J MR. DODSON'S HAND-MIRROR. J £ BY EMHA A. OPPER. Slade & Co's immense tiry-goods store was crowded. Churmingly-attlred ladles swarmed about the counters; harassed sales women pulled down innumerable boxes and answered unlimited ques tions; and the little baskets chased one another along the wires to the cashier's desk. At a further counter, where pretty toilet articles held sway, Annie Rogers stood gazing at her own fair image in a plate-glass hand-mirror with Kus sia-ieatlier back. "He'll be sure to like it," she said, looking up at the young man who stood waiting at her side. "I'll take it," she added, turning to the girl be hind the counter and producing her purse. "It's his birthday, you know," she went on, as the hand-glass went flying down a wire. "We always make birthday presents to each other. Dear old Uncle Dodson!" "Uncle Dodson" lie has always been to her, though she was only an or phaned relative of his dead wife, adopted in her infancy. "He's a lucky person, with you to care for him," said Howard Canby, taking charge of the hand-mirror an it reappeared In its neat wrappings. "You'll let me walk home with you ?" he went on. as they stepped out into the crowded street. More than one hurrying shopper noted them admiringly as they walked slowly down the avenue together—the graceful girl, in her soft, light dress, her cheeks grown pinlc and her eyes bright in the fresh air, and the tall young man, not far behind her in per sonal advantages, bending to talk to her. But they were not aware of these approving glances; they were not con scious of anything beyond their own absorbing conversation, a hint of may be gathered from their parting words. For, as they mounted the broad steps of the big Dodson house, Annie was murmuring: "What will Uncle Dodson say?" "He'll give us his consent and bless ing, of course, my dear girl," said Howard, cheerfully. And he gave Mr. Dodson's birthday present into her possession, pressed her hand with a whispered word, and went down the steps reluctantly. A large valise stood in the hall, and an unfamiliar liat hung 011 the rack. Annie looked at them sharply. Prob ably it was some friend of Uncle Dod son come to see him—he was some thing of an invalid. But the hat—a smart, speckled straw, with a blue luuul—had an un mistakably youthful air. She ran lip the stairs wonderingly. Mr. Dodson was sitting in a large arm-chair before the window, where most of his time was spent. A young man of two and twenty, or thereabouts,' noticeable for nothing unless tor the cheerfulness of liis rather boyish face, sat near him. Mr. Dodson looked up with a wel coming smile, as Annie entered. "My nephew, Dudley Howard, my dear," he said. The young man rose and bowed— rather constrainedly, Annie thought. Mr. Dodson regarded her anxiously. "Sit down," lie said. Annie sat down at his side, feeling that something unpleasant was com ing; and the young man quietly with drew. "He Is my nephew—my only rela tive," Mr. Dodson began. "He will inherit my property, my dear." "Well?" said Annie, cheerfully. "Well," Mr. Dodson repeated, strok ing her hand, "he will inherit my property, but you must be provided for, too. There seems to me but one way. I have thought of it much; but the best way seems tome —that you should marry. So I have sent for him." said Mr. Dodsan, going on hur riedly. "And—we have been talking of It, my dear." Poor Annie had listened silently. Was this kind-hearted Uncle Dotlsou who was saying these dreadful things? "A little too business-like to suit you, eh?" said Mr. Dodson, noting her dis tressed fact'. "Yes. of course. I ex pected that. Young folks nowadays have an idea that their elders shouldn't have a word to say about these things not a word! But don't you see, my dear," he went on, kindly, "that it's all the same 111111 sr .' Suppose I had got Dudley here without men tioning my little plan? Well, you'd have been pretty sure to fall in love with each other. He's as nice a fel low as you'll Hud. Annie, uud he knows a pretty girl when he see* one, 1 imagine. Well, then, why should you bold back, either of you, merely be cause I give a little push to a sure enough affair?" The girl at his side turned ber troubled face uway hastily. It was a very simple thing, surely, to put an end to all this. The mere mention of Howard <'anh.v would do It. she wo* sure, for t'ncle Dodson was not an ogre. And yet, how could she meet hi* jxMMble displeasure and his certain disappointment? The word* died awity nn her Up*. "A bnnhful pair of youngsters you •r<t, 1 vow!" saltl MR IHml*ihi, with a laugh. "If Dudley didn't It-have th» annie way! Oh, well, you'll gt over II!" Annie opened her Hps, beattatid, closed them again, with a weakness and cowardice of which she was painfully conscious, and rose, with helpless tears dropping. Her recent purchase was still in her hands. "I have brought a little present for your birthday. Uncle Dodson," she said, chokingly, and she laid it on his knees. It was not until a rather late hour that afternoon that Annie found cour age to visit Mr. Dodson's room again. She had carefully avoided Mr. Ho bart. Hobart! It was certainly the ugli est name she had ever heard. She had taken lunch in her room, and she had not been out of it since. At -4 o'clock a messenger-boy had brought a vtjry small parcel, ad dressed to herself in Hobart's well known writing, which, when she had opened it eagerly, had found to con tain a little band of gold, set with a glittering stone. It is a most unnatural proceeding for a young lady to burst into tears at the first sight of her engagement ring; but that is what Annie did. For the pretty, shining thing seemed only the symbol of her trouble and perplexity. She knew perfectly that her right course was to put the ring 011 the proper finger, go boldly to Mr. Dod son and explain its position there. She did, indeed, get as far as put ting it 011, and gazing at it fondly and admiringly, and tearfully, from every conceivable point of view; but there her courage failed her. Dear old Uncle Dodson! liow could she dash his well-meaning hopes to the ground with a cruel word or two? He was so far from strong, besides. Sudden disappointments always did him harm. She dried her eyes, as these de spairing thoughts came over her, and started for Mr. Dodson's room. Mr. Dodson sat facing the window, as usual. His head was throw n back and his eyes were closed. Annie drew a sigh of relief; he was asleep. Dudley Hobart was sitting in a back 'corner of the room, with a news paper in his hand, and his feet dis posed comfortably, if not gracefully, 011 a second chair. He rose hastily as Annie entered. "He is asleep," he remarked, after a timid pause. "I had observed it." said Annie, shortly, not deigning to look at the speaker. The young man looked confused, lie laid down his newspaper, and passed bis hand over his closely-cropped head in a troubled way, and finally offered her a chair. There seemed to be nothing else to do, and Annie sat down stiffly. Mr. Hobart took the other chair, if Annie had glanced at him, she might have seen that a pleading look tilled liis boyish face; but she looked coldly over his head at the wall-paper. There was silence for several mo ments. Then the young man, with a nervous clutch of his chair-back, and with a visible effort, began desperately: "He said he had told you this—his plan." Annie was cruelly unresponsive. "May I inquire what you think of it?" said Mr. Hobart. with a face grown pale with agonized embarrass ment. Annie rase sharply. "Words would not express what I th'nk of it!" she said, flashing an in dignant glance toward the young man. "It can't possibly lie!" The occupant of the arm-chair moved restlessly; he was waking up. Annie lowered her voice as she we:it on. severely: "I am already engaged. I—" She paused In bewilderment. The face of her listener had been suddenly transformed with unmistakable rel'ei mid joy. He seized her hands warm ly '•Engaged? Well, if we aren't In the •••me boat! So am 1!" Annie's severity lanished. Her cold pa/e gave way to a quick smile of sympathy. "Are you, Mr. Hobart?" she cried. "I in so glad!" Don't call me Mr. llobart, said th« j'oun.; man, impetuously, "Call luc i)ml. Everybody calls me Di'd.' Annie laughed; and they sat down I.pain, in a friendly way. • 1 have only been engaged since tl-.H mi 1 liilig." said Annie, confidential!." ? ao ,'ust sent the ring around Ill's the nicest fellow In the wore 11 lou'll think -to when you see him. ' They had lowered their Voices rare lull.*, further thnu ten Mr. Dodsou'i , it si nee was Ignored 'Tile il ig I gave Oene* !cve ivji* something like It." Dud continued, briskly. "Pretty name liciit-vieve isn't It?" "Very pretty!" saltl Annie. Tie's a prettjr ylrl, too!" sant DM. warmly. "I Ju*t wish you could know ber. She's only IT; but you wouldn't llltlik It. Ilere, I'll *ho*v you her I*l o t ure." lie took It out carefully from an In ner piH'l.i t, ami held it out triumphant 1/ "MHE I* pretty." saltl Ariil*, looking down approvingly at the fair yoii'ig fact* 111 the pletur "l knew you'd think *uld Uu4 louklUg Brut!tied, "I hate Howard's picture ?u the al bum down stuirs," said Annie. "11l run down and get it." S-." tripped nway softly, and cnir.e hurrying Lack bivatliless, with the plush covered book in her hand. "He looks as though be had some get-up to him," was Dud's masculine comment. "Well, he has," said Annie with a proud smile. "Of course," she went on, hesitatingly, "we must tell Uncle Dodsou V" "Of course!" said Dud, rather faint ly. Their eyes met; they sinlled guiltily. "To tell the truth,' said the young man. candidly, "I'd rather be shot!" "My case exactly," Annie responded. "You see," said Dttd, looking anx ious, "be means it all as a favor, a benefit to us; and togo and knock all his plans endways in that style—l'd just as lief be let out of it for my part!" "Precisely as I feel,' murmured Annie. "Whet shall we do?" "Don't ask me," said Dud, entreat ingly. An uneasy pause ensued, filled by a helpless contemplation of each other vritli wrinkled brows. "Of course we must tell him," Annie repeated, irresolutely. "Of course," said Dud again. But that was as far as he went. A rustling sound from Mr. Dodson's arm-chair roused tliem to a sudden sense of his presence. "Are you awake, Uncle Dodson?" said Annie, getting up slowly togo to him, Dud following. "Wide awake, my dear," said Mr. Dodson, promptly. "Does your head ache?" said Annie, bending over his chair and feeling deeply hypocritical. Mr. Dodson's reply was a strange one. It was a short, rather sarcastic, laugh. Annie and Dud exchanged startled glances. Could he have overheard them? No; it was Impossible. But he turned upon them abruptly. "So you've gone and encouraged that good-for-nothing young Canby, have you, miss?" he began, fixing Annie with humorously-stern gaze— "thrown yourself away on that young upstart, eh?" Poor Annie could only stare, be wildered. "And you, sir," Mr. Dodson went on, turning to bus nephew—"you've tied yourself to some little chit of a school-girl not out of bibs yet, I. sup pose? A nice pair you are!" Ilis listeners stood speechless. "Did you—overhear us?" murmured Dud. at last finding his voice with an effort. "Not a word, sir—not a word!" said Mr. Dodson, coolly. "You're a clairvoyant, then!" eja culated the young man, half believ ing it. Mr. Dodson laughed again, in evi dent enjoyment of their confusion. "And you were afraid to tell ate. eh?" said he. "You were going to deceive a poor, helpless, old man?" "No, no!" said Dud, in wjak pro testation. But Annie's face expressed only a growing wonder. "How did you know, I'nclj DoiV son?" she said, beseechingly. For answer, Mr. Dodson took up (he hand-hiirror —Annie's birthday pres ent—from its satinlined case, held it before his eyes, and motioned the two to look into it. It reflected, with wonderful dis tinctness. the entire rear of the room. Including the chairs in which they had sat. "When I saw you. my dear." said Mr. Dodson, looking up with twinkling eyes into Annie's astonished face— "when I saw you exhibiting a dia mond ring which appeared to be .t re cent acquisition, and bringing up the album to show—well, let us say old Mrs. Presley's picture—and when I saw you, sir, whipping out an ab surd little tin type and actually talk ing about it as 'hough It were, some thing worth looking at—l drew my own conclusion." "You aren't angry, dear Uncle Dod son?" said Annie, timidly, a queer mix ture of relief and uppreh'.-nslon i.i her face. "But I atn." said Mr. Dodson, with a smile which refuted Ills words, "and I think I shall leave my money to well, say to a Home for Destitute Dogs. Neither of you deserves it!" "But neither of us want it," said Annie, tenderly. "You'll enjoy it your self for a long time yet." Dtlil echoed her word*. "1 suppose | sb.ill divide It < nilitllj b -tween you," said Mr. Dodson, mug. liigl.v, "but you don't deserve It!" Mr. Dodsuii was among the liveliest of the gay gathering at Annie's wed ding. a few mouths later. He gave away the bride; In- tunile a stirring speech, and lie led a i|ti:idrille. But Ids word of congratulation to young Mr* Canby w as a ptizale to thy bystanders: "Vntl owe It nil to the hand mirror, my dear!" Saturday Night. What "lt«" Means. Somebody has explained the *tznlfl cttlice of the editorial "we." It may liuve a variety of meaning*, lur eg ample, when you nml "We expei t our wife Inline today," "We" refer* to tlio editor; "We are a little lule with out Work" Includes I lie w hole Office force, even the devil unit the low el; ill "We are having a boom," the town l« luvulit: "We received over lui.llsi emigrants last yea>," embraces ii lo nation, but "We hi«e hog cholera In our uildst" means that lite mm who I taken our paper ami does not j *c y if i it >« 111. W all I. !*f la.l llLde DR. TALM AGE'S SERMON SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. tnlijrrt: The Welfare of Ollifrs —We (jiuiiiltl Kmitsli Selfishness—,Tob Deliv ernl From Kvil M'hen Ho l'ruyetl For Friends—Happy From Doing Gooil. [Copyright lHUti.l WASHINGTON, D. U.—ln this discourse Dr. Talmage wars on narrowness of view and urges a life helpful to others; text, Job xlii, 10, "And the Lord turned the capitivity of Job when he prayed for his friends." Comparatively few people read this last chapter of the book of Job. The ear) : er chapters are so full of thrilling incident, of events so dramatically portrayed, of awful ailments and terrific disaster, of domestic infelicity, of staccato passage, of resounding address, of omnipotence" proclaimed, of utterances showing Job to have been the greatest scientist of his day, an expert in mining and precious stones, astronomer, and geograpiicr, and zoologist, and electrician, and poet, that most readers stop before they get to my text, which, strangely and mysteriously, announces that "the Lord turned the cap tivity of Job when he prayed for his friends." Now, will you please explain to me how Job's prayer for his friends halted his ! catastrophes? Oive me some good reason : why Job on his knees in behalf of the | welfare of others arrested the long pro | cession of calamities. Mind you, it was ! not prayer for himself, for then the cessa | tion of his troubles would have been only I another instance of prayer answered, but ! the portfolio of his disaster was rolled up | while he supplicated God in behalf of Eli- I pliaz the Temanite, Biidid the Sliuhite, and Zopliar the Naamathito. 1 must eon : fess to you that 1 had to read the text over and over again before I got its full ; meaning—"And the Lord turned the cap ; tivity of Job when he prayed for his I friends." i Well, if you will not explain it to me, I will explain it to you. The healthiest, the most recuperative tiling on earth to do is ' to stop thinking so much about ourselves and goto thinking about the welfare of others. J< b had been studying his misfor i tunes, but the more he thought about his bankruptcy the poorer he seemed, the 1 more l.e thought of his carbuncles the worse ihey hurt, the more he thought of his unfortunate marriage the more in tolerable became the conjugal relation, the more he thought of his house blown down the more terrific seemed the cyclone. His misfortunes grew blacker and blacker, but there was to come a reversal of these sad conditions. One day he said to him self: "I have been dwelling too much apon my bodily ailments and my wife's temper and my bereavements. It is time I began to think about others and do something for others, and I will start now by i .vying for my three friends." Then Job dropped upon his knees, and as he did so that last shackle of his captivity of trouble snar ;cd and fell off. Hear it, all ye ages of time and ail ye ages of eternity, "'the Lord turned the captivity of Job when he prayed lor his friends." i The fault with most of us is too much self concentration—our health, our for tunes. our advancement, our social posi tion, our achievements, our losses, our de feats, our sufferings, our persecution, our life, our death, our immortality. Of course there is a lawful and righteous selfishness. In a world and in a time of such activities and rivalries and temptations we must look after our own interests and our own destiny or we will go under. IX> not wait for others to take care of you. Take care of yourself. But it will not hinder our preservation and prosperity if we enlarge the sphere of our wishes and prayers so as to take in oth ers. The law in the natural world would do well for the moral and spiritual world. The centripetal force in nature would throw everything in toward the center, and the centrifugal force in nature would ihrow everything out from the center, but the centripetal and the centrifugal work beautifully together. The one force that would throw everything toward the cen ter is bal need by the force that would throw everything outward. Our world, with its own interests, feel* the pull of other worlds. No world, no nation, no community, no man. no woman, can afford to exist only for itself or him self or herself. The hour in which Job lias that soliloquy about the enlargement of his prayers so as to take in his friends and he put into execution tiis good resolu tion was the hour when he felt a tonic, a sedative, a nervine, a cataplasm, that helped to Cure his body and revived his fortunes till they were a hundred per tent, better than ever liefore, for the record is "the Lord gave Job twice as much as lie hail before." and tended to make him a wonder of longevity, for he lived Hit years after his troubles were gone. Oh, what a mighty medicament is the contemplation of and the effort for the welfare of others! "But," says some one. "it was easy enough fur Job to pray for his friends. Anybody can do that. There are th'ose to whom wo are obligated for years of kindness. They stand so close to us in sympathy and reminiscence and antici pation that it is easy fur us to pray for their welfare." Well. I me you do not understand that these friends of Job were the most tantalizing and exasperating friends a man ever had. Look a' theii behavior. When they Icard of his be reavements and the accidents by whirl wind and lightning stroke, they came in and sat down by him a whole week, sev en days and seven nights, an I tin l record is "none spake a word to h.in." \\ hat a disreputable and wicked silence! Mind you, tliev professed to he religious men, and they ought to have been able to offer some religious consolation. Instead of that thev were dumb as the sphinx which at that time stood in the African desert aud ■lands there still. Why did tiny not eny something about reunion in the heivele h realms with hi■» children, who had bean (lain? Why <ll they not talk to hrm ! about the satisfactory explanations in the future world of things «*> do not under stand in tins world? Why did thev not go to the apothecary and buy » noultiee . that would line smith d the carbuncle*. ; or home quieting potion that would calm , his nerves, or a few drops of fchrihiige l tll.lt would tool It is In '! d ll 1111' ' No. ! For seven dn\* and Mv«n nights they did ' nothing anil said nothing for Ins relief. ' They must have almost bored htm to ; death. After these three friends hail complete.! their infamous silence oi a week they lie gall to lecture Job. First hbphaz the TenianHe ois'its with a long stoiy about a dream which he had in the night and ir ritates the sutferel with words that make tiling* worse instead of Is-tt-r. and sets In til in an attitude of defense against the li'i Hirer, nun t'iitium ItiUU't ® who gives the invalid a round scolding and rails him garrulous ami pratlieallv tells hint that lie dcervrd all that he had g;'l and thai ll he I,a I behaved li I If alight he Would nol have lost hi* Vou.e or his children or hi- estate. lie pra.ti. all* Mid "Job, I w ill tell Vou alujln the mailt r with »"U. Vou ai« Im'l l oil are a lIV I lie You lie liovr gelling paid tor V it W|. In. - • V. wonder thai there i .mie trout Job an outburst Oi Uldl/US , I, - out to • .1 -l ion I I'M llivicl, Zupl.4l I'W v'-Watbite, *>l»0 lo gins denouncing Job by calling lfltx & list j and keeps on the discourse until Job re- ; sponds to all three of them in the sar- | castio words, "No doubt, but ye are the 1 peonle, and wisdom shall die with jrou." Oh. what friends Job had! Heaven : deliver us from having one such friend, | to say nothing of having three of them. ! It was for fiuch friends that Job prayed, 1 and was it not a religious triumph for ' him so to do? Would you, the very best j of you, be in a very devout mood and ' capable of making intercession for people I who had come to you in a day of trouble and said: "Good for you. You ought to be chastised. You are being taken in hand by eternal justice. If you had be- I haved yourself aright, you would not , have been sick or persecuted or impover- i ished or made childless." Oh, no, my ! friend, you would not. have felt like Job when he prayed for his friends, but more , like Job when he cursed the day of his nativity. You people who weigh over 200 pounds avoirdupois had better never lose your temper, for at such times apoplexy is not far off. Oct the equipose of Job in the , text, and it will help you in business di rections. Praying for all offenders, you ■ will have more nerve for large imdertak- ; ings; you will have a better balanced , judgment; you will waste no valuable tune j in trying to get even with your enemies. . Try this height of prayer for your an- j tagonist to-day, and if you fail try it to morrow. Keep on until you accomplisli | it, and I should not wonder if, in addition to the moral and religious strength it , gives you, it should add a hundred per j cent, to your worldly prosperity. Job xlii. j 10, ."The*Lord gave Job twice as much aa he hail before." What we all need is to get out of our selves anil goto helping others, whether friends or foes. As beautiful an instance | of how this can be done I found Jast j summer in London in the person of Flor ence Nightingale, the heroine of hospitals and of battlefields when there were no hospitals. The lounge on which she lies prostrate is a throne of power, and, though she has passed into the eighties, j siu? trains nurses for sickbeds, and her in fluence is now felt among the wounded it) c outh Africa, while her memory is full of the story oi Balaklava, Sevastopol ami Inkerman. where England and France | and Russia grappled. She told me that ! she had not been happy until she under- ; took to alleviate suffering and that since she began that work she had never seen an unhappy day. To that work she con secrated her life, her classic attainments, her social position, her brilliant person ality. Her whole life for others, and her face shows it. I think so much of heaven is to be found in rio other human coun tenance. Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade" is not more thrilling to me than the womanly bravery and sacrifice that took euro of those who were shot from the saddles of the "Immortal six hun dred." My text enthrones prayer and gives it a scepter to wave over our temporal and eternal life. Under Ood it cured Job and fixed up his finances and restored his home and made him so robust of health that he lived fourteen decades. "But," some one says,"l do not believe in prayer for friends and foes, because I do not think that Hod is going to change the laws ot nature because we ask Him so to do." Neither do 1 think that Ood will change the law of nature at our request, but 1 am sure that lie answers prayer through natural law. Not a physician of any skill, allopathic, or homeopathic, or hydropathic, or eclec tic, but has some time been surprised that what was thought to be a fatal disease suddenly relaxes its graps of the patient, and lie recovers. Not one law of nature has been fractured. Prayer may have given the sudden turn to that illness. A business man may be in ditiiculty in extricable—mortgages against liim fore closing, goods to be sold for some reason become unsalable, new invention in ma chinery making the old machinery of bis factory worthless, all kinds of commer cial troubles pouncing upon him at once. Most business men have at least once in their lives been putin such agonizing crists, but the harried merchant or manu facturer gets out of it. Creditors become lenient, tiie wheels that were made use less for making one kind of fabric turn out to be good for making another style of fabric, the stock of goods that could not be sold comes into unexpected de mand. and whereas all things were against him till things are now for him. What an opportunity is prayer! \\ liy not oftener use it praying for ourselves and, like Job, praying for others? W hat better work would we do, what better lives would we live, what better hopes would we entertain, if we multiplied and intensified our prayers! Some one asked a soldier of Stonewall Jackson the secret of the great general's influence over his men. "Does your gen eral abuse you, swear at you, to make you march?" "Swear!" replied the soldier. "No! Kvvell docs the swearing; Stone wall does the praying. When Stonewall wants us to march he looks at us soberly, just as if he were sorry for us, and says, 'Men. we have got to make a long inarch.' We always know when there is going to be a long march and right smart lighting, for Stonewall is powerful on prayer just before a big light." W hen Stonewall Jackson was asked the meaning of the passage "instant in prayer," he said: "If you will not mistake and think 1 am set ting myself up as an example, which 1 am not, I will give an illustration from my own habit. 1 have so ti.xed the habit ot prayer in my mind that I never raise a of water to my lips without a mo ment's asking of God's blessing; I never seal a letter without a brief sending of my thoughts hc:i venvv.trd; I never change mjr classes m the sectiou room without a minute's petition for the cadets who go out and those who come in." New, if Ood has during these remarki shown us tlie uses, the importance, the blessednei-s of prayer, suppose we try to tlo what Job dul when he prayed for his ex. sperators. Many of us at the uiuJ of this subject felt that while we coll i pray for ourselves and prav for those who were kind to us we itev er could reach the high point of religious expe rience in which we could piav for those who annoy us and make it- feel worse tit stead of feeling better. That was a M.u lei'liorn, that was ail Alp. to the typ ol which we feared we could never climb, but we thank Ood that by His oinuipn tent grace we have retched that height at last. I<et prav! Oh, Christ, who didst pray for Thine assaying, we now i pray for those who despitefully use us and -ay all maimer of iv il against us. I'or I heir eternal Salvation We supplicate i Win n tune is no more, may tiny reign on thrones und wear > oroiicts and »vvsy sceptres of heavenly dominion M Hi while take the bitterness from their sml and make tin in soon think as vvoll ot us as now they think evil Spare their bodies from pain and their households from be rcavemi lit. After all the misunderstand- . ings and controversies of this life are ovel may mi keep with them eternal jub lee j in the mansions on the lull, and as Thou j didst turn the raptivily oi .bib when h | had iirayed for those who I'adlv used linil, I iltd health came to his body al..| prosper ity to Ills i «lat<', now that He have by I Illy grace IHC It make supphca I lion for oui M Aint our dis i 'ux. II We ■ > our t«lat) | il it ha* been il Bh iUii g!a I ne»s iii our litifl n have b«« Istreft; and tunL "V our ph i - I pain or tinaW %< i.l distress, ami ll * tl d»iu and tie powtf* \ i vmr. Am>.u! | THE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT. | THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. I Uncounted Vote—A Terrible Influence . Exerted by Those Who Sanction the j Social Custom of Wine Drinking j Cause* the Fall of Many Young Men. All ye that are faint-hearted, And think our numbers small, ; Know ye that we're the strongest, ' The strongest of them all! | So when they laugh at you and ask j To what our work amounted, Tell them: We polled the largest vote: The vote that isn't counted! \ i The vote that comes from aching hearts | Where thorns and nettles grow, I That have felt love and honor die j And good intent brought low; That have seen in the demon's fangs , All they once loved and cherished, And watched it. as by slow degree's. It changed, and fought, and—perished! Wherever mothers in the land ; Mourn for their wayward sons, j Wherever wives shed hitter tears | For men that loved them once, j Wherever even children curse j The life that God liath given, We poll that great uncounted vole That rises up to heaven! 1 Aud surely as the sun shall vise I On Resurrection Day, I That vote must once outcount them all ! Whatever they may say; And then in turn they'll ask themselves To what their work amounted, When th3.v shall see the vote we poll; | The vote that God has counted! i So, ye that are faint-hearted And think our numbers small. Know ye that we're the strongest, \ The strongest of them all! And when they laugh at you and ask Tow' at our work amounted, Tell them: We polled the largest vote: The vote that isn't counted! —Jan Henrick Van Bolhyns. Tlie Social Glass, 1 The peace, prosperity and successf.il gov ernment of the home and family are large ; ly due to the good example and wise coun sel of (he upright wife anil mother. The power of her influence and the importance of her right home relations and princinles are the greatest factors in the good fiyht against the fearful ravages of the drink curse. The true wife and mother incul cates the blessings of sobriety and total abstinence, and deprecates the evil influ ence of social and moderate drinking. One of the valuable lessons which youna men and women should early learn is that I the appetite for liquor works the ruin of those who are enslaved, and that total abstinence brings peace and happiness to all who practice it. An earnest man consecrated to the cai'se of temperance can rescue and rehabilitate many a poor drunkard through his timely aid and beneficent counsel. Many a refined and cultivated family has been brought low through the drink ing habits of the father. Those engiged in temperance work and for the salvation of others need patience and trust. I Faith and prayer must accompany all temperance efforts. Not the smallest ef fort to do gcod is lost of by the all knowing Father Terrible is the influence exerted by who stand as the servants of God, anil who sanction the social custom of wine drinking. The ruinous custom of social wine drinking has been the cause of the fall of many young men of great promise, but easily overcome through the influence ol tli2 social glass.—The Weekly Bouquet. A OrtiMome Tragedy. At the muzzle of a revolver Charles A. Smith, formerly a Wabash Railroad con ductor, compelled patrons of Jacob Rol ler's saloon, in (. nicago, to listen to a lec ture on the evils of intemperance. Then, pressing the weapon to liis head, he blew nis brains out in the midst o; chose stand ing around liiih. Holding a glass of liquor in his ic-ft hand Smith drew a revolver from his pocket with the other and ordered every one in the saloon to remain quiet and make no attempt to leave. "This is to be my last drink," } r> said. "You may call it a farewell if you wish. "All you fellows had better quit drink ing. Look at me. I've lost my nositior. with the railroad company, and every cent I have scraped together since has been spent for liquor. "Remember this little iecture, men. Brace up and leave liquor alone." James Irwin and Peter Nies, who wer6 standing near Smith, thought the lattei intended to hold up the saloon and they attempted to escape. "Hold on, there!" commanded the man with the uplifted revolver. Smith then ordered the six men, in eluding Timothy Foley, the bartender, to line up in front of the bar. They did so. Then the desperate man pressed the pistol against his head and sent a bullet through his skull, lie died instantly. Is There Alcohol In Nature? So long ago as April last the Bible Tem> perance Association of Belfast, Ireland, offered "one hundred guineas to any client ist who will, before a competent commit tee, extract a single ounce of alcohol froM any quantity of grain, gripes or other veg etable substance, in its organic -t.itc as produced by nature through life and growth, before deterioration by chemical decomposition, fermentation or decay has taken place." So fur no response has been received to the oiler contained 111 the res olution. An Infamous Trattle. A Hamburg correspondent wrote recent' ly that a British steamer siilml thence the other dav with 1000 tons weight of spirits on board for Lagos and Southern Nigeria. 11c alxo says that another steamer is duo to leave m a few days for the same des tination. with nearly double th.it amount on board. I'he (pints, he > :>*. consist of had gin and w use rum, and the l. Ide is principally in the hands ui a lew Koglisli and Herman films. This, we suppose, is how Africa is civilized b> Kuropeau coun tries. If II Weren't For Ihe llrlliU. J Two ladle- the oie "a lady of exalted birth" who had named a millionaiii) brewer, the other the wile of a wealthy distiller, were present at a recent func tion and conversed together. The "dis tilleress," "ail excellent lad) who never spoke about her early davi or her par ents, " at last losing all shvin -s, bloke out "Ah. but then, nn ladv when all'- that might Is' »aid. whrie -hould ' it weren't for the drink*" The Crusailw In ' ■ The only saloon in V has t<e< u driven out l.raguc The law ■> dav is
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers