DR. TAT,MALE'S SERMON. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE! BY THE NOTED DIVINE. "Writing In Dnit" tlio Subject—A Denun clkiiot> or Hjv-» cr '*y —T,,e Injmtlc« of Condemning In Woman Sins That Are Overlooked In Man. TEXT: "Jesus stooped down and with His lingers wrote on tho ground."—John Till., 6. You must take your shoes off and put on the especial slippers provided at the door if you would enter the Mohammedan mosque, which stands now where once stood Herod's temple, the scene of my text. Solomon's temple had stood there, but Nebuchadnezzar had thundered It do.vn. Zerubbabel's temple had stood there, but had been prostrated. Now wo take our places in a tern pie that Herod built, because he was fond of great architecture, and he wanted the. preceding temples to seoin In- Significant. Tut eight or ten modern eu thedrnls together, and they would not eoual that structure. It covered nineteen acres. There were marble pillars support ing roofs of cedar, and silver tables, on which stood golden cups, and there were carvings exquisite, and inscriptions re splendent, glittering balustrades and orna mented gateways. In that stupendous pile of pomp and magnificence sat Christ, and a listening throng stood nbout Him when a wild dis turbance took place. A group of men aro pulling and pushing al(ing a woman who had committed a crime against society. When they have brought her in front of Christ, they ask that He sentenco her to death by stoning. They aro a critical, merciless, dlsiugenuous crowd. They want to get Christ into controversy and public reprehension. If He say "Let her die," they will charge Him with cruelty. If He let her go they will charge Him with being in complicity with wickedness. Which ever way He does, they would howl at Him. Then occurs a scene which has not been sufficiently regarded, Ho leaves the lounge or "bench ou which He was sitting, and goes down on one knee, or both knees, and with the forefinger of His right hand He begins to write In the dust of the floor, word after word. But they were not to be diverted or hindered. Tney kept ou de manding that He settle this case of trnim gresslon, until He looked up afid told them they might themselves begin the woman's assnssinatlon, if the complainunt who had never done anything wrong himself would open the fire. "Go ahead, but bo sure that the man who flings the llrst missile is im maculate.'' Then He resumed writing with His finger nail in the dust of the floor, word after word. Instead of looking over His shoulder to see what He had written, the scoundrels skulked away. Finally, the whole place is clear of pursuers, antag onists and plaintiffs, aud when Christ has Unlshed this strange chirogruphy in the dust He looks up and llnds the woman all alone. The prisoner is the onlvono of tbo court room left, the judges, the police, the prose cuting attorney having cleared out. Christ is victor, and lie says to the woman: "Where are the persecutors in this case? are they all gone? Then I discharge you; go and sin no more." I have wondered what Christ wrote on the ground. For do you realize that this Is the only time that He ever wrote at all? I know that Eusebius says that Christ onee wrote a letter to Abgarus, the King of Edet-so, but there is no good evidence of such a correspond ence. The wisest Being the world ever saw, and the One who had more to say than anyone whoever lived, never writing a book or a chapter or a paragraph or a word on parchment. Nothing but the lit erature of the diißt, and one sweep of a brush pr one breath of a wind obliterated it forever. Among all the rolls of the volumes of the first library founded at Thebes there was not one scroll of Christ. Among the books of tbo Alexandrian Library, which, by the infamous decree of Caliph Omar, were'used as fuel to heat the baths of the city, not one sentence had Christ penned. Among all the infinitude of volumes now stauding in the libraries of Edinburgh, tho British Mu-eum, or Berlin, or Vienna, or tho learned repositories of all nations, not one word written directly by the linger of Curist. All that He ever wrote Ho wrote in dust, uncertain, shifting dust. My text says He stooped down and wrote on the ground. Standing straight up a man might write on the ground with a staff, but if with His fingers He would write in the dust He must bend clear over. Ave, He must get at least on one knee, or He can not write on the ground. Be not surprised that He stooped down, His whole life was a stooping down. Stooping down from castle to barn. Stooping down from celestial homage to monocratlc jeer. From resi dence above the stars to where a star had to fall to designate His landing-place. From Heaven's front door to tho world'B back gate. From writing in round and silvered letters of constellation aud galaxy on the blute scroll of Heaven to writing on the ground in the dust which tho feet in the crowd had left in Herod's templo. Christ came down from tho highest Heaven to the broiling of fish for His own breakfast, on the banks of the lake. From emblazoned chariots of eternity to the saddle of a mule's back. From tho hom age cherubic, seraphic, archangellc, to the paying of sixty-two and a half cents of tax to Cicsar. From the deathless country to n tomb built to hide human dissolution. The uplifted wave of Oalilee was high, but He had to come down before, with His feet, He could touch It, and the whirlwind that arose above the billow was higher yet, but He had to come down before with His lip » He could kiss it into quiet. Bethlehem a stooping down. Nazareth a stooping down. Death between two burglars a stooping down. Yes, it was iu consonance with humiliations that went before and self abnegations that came after, when ou that memorable day in Herod's temple He Btooped down and wrote on the ground. Whether the words He was writing were in Greek or Latin or Hebrew, I cannot say, for He knew all those languages. But He is still stooping down, aud with His finger writing on the ground; in tho winter in letters of crystals, in the spring in letters of flowers, in summer in golden letters ot harvest, In autumn in letters of fire or fall en leaves. How it would sweeten up aud enrich and emblazon this world, could we see Christ's caligraphy all over it. This * world was not fiungout into s-pace thou sands of years ago, and then left to look out for itself. It is still under the Divine care. CLrist never for a half second takes His hand oft of It, or it would soon be a ship wrecked world, a defunct world, au obso lete world, an abandoned world, a dead * world. "Let there be light," was said at the beginning. And Christ stands under the wintry skies and says, let there be snow flakes to enrich the earth; and under tho clouds of spring and says, come ye blos soms and make redolent the orchards; and In September, dips the branches in the vat ol' beautiful colors, aud swings them into ! ttie hazy air. No whim of mine is this. {'Without Him was not anything made that was made." Christ writing on the ground. flf you l could see His hand in all the pass ing satisons, how it would illumine the world? All vfrdure and foliage would be allegoric, and again we wijuld hear Him eay, as of old, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;" and we would not j hear the whistle of a quail or the cawing of « raven or tho roundelay of a browu •'•~wher, without saying, "Behold the fowls they gather not in bnrns, yet Aly Father feedeth them;" and /hen of tho barnyard could not 't her brood, but we would hear i saying, as of old, "How often would Ve gathered thy children together, even . bee gathereth her chickens under her igs;" and through the redolent hedges would hear Christ saying, "I am the i of Sharon;" we could -.ot dip the sea ag from the salt-oellar without think- I kig of the dtrine suggestion, "Ye are the Halt of the earth, but it the salt hath lost its sAVor, it is fit for nothing but to be cast out and trodden underfoot of men." But when Christ stooped down and wrote on the ground, what did He write? The Pharisees did not stop to examine. The cowards, whipped of their own eon sciences, fled pell mell. Nothing will flay a man like an aroused conscience. Dr. Stevens, in his "History of Methodism," says that when the Rev. Benjamin Abbott, of olden times, was preaching, he ex claimed: "For aught I know there may be a murderer In this house,"and a man rose from the assemblage and started for the door and bawled aloud, confessing to a murder he had committed fifteen years before. And no wonder these Pharisees, reminded of their sins, took to their heels. But what did Christ write on the ground? Tho Bible does not state. Yet as Christ never wrote anything except that once you cannot blame us for wanting to know what He really did write. But I am cer tain He wrote nothing trivial or nothing unimportant. And will you allow me to say that I think I know what He wrote on the ground? I judge from the circum stances. He might have written other things, but kneeling there in the Temple, surrounded by o pack of hypocrites who were a solf-appointed constabulary, and having in its presenoe a persecuted woman, who evidently was very penitent for her sins, I am sure He wrote two words, both of them graphic and tremendous and re verberating. And the one word was "hypocrisy" and tho other word was "for giveness." Yes, I think that one word written on the ground that dav by the flnger of Christ was the awful word hypocrisy. What pretensions to sanctity are the part of those hypocritical Pharisees! When the fox begins to pray look out for your chick ens. One of the cruel magnates of olden times was going tO'excommunicate one of the martyrs, and he began In the usual form—"ln the name of God, Amen." "Stop!" says tho martyr, "don't say 'Jn the name of Godl' " Yet how many outrages are practiced under the garb of religion and sanctity! When in synods and con ferences, ministers of the Gospel are about to say something unbrotherly and un kind about a member, they almost always begin by being ostentatiously pious, tho venom of their assault corresponding to tho heavenly flavor of the prelude. About to devour a reputation they say grace before meat. But I am sure there was another word in that dust. From her entire manner I am sure that arraigned woman was re pentant. She made no apology, and Christ in nowise belittled her sin. But her sup plicatory behavior and her tears moved Him, and when Ho stooped down to write on the ground He wrote that mighty, that Imperial word, forgiveness. When on Siuai God wroto the law, Ho wrote it with linger of lightning on tables of stone, each word cut as by a chisel into the hunt granite surface. But when He writes tho offence of this woman He writes it in dust so that it can be easily rubbed out, and when she repents of it—oh, He was a merciful Christ! I was reading of a legend that is told In the far East about Him. He was walking through the streets of a city and He saw a crowd around a dead dog. And one man said: "What o loath some object is that dog!" "Yes," said an other, "his ears are mauled and bleeding." "Yes," said another, "even his hide would not be of any use to the tanner." "Yes," said another, "the odor of his carcass is dreadful." Then Christ, standing thero, said: "But pearls cannot equal the white ness of his teeth." Then tho people, moved by the Idea that anyono could find any thing pleasant concerning the doad dog, said: "Why, this must be Jesus of Naza reth!" Beprove.d and convicted, they went away. But while I speak of Christ of the text. His stooping down writing in tho dust, do not think I underrate the literature of the dust. It is the most tremendous of all literature. It is the grandest of all libra ries. When Layard exhumod Nineveh ho was only opening the door of its mighty dust. The excavations of Pompeii have only been tho unclasping of the lids of a nation's dust. Ohl this mighty literature of the dust: Where tire the remains of Sennacherib and Attila and Epaminondas and Tamerlane and Trajan and Philip of Macedon and Julius Cresar? Dust! Where ore the guests who danced the floors of the Alhrtm bfa or the Persian palaces of Ahasuerus? Dust! Where nre the musicians who played, or the orators who spoke, and the tculptors who cbisled, and the architects who built, in all the centuries except our own? Dust! Where are the most of the books that once entranced the world? Dust! Pliny wroto twenty books of his tory; all lost. The most of Menr.nder's writings lost. 1 Of one hundred and thirty comedies of rinutus, till gone but twenty. Euripides wrote a hundred drnruas, all gone but ninetoen. Esohylus wrote a hun dred dramas, all gone but seven. Quln tllian wrote his favorite book on the cor ruption at eloquence, all lost. Thirty books of Tacitus lost. Dion Cassius wrote eighty books, only twenty remain. Bero sius's history all lost. Where thero is one living book there are a thousand dead books. Oh! this mighty literature of the dust. It is.not so wonderful, aftor all, that Christ cnose, instead of an inkstand, the impres sionable sand on the floor of an ancient temple, and. Instead of a hard pen, put forth His forefinger, with the same kind of nerve and muscle and bone and flesh as that which makes up our own forefinger, and wrote tho awful 4 00111 of hypocrisy, and full and complete forgiveness for re pentant sinners, even the worst. We talk about the ocean of Christ's mercy. Put four ships upon that ocean and lefr them sail out in opposite directions for a thou sand years, and see if thoy can And the share of the ocean of the divine mercy. Let them sail to the north and the south and tho east and tho west, and then after the thousand years of vogage let them eome back and they will report "No shore, no shore to the ocean of Uod's mercy!" And now I can believe that which I read, how that a mother kept burning a candle In tho window every night for ten years, and one< night, very late, a poor waif on the street entered. The aged woman said to her, "Sit down by the fire," and the stranger said. "Why do you keep that light In the window?" The aged woman said, "That Id to light my wayward daughter when she returns. Since she went away, ten years ago, my hair has turned white. Folks blame me for worrying about her, but you see I am her mother, and sometimes, half a dozen times a night, I open tho door and look out into the darkness and cry, 'Liz zie! 'Lizzie!' But I must not tell you any mioro about my trouble, for I guess, from the way you cry, you havo trouble enough of your own. Why, how cold and sick you seem! Oh, my! can it be? Yes, you are Lizzie, iny own lost child! ThankGodthat you are home again!" And what a time of rejoicing there was In that house that night. And Christ again stooped down, and in the ashes of that hearth, now lighted up, not more by the great blazing logs than by the joy of a reunited household, wrote the same liberating words that had been written more than eighteen hundred year 3 ago in the dust of the" Jerusalem temple. Forgiveness! A word broad enough and high enough to let pass through it all the armies of Heaven, a million abreast, on white horses, nostril to nostril, flank to llank. Relief Needed In Spain. Countess de Casa Valencia, wife of the former Spanish Ambassador to Great Britain, appeals through the London papers for contributions to her fund for the Spanish sick and wounded. She says: "There are mauy thousands lying In hospitals at San Sebastian, Las Palmae, Santiago de Cuba and Guantnnamo without bandages or Unt or even beds to sleep upon, owing to inade quate funds. And there are many widows and orphans who are in most argent need of relief." A TEMPERANCE COLUMN. THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST IN MANY WAYS. Happy Home., a Dlalogne—A Clitef Exe cutive of the "Land of Steady Habits" Givea Hla Reason For Being a Total Abstainer—The Force of Example. (Dialogue for Two Girls.) First Girl. Oh, how happy is the homestead Whore temperance fairy dwells! All is peaceful and harmonious As the chime of evening bells; But where drink doth bind its victims, In a cruel deadly chain, There is there is sorrow, There is trouble, fear and pain. Second Girl. There the little children tremble, And the tiny feet are bare; Every day there hangs the shadow Of au ever-present care. But the temperance home is gladsome As the days of golden spring. For abstaining means rejoicing, And the pledge doth blessing bring. First Girl. When the wnges at the tavern All for fiery drops are spent, On the home there cometh darkness, Nouirht is known of sweet content. Wife and little ones are starving, Illness, weakness, need increase— While the hard-earned wage is wasted For the drink that endeth peace. Second Girl. But when all are pledged abstainers, Happy is the home and bright; Shadows fade away and vanish In the dawn of fairest licrht. In the cupboard there is plenty, Flow'rets wreathe the garden gay, And the little ones am smiling, All is merry as the May! First Girl. Oh, that drink may never darken "Homo, sweet home," we love so well. Hay the shining temperanee fairy In our midst forever dwell I Second Girl. May our homes be homes of temepranoo, Witnessing to one and all Blessings, beauty, joy and brightness— All good gifts to temperance (all. Both. Drink we will refuse forever, And wher'er our steps may roam. We'll resolve through all life's ehang«9, Ours shall be a temperance home! One and all be firm abstainers, lieop fhe darksome cloud away; Let your homes be bright with temperance Free from hariaful drink for aye! —Temperance Record. General Sheridan and Hla Son. Two grave, quiet-looking men stood or the steps of a big house in Washlngtor seme years ago. They were watchinp four bright children get into a cart an touch, nor handle, nor countenance, ther my example will not lead others to becomi drunkards." How They Do It in Manitoba. "They have a very effective way of put ting the brakes on inebriates up in Maui toba," writes a correspondent. "When 0 man has been convicted twice or thrice o drutkenness in the local police courts, hf Is sentenced to wear a brass collar, whict is a plain tip to saloon-keepers that he a person to whom it is forbidden to sell anj intoxicating beverages. No man with this badge of disgrace can get a drink nny where, for the law Is strictly respected. Thf result is that in many cases an entire cure is effected in the individual. Whenever th< authorities think that the collar penalt} has been endured long enough the collai comes off, and the citizen is at liberty tc get a drink."—Scottish Reformer. Shaft! Aimed at the Ruin Evil. If a man will only think he Is less likely to drink. It is in the distillery that the devil finds his best artillery. A man should have too much rospect for himself and family to be seen In a grog shop. H?w many drunkards would there be to dav if there had never been moderate drinkers. The wine drinker of to-day Is In great danger of becoming the whisky drinker ol to-morrow. Llqnor drinking never added to the'trua happiness of a single family. It wise, (therefore, never to drink_ljquor._ • •- Animal and Brain Power. Tn individuals of the same species pxtremes in size do bear some relation to mental power, usually as coincident tvitli deficiency. Very large dogs, ■melt ob tli n Great Dane, the St. Ber nard fnf tbe show bench), and the mastiff, are «eldom as intelligent as Miove of medium size, even when con stantly in their owners' company. It is po'iible that the "Landseer" New foundland is as intelligent as it is courageous in aquatic feats, but re corded instances are wanting. So also "dwarfed" dogs, ths little crea tures bred to bo carried in muffs, or as fancy pets, are often stunted in mind as well as in body. But thia does not. applvto Rome of the natural- Iv small breeds; the Blenheim span iels beincr, as might be expected from their cranial development and .expression, among the most intelligent if doers—far brighter, for instance, titan the heavy Clumber spaniels, which weigh seventy pounds. A little .Tersev or Kerry cow has nfteu twice the wits of a large Short horn nr Hereford. But this is doubt loss because both the Jerseys and Kerries have been in more intimate relations with men. and have been kept as pets anil family friends for rei-y many generations—for how many nuy one mav judge who buys :he annual reports and nedigree lists jontained in"The Jersey Herd Rook." In the same way, ponies are -ommonlv said to be "cleverer" than horses. This is mainly because, ow !nc to their smaller size, they are in laily use in pet-'y domestic work, and «o are in eonstaut contact with human beings.—The London Spectator. Opinion of Ui. The admiration and interest mani fested in the destruction of Admiral Cervera's fleet are indescribable. Our naval officers look upon it as a splen did achievement, reflecting inexpres sible credit on the officers and men of rhe blockading squadron. Such is the crushing disparity between the naval capacity of the two nations that it is believed that if the Spanish fleet had been manned and fought by American officers and crews, and Ad miral Sampson's squadron led by Ad miral Cervera and his officers and men, the loss of life on the American side might perhaps have been greater, but the result would have been the same. If proof were needed it is sup plied by the gallant action of the Gloucester, commanded by Lieuten ant Wainwright. Wainwright's fail ure to observe his Admiral's signal is Xelsonic. The opinion of the pro fessional experts coincides with that of hard-worked lieutenants of the Channel squadron. It is that the American navy, both as regards per sonnel and material, is now as near perfection as skill, courage, practice and discipline can attain, and is quite as good as the best in tbe world.— London Letter to Harpor's Weekly. A new kind of cloth is being made in Lyons, France, from the down of hens, ducks and geese. 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