) pmiitTrjt ros toi xus-Atc-1 v. Little Jack vras only a poor street arab V . ,. . -r 1 i.j v:i Xno, lice DU-ureuB ui oiucr negie-n:- n- Aen in the great crowded city, heard few kind words, and was ned to roub, harsh featment. His only home was a dark, iogT cellar where, with his two younger (withers, he staid at night Every morning e crnel father would send his children out to the streets to beg or steal, and should )ey be unsuccesslul, hart blows and a prised body was their reward. One dark, jrloomy day Jack went ft tunal rough the muddy streets, but no one toped to listen or to give a penny to the Jle beggar. Night came on, and the boy, (ring the beating that was in store for J when he returned empty banded, idered heedlessly. Finally he noticed All trees towering above him, reaching, as re thoucht, the sky. The earth under his feet felt soft like a carpet, and he wondered into what strange land he had come. He had never before seen the country. At last he could walk no farther, and lying down on the damp ground he soon for jrot all his troubles in a deep sleep. In the morning a larmer crossed the field and came toward Jack. Surprised at the sight of the little raacmuffin he asked: "What are you doing in my field?" When Jack, had told his story, the kind hearted farmer pitied the boy and told him he need not return to the city if he was only willing to work in the field. Jack proved so industrious and helpful that the farmer declared he should never go back to his old, dreary life, but should make his home in the pleasant (arm house. One night when he had been several days in his new home, Jack looked from the window and caw in the distance the ruins of an old cas- DIYTDINO THE .tie. "When he asked' to whore it belonged the farxr eaid: v '.'It in many hundred years since that cattle was first built. 1 was owned by a very rich Count who waif harsh and cruel and cared more for his gold than his people. After his Oeath no trace of his great wealth could be found, and the next Count who lived there died in poverty. Since that time the castle has been deserted. It is said that a great treasure lies buried under the ruins; but those who have ventured to seek for it have seen such strange sights that now no one dares enter even the court yard." Jack listened attentively to this story, and although be made no remark, he determined that he also would seek for the treasure in the ruined castle. Later in-the night, when all was quiet, Jaife stole noiselessly from the farm-honse antf made bis way to the castle. The boy mounted the crumbling stairs and entered" the long, deserted halls, where the moonlight, pouring through the broken walls, showed on every side ruin and decay. The vacart rooms gave no sign of their former splendor, one alone being protected by a root Here.br the lightof a small lan tern wbich be carried, Jack discovered an old cloik hanging on the wail, a small stove in tne corner, and on a table near by stood a dteh ot smoking, hot hrotb. Just as Jack raised s spoonful of the broth to his mouth the clock strnck 12, and a group of grotesque little figures, wearing Bcarlet robes and high-pointed caps, and carrying a small, black box, entered the room and stood before Jack. They spoke sot a word, but placed tbe box on the floor and departed as quietly as tbey had come. Jack was too astonished to speak, and after looking curiously at the box, he tried, to raise the lid, which, to his surprise, he had no dimculty in doing. Inside, instead of the treasure which he hoped to find, lay a little, old man, whose wrinkled face showed .signs of great age. As Jack bent over tbe box the little figure sat up and said in a faint Toice:fia hungry; give me some broth." Kf- - Jack set the dish before him, and when' .the old man had satisfied his hunger, he said: "I suppose you hare come to seek my gold which lies hidden in the castle. .Many a braver and wiser youth than you "has tried and perished in this attempt; but If von will follow me, I will , show you .where he treasure is, and we shall see if you are wise enough to carry it away." The little man then left the roomand was followed by Jack, who, had it not been for his lantern, must often have lost sight of his guide, who proceeded so rapidly before him. Through damp, underground halls they went", down narrow winding stair ways, finally pausing before a wall of solid .rock which opened up before them, and re vealed a long room built of white marble and lighted by many lamps suspended Irom the vaulted ceiling. On the floor was a heap ol shining gold pieces, at the sight of which Jack's eyes shone brightly. "Here," said the old man, "is my treas ure. If you divide it in two equal parts you hall receive a reward; but if one piece re mains over you must forfeit your li e." Jack thought this a very easy task, and at once set to work. Very carefully he took the gold pieces one by one, placing one on one pile, then one on the other, while the little man looked on with glowing eyes. But in spite of all his care, ODe gold piece re mained which did not belong to either heap. Jack looked at it for a moment in dismay, then taking a small hammer which was ly . ' " $s Ss, i ing sear e oroce tne gold piece in two, and threw a half on each pile. The little man gave a shout of joy, and danced about the room, clapped his hands and cried: "Brave boy, brave boy, now I am free. For hun dreds or years I have been obliged to guard this wealth, and must stay here until some one came who could div'de the gold as you have done. .Now I am iree and can go back to my own people. I shall give you the key of the treasure room. Half of the gold is for jou and the other half is to be given to the poor." The little man then seized Jack's hand, and having thanked him again andagain for releasing him from his batelul task, he disappeared and was seen no more. Jack 'J then hurried to the farm house to tell of bis good fortune: but it was not until he Ji . IJS6 ? t0 tne catle and displayed the J two heaps of gold that the farmer would be lieve he had found the hidden treasure. Boon the whole country had heard the news, and people flocked from far and near to see the poor beggar lad, who had sudden ly become richer than any count In the land. In a short time Jack had the mini of the old castle removed, and in its place was built a large, handsome structure, where the needy and distressed could al ways find a welcome. And many of the poor, neglected children of the great city were made glad and happy by the bountiful gifts given them from the "Hidden Treas ure." PaSIE. LIVES OF THE ROSE ELVES. Their Stories of Gladoesa and Borrow la the Busy World. Flitting -from the Abode of Woe to the Bride. Bosom or to the Ballroom. rWBXTTX-T rOECHX SISrXTCB. J In a large garden in which nearly all the other flowers had faded, and quite hidden behind a thick hedge, there stood a beauti ful rosebush. It wag a cold night late in October, and the bush glanced anxiously at the large number of her lovely buds. "Will the keen autumn frost nip ray tender children," she thought, sadly, "or will the sun to-morrow morning kiss them awake again?" Just at that moment midnight tolled from a neighboring church tower. Suddenly a crowd of transparent little creatures flew around the garden on rosy wings. "God greet thee, thou dear rosebush," whispered a soft, silvery voice; "please take us into the shelter of thy buds. Midnight has passed now, and we must wait until the nest sunset before we are allowed to go to sleep acain." The rosebush most gladly opened her GOLDEST HEAP. lovely petals just far enough for theTelves to slip thankfally within. The rosebush said: "Midnight has scarcely passed and it will be a long time before d"ay dawns. I think it would be very interesting if some of you would tell about your early life. You must certainly have seen and experienced a great deaL" Now. children, you must know that the elves are not at all like the people you know. They never gossip, and they can keep a secret; particularly those who live in rosebushes. Sometimes, on a beautiful moon light, they relate to each other, quite in con fidence, what has happened in past times. So they did not let the rosebush plead in vain, and one of them began at once to tell the story following: THE ABTIST GIRL. "My home was, until lately, within the bud of a magnificent tube rose. The bush on which I grew belonged to a gardener who cultivated many rare roses for the market. Very early in the morning, when the bud was only half open, the dewdrops glittered in the flower-cup like diamonds. These drops were not the most beautiful that I saw, for unon the petals of every rose in which I dwelt, tears of joy have fallen. Very early every morning a sweet young girl came to the garden, examined the flowers and finally picked my rose. She then carried me ten derly into a neat room and put me in a glass of water. To my great surprise she twined two sprays of forget-me-nots about me, sat -own in ironi oi us and began to paint on a finely tinted plate. She did it so skillfully, that scarcely a leaflet waslacking; the rose elves, however, no man can paint, and for this reason the iresh, natural roses are always far more delightful than the artificial or the painted. When it began to grow dark the piate was nnisnea. "The young girl then rose from her sest, took the blossom from the glass and trod hastily down the steep staircase. When she had passed through several streets, she at length turned into a very narrow one, and after mounting four steps entered a miser able house. 1 did not like the place and I resolved to fly, for we elves do not willingly linger in narrow streets and low rooms. On the bed lay an old woman who seemed very ill. "When she saw the young girl enter her wretched abode with the fresh, beautiful rose in her hand, a smile like sunshine swept over her pale face. The maiden sat down by her, greeted her kindly and sym pathized with her in her sufferings. When she was about to go she laid the flower by the invalid, saying: " 'Alas! I have not much to give but you will accept this little token of my friend ship, won't jrou?' "Tears of joy fell from the eyes of the old woman upon the lovely leaves; but I knew now that the maiden was richer far than many others, for she possessed something wherewith she could give pleasure to another, and only he is poor who has noth ing to give away." JUfOTHES elf's etoet. "What a touching experience, cried one of the elves, and then proceeded to tell his story: "I lived a very short time in my rose and saw and heard little. A bad boy tore the branch I dwelt in away from the bush before my rose was quite open. In a few moments he carelessly threw us away. The branch fell on the street, and a little girl who was crossing picked it up. "Look, mamma, at these lovely buds," she cried joyously. The mother answered: Let it lie there, child, how can we tell who has handled :' Tbe little one threw it down contemptuously and walked on. A pretty poodle came running along, he stopped and sniffed at the poor rose on all sides. " 'It is a pity you are not a sausage,' he growled, and then trotted off. "My home was in a rare white moss-rose," now softly said another elf," which bloomed upon a mother's grave in God's Acre. One evening the mbtherless child came there very sadly, and with a heavy heart and many tears praveti long and wearily. It was her farewell, lor on the morrow she was to go forth into the wide world alone and among strange peoW.who did not love ber. She plucked the irose and placed it in her hymn book as a token of remembrance. Gladly would I hart remained with her. for ' - THE the seemed to be a dear, good child, and X should like to have known what befell her.' THE LITTLE QXXXi'S TVEDDIMO. "lean tell you." cried an elf from an other bud, "for I have seen the maiden. I was at her wedding. I saw her with the myrtle blossoms' in her hair. I dwelt in the rose which she wore on her bosom at the marriage feast. She was very happy, and found another mother, for the good old peo ple called her their sweet daughter.' The most beantifal red rose you can Imagine I chose as my dwelling," said tae tiniest ol the elves. "The dewdrops sparkled like pearls upon mr velvet leaves, and the butterflies came from afar to admire us. My rose had opened at the right time, for on that day there was to be a great ball, and a charming girl placed it joyfully in her dark curls. Tbe poor flower did net desire this honor, although she was muoh admired. The numerous lights and tbe stifling air in the drawing rooms made ber fearful, aud she drooped ber pretty head and longed vainly for a return to the gar den. It was thus with every rose present, and as the dance grew more and more rapid, my rose loosened its hold in the maiden's hair and fell among the crowd. Soon the proud flower was trodden in the dust, and I scarcely bad time to soar -alolt on my tiny wings before it was crushed." F. K. E. Wjlde. SOME ENIGMATICAL NUTS. Ponies for the Little Folk That Will Keep Their Brains Bmr for Most of the Week If They Solve Them Correctly Homo Amnaemenla. Addreu communications for this department (0 E. B. CHASBOtmir. Lewtilon, Mam. 1188 A rBOVEBB. 1189 CHABADE. Bome sycophants may bend the knee In homage to a worthy three. For "a grand personage" Is he. But If he's two they'll not bestow 8uch high respect on him, I know, Nor be inclined to honor show. For one, two, three is such one one As tbose of lower rank wonld shun, And from his presence likely run. And If he's one whose very two, Wbose wicked deeds are not a few, Who has vile schemes in constant view, Then tbose who feel his harsh control May wish no better to his soul Than final dwelling-place in whole. )xsoriT. 1190 A UNIQUE ADVERTISEMENT. Jones, the grocer, inserted the following ad. in tbe morning papers. Tbe blanks are to be filled with words that Thyme: FEitSDNAl This morning when going to my place ot business I a of coffee neatly in one of my wrapping papers, andlyincon the near tbe steps to my store. No doubt one of my customers lost it last night. The owner can have it by calling to the store and proving property. I wish to state here that my goods are all and just what tbey are claimed to be, and the praises of my customers . far and near. I am - to keep ahead of anyone else in the county in the grocery line. Eth.l, 1191 TRANSPOSITION S. Ajtrst. although he was "a keeper" And a "guard," was a sound sleeper. Had be been tending to his duty, The thief would not bare got such booty, For tbe robber, softly creeping Into tbe room where he was slci ping, Unlocked a second, out then drew it It was an easy thing to do it And in short time less than a minute, Stole everything that there was in it. There was much money, bank notes mostly, And Jewels that were very costly While the thief was feeling rapture, The loser's thoughts were bent on capture Hoping much to have the pleasure OI getting back tbe stolen treasure. Among te plans be was devising To rain such end waB advertising. And this be did with tbe reminder That he would greatly third tbe finder. XT-xsoxiA-r. 1192 BEVEBSED EHOSIBOID. Across: 1. Tbe actual sitting of a court. 2. Dogs employed in the chase. 3. A command. 4. Thinks, 6. Sexes, male or female. 6. Kills. 7. Things treated. Down: L A letter. 2. A parent. 3. To plun der of contents. 4. Brisk. 5. Tbe world. 6 One who bands. 7. Farts. 8. Tbose who finish. 9. Badges of rank, la Places. U. Anger. 12. A bone. 13. A letter. , osxfhzne. 1193 NUMERICAL. The pungent 4, 5, 6 and 7 .Of musk, and many a strong complete Does never bint to me of heaven Such odors are to me not sweet. i A lady this is my opinion Is simple in her every taste; Chooses plain hues, ne'er wears a chignon, And in her choice ot wholes is chaste. 1, 2, S their complete! I know them . That is. if otber things agree And absence of whole may show them Befined and ladylike to be. Bitter Bwxbt, V 1194 SQUABE. L Popular songs. 2. One to whom tbe title to property is transferred. 3. Small masses of metaL Pericarps or seed vessels (Hot.). 6. A genns of plants. 6. Stops in a clock. 7. Taxest (Bare). DxLFBnrx. 1195 ANAGBAM. Sometimes I think that anagrams Are only literary shams; In shaping them 'tis my intent To find appropriate sentiment And bare the transposition make A meaning like tbe word I take. But some words are perverse forsooth. Producing something quite uncouth; As, for example: now I delve Into a row of letters twelve; A word that means a person who ' Is brought into conspicnons view At college exercises, where . The students show their talents rare By orations, grave or gay. On wnat tbey call commencement day. This person I would not defame Br transformation nf his name. So when I say "a devilcan riot," It is a source of much disquiet To find my hero's high condition Degraded thus by transposition. Nelsomian. 1195 DECAPITATION. The writer of a total Should weave an air of truth With bis fiction, that show 'twill Have of truth, in sooth. He, also, should be second To interest or amuse, ThatTils total may be reckoned Of use, and not abused. For oftentimes a total Instruction will impart, In a way one does not know, till It charms by skillful art. BlTTEB SWEET. ANSWEES. 1178-1. Gable, hale, alb. "2. Wall, awl, la. & Sabot, boat, bat. 1179 Heaven-kissing. 1180 Illustrate. 1181 KewtrAdvance, Journal, Herald, Dis patch, Times, Enquirer, Beporter. 11 S2 Man-go-fisn. 1183 Trader, retard, darter, tarred. 11S4- jumps to 9; - to s 7 to 1; 8 to 1; 8 to 10;8 to 10; 2 tola 1185-Mend-l-cant. 1186 Cloth, loth. 1187 Salinometer. Motcle Power of FUhea, The most prodigions power of muscle is possessed by the fish. The whale moves with a velocity through the dense medium of water which, if continued at the same rate, would carry him round the world in. less than a fortnight. A sword-fish has been known to strike hit weapon through the oak plank of a ship. If your complaint is want of appetite, try Augo'stura Bitten before meals. Tisau - , v" gl-V i BISPASCR, PITTSBURG- SIMON PETER'S LOTE. The Lesson in His Behavior on Two Different Occasions. ONCE HEJ FEARED THE SAVIOB, And Again He leaped Into the Sea in His Haste to be Near Him. SPIRITUAL GROWTH BY KNOWLEDGE rwrmrroRTira pisrATcn.i Here are recorded the actions of Simon Peter upon two different occasions: Once it is said of him "When Simon Peter Baw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying: Depart from me, for lam a sin lul man, O Lord." He wanted Christ to be as iar away from him as possible. But again it is said oi him: "Now, when Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he cast himself into the sea." Peter was in a boat. Christ was on the shore. Peter wanted to get as near to Christ as he could, and as soon as he could. Thus Simon Peter behaved himself upon two different occasions very differently. Let ns see why the scene in both cases was the Lake of Galilee; a. company of disciples were fishing, or had only ceased to fish through the weariness of iailure; Christ speaks to the fishers and bids them try again; they do try, and immediately the draught of fishes is as much or even more than the nets can hold. So far all is the same. Now comes the difference. At the time of the first miraele the first thought in Simon Peter's mind is fear. He gets down on his knees. He begs the Master to go away. He wants a distance between himself and Christ. He cries: "Depart Irom me, for I am a sin ful man, 0 Lord." But at the time of the second miracle the first thought in Simon Peter's mind is love. Instead of wanting distance now between the Master and him he cannot even wait till tbe distance is lessened by the slow rowing; he must get where Christ is, and that as soon as he can. He casts himself into the sea and swims ashore. Ton see how different his action was. AN UNEXPECTED CONDUCT. Now looking at the outward circumstan ces only, this difference of action is not at all what we would have expected. If Simon Peter was afraid before, there were em phatio reasons for fear now. Before he saw in Christ only a very holy man, a man who was not only" very holy, but who was pos sessed ot singularpower, even over nature a saint, and a prophet surely, yet a man. It is not likely that r-y notion of our Lord's divinity bad at ths time entered into St Peter's mind. The holiness and power of this saintly man, made him disagreeably conscious of his own sinfulness, and made him afraid. But now, on the occasion of the second miracle, there stood yonder in the dim light upon the beacb, One -who was more than man; that Being there had been dead and had come up out of his grave to walk the earth: that unearthly Being yonder in the dim light who was He? A leeling of awe was over the whole company. They all wanted to ask the question, Who art thou? But not one of them durst ask Him. IThey knew.something in their hearts assured them, that it was the Lord. But who was the Lord? He was the long-promied and watched-for Christ, nay, He was God stand ing on earth in human shape. There was reason enough for tear, and lor falling down on trembling knees, that second time. And then that confession, "I am a sinful man, O Lord." Simon Peter had sore need to make that confession now. He who stood yonder on the beach had stood in tbe High Priest's bouse among his enemies, and heard this Peter thrice 3eny Him, once with an oath, declaring that he had never known Him. There was no lack of emphatic rea son upon the occasion of that second miracle for fear, for desire of distance, and for penitent tonfession. Yet here is nothing but love and longing for nearness. Why? The circumstances are the same, or rather stronger in one case than in the other, but the actions are quite different. What made the difference? Beyond doubt, the differ ence was in the man. KNOWLEDGE OF THE MAN. 'Now, what had brought about this differ ence? What had changed this man? We look the record over, and we find that a space of nearly three years had elapsed be tween one miracle and the other. And three years' time is long enough to change any man. Alas for any man in whom the passing of three years makes no change! These three years, we discover, had been spent in the company of Christ. For three years Simon Peter had seen Christ's mira cles, bad listened to His words, had listened also and this means a great deal to the silence of Christ's, noting when he spoke not at all, had journeyed about with Christ over the highways and by paths oi Judea, had seeu him in intercourse with men, and in commuuion with His Heavenly Father, bad watched him amid privation and temptation, in weariness aud disappoint ment, when all men turned against Him; had perceived His tender, lovinsr spirit, His wide tolerance; His brave, patient, un swerving self-sacrifice. Simon Peter lor three years had lived with Christ. He had come to know Christ. And that made all the difference in the world, that made him love Christ and long to be near Him. Fear had been driven out by love, and the love had grown by knowing Christ You see that Simon Peter had grown a great deal during those years between the miracles. What I desire to point out to you is that he had grown by knowing Christ It was knowledge, of Christ that made a different man out of Simon Peter. I wish to emphasize that. Spiritual growth then and now is through knowl edge ot Christ Most ot us can remember a time when we were much like St Peter at the first miracle. Beligious thoughts made us uncomfortable. When ever the deeper side of religion was brought in any way before us, there came upon us a strange) nndefinable sensation, for which I can think of no better adjective than "un comfortable." We felt thoroughly uncom fortable. We recognized the beauty of the life of Christ at least in a measure, we had glimpses of it, JUST AS PETEE FELT. But we desired distance between us and Him. We had a longing, too, after the joy of holiness. We envied some to whom Christ seemed very near, and heaven open, and faith clear, aud prayer a delight, and adoration a blessed privilege. And yet some how we hung back. Tbe thought of the .nearness of Christ to us touched only u chord of discominrt. We wanted to be an earnest Christian, and at the same time we didn't want to bean earnest Christian. We thought of our own faults and sins; we felt that somehow we must get rid of them be fore we could apnroach Christ; we lelt, too, that we were making very little progress in the work of putting them away. We were dissatisfied; we were restless; we were un comfortable. And we know now, and cm Bay confidently to anv who are still looking thus askance upon the following oi Christ we know now that our trouble was Simon Peter's exactly. We did not know Christ What a boo'k this Bible isl The longer we study it the more it fills us with admira tion atfd wonder. Even if it were all false, it would be tbe- greatest book in the world. For it would still be true true to human nature, at least. In all other ancient books, even the greatest, even in Homer, the men and women are lay-figures, made out of wood, ingenious mechanisms contrived to talk as if by clock work. But the men and women of the Bible are alive. They are clothed in flesh and blood. They have souls. How natural and true are these two pic tures of St Peter. One of them is our own self, too, as we move or perhaps are the presence of Chirst, the voice of His religion making us uncomfortable, making us cry out for distance "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O, Lord." And the other, ourself also, as we may be, if we are not al ready, With our heart full of peace, and lore 'StTKDATT, atotj'st si; and faith, and the only longing in it a long ing for nearer closeness. Simon Peter's ex ample is our hope. Kvery soul here can have that jot and love and perfect trust which he had. It will grow in eaeh of us, as it grew in him, through knowledge of Christ WHAT THI8 KNO-HTLEDdE IS. What .is it to know Christ? There is nothing mysterious or very difficult about it To know Christ does'not mean to know theology. Yon may be utterly ignorant of all the dogmas, even quite heretical, meas ured by some of them, and yet you may know Christ to your soul's health. Men have misrepresented Christ, aud so put some difficulty in the way of kuowiug Him. They have insisted that He is only theo retically discerned. Bnt that is not true. "They have represented Him," says one, ' "as a partial Christ, whereas be is the universal Christ; as an ecclesiastical Christ, whereas He is a spirit ual Christ; as a Christ ot gloom and an guish, whereas he is a Christ of love and joy and peace in believing; as a dlad Christ, whereas He is the risen, the living, the as cended Savior; as a distant Christ, a Christ who has gone far away into the dim realms of space, whereas He is a present Christ, with us now, with us always, with us indi vidually, with us as a perpetual comforter, a very present help in trouble, with us even to the end of the world; as a Christ of wrath and vengeance and dreadfulness, whereas He is loving, tender and of infinite com panion. To know Christ is to know Him, so iar as possible, as St Peter knew Him as a di vine, loving, strong, tender man. We must begin just where He willed that Simon and the others should begin, by knowing Him just as a man. Put away for the time, if you can, the thought of His divinity. Think of Him as you think of your heroes in history or fiction. Bememher that Christ does not belong only to Christianity and the Church. He belongs to historvjust as much as Cesser does. He lived in Palestine a certain number of years ago, just as actually as Gladstone lives to-day in England. He walked this eartb. and lived this human life, just as visibly as your friend does whom you see and reverence and are influenced by every day. Think of Christ as saint and hero. Bead His life in the gospels as you read ths life of Savonerola in Mrs. Oliphant's "Makers of Florence" just to see what kind of man He was. THE SAVIOR'S OBJECT. Study that brave, pure life. Follow Christas Simon Peter followed Him through the streets of cities, along dusty roads, on the beach beside the sea; observe what the purpose of that life is is it to make money? Is it to get power? Is it to be comfortable? Is it to gain fame? No; it is only to up lift and help men. It is an abso lutely unselfish life. Consider that Listen as he talks with men; whom does He seek out the rich and pow erful? Yes, when occasion offers. He does not prefer poor and miserable men to rich and prosperous men just because tbey are poor and miserable; and vet, neither does he love the rich for their riches. Mark how He looks only at the man, not at any man's position or lack of position, not at any man's house or dress or occupation, not at any man's popularity or lack of it, bnt always solely at the man. There is something to think of. A mau who measures men by tbe standard of manliness. And with all this, how grandly hopeful about men, how quick to see whatever good is in men, and to touch that How gentle and patient What a true and tender friend. Aud then watch the ending of it all. Willing to suffer for the good of his brethren, in no wise deterred from his sublime unselfishness and helpful ness to the pain of death; even in the mo ment of crncifixion calm, peaceful, pa tient and making all possible allowance. Behold the manl Putaside aii connection of Christ with any system of religion. Set him among the saints and heroes of tne world. Choose among them whom you will follow. Where will you find another leader, half so brave, earnest, bigb-minded, pure, noble, unselfish wlere will ypu,fiud another like this Christ of Galilee? In the three years between the two mir acles, Simon Peter had come to know Christ And when he saw Him on the shore in the dim morning, his heart was filled with gladuess as ours is at the sightof a friend. There was his friend. There was the man wnom he knew, and whom by reason ol his kindness he loved to tbe very depths of his soul. And be cast him self into the sea and swam ashore. MAKE HIM TOUB HEBO. And in measure as we know Christ, we also will delight in closeness to Him. Get down your New Testament and read that life again. Try to know Him as Simon Peter knew Him. Try to know him first only as your ideal and your hero, before all heroes of the novels or the historian. By and by you will know Him and love Him as your Savior and your God. For to know Christ is the condition of spiritual growth. In onn way spiritual growth and knowledge of Christ are tbe same thing. We cannot know Christ with out growing spiritually. Knowledge and growth act and react one upoii the other. The more we know of Christ the more will we grow spiritually; and the more we grow spiritually the better we will be able to know Christ He who knows Christ knows all the eth ics and all tbe theology be needs. Christian ity is not a system of ethics. Christianity is not a system ol theology. It is not a system of anything. Christianity is essentially a personal religion. It is the creed not ot a book, but'of alife. Christianity is Christ To know Christ is" the way to grow in laith. There is no Dermanent and availing defense of the Christian faith to be built up out of syllogism, and arguments, and "evidences." The proof of the Christian faith is the char acter ot Christ. I believe in the Christian religion because I believe in Him. Study His life; try to know Him; see if He is not worthy of evidences; see if you cannot take the word of Christ NOT A BELIOION OP BULBS. To know Christ is the way to grow in holiness. Christianity is not a religion of rules. It is the religion or the Divine Ex ample. We come again to the same truth Christianity is Christ. Try to follow the blessed steps of Christ's life. Take His advice. Ask yourself in all time of per plexity and temptation, What wonld Christ do if He were here? Nothing else can so effectually lead us into the paths of holy living. What did Christ do when enemies thwarted and assailed Him? What did Christ say about purity even of mind and heart? How did Christ meet temptation? How did He pray? How did He bear trouble? In what spirit did He look up to his Father in Heaven? What kind of a friend was Christ? What was the purpose of the life of Christ? How would Christ like me to live? To know Christ you see how it helped Simon Peter. You see how Simon. Peter loved him, and lobged to be near to Him. That will be our mind also when once we know Him. To know him perfectly to know him to the devout heart of St Paul that was the bright thing to be desired. "I count all things but loss," he said, for tbe excellency of the knowledge ot Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of'all things that I may win Christ and be found in Him that I may know him." Geoboe Hodoes. PSESSTJBE M DEEP WATEB. Some Flibcs Boor Vd Under What Would Bnrat boms Btenm Bollcra. The weight of the water in the ocean averages about one ton per square inch for every mile of depth. Thus, at a depth of 3,000 fathoms, which is a very general one, the weight borne by the floor of the ocean is about 650 tons on every square loot. At that depth there are always forms of animal life,and a crustacean, like a shnmp.is found, which passes its existence under the same pressure. Fish living at a depth of CO or GO fathoms bear a pressure of about 150 pounds per square inch, or the same as tbe steam pres sure in allocomotive boiler. When brought to the surface, the air-bladder blows out of their mouths like a balloon, and sometimes uu.su with a loua report. A 1890. THE SAYQRY STEWS. Dozens of Wcys to Hake Meat and Vegetables Into One Dish. THEY ARE EELIABLE AT HOME Bat In Public Houses One is Often at Sea as to Ingredients. . FOOD THAT HADE BPAETANS BEATE iwuiri-K ros TH S18F TCB.l Of th ten principal prrts into which Prof. Pierre Blot, the founder of the New York Cooking Academy,divided the science and art of cooking, he reckons that of stew ing as one. This method of cooking meats and vegetables as one dish is probably tbe most common one practiced; for with some immaterial differences in the particular mode of preparing it, or in snch things as are peculiar to tbe locality or tbe people, it is the method universally used in many families. The national dish.of the Span iards, their olla podrida, will be recalled by those who have read "Don Quixote." and it will also be remembered that a like dish.the Ka-poos-ta, is the favorite one of the Bus sians, which fact may have been learned from-ToIsioi's novels. For being so varied and so generally ac cepted a dish in one form or another as this dish is, it would naturally be inferred that there is much in it to commend it as to the various ingredients which enter into its composition it would, we suppose from all accounts, be much easier to imagine what does not enter into it than to say what does. Travelers of Continental Enrope hear testi ' mony generally to the universal prevalence ol stewed dishes at houses of public enter tainment Unfortunately or rather for tbe sake of delicate stomachs, shall we say for tunately? it is not at all times perfectly clear what articles enter into these stews, and this recalls how Gil Bias had some donbU whether the meat in a certain ragont was rabbit AN ACQUIRED TASTE. Tbe Spartans, the greatest warriors of the Greeks, had their famous black broth, wbich, according to Plutarch, was in tbe highest esteem among them. The old men were so fond of it that they ranged them selves on one Bide of the table, standing, and-ate it, leaving tbe meat to the young people. The taste ot this broth or stew was not at all agreeable; to strangers it was indeed distasteful, and the liking for it was acquired. It is elsewhere related that a more refined Grecian, an Athenian, on mak ing an effort to eat of it, said that he bad now discovered the reason the Spartans were such brave soldiers and so ready to die, for any one who was obliged to live on such diet would certainly find it more de sirable to die than to live. But as for our own tables we may have no such scruples about "the mvstery of things," for a great variety of good stews may be made by any woman who will take the trouble to familiarize herself with the formulas, and who has the desire to have an agreeable change for her table. This mode of preparing the food is also, as we see, one of the most economical. Many ) grown up people are very lona or stewea food, and almost all children are. In the preparation of food after this method there is many a lesson to be learned for one who strives to be proficient in that most desira ble qualification of how to prepare a palata ble meal from little or nothing. GOOD AND ECO-TOUICAL. Stews when properly made are savory and enjoyable dishes. The office of much of the spicery and herbs, which are part of the dish, is to satlsty and delight the taste. That they are to be classed with the economical dishes is apparent for they are made from such articles and substances as are ordinarily the cheapest and are always available, and that they are made to per fection, either from fragments of meats and what are known as "left-overs," or from what the marketing woman will know as cheap cuts or the odds and ends of choice meats purchased at a cheaper rate. For a large familyin health and hungry enough to enjoy their food, nothing could be more acceptable than a well-made stewed dinner; or could lake its place; for like the pot-au-feu oi' the French peasant, this one course with bread and beveruge, makes a full meal. The accompanying recipes and directions are on the subject oi stewed food. It is to be observed that if larger, or smaller meals are wanted the quantities of the materials must be increased or decreased, always maintaining the proportion given in the respective recipes. If it is possible to have stock ready, or if the remains of any good vegetable soup is at hand, either of these should be used, instead of water in certain of these dishes which call for herbs, spices and vegetables. .BEEFSTEAK STEWED WITHOUT WATER. Get three or four pounds of ramp steak, which must be cut about an inch thick; put one tablespoonful of batter in a frying pan large enoiish to bold tbe steaE; rinse the steak quickly in cold water and pat in tbe pan, cov ering closely. As soon as it is thoroughly heated, season with a teaspoonf ul of salt and a saltspoonful of white peppar; then push tbe pan back on the stove where it wjll simmer not boil keeping it covered all the time ana a weight on tbe cover. It will be found to be cooked and perfectly tender in an hour and a half. Put on a hot dish and add half a teacup of tomato or two teaspooniais oi walnut catsup to the gravy in tbe pan and pour it over tbe In tbe beginning be careful that tbe butter In the pan does not become scorched. A few onions may be added to this stew, If llKeo. stewed veal; The neck and breast of veal are generally used for stewing. Cut into pieces four or five pounds of fat finely grained veal; peel eight or ten large 'po tatoes, and cut them in slices; line the bottom of a pot with thin slices ot salt pork, sprinkle lightly with pepper, powdered sage and minced onion. Now add a layer of potatoes and a layer of veal, add pepper, sage and onions; continue the layers till the veal and potatoes are done: then over the whole lay thin strips of salt pork; cover with boiling water, pat on a tight fitting lid and simmer slowly for two hours. 8TEWED TISH. . A very excellent fish stew may be made from the fragments of fish left ovr. Separate the flakes from the bones and re move the skin. Boll or mash six or eight potatoes (even In size), add a little batter and milk, mixrwltb tbe fish, and season to taste. Heat to the boiling point a pint or more of ricn milk and stir in gradually two beaten eggs. Add one tablespoonful of batter and one tea spoonful of flour rubbed together, a little minced parsley and a pinch of cayenne pepper. Tnrnln the tisb. add more seasoning, if nec essary, simmer carefully for a few minutes, ana serve hot. STEWED I.IVEB. Take three pounds of liver, remove tbe skin, rinse in cold water, wipe dry, gash in two or three places, insert in the gashes thin strips of sweet bacon, place in a stewpan, cover with stock, or. better still, with soap left over, which will give all tbe flavor necessary. If soup should not be used, add spices and herbs to taste, with a little onion, and carrot grated. Simmer slowlr for three hours, add thicken ing of brown floor and butter, servo the liver on a hot platter and pour ovot It some of the gravy. The liver may also be boiled till tender, cut in small pieces and cooked in this same man ner. DEZJCIOUS CHICKEN STEW. Pat Into a frying pan four tablespoonfnls of freslvbntter. aud to it one minced onion and a clove of garlic; fry till bmwn. Prepare two spring chickens for cooking, cut In pieces two inches square, cook for ZU min utes, turn into a colander to drain, aud then dredge with ll'iur. Take out the onion in tbe frying pan. lay in the pieces ot chicken, and fry to a delicate brown. Strain the liquor in which tbe chickens were boiled over them; add the Juice of ono lemon, one sour apple pared and minced,one teaspoon ful of Curry1 powder, salt to taste, and one tablespoonful of flour and one tablespoonful of batter rubbed together. Hnnmer slowly fur one hour. Veal may bo substituted for chicken In this recipe. 'A-TOTRTtB WAT. Prepare one large )ken for cooking; and boil till tender: separate the meat from the bones and cnt in pieces about one inch square. Prepare two throat swset breads as follows: Boat them for one hour In cold water and oc casionally change it Then plunga tbem Into boiling water for four or five minutes, and again into cold water for 15 l minutes. v Brain on a clean towel, remove tbe skin and bloody vein v cut In pieces to correspond with, the chicken and mix with It Heat to tbe boiling point one quart of rich milk, to whicb has been added a grating ot nut meg and onion, and a dasb of cayenne. Rub together four tablespoonfals of batter and fire tablespoonfals of flour, stir into tbe boiling milk, add the chicken and street bread, salt to taste and serve with a garnish of half inch squares of toasted bread. SAVOKT BEZE STEW. An economical beef stew maybe made as fol lows: Take a cheap joint, with meat on, or about five pound of boiling beef; pat into a vessel with about four quarts of cold water. When about balf done, add one tablespooful of salt, skim carefully, cover, and let simmer till the meat is quite tender, and the stock re duced one-half. If a joint is used remove the bone, cut the meat in pieces and return lo the strained broth, with tbe following inzredienta. Six or eight potatoes cut In rounds about half an Inch thick, a boqoetof sweet herbs, a clove.of garlic, one peeled tomato, mashed, two cloves, a very small piece of mace, a little grated nutmeg, a pinch of ground allspice, a small onion minced.a slice of bacon or salt pork cut Jn small pieces, a little grated carrot, one tablespoonful of minced celery, or a pinch of eelery seed. Simmer slowly till the potato Is tender, add thickening of butter and floor, if desired, pour into tbe tureen and cover tbe top of tbe stew with croutons or In other word. small pieces of toasted bread, IEISH STEW. Trim neatly three pounds of mutton chops, plunge for a moment Into boiling water, then Into cold water. Lay them In the bottom of a pot or pan, with a little water. When tbey begin to simmer, put in one tea spoonf nl of salt Remove the scum, add herbs and season to taste. Simmer for 20 minutes, add six or eight small onions, and a tblckening of two teaspoonf als of floor and cold water mixed together. Cook slowly for one hour, add eight or ten potatoes, cut In pieces the size of tbe onions. When the potatoes are cooked, take the chops from the pot arrange neatly on a warm platter, with the onions and potatoes, add a little minced parsley to tbe gravy and strain over tbe stew. A S-A-tOUS rKEHCH STEW. Put six pounds of beef into a pot containing four quarts of water; set it near the fire and skim. When nearly boiling add a teaspoonful and a balf of salt half a pound of liver, two carrots, four turnips, eight young or two old leeks, one bead of celery, two onions (one of them fried brown), two cloves and a niece of parsnip. Skim again, and simmer four or five hours, adding a little cold water now and then: skim off part of the fat Put slices of bread into a soup-turaen, lay halt the vegetables over them, and pour in half tbe broth; serve the meat separately with tbe other balf of the vegeta bles. Serena. THE MASQTTEEADIHQ COUHTESa A -.earned Professor Looks Into the Case of Eccentric Barolta Vay. -few York Snn.l The young Hungarian Countess, Sarolta Yay, closed her mad career last January. Without money and without credit, shat tered by dissipation and disheartened by disappointment, restrained at every turn by the inflexible hand of the law, and notorious beyond any other European woman of her generation, she then took refnge in the seclusion of a friend's house in Pesth. She abjured drinking, betting and gambling, fighting, duelling and debt-making. She continued to wear trousers and cutaways, bnt ceased to woo and win young women under snch false pretenses. Her retirement cansed the revival or many reminiscences of her bizarre record in tbe high life of Vienna, Pesth, Prague. But the Countess and her family and friends kept their mouths shut so tight that only desultory bits of her history could be picked up here and there by the continental dailies. Eecently, however, Prof. Von Krafft Ebing got at the records of the Vay family, from the tenth century founder down to Countesj Sarolta, and collected from them, the ficts for a "psychological and physio logical study," which he has just published. His book is far from being as heavy and ab stract ns its title might indicate. .It con tains a wealth of raw material lor simon pure gossip in the finer drawing rooms of Emperor Franz Joseph's subjects. Countess Saiolta Vay was born in 1866, just nine years after her mother's marriage. Her father was Count Ladislas Vay. a Gen eral and Imperial Chamberlain. He had waited so long and with so great anxiety for the birth of an heir that when Sarolta came her mother feared to tell him that his first born was only a girl. With the aid of the nurse she conceded from him the sex of the child, and, as time passed, took all the necessiry precautions that occasion demanded to keep up the de ception. Sarolta went into knickerbockers and roundabouts at the age of 5, played boys' games, got the elements of a boy's ed ucation, and when 12 years of age could hunt, fish, and fence as could Ittt boys of her age. In her 14th year her father de cided to send her to a military school. To prevent this her mother was obliged to con fess all. The Count swallowed his anger and cha grin and tried at once to repair the topsy turvy condition of nis family anairs by put ting Sarolta into girl's clothes, calling her Sandor, and sendiug her to a girls' school. Sarolta refused to be transformed. She stole into her trousers and jackets whenever she got a chance and carried on such "high jinks" that ber notoriety is world-wide. DA-flEX O'CONNELLS DUEL. A Man Who Accompanied Him to the Field Dctcrlbr- tko Sleeting. In! Mr. Commissioner Phillips' "Life of Curran," there is the following anecdote connected with the celebrated duel between Mr. Daniel O'Counell and Mr. D'Esterre: "Being one of those who accompanied O'Counell, he beckoned me aside to a dUtant portion of tbe very large field, which had a slight covering of snow. 'Phillips.' said he, 'this seems to me not a personal, but a political affair. I am obnoxious to a party, a 'id they adopt a false pretense to cut me off. I shall not submit to it They have reckoned without their host, I promise you. I am one of the best shots in Ireland at a mark, having as a public man con sidered it a duty to prepare lor my own pro tection against such unprovoked.aggression as the present. Now, remctuber-whatlsay to you: I may bo struck myself slid then skill Is out of the question; but ill am not, jay autJgoni.t may have cause to regret his having lorced me into this conflict' Che parties were then placed on the ground at, I think. 12 p.ices, each having a case of pistols, with, directions to fire when they chose alter a given signal. D'Esterre rather agitated himself by making a short speech, disclaiming nil hostility to his Soman Catholic countrymen, and took his ground, somewhat theatrically crossing his pistols on his bosom. They fired almost to gether, and instantly on the signal. D'Esterre fell mortally wonuded. The greatest selfpossession was displayed by both. I deemed it a dnty to narrate these details in O'Coonell's liletime whenever I heard his courage questioned, and justice to his memory now prompts me to record them here." Countess Sarolta Yay. "IS -TEW ADYEKTI8EMEXTS. 1 MODERN SCIENCE 1 Has discovered that all diseases are caussd by ' . MICROBES, j Therefore all disoases can be cared by destroy- 3 ing these microbes, and tbe only remedy on. 4 earth, that will accomplish this without harm J to the patient is . WM. RADAM'S ' MICK0BE KILLER. It is a thorough blood purifier, a wonderful antiseptic, and containing no drug whatever, is perfectly safe. Tbe Microbe Killer Is composed ot distilled water impregnatej with powerful germ de stroying teases, whicb permeates and purifies the entire system. Send for our Book giv Ing history of Microbes and discovery of this wow dsrful medicine. Free. 7 LAIGHT STREET, New York City. E. H. WILLIAMS, (Jenl Agent, oi. xAomj ave-, Pittsburg, Pa. Ask your druggist for It Jy-7-e-s BOTTJjE Restored Lot Appe tite and cured mv Ovinensla. MBS. E. A. J enklss, 819 Car son st-Plttsbnrg, Pa. MEDICA DOCTOR WHITTIER 814 PENS AVlSNDE. PITTSBURG, PA. As old residents know and back flies of Pitts, burg papers prove, is the oldest established and most prominent physician in tbe city, de voting special attention to all chronic diseases. re-NO FEEUNTILCURED MCDni IO and mental diseases, physical 1 1 L II V U U O decay.nervous debility. lack ot energy, ambition and hope, impaired memory, disordered sight self distrust basbfulness, dizziness, sleeplessness, pimples, eruptions, im poverished blood, failing powers, organic weak ness, dyspepsia, constipation, consumption, no fitting tbe person for business, society and mar riage, permanently, safely and privately cored. BLOOD AND SKIN &'. blotches, falling hair, bones, pains, glandular; swellings, ulcerations of tongue, mouth, throat, ulcers, old sores, are cured for life, and blood poisons thoroachlr eradicated from the system. IIRIMARV kidney and bladder derange U III I v fI 1 1 ments, weak back, gravel, ca tarrhal discharges, inflammation and other painful symptoms receive searching treatment prompt relief and real cures. Dr. Wbittler's life-lone, extensive experience insures scientific and reliable treatment on common-sense principles. Consultation free. Patients ata distance as carefully treated as it here. Office hours. 9 A. M. to 8 P. M. Sunday, 10 A. 31. to I P. M. only. DK. WHITTIEE, 8li Penn avenue, Pittsburg; Pa. "jy9-12-Dsawk GRAY'S SPECIFIC MEDICINE I CURES NERVOUS DEBILITY. LOST VIGOR. LOSS OF MEMORY. TnU particulars In pjmphlat sent free. The genuine Urays bpeclUe sold by druggists only la yellow wrapper. Price, fl per pac. on til THE GRAT MEDICINE CO, Buff-Io, K. X Sold In rittibnr. bv 3. 3. HOLLAN O. corner Smith IV Id and Liberty w. mh.7-M-PWk DfTECWESfS NERVE, AND BRAIN TREATMENT) Ep-dfle for Hysteria, Dizziness, Fits, Kenr-Iei-. Wake fulness, -Cental Depression, Softening of the Brain, re fultlsg In insanity and lead tar to misery decay and deatb, Premature Old Age, Barrenness. Loss of Power In either sex. Inrolnntary Losses, end SpermatorrUcE caused by orer-exertlon ot the brain, set-abuse or OTer-lndnlgence. E-Cb box contains one montb-treatment. SI a box, or six tor 15. tent by mall prepaid. With each order for six boxes, will send purcJ-uer guarantee to refund money It the treatment f alls to ears. Guarantees issued and genuine sold only by EMILG.STUCKY, Druggist, 1701 and 2401 Penn ave.. and Corner "iVylie and Fulton st, PITISBTJKG. PA. mylSol-TTSSU xr. snt:evs ELECTRIC BELT T.TAIMS lnMENdebUUted t- K tl-a vt S50,3S'0'- .T.VSi'Trwi OU AKANTEE to CORE by this New IUT BOVXU ELECTRIC BELT or REFUND MONEY. Made for thU specinc purpose, wvre o xru jiqi --- ness. giving Freely. Mild, Soothing. Continuous Currents of Electricity through all weak puts. restoring them to HEALTH and VIUKUU STRENGTH. Electric current felt lnsuntlr, or we forfeit j,00O in cash. BELT Complete Wand up. Worst cases permanently Cored In three months. Healed pampnieis iree. ii mor dress 3ANDEN ELECTRiO CO.. 819 Broadway, New York. my-S-B-nssa oo3"i: Cotton. 3oo COMPOUND .---,-.-! "VvrNf 1?-nt TVtterw Lu3 ennyroyal a recent discovery by aa Tri nhvsicfAs. li successfuUu uted T7. e t'rT-Tlt Pr)M 1 Hw sealed. ladies, ask your druggist for Cook's Cotton Boot Compound and take no substitute, or Inclose 2 stamps for sealed particulars. Ad dress FOND LILY COMPANY, No. 3 Fisher Block. 131 'Woodward ave., Detroit, Mich. " JSTSold In PIttKbnrg. Pa by Joseph Flea Ing fc Son, Diamond and Market sts. DC-VMi,un--un PERFECT HEALTH! Richard H. Seek. Loc-port, N.Y., writes that after maay Tears' suffering from Nenrous Debility, Sleepleuaess, con stant Twitch ing of Muscles ia hands, arms and tegs, ho was restored to perfect health by four boxes of Nunra BIAMJ. " I am 8V be says,"- feel like a young Ban. 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Addreu ont,S31 Columbus Ave., Boston, -Cats. mB-7-.wruk ABOOKrcnTTI-MlLllOl. Fit sjyr wins, m rmmn.imtnii . WITH MEDICAL EL-TIMrr4' Tor all CEDlOTnaOEQAiriO aaT TtvmTB rrrsrcA era - u. .? ... b.m ..7;:Trlr'Yw.,www, THE PERU CHEMICAL CO., BIlWASUElS.,, my2-TTS3u W E A KJirai fcealtU fully restored. Varicocele eared.'sfcep Home Treatise sent free and sealed. Mt Mtor. h. s. nuns, r, jrfi m. r335 aaU H Milan" rfS3ST2teSk ts3&5S5mEBs .tiiiiliils.&.iWi, .. j j
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers