THE SAILOR-MAN.
Bar* • terrible tlmo I was out o' the way, Och, man alive! but It's little ye know
Orer the sea, over the sea, That never was there, never was there
rill I ome back to Ireland one sunny day, Look where ye like for them, long may ye
Betther for me, betther for me ! go—
The first time me foot got the feel of th* What do I care ? what do I care t
ground, Plenty as blackberries where will ye And
I was sthrolllng along In an Irish olty Bare pretty girls, not by two nor by three
That hasn't its aquil the world around o' themV
For the air that is sweet, an' the girls that Only just there where tliey grow, dye mind,
1 are pretty. Still like the blackberries, more than ye
see o' them.
Light on their feet now they passed mo and
sped, Lonir, long away, an' no matther how far
Give you me word, give you me word! 'T!s the girls that I miss, girls that I
Every girl had a turn o' the head miss.
Just like » bird, just like a bird. Womeu are roun' ye wherever ye are,
An' the lashes so thick round their beautiful Not worth a kiss, not worth a kiss.
eyes. Over in Ireland many's the one— t
Shinin' to toll ye'twas fair time o' day wl' ""Well do I know that has nothin' to say wl
them; them—
l)ack In me heart wit' a kind o' surprise, Sweetor thau anythin' under the sun.
I think how the Irish girls has the way Och. but the Irish girls lias the way wi
wi' them ! them!
—Moira O'Neill, in Blackwood's Magazine.
-%• y
J HANNAH MATILDA'S WEDDING CAKE, i
BY DOROTHY LEONARD.
•'Yes, I was determined Hannah
Mat Ida should have the best cake to
be badl" said Mrs. Benson, as she
opened the oven door and looked in
at tlie beans. "Guess I may as well
take 'em out," sbe continued; "some
folks like their beans baked to a crisp;
we like 'em brown but not overdoue."
"I'm sure yoar beans are always
most delicious, Mis' Benson," an
swered her visitor. "I like'em myself,
but down to our house I most have to
burn 'em to suit! I suppose your
Hannah can turn her hand to most
anything in plain cooking?"
"Yes, indeed! there ain't nothing
in that line Haunali don't understand,
plain or fancy; but a weddin' cake,
why, that's kind o' different, you see,
and me and Benson made up our
minds that our only child should have
the very best. It's going to be from
a first-rate city confectioner's, and I
don't feel any doubt but it'll more
hau suit."
Mrs. Prentice set her thin lips to
gether and made no answer for a min
ute or two, theu she said: "Well, it
ain't the first time it's beeu tried in
these parts,a-makiu' the wedding cake
out o' the house! Some folks think
it bad luck, and, though I'm no be
liever in such things myself, I shan't
try it for Sarah."
"Why, do tell!" exclaimed Mrs.
Benson. "I didn't know Sarah was
keepin' company with anyone. Han
uali," to her daughter, who had just
entered, "did you hear what Mis'
Prentice said? Now, Mis' Prentice,
do tell us all about it!"
"I dou't know as I said Sarah was
a-keepin' company with anyone. I
said I should make her wedding cake
myself."
"Well,but is she keeping company?
And who's the fellow?" demanded
Hannah, placing herself directly in
front of Mrs. Prentice, with her arms
akimbo.
The poor woman, who stung by jeal
ousy, had implied more than she meant,
sat silent. There was now no way
out of her difficulty but to say that
Sarah was not having any attention;
and she would rather d.e than say
that before that saucy Hannah Matilda
—Haunah, who had enticed Jerry
Rogers away from Sarah,and who glo
ried in the deed. Sarah's sweet,deli
cate face, with its wistful blue eyes,
rose up before her (so different from
Hannah's), and she felt sure that if
her daughter had beeu the only child
of so rich a farmer as Benson, Rogers
would never have left her.
"Well?" said Hannah, impatiently.
The thought of the Benson riches
was uppermost in Mrs. Prentice's
mind and again she spoke nnavisedly.
"1 guess whatever young uian is
showing my daughter attention, she
didn't have to use money to entice him
away from another girl!"
Hannah, who well knew that she
could not compare with Sarah iu looks,
flushed crimson. "I understand!"
she exclaimed; "you're just pretend
ing so that I won't think Sarah is
dviu' of a broken heart!"
Mrs. Benson, whose attention since
Hannah's entrance had beeu absorbed
by the beaus, started and upset half
of them. "Hannah Matilda!" she
cried, "what cau you be thinkin' of,
to use such words to Mis' Prentice iu
this house?"
"Well, ma, why can't she answer,
instead o' beatin' about the bush so?
Now," to Mrs. Prentice, "is Sarah en
gaged or not?"
"Yes!" and for the first time iu her
life Mrs. Prentice had told a lie.
She sat, too overcome and dazed to
notice anything, as Mrs. Benson put
the beaus that had fallen on the table
into a dish and directed Hannah to
sweep up those spilled over the floor.
Fortunately for her,sbe was not called
onto say much, as Mrs. Benson, mor
tified at Hauuah's rude behavior,tried
to smooth things over by talking in
cessantly; and Hannah, auxious to
show that she was not jealous of her
rival, brought out various articles
from her trousseau and displayed them
proudly to Mrs. Prentice, advising
her how to have this and that made
for Sarah. Every word cut the poor
woman to thp heart,aud the lie loomed
np mo e black and fearful before her.
Dimly she noticed the dainty em
broideries and laces, aud the marking
(she remembered that marking after
wards), Hannah Matilda Rogers, not
Benson. Mrs. Benson paused for a
moment in her preparations for sup
per. "Just notice that marking, will
you Mrs. Prentice! She doue every
stitch o' that herself; an' you sea it's
the French style, not that Kensington
outline. Look how handsome the R
is, with all these little flowers en
twined arunud it! There, Matilda,
that's your pa's step; fio cut the cake
and we'll have supper."
Mrs. Prentice rose and tottered to
the door.
"Why, Mia' Preutice! What's the
matter?" cried Mrs. Benson.
"I guess IM better be goin'," said
Mrs. Preutice iu a low,choking voice, j
"Now, Mis' Prentice, vou ain't
a'goiu' to mind what I said?" asked
Hannah.
"What?"
"You ain't angry?"
"No, I don't mind anything; I'm
a-goin' hoiue." She opened the door
and stepped out, bounetless and cloak
less; but Mrs. Bensou ran after her ,
and caught her by the arm. "Mary 1
Eliza Prentice' you'll catch your death, :
■ in this bleak March wind! You know
! Benson was goin' to d> ive you back
! after supper, but if you want togo j
j now, come get your things ou and sit ;
: and get warm whilo they hitch np." |
! She allowed herself to be led back and
i seated by the stove, while Hannah j
iran to the bedroom for her wraps and ;
1 Benson went out and gave orders to
j the hired man to harness as quickly I
as possible.
"Can't you drink this cup o' tea?"
asked Mrs. Benson, anxiously. "Why !
1 you're a-trenbling all over! What is
the matter?"
"It's nothing but a spell, Mis' Ben- i
i sou," said the poor woman, hoarsely.
| "I can't take any tea —I must be get- !
j tin' home." Hannah helped heron
; with her wraps and led her to the
; door.
It seemed yea-s to Mrs. Preutice
( since she had crossed that same
threshold, au honest, truthful woman,
to spend the afternoon anil take tea j
with her friend; she passed out now ;
with the burden of a lie upon her j
soul.
"I guess I wouldn't try to make her
talk any, pa," said Benson's wife to
him, "just drive her home as quick as
you can."
*'l can't make out what took her so
sudden," she said to her daughter as
: they weut back into the house.
"I don't know, I'm sure," replied
Hannah, "but I'm glad she was able
to get home. It would have been
dreadful awkward, with Jerry coming
this evening, to have to keep her
here."
By the time Mrs. Prentice reached
home she felt a little better. One can
become accustomed to almost anything
—even to telling lies. "There ain't
any way out of it now," she kept say
ing to herself. "I've just got to bear
it. Perhaps Sarah will get engaged
to someone before the year is out, and
then they'll never suspect."
Bensou helped her out carefully,and
insisted on leaving his horse and
going with her to the door. "Seems
to me you're a little smarter, Mis'
Prentice, said he."l guess the fresh
air done you good."
"Yes, I guess it did," she answered,
and as slie said it felt a fresh pang— ,
for it was uot the truth.
As the days passed by, Mrs. Pren
tice was struck with Sarah's cheerful
manner. She weut frequently to the
woods for mayflowers and came back
with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.
"She certainly doesn't care any more
about Jerry Rogers," thought her
mother; "there may be some one else
she's a-thiukiu' of, or I don't see how i
she can be so cheerful when Hannah's
marriage is so near. I just feel in my
bones that it'll all come right."
The wedding day cauie at last, and
like one in a dream, Mrs. Prentice
found herself seated in the Bensons'
parlor, near the window, waiting for
the minister. She had been among
the first to arrive, for she knew that
Jerry's desertion of Sarah would be
the principal theme of conversation if
her back were turned. Sarah, of
course, was not present; but she had
begged her mother togo, and Mrs. Pren
tice was sure that she had seen tears
in her eyes when she bade her goodby.
"I'm so afraid shedoes care ntter all,"
she said to herself, "i'w just glad I
did tell Hannah Matilda that lie!"
The past week had hardened Mrs.
Prentice, and she looked her neigh
bors boldly in the face and talked vol
ably ab Jilt Haunull's trousseau. The
minister arrived promptly at 2 o'clock,
but still the guests sat waiting.
"I guess it's a-goin' to be some
thing out of the ordinary," said one
woman at last. "Do you know,l jest
went into the other room to look at
the clock, aud it's goin' onto 3."
"Wo all know it's late enough," an
swered another woman who sat near
Mrs. Prentice in the buy window,
"but I gueßs you ain't given the right
reasou. I've been a-sittiu' by this
window steady ever since I came in,
aud Jerry Rogers ain't arrived yet!
No one can make me believe ho has."
The guests all started and looked
at each other in amazement, the-i
sought conference with her nearest
neighbor.
"I shouldn't say it to others, Mis'
Prentice," whispered the ono who
had spoken last, leaning over and lay
ing a black-mitted band on Mrs. Pren
tice's arm, "but I don't feel no confi
dence that he intends to tnrn up. 1
always thought Hanuah caught him
araiust his -will, and he ain't the kind
that can say no to a body's face."
Mrs. Prentice turned a white, scare-J
countenance upon her. "Ifou don'l
think, you don't mean—" she said,
below her breath, but she never fin
ished the sentence, for the door burst
open, and Hannah Matilda stood, in
all the splendor of bridal array, before j
them. Her voil was thrown back ]
(showing her large, plain features,
white as marble), and her hands, iu
their tight white gloves, clutched ner
vously at the folds of her rich satiu
skirt—almost as if seeking support
under some new horror. Her eyes
scanned the frightened faces bef re i
her, one by one, until they fell on the j
group in the bay window; then singling '
out Mrs.Prentice she screamed: "Oh, j
you wicked, deceitful woman! 1 i
wanted to know whether yon had !
dared to come here, before I asked my
guests to come out and try my wed- j
ding cake. Here," extending one i
hand with a crumpled paper toward !
her, "yes, you'd better take and read [
it, though you already know it well (
enough. And I just blame you more j
'an Ido Sarah—yes, I do! To come !
sneaking here the other day.pretend- |
ing sick!" Her voice rose to a scream, j
and the minister forced his way ]
through the crowd of women, some of .
whom were sobbing with fright, and j
laid his hand upon her arm. ".Miss
Hannah," he said, kindly but firmly, i
"you forget yourself in speaking so to '
this good woman."
Hannah Matilda turned toward him I
like a child with no idea of conceal- ;
ment. "See!" Hhe said,her lip begin- j
ning to tremble, "this note's just been |
left at the back door. It's from Jerry |
Rogers, and he and Sarah Prentice i
left on the 2.30 train for Boston,'cause i
he couldn't speak out plain to a body's !
face. And that woman knew aud |
planned it all; that's what I mind."
The strain she had jut upon herself ;
had been already too much, and the >
last words were hardly above a whin- j
per. All eyes were turned toward :
her, and Mrs. Prentice was quite for
gotten. She now tottered forward,
stretching out her trembliug hands,
"it's that lie I told! It's that lie! i
Oh, if I'd never told it, she wouldn't |
think I had known! Oh," she went J
on, catching h-.>r breath, "I told you,
Hanuah Matilda,as Sarah was a-keep
in' company cause I was s > jealous.
Aud, oh, what I've suffeied this week!
I wouldn't live through it again for
any money."
Hannah turned her eyes upon Mrs.
Prentice, and her expression seemed
to soften a lit lie, but she made no re
ply. For a few seconds there was a
breathless silence, then Hannah turned
toward the others. "I want you all 1
to come out and have a slice of my !
wedding cake," she said, addiug with
some spirit, "it came from a tirst i ate j
city confectioner's, and it'll taste just
as good as if there were a dozen wed- |
dings."
"Oh, my child, my child," sobbed
Mrs. Henson, who had crept up behind
her, "don't (all; so! ' Hannah pai lno
attention to her, but turned and led
the way to the dining room followed
by all except Mis. Prentice and the
minister, who saw that he was no ;
longer needed.
"I think the best thing for you and
me, Mrs. Prentice," said he kindly,
"is to be getting home. My
buggy is waiting for lue, aud I can
leave you on my way."
She allowed herself to be led out
avid helped in without a word, and the
minister had unfastened his horse and
was just climbing in when ho was
startled by a cry: "Wait! wait!" lie
turned quickly and saw Hannah Ma
tilda running down to the gate, her
ample train over her arm. "Here!"
she gasped, "ilere, Mis' rrentice!"
and she thrust a parcel, wrapped iu a
napkin, into her lap. "It's some of
the wedding cake," she added softly,
"and there's a piece in there for
Sarah." She turned and hurried
back as abruptly as she had come, and
the minister saw her tall figure disap
pearing in at the door as he drove
away. —Atlanta Constitution.
Hiding Places for Monoy.
Our graudpareuts were wont to
utilise the old china teapots aud milk
pitchers for the safe keeping of money,
and the habit has come down to uiauy
of our old fanners, for the same old,
broken aud otherwise useless ware
can be seeu to this day up in the
further corner of the top shelf of the
cupboard. Feather beds and mat
resses have been used for secreting
money aud are still so used, but the
old woman who put her wealth in
the toe of an old shoe, which she left
iu careless fashiou on the floor of the
closet in her bedroom aud then per
mitted her ten year-old graudsou to
play there, f.;uud, wheu too late, that
while old shoes are safe banks for
savings, boys always have an iuquisi
[ tive turn of mind. A man some time
ago found silver bars in the run of an
old slave ship which he was breaking
up. New York I'iess.
Fun With a Stereoptloon.
A new game was inaugurated by two
clever young men at a recent social
gathering with the aid of a stereopti
' cwn.
Wheu the regular stock slides
seemed to pall on the company the en
tertainers began to write with India
, ink on the clear glass imaginary elee
; tion bulletins concerning people who
were present These were inter
-1 spersed by hastily drawn cartoons of
a very personal nature. Needless
to say these efforts were greeted
: with roars of merriment. This
' form of entertaiumeut is called an
! "election uight," aud bids fair to be
-1 come quite popular with those who
possess magic lanterns. China?"
! Ne\vr»
DR. TALMAGES SERMON.
SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE.
Subject: Small Annoyance*—We Slionld
Strive lo Overcome tile Troubles of
Life—With the .Help of God'* Grace
Petty Grievances Become Bleiilngi.
fCopyTlßht, Louis Klopsch, 1899.1
WABHINOTON, D. C.—This sermon by Dr.
Talmage deals with a subject whloh ap
peals to all classes and conditions of men.
His text is Deuteronomy vil., 20, "The
Lord thy God will send the hornet."
In my text the hornet flies out on Its mis
sion. It Is a species ot wasp, swift in its
motion nnd violent in its sting. Its touch
is torture toman or beast. We have all
seen the cattle run bellowing under the cut
ot its lancet. In boyhood we used to stand
cautiously looking at the globular nest
hung from the tree branch, and while we
were looking at the wonderful covering we
were struck with something that sent us
shrieking away. The hornet goes in
swarms. It has captains over hundreds,
aud twenty of them alighting on one man
will produce certain death.
My friends, when we are assaulted by
great behemoths of trouble we become
chlvalrlc, and we assault them. We get on
the high mettled steed of our courage, and
we make a cavalry chaige at them, and if
God be with us we come out stronger and
better than when we went in. But alus for
these insectile annoyances of life, these
foes too small to shoot, these things with
out any avoirdupois weight, the guuts and
the midges and the flies una the wasps and
the hornets! In other words, it is the
small, stinging annoyances ot our life
which drive us out and use us up. In the
best conditioned life for some grand nnd
glorious purpose God has sent the hornet.
I remark, in the flrst place, that these
small, stinging annoyances may come In
the shape of a nervous organization. Peo
ple who ure prostrated under typhoid
fevers or with broken bones get plenty of
sympathy, but who pities anybody that is
nervous? The doctors say aud the family
say and everybody snys, "Oh, she's only a
little nervous; that's alll" The sound of a
heavy foot, the harsh clearing of a throat,
a discord lu music, a want of harmony be
tween the shawl aud the glove on the same
person, a curt answer, a passing slight, the
wind from the eust, any one of ten thou
sand annoyances, opens the door for the
hornet. The fact is that the vast majority
of the people iu this country are over
worked, nnd their nerves ure the first to
give out. A greut multitude ure under the
strain of Leydeu, who, when ho was told
by his plivslcinn that if he did not stop
working while he was in such poor physi
cal health he would die, responded, "Doc
tor, whether I live or die, the wheel must
keep going round." These sensitive per
sons of whom I speak have a bleeding sen
sitiveness. The llies love to light on any
thing raw; and these people itre like the
Cunaanltes spoken of In the text or lu the
context—they have a very thin covering
nnd are vulnerable at all points. "Aud the
Lord sent the hornet."
Again, the small insect annoyances may
come to us in the shape of friends nnd ac
quaintances who are always saying dis
agreeable things. There aro some people
you cannot bo with for half an hour but
vou feel cheered nnd comforted. Then
there nre other people you cannot be with
for live minutes before you feel miserable.
They do not moun to disturb you, but they
Bting you to tho bone. They gather up all
the yarn whichthe gossips spin und retail
it. They gather up all tho adverse criti
cisms about your person, about your busi
ness, about your home, nbout your ehiych,
and they muke your ear tho funnel Into
which they pour it. They laugh heartily
wheu they tell you, as though It wece a
good joke, nud you laugh, too—outside.
The small Insect uiiuoyances of life
sometimes come in the shape of local
physical trouble which does not nmount
lo a positive prostration, but which
bothers you when you want to feel the
best. Perhaps It is a sick headache which
lias been the plague of your li e, and you
uppoiut some occuslou of mirth or sociality
or usefulness, aud when the clock strikes
the hour you cannot make your appear
ance. Perhaps the trouble Is netween the
ear and the forehead In the shape of
a neuralgic twinge. Nobody can see it or
sympathize with it, but just at the time
when you waut your intellect clearest and
your disposition brightest you feel a sharp,
keen, disconcerting thrust. "The Lord
sent the hornet."
Perhaps these small insect annoyances
will come iu the shape of u domestic Irri
tation. The pnrlor and the kitchen do not
nlways harmonize. To get good service
and keep it is one of tho great questions of
tho country. Sometimes it may be the nr
logunce and ineousideruteness of employ
ers; but, whatever be the fact, wo all ad
mit there ure these insect annoyances
wluging their way out from the culinary
department. If the grace of God be not In
j the heart of the housekeeper, she cannot
maintalu her equilibrium. Tho men come
heme at night aud hear tho story of these
annoyances and say, "Oh, these homo
i troubles are very little things!" Tuey are
small, small as wasps, but thoy sting.
] Martha's nerves were all uustrung when
: she rushed lu asking Christ to scold
: Mary, and there are tens of thousands of
; women who are dying, stung to death by
these pestiferous domestic annoyauces.
| "The Lord sent the hornet."
These small insect disturbances may also
, come in tho shape of busiue-s Irritations.
Thore are men here who went through the
' 24th of September, 1569, and the panics of
! 1873 and of 1893 without losing their
j balance who are every day unhorsed by lit
tle annoyances—a clerk's ill manners, or a
' blot of ink on a bill of lnding, or the ex
travagance of a partner who overdraws his
account or the uuderselliug by a business
rival, or the whispering of store coufl
| deuces in the street, or the making of some
I little bnd debt which was against your judg
ment, but you wanted to please somebody
else.
i It is not the panics that kill the mer
' chants. Panics come only once in ten or
{ twenty years. It Is the constant din of
these everyday annoyances which Is send
ing so many of our best merchants into
; nervous dyspepsia and paralysis and the
I grave. When our national commerce fell
| flat on its face, these men stood up and felt
: almost defiant, but their life Is going away
j now under the snarm of theso pestiferous
' annoyances. "The Lord sent the hornet."
| The naturalist tells us that a wasp some
times has a family of 20,000 wasps, and it
does seem as if every annoyance of your
life brooded a million. By the help of God,
to-day I want to show you tlieotuer side.
The hornet is of no use? Oh, yes! Tho
naturalist tells us they are very important
in the world's economy. They kill spiders,
and they clear the atmosphere. And I
really bellevo God sends tho annoyances
of our life upon us to kill the spiders of
the soul and to clear the atmosphere of
our skies.
These annoyances arosont onus, I think,
to wake us r.p from our lethargy. There
Is nothing thut makes a man so lively as a
nest of "yellow jackets," and I think that
these annovances are intended to persuade
us of the fact that this is not a world for
us to stop in. If wo had a bed ef every
thing that was attractive and soft and
easy, what would we want of heaven? We
think that the hollow tree sends the hor
net, or we may think that the devil sends
the hornet. I want to correct your opinion.
"The Lord seut the hornet."
Then I think theso annoyances come on
as to cuitivnte our patience. In the gym
nasium you And upright parallel bars
with holes over each other for pegs to be
put in. Then the gyn\nast take a peg In
each hand, and he beglus to climb, one
inch at a time or two inches, and getting
his strength cultivated, reaches ufter
awhile the ceiling. And It seems to me
that these annoyances in lire are a moral
gymnasium, each worrlra&t a peg with
which we are to ollinb highlit and bigher
In Christian attainment. Wo all love te
see patience, but ft cannot be cultivated
In fair weather. Patience Is a child of the
storm. If you had everything desirable
and there wai nothing more to get, what
would you want with patience? The only
time to oultivate it is when you are lied
about and sick and halt dead.
"Oil," you say, "if I only had the olr
cnmstances of some well to do man I would
be patient too." You might as wolt say,
"If It were not for this water, X would
swim," or, "I could shcot tills gun If it
wero not for the cartridge." Wheu you
staud chin deep in annoyances is the time
for you to swim out toward the great
headlands of Christian attainment, so as
to"know Christ aud the power of His re
surrection and to have fellowship with Ills
sufferings."
Nothing but the furnace will ever burn
out of us the clinker and the slag. I have
formed this theory In regard to small
annovances and vexations. It tnkcu just
so muoh trouble to lit us for usefulness
and for heaven. The ouly questiou is
whether we shall take It in the bulk or
pulverized and granulated. Here is one
man who takes it Iu the bulk. His back Is
broken or his eyesight put out, or some
other uwful calamity befalls him, while the
vast majority of people take the thing
piecemeal. Which way would you rather
have it? Of course. In piecemeal Bettor
have five aching teeth tliuu one broken
jaw, better teu fly blisters than an ampu
tation, better twenty squalls than one
cyclone. There may bo a difference of
opinion as to allopnthy and liomoj
patliy, but in this manuor of trouble
I like homeopathic doses, small fellets
of annoyance rather than some knock
down dose of calamity. Instead of
the thunderbolt g.ve us the hornet. If
you have a bank, you would a great deal
rather that fifty men would come in with
checks less than &100 than to have two de
positors come In the same day, each want
ing his SIO,OOO. In this latter caso you
cough and look down to the floor and you
look up to the celling before you look Into
the safe. Now, my friends, would you not
rather have these small drafts of annoy
ance on your bank of faith than some all
staggering demand upon your endurance?
But remember that little as well as great
annoyances oqually requlro you to trust in
Christ for succor aud for deliverance from
impatience and irritability. "Thou wilt
keep him in perfect peace whoso mind is
staid on Thee."
I go into a sculptor's studio and see him
shaping a statue. He has a chisel in one
hand and a mallet in the other, und he
gives a very gentle stroke—click, click,
click.! I say, "Why don't you strike hard
er?" "Oh," he replies, "that would shat
ter the statue. I can't do It that way. I
must do ft this way." Ho he works on, and
after awhile the features come out, and
everybody that enters the studio is
charmed und fusclnated. Well, God has
your soul under process of development,
and It is the little annoyances anil vexa
tions of life that are chiseling out your
immortal nature. It is click, click, click!
I wouder why some great providence does
not come and with one stroke prepare you
for heaven. Ab, no! God says that is not
the way, and so He keeps on by strokes of
little vexations until nt last you shall be a
glad spectacle for angels and for men.
You kuow thut a large fortune may be
spent in small change, und a vast amount
of moral character may go away in small
depletions. It is the little troubles of life
that aro having more effect upon you than
great ones. A swarm of locusts will kill a
grain-field soouer than the incuVslon of
three or four cattle. You say, "Since I lost
my child, since I lost my property, I have
been a different man." But you do not rec
ognize the architecture of little annoy
ances that are hewing, digging, cutting,
shaping, splitting aud interjoluing your
moral qualities. Bats may sink a ship. One
luelfer match may send destruction tlirough
a block of storehouses. Catherine de' Me
dici got her death from smelltug a poison
ous rose. Columbus, by stopping aud ask
ing for a pleco of bread and a drink ot
water at a Franciscan convent, was led to
the discovery of a new world. Aud there
Is an intimate connection between trifles
and Immensities, between nothings and
everythlngs.
Now, be careful to let none of those an
noyances go through your soul nnar
raigned. Compel them to administer to
your splrtitual wealth. The scratch of a
sixpenny nail sometimes produces lock
jaw, and the clip of a most Infinitesimal
annoyancfe may damage you forever. Do
not let any annoyance or perplexity come
across your soul without its making you
better.
A returned missionary told me that a
company of adventurers rowing up the
Ganges, were stung to death by flies
thut infest that region at certain sea
sons. The earth has boon strewed with
the carcasses of men slain by iusect
annoyances. The only way to get pre
pared for the great trouble of life is to
conquer these small troubles. Wnat
would you say of a soldier who refused
to load his gun or togo into the conflict
because it was only a skirmish, saying:
••I am not going to expend my ammuni
tion on a skirmish. Wuit until there
comes a general engagement nud then
you will see how courageous I am aud what
battling I will do?" The general would say
to such a man, "If vou are not faithful Iu a
skirmish, you would be nothing iu a gen
eral engagement." Ana I have to tell you,
0 Christian men. if you cannot apply the
principles of Christ's religion on a small
scule you will never be able to apply thein
on a largo scale. If I had my way with
you, I would have you possess all pos
sible worldly prosperity. I would have
you each one a garden, a river flowing
through It, geraniums and shrubs on
the sides and the gruss and flowers as
benutlful as thoflgh the rainbow had
fallen. I would have you u house, a
splendid mansion, and the beds should be
covered with upholstery dipped in the set
ting sun. I would have every hall in your
house set with statues nnd statuettes, and
then I would have the four quarters of the
globe pour In all the'..» luxuries oa your
table, and you should have forks of sliver
and knives of gold, Inlaid with diamonds
and amethysts. Then you should each one
of you have the Quest horses and your pick
of the equipages of the world. Then I
would have you live 150 years, and you
should not have a pain or an ache until the
lust breath.
"Not each ono of us?" you say. Yes.
each one of you. "Not to your enemies?"
Yes. The only difference I would inuke
with them would bo that I would put a
little ejtra gilt on their walls and a little
extra embroidery on their slippers. But,
you sav, "Why does not Ood give us all
thfse things?" All! 1 bethink myself. Ho
is wiser. It would make fools and sluggards
of us if we had our way. No mau puts
best picture in the portico or vestibule of
his bou-e. God meant this world to be
only the vestibule of heaven, that great
gallery of the universe toward which we
are aspiring. We must not have it too
good lu this world or wo would want no
heiiven.
Polycarp was condemned to be burned to
death. The stake was planted. Ho was
fastened to It. The fagots wero placed
around him, the fires kindled, but history
tells us that the llames bent outward like
tlio canvas of a ship in a stout breez:-, so
that the flames, instond of destroying
Polycarp, were only a wall between him
and his enemies. They had actually to de
stroy him with the poniard. The flames
would not touch him. Well, my hearer,
1 want you to understand that by God's
grace the flames of trial, instead of con
suming your soul, are only going to bo a
wall of defense aud a canopy ot blessing.
God Is going to fulfill to you the blessings
aud the promises, us He did to rolycarp.
"When thou walkest through the fire, thou
sbalt not be buruod." Now you do not un
derstand, but you shall know hereafter. In
heaven you will bless God even for the
hornet.
The Itellcloii of the Icelander*.
About 72,000 persons, which is about the
entire population of Iceland, are memberi
ol the LutUtran Ciiurch.
A. TEMPERANCE COLUMN.
THE DRINK EVIL MADE MANIFEST
IN MANY WAYS.
The Signboard—A Fable About a Mom-
Trip and a Saloon—Once Inutile the
Latter and Yonr Liberty Is Gone For
ever—A Warning; Worth Heeding,
t will paint you a sign, Rumseller,
And hang It above your door,
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had belore.
I will paint with the skill of a master.
And many shall pause to Beo
That wonderful piece of painting.
So like the reality.
I will paint you ruddy and smiling,
While-aproned and supple and gay.
Like an angel of light to the simple,
Rut body and soul are your prey.
Here your victim comes in, Rumseller,
At your hand he takes his first drink,
Ills first act in the drama of ruin,
Think of it, Rumseller, think.
And now farther on view the signboard,
What scene Is this that appears?
[ must paint with deeper colors.
Mixed with darknoss and blood and
tears.
Here's a home that youtlastod, Rumseller.
A home of despair, waut and strire,
Here are children of shamo and sorrow,
And a broken hearted wife.
112 will paint the form of a mother
As she kneels at her darling's side,
II«r beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all tho world beside
I will paint the shape of a coffin,
Labeled with one word—"Lost,"
I will paint all tills, Rimsoller,
I will paint it free of cost.
B;it all the sin and shame and sorrow,
The crime and want and woo
That are born here In your rurashop,
No hands can palut, you know.
But I'll paint you a sign, Rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
That wonderful swinging signboard,
So tearfully, terribly true.
And now as 1 close. Rumseller,
Hear a kind timely warning, I pray.
There's a day of judgment soou coming,
A great and terrible day!
Repent and believe on Jesus,
Repent and forsake tho whole.
Then God will forgive in Ills mercy
And eternally save your soul.
—Presbyterian Journal.
Trap Door*.
I saw tho other day a mouse-trap so art
fully and pleasautly contrived that, If I
had been a member of that small fratern
ity, I quite believe I should have entered
anil taken possession. The Iron wlrej were
so npat and elegant, the room inside so
J commodious, tho little hook from which
the cheese hung so convenient for n.
I mouse's housekeeping, and tho toasted
j cheese itself so delicious, that it must
I have been a very strong-minded mouse ic-
I deed who could have withstood the temp
tation of the various attractions. The en
| trance, too, was made so easy—the door
; stood just a little bit open,as If to Invite the
wanderorto become a guest; but when onco
| the mouse entered, tho door closed behind
him, and if, after eating tho savory mor
| eel, he turned togo out, ho found himself
j an unwilling prisoner, with nil the terrors
I ot starvation uefore him; for Ills new abode
had no larder, and in one "glorious sup
per'' he had exhausted the whole stock of
! provisions. Ho now disliked this dreadful
little house as much as he before admired
; it. The bars was so strong, the hook hurt
I his bead, and the cheese —why even that
became nauseous to the palato when only
| remembered and not enjoyed. l'oot
i mousy! a prisoner indeed,
j It Is just so with the beings God created
in His image, endowed with souls, who are
| made victims by entering tho trap-doors
, prepared by wicked men.
| , Childreu, do you krow what I mean?
! I can scarcely walk a block or turn a
corner without encountering a trap-door,
j In some we see bright lights and pictures
, within, while the souuds of music coma
I stealing out upon the air. Others aro not
;so inviting; but tlie bait inside of all is of
; tho same nature, and the effect on tho par
j taker the same. Oh! beware, dear cliii
| ilren; never enter one of those trap-doors
; opening into a liquor saloon. The mouse
: paid no eutranco fee, but ho found inside
1 tho trap an expensive place for him. It
j cost him his liberty.
' These saloons costs far moro than that,
and often the soul's eternal happiness.—
! l'emperanco Advocate.
Drink and Ilered ity.
i In opening a discussion tho other dnv at
I tho Society forthe Study of Inebriety, Pro
■ fessor Sims Woodhead drew attention to
! the nearlng of modern theories reirardiug
| heredity upon the drink question. Tho two
hypotheses which he especially set himself
to controvert wore, llrst, that tho taste for
drink is transmitted from father to 9on —ln
other words, that children are born with
euch an inuate tendency to drink that they
are hardly to be held accountable when In
later years they become drunkard»; second,
I that a driuklng nation gradually develops
| a sort of Immunity to drink, so "that, bad
■ as may be the effects of alcohol on the
present generation, the drunkenness of to
| Jay does but lead to the temperance of to
i morrow, and to tho gradual development
of a raco which will not only be immune to
tho effects of alcohol, but indifferent to its
:harms.
; We do not say how far tho views of Pro
fessor Sims Woodhead will meet with gen
eral acceptance. So far as concerns the
Impracticability, nay, the undeslrabliity,
of driving away the taste for alcohol by in
uring the tissues to its effects, wo are en
tirely at one with him; but when it becomes
a matter of measuring uptho responsibility
of the individual there seems but little to
choose, so far astho "patient" is concerned,
between an inherited taste for alcohol and
an Inherited weakness which makos it dif
ficult to keep away from it.—The Hospital.
British Soldiers and Total Abstinence.
At tho annual meeting of the Army
Temperance Association, recently held In
Loudon, the Marquis of Lansdowne, tho
War Secretary, in speaking of the spread
of total abstlueuce in the army, ssid:
"In the last twenty years the number of
courts-martial, minor puulshmonts and
fines for drunkenness had approximately
diminished Dy one-half." The figures
which show the relative proportions of of
fences committed by the abstaining men
and tho non-abstainers indicate a much
greater difference than this.
Wbal the Man Votes For.
We license a rumseller to mako men
drunk; wo pav policomeu whom the rum
seller may call Into remove the drunken
man to jail; we pay the officers of court
high feos to sit on the prisoner; we pay a
big salary to a judge to sentence him; and
if he committed crime we pay the oxpouses
of a penitentiary to shut him up for years.
Tho man who votes for license votes for all
this.—The American Issue.
The Cruaade In Itrlef.
Drink buries sorrow that rises increased
to-morrow.
If you want a cool head and a clear brain
keep clear of tho saloon.
The saloon makes more criminals than
tho ohuroh makes converts.
The drink-seller fattens on tho destruc
tion of public health aud virtue.
The saloon is the devil's polishing room,
j where the finishing touches aro given.
Man Is then ready for any crime.
What is the difference between swamps
and saloons? Only this, that the saloon
poisons both body and soul, and has •
Government license.