' mgs are hailed with rounds of indecent applause.—Joseph Corbett, D. D., in the Canada Presbyterian. TEMPERANCE. THE COXQUSRIXG UCGIOIC. For God, for home and native land. We raise toward heaven our strong right hand. And proudly wave our banner white, All stainless as the morning light. Chorus: See where it floats our signal light I Our cloud by day, our fire by night. Our sheltering wing, our guiding hand. For God, for home and native land. Through customs vile and banded hate, » And lust that maketh desolate. Fearless we press our onward way. And hopeful hail the coming day. What though the world may call defeat, Our music never beats retreat; And when we fall we face the foe, And leap to victory even so. For right is might, and right at last Shall sound on nigh her trumpet blast; And o’er the conquer'd field shall tread. When every human wrong is dead. Then proudly wave the streamer white, The emblem pure of God’s own light. While pledged beneath its folds we stand For God, for home and native land. —Rev. Frank Bottome, D.D. RUM PRODUCES CRIME. A few years ago one of the leading secular papers in Cincinnati made the statement that seventy-five per cent, of the criminal cases in the courts of that city were traceable to the liquor traffic. This statement was disputed. The managers of the paper sent a reporter to examine the records, and he found by actual count that eighty-one per cent, of all the cases that reached the crimi nal court records owed their origin to the drink traffic.—Witness. women’s drinking placer. The New York Star, in a recent issue, gave an appalling account of women’s drinking places in New York city. How many Chris tian women would be utterly shocked to read of the “ladies” bar” at Maillards, of sis tables full of women ordering drinks, “ab sinthe cocktail,” a “pony of brandy,” cham pagne and sherry; or to hear of tho women’i bric-a-brac store, where young girls and ma trons indulge in all sorts of liquor, from beer and milk punch to whisky and brandy. Yet the Star has not a word of censure for these practices, but describes the disgraceful scene* with apparent relish. WHY MOSLEMS ARE TEMPERATE. “From one end of the Turkish Empire,” says the Rev. C. F. Morse, “to the other, there is not a grog shop kept by a Mohan£ medan.” Another writer, in speaking of India, says: “Inquor shops, many and in creasing, carry their curse more and more in spite of Hindoo and Mohammedan re ligious objections, into the homes and lives of these people. The blessings of Western civilization are attended by cursings.” The reason why the Mohammedans are more temperate than Christians is because the former make it a part of their religion. pinioned his arms, afid they both went down together. When you are saving a man in tho water you do not want to come up by his face; you want to come up by his back. You do not want him to take hold of you While you take hold of him. But, blessed be God, Jesus Christ is so strong a swimmer, He comes not to our back, but to our face, and He asks us to throw around Him the arms of our love, and then promises to take us to the beach, and Ho will do it. Do not trust that plank of good works. Do not trust that shivered spar of your own righteousness. Christ only can give you transportation. Turn your face upon Him as the dying martyr did in olden days when he cried out: “None but Christ! None but Christ!” Jesus has taken millions to the land, and He is willing to take you there. Oh, what hardness to shove Him back when He has been swimming all the way from the throne of God to where you are now, and is ready to swim all the way back again, taking your redeemed spirit. I have sometimes thought what a spectacle the ocean bod will present when in the last day the water is all drawn off. It will bo a line of wrecks from beach to beach. There is where the harpoons went down. There is where the line of battle ships went down. There is where the merchant men went down. There is where the steam ers wont down, a long line of wrecks from boach to beach. What a spectacle in tho last day when the water is drawn off! But oh, how much more solemn if wo had an eye to see tho spiritual wrecks and the places where they foundered. You would find thousands along our roads and streets. Christ camo down iu their awful catas trophe, putting out for their souls, “spreading forth His hands as a swimmer spreadeth forth his hands to swim;” but they thrust Him in the sore heart, and they smote His fair chock, aud the storm and darkness swallowed them up. I ask you to lay hold of this Christ and lay hold of Him now. You will sink without Him. From horizon to horizon not one sail in sight. Only one strong swimmer, with head flung back and arms outspread. I hear a great many in the audience saying: “Well. I would like to be a Christian. I am going to work to become a Christian.” My brother, you begin wrong. When a man is drowning, and a strong swimmer comes out to help him, he says to him: “Now be quiet. Put your arm on my arm or on my shoulder, but don’t struggle, don’t try to help your self, aud I’ll take you ashore. The more you struggle and the more you try to help your self, the more you impede me. Now be 2 uiet and I'll take you ashore.” When Christ, the strong swimmer, comes out to save a soul, the sinner says: “That’s right. I am glad to see Christ, "and I am going to help Him in the work of my redemption. I am going to pray more aud that will help Him; and I am going to weep extravagantly over my sins aud that will help Him.” No. my brother, it will not. Stop your doing. Christ will do all or none. You cannot lift au ounce, you cannot move an inch, in this matter of your redemption. This is the difficulty which keeps thousands of souls out of tho kingdom of heaven. It is because they cannot consent to let Jesus Christ begin and complete the work of their redemption. “Why,” you say, “then is there nothing for me to do?” Only one thing have you to do, and that is to lay hold of Christ and let Him achieve your salvation and achieve it all. I do not know whether I make the matter plain or not. I simply want to show you tnat a man cannot save himself, but that the Al mighty Son of God can do it, and will do it, if you ask Him. O, fling your two arms, tho arms of your trust and love, around this omnipotent swimmer of the cross. That is a thrilling time when some one swamped in the surf is brought ashore and being resuscitated. How the people watch for the moment when he begins to breathe again, and when at last he takes one full in halation, and opens his eyes upon the by standers, a shout of joy rings up and down the beach, 'mere is joy because a life has been saved. O, ye who have been swamped in the seas of trouble and sin! we gather around you. Would that this might be the hour when you begin to live. The Lord Je sus Christ steps down. He gets on His knees. He puts His lip to your lip, and would breathe pardon and fife and heaven into your immortal soul. God grant that this hour there may be thousands of souls resusci tated. I stand on the deck of the old Gospel ship amid a crowd of passengers, all of them hoping that the last man overboard may be saved. May the living Christ this hour put out for your safety, “spreading forth His hands in the midst of you, as a swimmer spreadeth forth his hands to swim.’’ UNSELFISH SERVICE. One of the most striking scenes in modern fiction is that in Charles Kingsley’s “Hy patia,” where the zealous young monk, who has become almost a convert to the fascinat ing Neoplatonism of the bri diant Hypatia, is suddenly brought to a realization of its entire inadequacy to human needs when the beautiful teacher declares that she has done nothing and can do nothing for his wayward sister. A philosophy which can do nothing Xvas and this incident suggests the test of, not only all philosophy and religion, but all the ideals and purposes of every human life. No philosophy can be true which does not in some way contribute to the strength and purity of every human soul who studies it; no religion can claim divine authority which has not tho right word for every human need; no human life is wisely and rightly ordered which does not in its own working out inspire, direct, and aid other lives. To make life, richer, stronger and purer for men and to belp men to take to themselves this richer, purer and stronger fife, is the end of every kind of knowledge, of all forms of activity, and of every rightly ordered life. This ser vice to a common humanity need not be director immediate; it may bo very indi rect, and discoverable only in its ultimate results; but at some point and in some way this service must be rendered. The philoso phy, the religion, the action, the man or woman, in which or in whom this element of divine hopefulness is not found may be put aside as unworthy guides. The sci nee which should abstract itself entirely from human life, if such a thing were possibly and work out some complete system which could not in any way enrich or strengthen men in the life they have to five, would not be worthy the pursuit of any thoughtful man. It is not necessary in order that one may employ this quality of helpfulness that one should be all the time in personal contact with the needs and weaknesses of others, or that one should give himself up to a specific charitable work or mi.-.sion. Some of the noblest souls who have ever lived have, by the very necessities of the work they have undertaken, been somewhat shut off from immediate contact with the daily wants of their fellows. But the result of their labors has b en so to expand the thoughts of men about their own lives that they have im mensely enriched and ennobled those lives, and so, at a long range, they have been il lustrious helpers of their fellows. The es sential thing is that one should conceive of his work in this spirit; that one should feel that no kind of work or knowledge or culture is an end in itself; but th-.t the ultimate object of it a'l is to make the world sweeter, and the men who live in it better. The student who devotes all bis years to the patient exploration of some path of knowl- • dge, and by his devotion to truth, his self- denial, his untiring patience, becomes a liv ing example of the noblest qualities, may sometimes seem to tho*e who do not under stand his ends nor appreciate the quality of soul which he is putting into hi;- work to b» leading a selfish life. It is a common error which identifies unselfish service with acta whoso beneficent result is immediately de tected. There are high and noble sei vices which do not seem to touch individu als at all, but which are rendered to humanity at large in the way of a general e-pansion of the knowledge and conception of life. To most men, however this problem never presents itselr T _ this form. M st of us must choose to Vender ices to men who are direct and per-onal TO PROHIBIT TREATING AT BARS. The measure which is pending in the Legis lature of a Western State to prohibit treat ing at bars, is a praisworthy one. This treat ing practice is something which should be broken up as soon as possible. There is no intent on the part of the framer of the bill to stop drinking. The bill merely forbids treat ing by the wholesale. This is, indeed, a very foolish custom. One or two men will enter a saloon. There they are introduced to four or five more, then the treating begins and goes the rounds. Each man has to pay for the drinks for all, and each roan drinks more than is good for him. The treating has to be done, 1 icause public opinion with its idiotio gauge brands the man who refuses to treat as a shabby fellow. There is no getting out of it unless the man has the moral courage to bid defiance to public opinion and to withstand the contumely of nis associates. There is nothing to be gained by this bibulous prac tice. It is an expensive as well as an injuri ous habit.—Detroit Free Press. IT is 5NSTBOUS EVIL. « J. M and so monstrous that the State is< to recognize them, and to take action agaiLSt them in its own defense. The State is con cerned in the welfare not only of its own communities, but of every family and indi vidual under its dominion. The infl onces which tend to undermine health and sh Mien life, to cripple labor and prevent thrift, to produce paupers and increase criminals, are clearly hostile to the State, and it is the duty of the State to suppress them as far as possi ble. The fife of the humblest individual is as sacred as that of its most honored citizen, and the State is under obligation to provide all possible safeguards not only against all attempts to destroy it, but against all epi demics and plagues and sources of disease. The State Las the same solicitude for the moral welfare of the citizen. In short, the State not only has the power to nrovide for the public safety, the public health, and the public morals, but it can not, as we have already shown by citations from decisions of the Supreme Court of the United States, “divest itself’ of that power. The very purpose for which government is organized is to exercise it. The State in its care for the public health prohibits the sale of impure and unwhole some articles of food. Unripe or decayed fruit, diseased meat, adulterated milk, are seized and destroyed and the dealers punished. The sale of articles dangerous to life or limb or health is regulated or prohibited. Boards of health are established to investigate com mon sources of disease, and to abate them as nuisances, and may exercise extraordinary powers in the prevention or Suppression of contagious diseases. The necessity for pre serving the public health is so clearly recog nized under our Government that the States may, despite the constitutional right of Con gress exclusively to regulate interstate com merce, prevent the importation of infected articles and establish quarantine regulation. —New York Independent. serv if we are to render any, and no man ought to be conte t who dots not feel that %is life in its general result, no lass than in ,ts s ecific actions, is easing the burden and smoothing the wav for others. A selfish life is not only irreligious—it is distinctly disreputable, a thing unwi rtliy, and there fore inexcusable. No man of any r-onscien- tiousness can five comfortably in the world as he sees it today unless ho is doing some thing to betb r the general condition of things. A selfish life in the light of the world s needs at this end of the nineteenth century is essentially au ignoble and mean life. Annetta and Miriam Bogga, maiden sisters, who committed suicide the other day in Jackson County, West Yirginia, left a letter bearing both their signa tures in which they stated that they were tired of life, as there was nothing in it for old maids that was worth the living. The average monthly tsmperamre of San Francisco for the last fifteen yeara has been 55J degrees. The highest for any month was 59 degrees and the low- cal 50 degrees. TEMPERANCE NEWS AND NOTES. luverpool, England, has a deaf and dumb temperance league. A silver fish is the appropriate badge of the Alaska W. C. T. U. There are thirty temperance societies in the Hawaiian Islands. The census in England for 1887 shows one drinking place for every 250 people. No man has a right to plead for bread with the smell of liquor on ins breath. An observant traveler declares that French wine drinkers look exactly like the brandy and rum drinkers of America. The Japanese Temperance Society, of Hawaii, fifteen months old, numbers 1700 out of the 8000 Japanese residents. M. Lunier, an eminent French physician, claims that alcohol from cider is more per nicious than that from beet root or grain. The life of the late John B. Finch is about to be published in German, to be used in the temperance work among the people of that nationality. According to the New Orleans Times, no liquor has been sold for the last six years in one of the wealthiest and most prosperous counties of Texas, and consequently toe jail is empty. It doesn’t pay to give one man for $15 a quarter, a license to sell liquor, and then spend $5000 in trying another man for buying that liquor and committing murder under its influence. Temperance is making headway in Switzer land. In two cantons—Vaud and Neuchatei —there are societies with a united member ship of 3106, including fully 200 reclaimed drunkards. Dr. Felix M. Oswald declares that “every family of the United States has at prerant to pay an average of $65 a year to enjoy the privilege of abundant facilities for being poisoned. ” In 1880 it required $3504 of liquor money to employ one man and pay him in wager $447. The same amount of mor*./ invested in boots and shoes would employ eight or nine men and pay them in wages $33.87. The only religion in India, says Mr. W. S. Caine, M. P., which did not prohibit tbs use of intoxicating liquors was the Christian re ligion. Yet we had induced twenty per cent, of the Indian people to learn the habit of drinking. Bechuanaland, a country in South Africa, lying to the north of Cape Colony, * distilleries or public houses and oonssi, do drunkenness. Khama, the chtef, _ ficially forbidden the traders to sell or give strong drink to Us people. ^