POSTPONED. [Anyone at all familiar with farm life knows that When the old dog beoomes blind, toothless nnd helpless, it is the sad but humane duty of the farmer to put an end to his sufferings; It is generally done by taking him off to the woods and shooting him. Al though the new dog quickly wins bis place In our affeotions.the old is not sooa forgotten, and more than one story begins: "You remember how old ride."] tome along, old ohap. yer time's 'bout up, We'll travel along at an easy Jog— We got another brinale pup; Course, you don't know, beln only a dog; I 'lows its tough an' mighty hard, But I can mind when you wuz sprier, But a toothless dog's no good on guard, ' Wakin' us up when the barn caught Are— So trot along right after me, Jt don't seem possible, yet I know An' I'll put yeh out o' yer misery. That wuz close onto fllteen year ago. Now," quit yer waggin' that stumpy tail— My, but yer hair wuz long and thick lite ain't a-goin' ferraj>bit er quail; . Wtien yeh pulled littlo Sally out o' thecrlok, 'Sldeft, you couldn't pint a bird no more, An' it came in handy that night In the storm, Yer old an' blind an' stiff an' sore, AVe ooddled to keep each other warm. An' that's why I loaded the gun today— Furty good dog, I'll admit—but, say, Yer a-gittin' cross an' in the way. What's the use o talkln', yeh had yer day. J been thinkin' it over; 'taln't no fun. I'm hopln' the children won't hear the crack, I don't like to do it. but it's got to be done; Er what'll I say when I git ba^k? Got sort of a notion, you know, too, They'd be askin' questions.l know their talk, The kind of a job we re goin' to do, An' I'd have to lie 'bout a chicken hawk; Else why would yeh hang back that-n-way? But the sound won't carrybeyond this hill; Yeh ain't ez young ez yeh once wuz, hey! Ail done in a minute—don't bark,stand still. Frisky dog in them days, I note. There,that'll do; steady,quit liekin' my hand. When yeh nailed the sneak thief by the What's wrong with this gun, 1 cun't under throat; stand; Can't do that now, an' there ain't no I'm jest ez shaky ez I can be— need Must be the agey's the matter with me. A-keepin' a dog that don't earn his feed. An' that .stitch In the back—what! gitten' old, So yeh got to make way for the brindle too? pup ; The—dinner—bell's—ringin' —fer—mo—an' Como along,old chap, yer time's 'bout up. you. —Charles E. Baer, in Philadelphia Press. I 7MHRST~\SSIGNMENT. ] « t| ? Tragic-Comic Experience of a Woman Reporter. frwvvvvvvvv vvvv vvwwwvv^ She had just come—"out of the back woods"—they told her when she mentioned the place. Of course she did not call it"the back woods." She spoke of it reverently by the tender name of "home," and usually there ■were tears in her eyes when she men tioned it. But no matter; it was not New York, therefore it was"the back •woods," they told her when sha asked for work. "What can you do?" asked the first editor, and he did not take the trouble to look up or to stop the pencil that •was scrawling over the paper in front of him. "Anything you would give a woman to do," she answered. "Nothing," he said. "Good morning,"she said. "Good morning," he said,surprised into looking up by her prompt depart ure, but she was gone. "Bring any stuff?" asked the next one. He was too busy to waste words. Sho handed him the little flat manu script silently. He fingered it a second. "I don't want it,"he said. "Thank you. Good afternoon," she j said. "G'd afternoon," he said. For the next she had to mount to j the eleventh story, and she looked I dubiously at the sign in the little I ante room: "We do not undertake to j preserve or return unsolicited manu- j script." But when thee litor came out he j looked at her really as if he saw her. j "I'm awfully sorry," he said, "but i just now there isn't a thing in sight, j Let me have your address, and if I hear of anything I'll be glad to give it | to yon." Of course she knew what that meant, | but still she was grateful for the cour- | tesy. In her part of"the back woods" peojjle had time to be courteous, and this man left a pleasant memory that 1 made her almost hopeful of the next. "What you want to do," the next j one said, and he was very nice about ; it, "is to get a place on a magazine; i I wouldn't advise you togo in-for , newspaper work. What you want is a magazine." "Whatl want, yes," she said, smil ing, "but probably not what I can get" He smiled, to.), very pleasantly,but still he did not quite like her correct- ' ing his grammar. The next chanced i to be rosy and round and bald. He j was reading a note when she went in, ! and he held it in his hand while she talked. Presently it reminded him of something. "Why, the very thing," he said, briskly. "Here's a note from my j wife. .Tust reading it when you came i in. Quite a coincidence,surely. Yo.i see, my wife has a