THE GOLDEN LAND.
When the heavens are drearily shrouded,
With clouds and wintry gloom,
[ dream of a land that is golden
With sunshine and Summer bloom,
And then the clouds and the darkness
Like mist roll away from mine eves,
And 1 sce, in its beauty
The land of the gol
and splendor,
Hes! ¥
{I8's rose
And so, though
{ dre tin
Of peace, atid of
Snd I see, in ag
7 §
He golden
t our gre
acted in our
to oursel
we have not i
lightly or in vain.
for the heather
Brethren, vou |
there are heathen a
let every one of
that day
one who iO not
Perl
ve know not of
And let
meet here again, and
brother to relate his ex
Wed k. You w ho i
this method please to rise.”
Everybody rose, except old
Tucker, who never stirred, though his
wife pulled at him and whispered to
him imploringly. He only shook his
grizzled head and sat immovable.
‘Let us sing the doxology,”
Mr. Parkes; and it was sung
full fervor. The new idea had
aroused the church fully; it was
something fixed and positive to do; it
was the lever-point Archimedes longed
Gear it any
find worl
lying in your
urday
Po |
Cine.
ips you will
us ii, on eve
are
ANOS
eaid
with
wove a world.
Saturday night the church assem.
bled again. The cheerful eagerness
was gone from their faces; they
looked downecast, troubled, weary-—as
the pastor expected. When the box
for the ballots was passed about, each
one tore a bit of paper from the sheet
placed in the hymn books for that
purpose, and wrote on it a name. The
pastor said, after he had counted
them:
“Deacon Emmons, the lot has fallen
on you.”
“I'm sorry for't,” said the deacon,
rising up, and taking off his overcoat,
«J haint got the best of records, Mr.
Parkes, now 1 tell yo.”
“That is'nt what we want,” said Mr.
Parkes. “We want to know the whole
experience of some one among us,
and we know you will not tell us
either more or less than what you did
wot experience.”
Deacon Emmons was a short, thick-
set man, with a shrewd, kindly face
and gray hair, who kept the village
store, and bad a well-earned reputation
for honesty.
‘Well, brethren,” he said, “I dono
why I shouldn't tell it. I am preity
ol ashamed of myself, no doubt, but
¥ ought to be, and maybe I shall profit
by what I've found out these six days
backs I'll tell you just as it come,
Monday I looked about me to
with. Iam amazin’ fond of
and it ain't for me—the
say it ain't; but, me, it does se
shan up good, cold mornings, to ha
a cup of sweet, tasty drink,
haven't had the grit to refuse, I :
it made me what folks call nervous,
and I call cross, before night comes
and I knew it fetched on spells of low
spirtts, when our folks couldn't get
word out of me-—not a good one, any
wav: 80 I thought I'd try on that
begin with, 1 tell vou it came hard
I hankered after that drink of coflix
dreadfull Seemed as though I conidn’
eat my breakfast without it. 1 feel
pity & man that loves liquor more’n
ever did in my life before; but 1 fee
sure they can stop if they try, for I've
stopped, and I'm a-g stop
ped
“Well,
fight,
hing
a8 vou micht say
ing to stay
come to dinner, there was an
I do set by pie the mos
I was fetched up on pie
Our folks alwa
doctor
he's been tall
bout eatin’ pie,
IKE § verthing, f
BIH
warmed
& evervhody
aolks that was
but when |
S85 k
ball
t hard a-tearin’ round, and he's
knocked two leng of fence down
flat!’ Well, the old Adam riz up
then, you'd | That black
bull bas been a-breaking into my Jot
ever since we got in th’ aftermath, and
it's Square Tucker's fence, and he
won't make it bull-strong., ss he'd
oughter, and that orchard was a young
one jest coming to bear, and all the
new wood crisp eracklin’s with
frost.
“You'd better b'lieve I didn’t have
much feller-feelin® with Amos Tucker.
, Bays
is into
rithm
weiter believe,
as
up pretty free to him, when he looked
up and he, *Fellowship
meetin’ day, ain't it, deacon? I'd
SAVE, BAVSE
felt as though I should like to slip be-
hind the door. 1 see pretty distinet
what sort of life I'd been livin® all the
years I'd been a professor, when I
vouldn’t hold on to my tongue and
temper one day.”
¢‘Breth-e<ren,” interrupted a slow
narsh voice, somewhat broken with
emotion, “I'll tell the rest cn’t. Josiah
Emmons come round like a man an’ a
Christian right there. He asked me
for to forgive him, and not to think
‘twas the fault of his religion, because
twas hisn and nothin’ else. 1 think
more of him to-day than I ever done
before. I was one that wouldn't say
I'd practis with the rest of ye. I
thought twas everlastin’ nonsense.
I'd ruther go to forty-nine prayer-
meetin's than work at bein’ good a
week. 1 believe my hope has been
of them that perish; it ain't worked,
and 1 leave it behind to-day. I mean
to begin honest, and it was seein’ one
honest Christian man fetched me
‘ound to't.”
Amos Tucker sat down and buried
his head in his rough hands.
“Bless the Lord!” said the gquaver-
fng tones of a still older man from a
Ghivioning sxo gove, slows reepomAc:
eye gave v
§ EE Ect said the
minister,
“Well, when next day come, I
4p to make the fire my boy Joe
had forgot the kindlin’s. I'd opened
i
iv mouth to give him Jesse, when it
me over me sudden that this was the
lay of prayer for the family relation. |
thought I wouldn't say nothin’, 1
ust fetche?! in the kindlin's myself, |
{
i
i
|
|
nd when the fire burnt up good i
alled wife.
«Dear me,’ gays she, I've got such
+ headache, *Siah, but I'll
ninnit.’ 1 didn’t mind that, for women
ays havin’ and I was jest
' {0 when 1
* about not bein’
come in oa
aches,
RAY RO, remembered
} bitter
em, 80 1 savs, ‘Philury, vou k
{ expect Emmy and
ittles to-ddav.” 1 deel
y
Ine get the |
Cian
Rye,
for 12 workin’ h
ft of that is, it's becanse |
it, and I ought to be.
this mornin’ around, and
cherk. Twas mis-
and seemed as if "twas |
a sight easier to preach than to prac. |
tise. 1 thought I to old Mis’
Vender's. So I put a testament in my |
pocket and knocked to her door. Says |
I, ‘Good-mornin’ ma'am,” and then |
stopped. Words seemed to hang, some- |
how. 1 didn't want to pop right out |
and I'd come over to try’'n convert |
her folks. 1 hemmed and swallered a |
little, and fin'lly I said, says I, ‘We
don’t see you to meetin’ very frequent,
Mis’ Vender.’
“No, you don’t!’ says she, as quick
as a wink: ‘I stay at home and mind
my business.’
“ +Well, we should like to have you
come along with us anfl do ye good,’
says I sort of conciliatin’,
+ {Look a here, deacon!’ she snap-
ped; ‘I've lived alongside of you fif-
teen year, and you knowed 1 never
went to meetin’; we aint a pious lot,
and you knowed it; we're poor'n
death and uglier’n sin. Jim he drinks
and swears, and Malviny dono her
letters. She knows a heap she hadn't
ought to, besides. Now what are you
a-~comin' here today for, I'd like to
know, and talking so glib about
meetin’? Go to meetin’! I'll go and
come jest as I darn Please, for all you.
Now get out 0’ this!
“Why, she come at me with a broom.
stick, There wasn’t no need on't;
what she said was enough. 1 hadn't
never asked her nor hern to #80 much
a8 I think of ness before.
Then I went to another place jest like
that—I won't call no more names—and
sure enough there was ten children in
rags, the hull of ‘em, and the man half
drunk. He give it to me too, and I
don’t wonder. I'd never lifted a hand to
serve nor save "em before in all these
oars. I'd said consider'ble about
n in foreign parts,
Urs
[ felt
siomary mornin’,
come
a mite more
begin
be. I've been searched through and
through and found wantin’, God bu
merciful to me, a sinner!”
He dropped into his seat,
his head, and many anoth
It was plain that the dea
was not the only one an
en. Mr. Payson ros
he had never prave
of practice had fi
And it began a nen
church in Sugar Hollow ;
and i
fement or
Sabbath, the
prooabiy
iden, it i said, having
r rence
inated from i
rele
tO a man who was
ilar offence
the in iw
A story
astr roclivities who proudly
imagined that he had
elephant in the moon.
however, he was no doubt somewhat
disgusted when the big animal was
found to be nothing more than a mouse
which bad accidentally found its way
a gentleman with
FOIE io
discovered
Subsequently,
an
It is a popular belief that the rays of
a8 SOME aver, even
named from their supposed
bility to lunar influence, and moon-
mental aberration bordering on imbe-
cility.
as it was in the days of
that the violence of madness increases
with the moon and decreases as the
latter is waning, the worst paroxysms
occuring when the planet is at the
full. With the ancients the age of the
moon was taken into consideration
when felling timber, and a correspond-
ent of Nature states that the supersti-
tion on this point is still firmly rooted
in the public mind in Trinidad. The
phases of the moon are supposed to
exert a marked influence over the
growth of mushrooms; and, formerly,
in order that their flesh might not
waste in the cooking, the best time for
killing pigs was considered to be when
the moon was on the increase or near
the full,
One sometimes meets with the supen
stitlons that when Se Zh me
and goes outon a
d that month will not grow.
Hair, it is said, should be cut at the
new moon, otherwise itis likely to fall
off; corns, on the other band,
should be cut during the wan-
ing of the moon, in order
Ss holontos dL EY 4
imagine that a fresh moon is
every month, and it may possibly huve
iden that ha
become 1h
Crenivyg
been a somewhat similar
ised the new moon to
stibiect of the nUMerons cnsloms ane
ftitious fan
ELIOT }
tiv 1 tel 4
HiiN Hees tial, ii
hh one not un-
fred i
with
rinanent iocation,
blind rushes it halt
under a short rib
nd wind.
now
insan-
velled
aking sever:
for 8 moment Hear
* Sping to catch its sec
The unfortunate fat man
in a state of mind bordering on
ity. He kicked over his chair,
and swore, grabbed himself in front
both sides, rolled
up his eves, frothed at the mouth, and
spun round like a top. But the slip-
pery bivalve was now thor oughly rat-
tied and scooted here and there like a
lightning, taking
great pains not to travel over the same
Was
“He's got a fit!” screamed a wild
“It's either that or he's afire inside
his clothes,” said another pale-
faced diner, edging away from the
sufferer.
“For meroy's sake take him off,
somebody; I'm dying;” walled the
stricken man, as he threw up both
hands and sat down heavily on the
floor.
When the victim of misplaced re.
freshments struck the floor the oyster
ghot out of the back of his neck like a
bullet, hit the ceiling with a squashy
plunk, and then fell back and hung
limp and lifeless from the chandelier.
he fat man's physician says the
atient will recover from his attack of
ous prostration in a few days.
Wills of Three Great Men,
Tne last wills aid tevtamenise of the
greatest three men ern ages
were at one time tied up In one sheet
of foo at Doctors’ Commons. In
the will of the bard of Avon is an in.
neation in his own handwriting:
«] give unto my wife my brown best
bed with the furniture.”
5 Tor The will of the minstrel
.
:
FH
i
ME SRERETEN SR Le
An LL: isu
about 2 o'ciock of a chill
Mr, X. presented hime
of a doctor in the vil-
of thun-
rood
« BECLI.
v
sl Was
orning when
Af at the door
* A BerieR
camp
lone quails,
ple who had
the President shoot
Wagons were standing in the fields for
miles around. Little knots of people
had come in from the entire surrouand-
ing neighborhod and an authentic
laimed that over §,000
le had turned out to the
“There isn’t much need of one
shoot to-day,” General
somewhat ruefully,
Pierce responded, «If we
couldn’t kill anything
i
hey found crowds of people
Come ont fo sed
ul.
pe ho
sight.
trying’
Harrison
and Mr.
did. we
Try
3X00 pl Roose
see
ROCHE
almost every other
where the President has been, and
with good iuck one can come across a
deer or two in that neighborhood.
emt ——
The Wild Girl.
The giri of sixteen who will neither
sew nor do housework has no business
to be decked out in finery and rame
bling about in search of fun and frolic.
There is no objection to fun, but it
should be well chosen and well timed.
No girl or woman who will not work
has a right to share the wages of a
poor man’s toil. If she does work, if
she makes the clothes she wears, and
assists in the household duties, the
chances are that she will have enough
self-respect to behave properly when
lay-time comes; but if she should still
a little < wild,” the honest toil she
has done will confer upon her some
degree of right to have her own way,
ill-ju though it may be. The
wild girl usually aspires to prominence
in some social circle or other, and her