friend who's a —er —literary lad/, gives talks, lectures, or some such things. Now, this—er —literary lady is going over into Jer sey, to Orange, in fact, to give a talk before a club there, the Ultra Matrons, you know, and my wife wants me to send somebody over to report it. But, of course, 1 couldn't do that, you know." He looked up over hi 3 glasses as if he needed confirmation,doubtless because he was defying his wifely in structions, so she mildly said: "No." "Of course not," he went on,having taken heart of grace from her approv al. "Of course I can't send anybody out of the office for that, but my wife says—," he hesitated a moment, theu broke off with: "Now,how would you like to run over and do this lecture for us? Not much in it for you, of course; we couldn't use more than a stick at the outside; but better start at that than at nothing. It's the open ing wedge you waut, you know. What do you say? Let's see; round trip ticket to Orange would cost yon 50 cents; both ways on the elevated, ten; that's UO. Not much in it for you. What say? Will you do it, or not?" "I'll do it, thank you," she said. "That's good," he said, folding up the note in a relieved sort of May. "Thank you. I'll tell my wife." ".See here," he said, as she was leaving, "better take this card and call for the literary lady in the morn ing and go down with her. She'll put you through." She thought he looked like a cherub; she lived to learn he was a prophet. Hhe took the card, had herself awak ened early the next morning and called for the literary lady at the hour ap pointed. She wasn't up; call again, the boy brought back the message. She called again. Literary lady had de cided not togo so ear y; call again. She called again. Literary lady was dressing; would bs down. She waited. Literary lady came by and by in a great rush. "So glad you are going with me," she said, and then raced her to the el evated station till both were fairly out of breath. They regained it,however, on the way down to Christopher street aud started on a fresh race to the ferry. The gate was closed, so the literary lady walked up and down im patieutly and finally bought a paper at the newsstand just as the gate opened. When they had found seats on the boat she unfolded the paper and turned to the woman's page. The fir>t thing that caught her eye was her own name. "I see I'm to lecture before the Ultras," she said, smiling. "Good gracious!" she broke off suddenly. "What is it?" "Why, gracious me," said the liter ary lady, "the notice says there will be a reception after the lecture, and look at this gown! That's what they meant when they kept telling me to dress up! A reception in this thing!" It was only a plain tailor gown. "Gracious! I wonder if they told me and I forgot?" The young woman felt quite sure she had forgot,but she didn't dare say so. "What would you do?" asked the literary lady. "What can you do?" asked the girl. "Nothing," said the literary lady. "Then I'd try not to care," said the girl, philosophically. The literary lady evidently tried not to care, but she failed, and her face bore a careworn look. When they were seated on the train the girl thought she had forgotten, but she had not. "I'll tell von," said the literary lady, grabbing her arm, "I am sorry to trouble-you.but I'll have to get you togo back for my gown. I simply can't attend an Ultra reception in this. I know I forgot. But you must go back and take a later train over, the next if you can. My satin skirt is in the bottom bureau drawer; the waist is in my trunk; it isn't locked. Hurry, you must get It for me. The train was beginning to move, but she followed the girl to tlie rear platform and called to her as she jumped off: "My room is second to the left on the third floor." The girl was almost convulsed with laughter at the humor of the situation. She caught the ferryboat back,but had to wait at Fifty-ninth street for a Sixth avenue elevated. When she got to the house she pushed the bell fran tically, but got no response. Once, twice, thrice again, but still no an swer. Moments were precions. Final ly some ladies opened the door aud went out. The girl seized the oppor tunity and went in. There was no ouo in sight. She went upstairs and to the second room on the left, third floor. She knocked dubiously, not knowing whom or what she should find. No response. She opened the door aud entered. Books and papers eveiywha-e; evideutly this was the literary lady's room. She found the satin skirt in the drawer without any trouble, but had to light the gas to look in the trunk. Beside, there were two trunks, aud there was no way of knowing which. Suddenly it occurred to her the possibility that someone might come in, discover her prowling and mistake her for a thief. There was not a person in the house who knew her. She rang the bell, meaning to explain to the maid. Theu the im possibility of being able to explain to a maid who had never seen her sug gested itself, aud she locked the door. That veiyact made her feel like a thief, aud she crept about stealthily, fearful half lest the maid should not come, half lest she should. She waited breathlessly; no one came. After much searching she found the waist and made up the package in a newspaper. There was not a bit of string anywhere, so she snipped off the curtain cord aud tied it up. Now, the question of making an exit was an important one. Surely she could not get away with that bip bundle without being seen, but get away she must. It suddenly came to her that she might be mistaken either for a laundress 01 a sewing woman, and in that hope she opened the door, but in spite of her self she could not keep from feeling guilty and trying to steal out noise lessly. When she got to the door il seemed as if she could not get it open, and when the outer one slammed tc noisily behind her she thought surely discovery was at hand, and she could not restrain herself from running down the steps and,indeed, to the ele vated station at the corner. If a voice had by any chance cried "Stop,thief," she would have collapsed. She even glanced furtively around at the people on the car. What if that harmless looking little man in the corner should turn out to be a detective? Really she conld not compose herself. For one thing her bundle was too big, and for another she feared she would miss her train. When she got off the ele vated she looked behind to see if tha little man in the corner was following her. She bought a ticket to cross the ferry and asked the time of the nest train to Orange. "Do you want a ticket to Orange?" the man at the window asked. "No, I have one," she said. "Then why don't you cross the ferry on it?" he asked. She felt that he suspected her and snatched her bundle and ran. When at last she was seated on the train, with the big bundle in her lap, feeling fairly comfortable for the first time, her eyes fell to scanning the newspaper that inclosed the precious gown. Suddenly they were caught by the notice of the lecture. Heavens! It was to be at 2.80, and she was then on the 1.30 train. She had never been to Orange before; she knew no one; she had no idea where the liter ary lady was to be founl. If she was not at the station to meet her, all was lost. She looked out eagerly when tho conductor called her station, but the literary lady was not to be seen. She struggled across the platform with her bundle. "Drive mo to—the club," she said desperately to the cabman who came to her assistance. "What club?" he asked. "The Ultras," she said. "Oh, the hall," he aswered.and sho thought she was saved. She pictured vaguely the consterna tion she would create by bursting into the hall in the midst of the lecture possibly, but b} - this time she was physically exhausted and mentally blank. She paid the cabman intuitive ly and had started up the stairway be fore which he had stopped when she thought she heard voices calling and a heavy step running toward her. At last she was pursued. But save the gown she must and would. Spring ing up the stairway she burst open the door into the hall. The platform was empty, but there was a noisy hum of expectancy running through tho crowd. At first she heard nothing distinctly. Then a heavy hand was laid on her shoulder, and a voice be hind her said: - . "Give,me your bundle, miss." She looked up at the blue coated policeman, who had come up behind, and fell in a faint at his feet. When she revived sho was lying on a nig in a little white plastered room. The window was open, tho cold snow-laden air from without was blowing on her, and a sweet-faced, gentle woman was bending over her, holding a bottle of smelling salts to her nose. "Are you the matron?" she asked, feebly. "The what?" asked the woman. "The matron?" "No." She waited a moment. "Theu were you putin, toor" she said. "In what':" the woman asked. "In prison," she said, shudderi ig. "Why, this isn't a prison, child," the womr.n s iid with a smile. "Why did you think you were in prison, pray?" "For stealing that gown," said the girl. "Why, you didn't steal the gown, did you?" And the woman burst out laughing. "Xo, but I thought they thought I had, and the policeman arrested me." "How very funny," the woman said, still laughing. "Why, he was only getting tho gown to take to the liter ary lady, who was waiting at tho mil liner's across the way to put it on. She saw you come and got him to run after you. But how very funny." "But where's the gown now?" the girl asked. "Why, the lady has it on and is speaking away; don't you hear her?" "Then for heaven's sake let me get out and report her," said the girl, struggling to her feet. "Not before you've had this cup of chocolate and a sandwich," the womuu said, putting them before her. "I am hungry," she said. "Of course you are; that' 3 why you fainted." When she weut out by and by aud saw the literary lady in all her glory "arrayed like one of these," she felt repaid for her excitement over the gown. That night Wuen she got back to town she took in her "stick" to the office, and credit for that amount was duly given her on the books. But somehow one of the me.i in the off.ee had gotten bold of the adventure, so he mado a full column story about it, with a picture of her with her big bundle just as she fell at the police man's feet. So, to put it mildly, her fortune was made. Philadelphia Times. A Very Funny Sight. "I love to make visits in the morn ing." "Do you?" "Yes; all the other women are busy cleaning house, and it is so funny to Fee them try to act glad to see me."— -Detroit Frea Press. DE. TALMAGE'S SERMON. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE Br THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: Buyers and Selleri-Sovel Vlew» on the Muglness Life—lllgli Compli ment to Commercial Integrity—Trick ery in 'trade Denounced. [Copyright, Louis Klopseb, 18911.1 Washington, D. C.—lntegrity and trick ery in business life form the subject of Dr. Talmage's sermon, and tho contrast he establishes between the two is a striking one. The text is Proverbs xx., 14: "It is caught, it is naught, saith tho buyer, but when ho is gone his way then he boasteth." Palaces are not such prisons as tho world imagines. If you think that the only time kings and queens conie forth from tho royal gutss is in procession and gorgeously at tended, you are mistaken. Incognito by day or by night and clothed in citizen's ap parel or the dress of a working woman, they come out and see the world as it is. In no other way could King Solomon, the nuthor of my text, have known everything that was going on. From my text I am sure he must, in disguise, some day have walked into a store of ready made clothing in Jeru salem and stood near tho counter and heard a conversation between a buyer and a sell er. Tho merchant put a price on a coat, and the customer began to dicker and said: "Absurd! That coat is not worth what you ask for it. Why, just look at the coarse ness of the fabric! See that spot on tho collar! Besides thut, it does not fit. Twenty dollars for that? Why, It is not worth more than 6io. They have a better article than thet for lower price down at Clothem, Fitem & Bros. Besides that, I don't want it at any price. Good morn ing." "Hold!" .••ays the merchaut. "Do not go oft in that way. I want to sell you that eoat. I have some payments to make, and I want tho money. Come, now, how much will you give fortbat coat?" "Well," savs the customer, "I will split tho differ ence. You askod £2O, and I.said6lo. Now, I wiil give you €15." "Well," says the merchant, "it is a great saeriilco, but take it at that price." Then the customer with a roll 'under his arm started togo out and enter his own place of business, and Solomon In disguise followed him. He heard tho customer as he unrolled the coat say: "Boys, I have made a great bargain. How much do you guess I gave for that coat?" "Well," says one, wishing to compliment his enterprise "you gave S3'J for It." Another says,"l should think you got it cheap if yon gave £25." "No," says the buyer in triumph, "I got it for £ls. I beat him down and pointed out the imperfections until I really made him believe it was not worth hardly anything. It takes me to makn a bargain. Ha, ha!" Oh, man you got the goods for less than they were worth by 1 ositlve falsehood, and no wonder, when Solomon went back to his palace and had put off his disguise, that he sat down at his writing desk and made for all ages a crayon sketch of you, "It is naught.it is naught, saith the buyer, but when he is gono his way then he boasteth." There are no li'gher styles of men in all the world than those now at the head of mercantile enterprises in the great cities of this continent. Their casual promise is as good as a bond with piles of collaterals. Their reputation for integrity is as well es tablished as that of Petrarch residing in the family of Cardinal Colonna. It is re lated that when there was great disturb ance in the family the cardinal called all his people together and put them under oath to tell the truth except Petrarch; when he came up to swear, theeardljal put away his book and said, "As for you, Petrarch, your word is sufficient." Never since the world stood have there been so many merchants whose transactions can stand the test of the Ten Commandments. Such bargain makers are all tho more to be honored, because they have withstood year after year temptations which have flung so rnauy tla: and flung them so hard they can never, never recover themselves. While all positions In lite have powerful besetments to evil there are specillc forms of allurement which are peculiar to each occupation und profession, and it will be useful to speak of the peculiar temptations of business men. First, as In the scene of tho text, business men are often tempted to sacrifice plain truth, the seller by exaggerating the value of goods and the buyer by depreciating them. We cannot but admire an expert salesman. See how he first Induces the customer into n mood favorable to the proper consideration of the value of the goods. He shows himself to be an ho: est and frank salesman. How carefully the lights are arranged till they fall just right upon the fabric! Beginning with goods of medium quality, he gradually advances toward thoso ol more thorough make and of more attractive pattern. How he watches the moods and whims of bis cus tomer! With what perfect calmness he takes the order and bows the purchaser from his presence, who goes away, having mado up his mind that ho has bought tho goods at a price which will allow him a living rnnrgin when he again sells them. The goods were worth what the salesman said they were and were sold nt a price which will not make it necessary lor the house to fail every ten years in order to llx up things. But with what burning indignation we think of the iniquitous strategoms by which goods are sometimes disposed of. A glance at the morning papers shows the arrival at one of our hotels of a young merchant from one of the inland "cities. He is a comparative stranger in tho great city, and, of course, he must bo shown around, and It will be the duty of somo of our enterprising houses to escort him. Ho is a largo purchaser and lias plenty of time and money, and it will pay to bo" very at tentive. The evening is spent at a place of doubtful amusement. Then they go back to the hctel. Having just come to town they must, of course, drink. A friend from the samemercantlle estab lishment drops in.and usage and generos ity suggest that they must drink. Busi ness prospects are talked over, and the stranger is warned against certain dilapi dated mercantile establishments that are about to fall, and for such kindness and magnanimity of caution against the dis honesty of other business houses of course it is expected they will—and so they do— take avdrlnk. Other merchants lo Iglngln adjoining rooms find it hard to sleep for the clatter of decanters, and tho coarse cnrousal of these "hail fellows well met" waxes louder. But they sit not all night at the wine cup. Thev must see the sights. They stagger forth with cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot. Tho outer gates cf lioll open to let in the v ctims. Tho wings of lost souls flit among the lights, anil the steps of the carousers souud with tho rum bling thunders of tlie lost. Farewell to ail the sanctities of home! Could mother, sister, father, slumbering iu the Inland home, in some vision of that uiglit catch a glimpse of the ruin wrought they would rend out their hair by the roots and bite the tongue till tho blood spurted, shriek ing out, "God save him!" What, suppose you, will come upon such busiuess establishments? Aud there are hundred* of them in the cities. They may boast of fubulous sales, and they may have an unprecedented run of buyers, and the name of the house may bo a terror to all rivals, and from thl3 thrifty root there may spring up branch housos in other cities, ana all tln» partners of the firm may move Into their mansions and drive their full blooded span, and the families may sweep the street with the most elegnnt apparel that human art ever wove or earthly uiagnlllcence ever achieved. But a curse is gatheriug surely for those men, and If It does not seize hold of the pillars and in one wild ruin bring down the temple of commercial glory it will break up their peace, and they will tremble with sickness and bloat with dissi pations, and, pushed to the precipice of this life, they will try to hold back nnd cry (or help, but 119 help will copie, and they will clutch tlielr gold lo take it along v/itb them, but It will bo snatched from their grasp, and a voice will sound through their soul, "Not a farthing, thou beggared spirit!" And the judgment will come, an l they will stand aghast before it, and all «tho business iniquities of a lifetime will gather around them, saying, "Do you remember this?" and "Do you remember that?" And clerks that they compelled to dishonesty and runners and draymen and bookkeepers who saw behind the scenes will bear testi mony to their nefarious deeds, and Rome virtuous soul that once stood aghast nt tho splendor and power of these business men will say, "Alas, this Is all that is left of th it great firm that occupied a block with their merchandise and overshadowed the city with their Influence and made right eousness and truth and purity fail under the galling-lire of avarice apd crime." While we admlro and approve of all acuteness and tact in the sale of goods wo must condemn any prcoess by which a fabric or Moduct Is represented as pos sessing a \™luo whicli it really does not have. Nothing but sheer falsehood can represent as perfection boots that rip, silks that speedily lose their luster, cali coes that immediately wash out, stoves that crack under tho flrst hot lire, books insecurely bound, carpets that unravel, old furnituro rejuvenated with putty and glue and sold as having been recently manufactured, gold watches made out of brass, barrels of fruit, the biggest apples on top, wine adulterated witli strychnine, hosiory poorly woven, cloths of domestic manufacture shining with foreign labels, imported goods represented as rare and hard to get because foreign exchacgo is so high rolled out on the counter with matchless display. Imported, indeed! but from the factory in the next street. A pattern already unfashionable and un salable palmed off as a new print upon some country merchant who lms come to town to make his first purchase of dry goods and goiug home witli a large stock of goods warranted to keep. Again, business men are often tempted to make the habits and customs of other traders their law of rectitude. There are commercial usages which will not stand the test of the last day. Yet men In busi ness are apt to do as their neighbors do. If tho majority of the traders in any local ity are lax In principal, the commercial code in that community will bo spurious and dishonest. It is a hard thing to stand close by tho law of right when vour next door neighbor by his looseness of dealing is enabled to sell goods at a cheaper rate and decoy your customers. Of course, you who promptly meet all your business en gagements, paying when you promise to pay, will And it hard to compete with that merchant who is hopelessly in debt to the importer for the goods and to the landlord whose store he occupies and to the clerks who servo him. There are a hundred practices prevalent in tho world of traffic which ought never to become the rule for honest men. Their wrong does not make your right. Sin never bocomes virtue by being multiplied and admitted at brokers' board or mer chants' exchange. Because otheis smuggle a few things in passenger trunks, Oec.iuso others take usury when men are in tight places, because others palm off worthless indorsements, because others do nothing but blow bubbles, do uot, therefore, be overcome of temptation. Hollow preten sion and fictitious credit and commercial gambling may awhile prosper, but the day of reckoning cometh, and In addition to the horror aud condemnation of outraged communities tho eurso of God will come blow for blow. God's law forever nu 1 for ever is the only standard of right and wrong and not commercial ethics. Young business inan, avoid the ilrst busi ness dishonor, and you will avoid all the rest. The captain of a vessel was walking near the mouth of a river wheu the tide was low, i'nd there was a long stout anchor chain, into on"of the great link 3 ol which ills foot slipped, and it began to swell, and he could not withdraw it. The tide began to rise. The chain could not be loosened nor tiled off In time, and a surgeon was called to amputate the limb, but before the work could be done the tide rolled over the victim, aud his Ufa was gone. I have to tell you. voung man, that just une wrong into which you may slip may be a link of a long chain "of circumstances from which you cannot oe extricated by any ingenuity of your own or any help from others, and tho tides will roll over you as they have over many. Again, business men arc sometimes tempted to throw off personal responsi bility, shifting it to tho institution to which they belong. Directors in banks aud railroad aud insurance companies sometimes shirk personal responsibility underneath tho action of the corporation. And how often, when somo banking houso or financial institution explodes through fraud respectable men in the bonr t of directors say, "Why, I thought all was going on in dn honest way, and I am ut terly confounded with this demeanor!" The banks and tho lire and Ufa and marine insurance companies aud the rall rdWd companies will not stand up for judg ment in tho last day. but thoso who iu them acted righteously will receive, each for himself, a reward, and those who acted tho part of neglect or trickery will, each for himself, receive a condemnation. Unlawful dividends arc not clean before Ood, because there ore those associated with you who grab just as big a pile as you do. Ho who countenances the dishonesty of the Arm or of the corporation or asso ciation takes upon himself nil the moral liabilities. If tho financial institutions steal, he steals. If they go into wild specu lations, he himself is a gambler, if they needlessly embarrass a creditor, he himself Is guilty bt cruelty. If they swludle the uninitiated, he himself Is a defrauder. No llnnuctnl institution ever had a money vault strong enough, or credit staunch enough, or dividends large enough, or policy acute enough to hide tho Individual sins of its members. The old adage that corporations have no souls is misleading. Fvery cor poration has as many souls us it has mem bers. Again many business men havo boon tempted to postpone their enjoy mouts and duties to a future season of entire leisure. What a sedative tho Christian religion would bo to all our business men if, in stead of postponing its uses to old age or der.th, they would take it into tha store or factory or worldly engagement now! It is folly togo amid the uncertainties of busi ness life with no God to help. A mer chant in a Now England village was standing by a horse, and the horse lifted his foot .to stamp it In a pool of water, and the merchant, to escape the splash, stopped Into the door of an insurance agent, and the agent said, "I isuppose you ha o come to renew your lire nsuranee?" "Oh," said the mere hant, "I had forgotten that!" The insurance was renewed, and the next day the house that had beeu insured burned. Was it all accidental that the merchant, to escape a splash from a horse's foot, stepped into tho iusurance office? Xo; It wa3 providential. Aud what a mighty solace for a business man to feel that things are providential! What peace and equilibrium in such a con sideration, and what a grand thing If all business men could realize It! Many, although ■ now comparatively straitened in worldly circumstances, have a goodly establishment iu tho future planned out. Their best treasures in heaven, they will go up and take posses sion of them. The toils of business life, which racked their brains and rasped their nerves for so many years, will have forever ceased. "There the wicked cease from troubling, and tho weary are at rest." Doing Work in Many Lands. Tho flrst annual report of tho Christian and Missionary Alliance shows the receipts to be $147,820.55. The Alliance has 26? missionaries working in China, India, Japan. Africa, Arablu, South America aud West Indies. There are 40,000 Trotestaut church mem bers in Japan. „ _ A. TEMPERANCE COLUMN, THE DRJNK EVIL MADE MANIFEST IN MANY WAYS. The Jfau Behind tlie Bar—How a Young American Surgeon Observed Ilia Pleilue Under Extraordinary Circuui< stances—A Toast Drunk in Water. ¥ou have heard of"The man behind th« Gun," And"The man behind the plow.'' One gets his work from the Captain's bridge— The other is working now. But one who works both night and day Man's happiness to mar— The deadliest foe our land can know, Is "The man behind the Bar." —Barn's Horn. "Dare to Be a Daniel." The son of a president of one of our old est and most prominent Eastern colleges was about leaving his native town fox Paris to enter upon a special course in surgery, lis had just attained his majority, and the simplicity and freshness of his boyhood still lay upon his soul. Many of his com rades had gathered at the depot to wish him bon voyage, among whom was his sweetheart. The last good-bys had been uttered when, obeying an impulse, she sprang to his side upon the platform and, bidding him hold his ear to her lip, whis pered: "Charley, dare to be a Daniel!" "Only that old saw," said he, while a look I of disappointment shadowed his face. | "That only, Charley, but it may mean much to you," was her answer. I The bearer of a letter of introduction to i a distinguished nobleman and scientist in j Paris, tie young American was soon re ceived with marked kindliness. In a few days he was the recipient of an Invitation to it small banquet at the count's I residence, at which were present some of I the savants of the great, city. Unaccus ; tomed to the table etiquette of the eul ! tured Parisians, and"the cynosure of all i ayes" when seated at the right hand of his | host, Charles was mentally disturbed. lie ?oon noticed that before each piate were ! grouped four wine glasses, the colors of | which were, respectively, ruby, purple, pale amber, and white.' In various de | canters were wines of a corresponding hue, of which eac i guest indicated to the wait | ers his or her choice by simply touching a ; glass. The white ones, alone, and those I before Charles were left undisturbed, i During the progress of the feast the host. ; filling liis ruby-tinted glass (an example which his guests followed), proposed a j toast, "To the wives, daughters and sweet j hearts of America,"to which he invited a I response from his youthful guest, motion ing a servant meanwhile to till his glass j with the red wine. j What followed can best be told in the 1 young man's own words: "Mother!" (he wrote) "for a moment I was in an agony of | trepidation. I would rather have faced a j ?annon. All had risen, anil in the hand of ; ?ach was the cup of wine, which I had been I pledged from my childhood not 'to touch, I taste, nor handle.' My head swam. Sud denly I heard the words, 'Dare to lie a ■ Daniel!' They shot through my brain like | an electric flash. Instantly my resolution j was taken. Touching my white glass, a ' servant filled it with water. Rising, I said j as well as I could for the great lump in my i throat: j "'I beg leave to say that to the typical 1 wife, daughter and sweetheart o! America i the purity of this, nature's own beverage, ; Illustrates the lives they aim to lead and the dangers which they seek to avoid. Per | init me to use it in their dear name.' i "Following the example of Count 1J ; ■ every white glass was iustantly raised and ■ the toast drank."—New York Voise. Vonr Girl or Hie Saloon Keeper's Girl— Which? J "Papa, will you please give me fifty cents 1 for my vacation hat? 'Most all the academy girls have theirs." "No, May; I can't spare the money." [ The request was persuasively made by a sixteen-year-old maiden as stie was pre paring for school one fine morning. The j refusal came from the parent in a curt, iu different tone. The disappointed girl went | to school. The father started for his place j of business. On his way thither he met a j friend, and, being hail fellow well met, he | invited him into Mac's for a frink. As usual, there were others there, and the man that could not spare L>is daugiit t* i llfty cents for a hat treate.l the crowd: ! When about to leave he laid a haif-dollax : on the counter, which just paid for the | drinks. Just then the saloon-keeper's j daughter entered, and, going behind the i bar, said: "Papa, I want titty cents for my | hat." "All right," said the dealer, and. ; taking the tali-dollar from the counter, ! he handed It to the girl, who departed | smiling. I May's father seemed daz' l 1, walked out | alone, and said to himself: "I had to bri: g i my fifty cents here for the rum-seller's '■ daughter to buy a bat with, niter refusing ■ it to my own daughter. I'll novo, drink ! another drop." This is a specimen of the wholesale rob bery of the home which the saloon is prac ticing everywhere. And there are thou j -amis of men whom such an object lesson j as this man saw that day would not in ! Suence to give up the habit of drink. Ami j t is not only hats, but winter clothes, .'bawls, shoes and stockings, an I daily I Oread, and tire to warm the family hearth, j :hat the saloon is stealing from three mill ion families in this land. i Wages and Whisky, The young man who thinks he can afford .0 take two or three glasses of beer or jjhisky ench day and never miss the sum le spends would do well to reckon up how nuch these drinks would amount to in the tourse of a year. Some years ago throe young men in Columbus, Ohio, carpenters by trade, en gaged to work for a builder, promising to stay with him until a certain piece of work mis completed. They were to.recelve the lame wages, and were to draw them as ;hev chose. The work lasted from spring antil Christmas. On the tlnal iettlemtat, Dne of the young men, who frequented the tavern, and was a pretty har l trinker, found a balance to his credit of £2.50. The second, who was a somewhat more mod erate drinker, ha l ill; the third, who was a teetotaler, had £l5O. The tlrst and sec ond wore very seedy clothes, and were in ilebt. Surely total abstinence pays! The Crusade In Brief. If the liquor trafile is not wrong, then nothing is wrong. American women selling American brinks at an American bar in a charity bazar Is one of the sights London has re cently been treated to. In last month's plebiscite on tbesemlach, or local option, in the Norwegian capital, Ciiristiania, women cast two-thirds of the votes against the sale of drink. Carroll D. Wright says: "Ten thousand people starve to death each year In Greater New York, while nearly £400,090 a lay passes over the saloon bars of that city for liquor." It is contended that eight-tenths of the Iruukards of to-day be„-an to drink when thoy were young. If we church members worked as hard ,'or God as the saloon keepers do for Satan nore results miglit be seen. One of the protests addressed to Presi dent McKlnley against tho Griggs nullifl satlon of the anti-oanteen law comes from the missionaries of the American Board in Turkey. The Temperance Cause is responsible for the statement that "thjerew of the new Columbia are from Deer Islaud, Me., a home of prohibition which is never ix peae'ied by the press, and every man i? a .iw i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers