Long the waiting—many the tear 1 Dull the sight—alive the fear ! Weak the will—the effort faint! Deep the 9igh—low the plaint! Yet never a goal—but ends a way ! .Never a dark—but bears a day ! Never a strong—but feels u pain ! Never a fall—but brings a gain ! —James Mark Baldwin, in New York Independent. i IN THE NICK OF TIME. J j BY MARCO MORROW. \ "But I may count on you?" Tom asked. "You know yon promised." "Yes," I replied, "I promised, and I'll keep my promise. I'll be your best man. Not that I wouldn't like to get out of it," I went on; "but you insist, and I suppose that,—" "Oh, come now," said Tom, "don't go in for cynicism; that's cheap. Of course, I'm willing to admit that from yonr point of view, perhaps, Dor othy Melton may have treated you badly enough, but I wouldn't curse the whole Bex and vail at matrimony and all that. You'll get over it in time, you know." Tom is an old friend, and allows himself liberties. I kept my head, and replied calmly: "I am not cynical, and I'm not 'railing' at matrimony. Moreover, that little affair with the young woman you mention, which I have quite for gotten—" Tom smiled in a peculiarly trying manner. "Which I have entirely forgotten—" I repeated. "And will forgei anew every day you live," said Tom. "Has had nothing whatever to do with my dermination to devote myself entirely to my profession. I have al ready frittered away entirely too much of my life on what we are pleased to eall 'society.' But of course I'll keep my promise to you." "Now look here, old man," Tom began; but he saw, I suppose, some thing in my face which warned him that I was not to be moved. At any rate he laughed and shrugged his shoulders, and then said: "Well, I'll count on yon for best •man. June seventh is the day, and I hope you won't find it such an awful bore as you seem to expect." The marriage was to come off at Biverton, and I congratulated myself that the guests, with few exceptions, would be Riverton folk whom I did not know. I could do my duty by Tom, take a last farewell of butterfly society, and then settle down for good upon the career which I fondly hoped would end upon the supreme bench. I would work,and work hard. Dorothy Melton, with whom I quarreled fix months ago, should never think that she had broken my heart, or shattered my life, or anything of that sort, for «he hadn't. Hhe simply had revealed t,o me the fickleness of her sex and brought me to the realization that a career, after all, is the only thing that can really satisfy a man worth any thing. As tho time of Tom's wedding ap proached I wrote him that I should run down to Biverton 24 hours in ad vance in order to attend to ail the thousand and oue duties which de volve upon the be-<t man; but at the lost, moment my one really good clieut, i u mau rich and cranky, succeeded in I getting so hopelessly involved in an injunction suit that nothing but im mediate and earnest personal attention could keep him from going to jail for cout3inpt of court. I saved him from that ignominy, bat only after spending the entire morning of the wedding day in court, and barely caught the last train by which 1 could reach Riv erton in time for the ceremony. Tom and his friends would have to look after the details of the wedding which 1 was compelled to neglect. I had forgotten that Uncle William Clarkson lived at Riverton, or I might have been prepared for him; but be fore the train had fairly stopped at the station Uncle William was at my side, grasping my hand and reaching for my bag. "Here you are at last," he was saying. "I've been at every train that came in today. You'vo got togo up to the house with me and get a little snack of something to »'at be fore the wedding." "But Tom—" I interposed. "Oh, that's all right," said Uncle William. "I've arranged it all with your friend Tom, and I'll have you at Christ chnrch in plenty of time for the wedding. So come along; your aunt's waiting for you." Bealty, what could I do? I looked about helplessly, hoping that Tom or some of his friends would appear and lay claim to me, but Uncle William had evidently impressed upon them that ho was going to have his own way with me, and they came not. Of course, I should have been very glad to dine with Uncle William anil Aunt Ms7garet, but when a fellow is going to be best man at his beet friend's weddinpr, and has only two hours and a half before the ceremony, he is not exactly in the mood for visit ing even his nearest aud dearest rela tives. I tried to say something of the kind to Uncle William,butheretorted: "Oh. pfihaw, now! There ain't a thing to do,and what's the use of yonr going to the hotel or to one of Tom's friends' houses where they are already running over with company? No use at all. Your Aunt Margaret will give you a nice little dinner right away, yoB can get on yonr wedding togs and get. to the church in plenty of time without any of the faming and fussing the others will go through. There's a 'phone' in the houso; you can let Tom know you are here, and that's nil that's necessary." 1 remembered that I did not espe COOO AND EVIL. For felt the evil—born the right! Dense the darkness—keen the sight ! Grieved the weakness—gained the strength! Strained the distance —home at length! Clod is in us—this the strife ! Victory through us—thi9 is life ! The will to do—is virtue done ! The grief to lose—is goodness won ! cially care to meet more people than | was necessary, but still it was with | some misgivings that I followed my \ chipper, aud I am afraid somewhat officious, uncle to his new town house. At five o| clock I found myself in Aunt Margaret's front parlor. Uncle William called up Tom by telephone, and after a few minutes' chat with him I felt somewhat reas sured. Dinner was announced very early, and was soon over. As the clock chimed six I went upstairs to make a hurried toilet. But where was my bag? I hurried downstairs again aud put the question to Uncle Wil liam. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "we must have left it at the station!" He hurried down town to fetch the bag, promising to return "before you know I'm gone;" but the minutes 1 slipped awav, and the carriage drove j up to the gate before he got back. He ] finally came, however. • "Here you are," he said, as he j handed me the bag. "Now you want j to hurry, young man, or you'll be [ late." I fairly jumped into my clothes, I trusting to luck for appearance. As I tied my cravat Uncle William tapped : on the door. "It's five minutes of seven!" he ex- j claimed. I couldn't say exactly what I wanted to say, so I contented myself by giving tlfe cravat a vicious twist. Three j minutes later I dashed down the hnll, j threw a good-by at Aunt Margaret and j hurried into the yard. The coachman was driving away. | "Hi,there!" shouted Uncle William froin the front steps. "Hold on there, | driver! Wilson, stop that hack!" Wilson was evidently Uncle Wil- I liam's next-door neighbor. He was j leisurely proceeding from his front j gate to his own domicile. He turned around slowly aud looked at the car- ! riage and then at Uncla William. "What for?" he asked. "What's 1 the matter with it?" "Hi, there, driver!" shouted Uncle William again, as I tore down the path. The coachman drew in his horses i with pn air of impatieut expectancy. "What in the world do yon meau?" cried Uncle William, puffing in anger, i behind me. "Yes, what do you mean,'' I echoed, "driving off' without me?" '•Why, sir," said the evidently J greatly puzzled coachman, with a liod of his head toward Mr. Wilson, "he said for—" "Well, well, well!'' cried Mr. Wil- j son, joining us on the sidewalk. "What does all this mean, anyway? What j are you holding this carriage here for?" Uncle William began saying some- i thing under his breath, but was ' checked by a feminine voice from the carriage. "Driver," it asked, "what's the matter?" "Oh!" exclaime 1 Uncle William, a light breaking in upon him, "you've I made a mistake here, Wilson. This is a carriage I ordered to take my nephew to the wedding." "Oh,l guess cot," said Mr. Wilson, bristling up more than ever. "This is a carriage I ordered to take my . niccj to the commencement." The two men glare 1 at each other like wild animals, and I turned from one to the othe in hopeless perplex ity. "Drive on!" ci ted Mr. Wilson, aud the driver drew up the reins. "Hold on!" cried Uncle William, ; and the driver loosened the reins. He evidently enjoyed the situation. The two men moved toward each ; other, aud then Aunt Margaret came down the path, hastening to the uu- ! tangling of Uncle William's mistakes, j as she had been doing throughout ' their married life. 'This is a muddle," she said to Mr. Wilson in her sweetest tones. "The . stablemen have probably got the two I orders confused." "I don't know about that," said , Mr. Wilson, "but I've got the car- \ riaze*' "But see here," putin Uncle Wil liam, "Dick's best man,and he mustn't be late at the wedding." "I can't help that," retorted Mr. Wilson. "My niece mustn't be late at the commencement, either." "I'll tell you," cried Aunt Margaret, with sudden inspiration, "why can't they go together? The seminary is only a little ways beyond Christ church. I know your niece won't object if I explain." Aunt Margaret dashed out into the street toward the carriage, and I fol lowed, wiping my moist brow, bewail- J iug my wilting linen and consumed with impatience. In the next few seconds I heard Aunt Margaret making a hurried ex- j plauution which concluded with "Aw- ■ fully tfood of yon, I'm sure, but I ' knew you'd consent under the cir- 1 cuinstances;" then the door was flunct : open,-Uncle William gave me a push from behind, while Aunt Margaret murmured introductions, and I found myself stepping into a carriage which seemed'filled with flowers and tinfl'y ] I white stuff, from the midst of which j i neered the face of—Dorothy Melton! I "Why—Dick Mr.—" she cried, half rising from her seat I started back with a confused at tempt at un apologv, but Uncle Wil liam hastily slammed the door, and with a commanding "Drive lively now!" motioned the driver to start. The horses were oflf with a jntnp, and I sank into the seat opposite the young woman whom six months ago I had sworn never to see again. It was the early dusk of what had been a perfect June day. The street lamps were not yet lighted, but the bright moon shone iu at the carriage windows, and I knew Dorothy could see my hot, flushed face and iny ner vousness and embarrassment "Miss Melton," I began, feeling that I must say something, "I'm ex tremely sorry to intrude upon you in this mauner. I had no idea—" "Ob, pray do not mention it," said Dorothy. "I am, of course, extreme ly glad to be of any service whatevei to Mi s. t'larkson, and it would be too bad for you to be late at the wed ding." Dorothy was quite mistress of her self. She held a large bunch of roses in her arms, having gathered them up to make room for me; the color, which I think left her face for an instant when she saw it was I who climbed into lier carriage, returned; her eyes sparkled, and never had she looked so lovely. What a fool, 1 thought, bit terly, what a fool I had been to quar rel with her. "It's to be quite a large wedding, I believe?" she said, turning her face full upon me. The driver was evidently intent upon reaching the church in time. He turned a corner so sharply that just as I was about to stammer out a commonplace about the wedding we both were near ly thrown from our seats. Dorothy threw up her hand, her roses fell in confusion, and as I bent forward her dainty lingers lightly brushed my face— "Oh, Dorothy! Dorothy!" I cried; and then— I'm sure that I couldn't tell what I said. I only know that the words I had been holding back, the love that I had been trying to stifle for six months, burst from me, and before we reached the next corner Dorothy lifted her shining eyes, and through tears said: "Oh, Dick! Dick!" and I knew every thing was right, and wished that Christ church was 20 miles away. The carriage pulled up at the church door iu the nick of time, and dashed away again to leave Dorothy at the young ladies' seminary where she ba.l beeu teaching for a few months. I found Tom iu the vestry, so su premely happy that he had not even noticed my tardiness—but, for that matter, I walked in the clouds all evening, and noticed nothing what ever that happeued at his wedding, so we are quits on that score. Dorothy and I will be married in September, and Unc'e William, who insists that his "good management" brought it all about, ha®, promised to set us up with a carriage of our own ou the day of the wedding. —Woman's Home Companion. Q'JAINT AND CURIOUS. The whistling tree which is found iu the West Indies, in Nubia aud the Soudan, has a peculiarly shaped leaf and pods with a split edge. The wind, passing through these produces the sound which ghes the tree its name. Thirteen old horseshoes were hang ing last spring on the back of a garden wall close to an old boiler which work men were removing and replacing by 'a new uiie—a very noisy piece of work —when, in no wise deterred by this, a pair of wreus built their nest in the midst of the cluster of horse-hoes and then brought up their young. The mother bird, haviug lieea found one day drowned in a pail of wnter, stand ing near, her mate teuded aud cared for their young until they were Hedged and flown. The horseshoes containing the nest still hang on the wall at Ever thorpe Hall, Brough, East Yorkshire, England. In the Bay of Plenty, Xcw Zealand, is one of the most extraordinary isl ands in the world, it is called White island, and consists mainly of sulphur mixed with gypsum aud a few other minerals. Over the island, which is about three miles in circumference, and which rises between 800 feet aud 900 feet above the sea, floats continu ally an immense cloud of vapor, at taining an elevation of 10,000 feet In the centre is a boiling lake of acid cliarged water, covering 50 acres, aud surrounded with blowholes from which steam aud sulphurous fumes are emit ted with great force and noise. With care, a lioat can be navigated ou the lake. The surphur from White Island is very pure, but little effort has yet beeu made to procure it systemati cally. One of the most peculiar accidents ever heard of happened to a colored man near New Store, Va., a few days ago. Ed Jones took his gun and set out for a day of sport. He was not looking for large game, but he had not beeu iu the woods loug before he saw an immense deer coming at a tremendous rate of speed immediately towatd him. He at once fell upon his knees, pre paratory to a shot, aud when the deer was within '2O feet of him fired anil missed his aim. The deer had ac quired such tremendous momentum that it could not check itself, and with the next leap landed upou the hunter. It knocked him down and bruised him badly upon the breast with one hiud foot., the other going into the negro's mouth, knocking ont a number of his teeth, tearing a part of his gums away, aud passing dowu his throat. The whole thing was over in an ius'aut, hut wlsea he came to the deer was gone. DR. TALMAGE7S SERMON. iUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. Subject: What Religion Doon For the Prolongation of Human Life—Religion is Not a Ilear.e—Care of the Health a I'ositive f;iiri.tlau Duty. (Copyright IWO.I WASHINGTON, D. C. —This sermon of Dr. Talmage presents a gospel for this life its well as the next and allows wbat religion does for the prolongation of earthly exist ence; text, Psalm xcl., 16, "With long life will I satisfy him." Through the mistake of its friends relig ion has been chiefly associated with sick beds and graveyards. The whole subject to many people Is odorous with chlorine and carbolic acid. There are people who cannot pronounce the word religion with out hearing In it the clipping chisel of the tombstone cutter. It is high time that this thing wore changed and that religion, In stead of being represented as a hearse to carry out the deßd, should be represented as a chariot in which the living are to tri umph. Religion. so far from subtracting from one's vitality, is a glorious addition. It is sensitive, curative, hygienic. It is good for the eyes, good for the ears, good for the spleen, good for the digestion, good for the nerves, good for the muscles. When David, in another part of the Psalms, prays that religion may be dominant, he does not speak of it as a mild sickness or an emaciation or an attack of moral and spiritual cramp. He speaks of it as "the saving health of all nations," while God in the text promises longevity to the pious, saying, 'With long life will I satisfy him." The fact is that men and women die too soon. It is high time that religion joined the hand of medical science in attempting to improve human longevity. Adam lived, 930 years; Methuselah lived 989 years. As late in the history of the world as Vespa sian there were at one time in his empire forty-five people 135 years old. So far down as the sixteenth century Peter Zartnn dlod at 185 years of age. I do not say that relig ion will ever take the race back to ante diluvian longevity, but I do say that the ieugth of human life will be greatly im proved. It is said iu Isaiah Ixv., 20, "The child shall die 100 yoars old." Now, if, accord ing to Scripture, the child Is to be 100 years old may not the men and women reach to 300 and 400 and 500? The fact is that we are mere dwarfs and skeletons compared with somo of tho generations that are to come. Take the African race. They have beeu under bondage for cen turies. Give them a chanee, and they de velop a Toussaint TOuverture. And if the wlilte raeo shall bo brought out from under tlie serfdom of sin what shall be the body, what shall be the soul? Religion lias only just touched our world. Give it full power for a few centuries, and who can tell what will be the streugth of man and the beauty of woman nnd the longevity of all? My design Is to show that practical re ligion Is the friend of longevity. I prove It, first, from the fact that it makes tho care of our health a positive Christian duty. Whether we shall keep early or late hours, whether we shall take food digest able or indigestable, whether thoreshull be thorough or incomplete mastication, are questions very often referred to the roalm of whimsicality, but tho Christian man lifts this whole problem of health into the accountable nud the Divine. He says, "God has given mo this body, and He lias callod It the temple of tho Holy Ghost, and to de face its altars or mar Its walls or crumble its pillars is n God defying sacrilege." He sees God's caligraphy in every page—ana tomical and physiological. He says, "God has given me a wonderful body for noble purposes." Tlint arm with thirty-two cur ious bones wielded by forty-six curious muscles, and all under the brain's teleg raphy 350 pounds of blood rushing through the heart every hour, the heart in twenty-four hours beating 100,090 times, during the same time the lungs taking iu llfty-seveu hogsheads of air, and all this mechanism not more mighty thau delicate and easily disturbed ana demolished. The Christian man says to himself, "If I hurt my uervos, if I hurt my brain, if I hurt any ot my physical faculties, I insult (iod ami call for dire retribution." Why did God tell the Levites not to offer to Him In sacrlllce animals Imperfect and diseased? Ho meant to tell us in all the ages that we are to offer to God our very best physical con iitlon.and a man who through Irregular or gluttonous eating ruins his health is not offering to God such a sacrifice. Why did Paul write for his cloak at Troas? Why should such a great manns l'aul be anx ious about a thing so insignificant as an overcoat? It was because he knew that with pneumonia and rhematisin ho would not be wortn half as much to God and tho church as with respiration easy and foot free. When it bocomes ft Christiau duty to take care of our health, is not the whole ten dency toward longevity? If I toss my watch about recklessly and drop it on the jiavement nnd wind it up at any time of day or night I happen to think of it, and often lot it run down, while you are careful with your watch and never abuse it and wind it up just at the same hour every night nnd put it in a place where it wiil not sulTer from the violent changes of at mosphere, which watch will last tho longer? Common sense answers. Now. the human body is God's watch. You see tho hands of the watch. Yon see the fare of tho watch, but tho beating of the boart is the ticking of the watch. Oh, be careful and do not let it run downl Again, I remark that practical religion is a friend of longevity In the fact that it is u protest against dissipations which in jure and destroy tho health. Had men and women ilvo a very 9liort life. Tljeir sins kill them. I know hundreds of good old men, but I do not know half a dozen bad old men. Why? They do not got old. Lord Byron died at Missolongbl at thirty six years of nge, himself his own Maxeppa, his unbridled passions the horse that dashed with hlui Into the desert. E igar A. Poo died at Baltimore at thirty-eight years of aga. Tue black raven that alighted ou his bust above his chamber door was delirium tremens. Only this and nothing more. Napoleon Bonuparte livud only just be yond midlife, then died at .St. Helena, and one of his doctors said that bis disease wns induced by excessive snuffing. The hero of Austerlilz, the man who by one stop of his foot in the center ol Europe shook tho earth, killed by a snuffbox. Oh. how many people we have known who have not lived out half their days because ot their dissi pations and indulgences. Now practical religion is a protest against all dissipation of any kind. "But," you sav, "professors ot religion have fallen, professors of religion have got drunk, professors of religion have misap propriated trust funds, professors of rolig ion have absconded." Yes, but they threw away their religion before they did their morality. If u man ou a Wliito star line steamer bound for Liverpool in mid-At lantic jumps overboard and Is drowned, is t hat anything against the White Stur line's capacity to take the man across theO''enu? And if a raau jumps over the ginwale of hls religion and goes down never to rise is that any reason for your believing that re ligion has no capacity to take the man clear through? In the oue case if he had kept to the steamer his bod.v would have been saved; In the other case if lie had kept to his religion his morals would have been saved. There are nged people who would have lieeu dead twenty-live years ago bat for the defenses and the equipoise of religion. You have no more natural resistance than hundreds of people who lie :n the ceme teries to-day slain by th«ir owsi vlce<. The doctors mndo their case a» kind and pleas ant as they could, and it was called con gestion of the liraiu oroometbing else, but the snakes and thu bla- flies that seemed to arnwl over the pillow fn the sig ut of the delirious patient showed what was the matter with him. >ou, the aged Christian man, walked along by that unhappy one until you came to the golden pillar of the Christian life. You went to the right; he went to the left. That Is all the difference between you. Oh, If this religion is a pro test against all forms of dissipation then it Is an Illustrious friend of longevity! "With long life will I satisfy blm." Again, religion is a friend of longevity fn the fact that it takes the worry out of our temporalities. It is not work that kills men; It is worry. Wheu a man becomes a genuine Christian, ho makes over to God not only his affections, bat his family, his business, bis reputation, his body, his mind, bis soul—everything. Industrious be will be, but never worrying, because God is managing bis affairs. How can lie worry about business when in answer to lii 9 prayers God tolls blm when to buy and when to sell, and, If he gain, that is best and, if he lose, that is best? Suppose you hud a supernatural neighbor who came in and said: "Sir, I want you to call on me in every exlgonoy. I your fast friend. I could fall back ou f20,000,- 000. I hold the controlling stock in thirty of the best monetary Institutions of this country. Whenever you are in any trouble call on me, and I will help you. You can have my money, and you can have my In fluence. Here is my hand In pledge of it." How much would vou worry about busi ness? Why, you would say, "I'll do the best I can, and then I'll depend on my friend's generosity for the rest." Now, more than that is promised to every Christian business man. God says to him: "I own New York and London und St. Petersburg and Pekin, and Australlu and California are Mine. I cun foresee a panic 1000 years. I have all the resources of the universe, and I am your fast friend. When you got in business trouble or any other trouble, call on Me, and I will help. Here Is My hand In pledge of omnipotent deliverance." How much should that man worry? Not much. What lion will dare to put his paw on that Dnnlel? Is there not rest in this? Is there not an eternal vacation in this? "Oh," you say, "here is a man who asked God for a blessing In a certain enterprise, and he lost 85000 in it. Explain that." "I will. Yonder is a factory, and one whoel Is going north and the other wheel is go ing south, nnd one wheel laterally and the other plays vertically. Igo to the manu facturer, and I say: "Oh, manufacturer, your machinery is a contradiction. Why do you not make all the wheels go oue way?" "Well," he says,"l made them to go iu opposite directions on purpose, and they produce the right result. You go down stairs and examine the carpets we are turning out fn this establishment and you will see." I go dowu on the other floor, and I see tho carpets, and 1 am obliged to confess that though the wheeze in that factory go in opposite directions they turn out a beautiful result, ami while I am standing there looking at the oxquls- Ite fabric an old Scripture passage comes into my mind—"All things work together for good to them who love God." Is there not rest in that? Is there not tonic in that? Is thero not longevity in that? Suppose a man is nil tho time worried about his reputation. Oue man says he lies, another says he is stupid, another says he Is dishonest, and half a dozen printing es tablishments attack him, and lie is inn great state of excitement anil worry and fume and cannot sleep, but religion comes to him and says:"Man, God is ou your side; He will take care of your reputation. If God be for your, who can be against you?" How much should that mau worry about his reputation? Not much. If that broker who some years ngo In Wall street, after he had lost money, sat down and wrote n farowell letter to hi 9 wife before ho blew bis brains out; if instead of taking out of hlsjioeket a pistol he had taken out a well read New Testament, there would have been one less suicide. Oil, nervous au i feverish people of the world, try this al mighty sedative! You will live twenty-five years longer under its soothing power. It is not chloral that you want or morphine that you want; it is the gospel of Jesus Christ. "With long life will I satisfy him." Again, practical religion is a friend of longevity in tho fact that it removes all corroding care about a future existence. Every man wants to know what Is to be come of him. If you get on board a rail train, you want to know at what dopot it is going to stop. If you get ou board a ship, you want to know into what harbor it is going to run, and if you should tell me you have no iuterest in what is to be your future destiny I would iu ns polite a way as I know bow tell you I did not be lieve you. Before I had this matter settled with reference to my future existence, the question almost worried me into ruined honlth. The anxieties men have upon this subject put together would ranke a martyr dom. This is a stale of awful unhealthl ness. There are people who fret them selves to death for fear of dying. Accept that sacrifice and quit worrying. Take the tonic, tho inspiration, the long evity of this truth. Religion is sunshine; tlint is health. Religion Is fresh air and pure water; thov are healthy. Religion is warmth; that is healthy. Ask all tho doc tors, nnd tliev will tell you that a quiet conscience and pleasant anticipations are hygienic. I offer you perfect peace now and hereafter. Well, you defeat me in my three experi ments. "l have only one more to make, nnd If you defeat me in that I am exhausted, A mighty one on a knoll back of Jerusalem* one day,"the skies filled with forked light nings uud the earth with volcanic disturb ances, turned His pale and agonized face toward tho heavons nnJ said: "I take the sins and sorrows of the agos into My own heart. lam the expiation. Witness earth and heaven and bell, I am the expiation." And the hammer struck Ilim and the spears punctured Him, nnd lienven thundered, "The wages of sin is death!" "Tho soul that sinneth it shall die!" "I will by no moans clear the sruilty!" Then there was silence for halt au hour, and the lightnings were drawn back into tho scubbard of the sky and tho earth censed to quiver nnd ail the colors of the sky be gan to shift themselves into a rainbow woven out of the falling tears of Jesus, and there was red us of the hloodsheddlug, nud thero wns blue as of the bruising, nnd thero wns green as«of the heavenly foliage, and there was orange ns of the day dawn. And along tho lino of the blue I saw the words, "I was bruised for their iniquities." And along the line ot the red I saw the words, "The blood ot Jesus Christ clennseth from all sin." And alone tho line of the green I saw the words, "The leaves of the tree of lite for tho healing of tho nations." And along the line of the orange I sav/ tho words, "Tho day spring from on high hath visited us." What do you want in tlie future world? Tell rae, and you shall lmvo it. Orchards? There are tho trees with twelve manner of fruits, yielding fruit every month. Water scenery? There is the river of life, from under tho throne of God, clear as crystal and tho sea of glass mingiod with lire." Do you want music? There is tho oratorio of the Creation led on by Adam, and tho ora torio of the Red Sea led on by Moses, and the oratorio of tho Messiah led on by St. Paul, while the archangel, with swlnglug baton, controls the one hundred and forty four thousand who maks un the orchestra. l>o ycu wnut reunion? There are your dead children waiting to kiss you, waiting to embrace yon, waiting to twist itarlands in your hair. You have beeu accustomed to opeu the door on this sido the sepulcher. 1 open the door on tho other side tho sepulcher. You have been accustomed to walk in the wet grass on the top of the grave. 1 show you tho underside of th» grave. The bottom has fallen out, and the loug ropes with which the pal'heurers let down your dead let thera clear through into heaven. Glory be to God for tbis robust, healthy religion. It will haven tendency to inuke yon live long in thl» world, uud in the world to come you will hnveeternnl life "With life will 1 satisfy him." THE GREAT DESTROYER. SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. I Reinforcement*—A Distinguished Eilito* Makes > Pertinent Suggestion to Pro feMor Atwater—Tlie Scientist's Deduc tions Reduced to an Absurdity* (A Song ot Yesterday, To-day and To-mor row.) BY LILIAN M. DEATH. 'Twas a hush before the battle like the stllU ness of the deep, As the hosts of mighty warfare rested arma In seeming sleep, While In ohalns of helpless bondage lay out proud Columbia, prone In the thralldom of a tyrant worse than e'en the Boer has known. Hark! through the distance Floats a martial song. Half, reinforcements! Bight faces Wrong. Then awake, ye loyal-hearted! To your captain still be true; Ere the triumph that is coming. There is glorious work to do. Banish weariness and sighing, To our ranks recruits are hieing. Rejoice, Columbia! the Right shall win the day. O'er the hillsides they are coming, with their banners wlilte and gold, Through the city and the wlldwood, swell ing numbers yet untold; From the valley, plain and mountain, strong recruits we still may see. Eager for the captain's order, "Charge! and set Columbia free." Hark! o'er our campflres Bounds the martial song. Hail, reinforcements! Right faces Wrong. Yes, the time of waking cometh, and the hour is close at hand When King Alcohol, defeated, shall be driven from the laud. See! the mist is swiftly rising 'neath the glory of the sun. Soon the conflict will be over—soon tho victory will be won. Hark! through fierce battle Rings the martial song. Hall, reinforcements! Right faces Wrong. A Suggestion to frofesaor Atwater. Professor W. O. Atwater, of Wesleyac University, whose experiments in the mat ter of the use of alcoholic liquors as food are familiar to the temperance people throughout the country and have been much commented upon during the past six months, is again being vigorously quoted by the pro-liquor press as having attacked the scientific accuracy ot the temperance instruction text books now in use in the public schools. The New Voioo entertains profound respect for Professor Atwater as a scholar and as a gentleman, and is thoroughly convinced of his hon esty in the positlou he has taken and of the essential accuracy, so far as they have been carried out, of his experiments. We say this without any disposition to concede the case at issue, but merely as a recognition ot the fact that certain valua ble and interesting data have been gath ered by Professor Atwater's labors. Pro fessor Atwater has discovered that a sub ject shut in an air-light chamber and fed partially with alcohol does not exhibit the well known symptoms of poisoning that the use of alcohol produces in every day life. If now upon the strength of this, he feels that be must assail the teachings of the text books concerning alcoholic poisoning, we beg to suggest to him that there is an other universally accepted belief that ought at the same time to be assailed. 11 is this: We have always been told that car bonic acid gas, as exhaled from the human body or coming from other sources, Is preju dicial to the physical health, and that a man obliged to live in an atmosphere heav ily charged with that gas would suffer se rious inconvenience from it. Every prac tical work upon hygiene devotes much space to this idea and to cnutions based upon it. Now the fact is, as the writer or this editorial Is told by the gentleman un der whose immediate supervision Profes sor Atwater's experiments were conducted, that the subject who was shut up in the calorlmetre and who there confined did not exhibit the usual symptoms of alco holic poisoning, was all that time living without apparent evil results in an atmos phere heavily charged with carbonic aciJl gas. Now we submit that if Professor Atwa ter feels that, in view of the discovery that a man may, in tho calorlmetre, take alco hol In certain moderate quantities mid not flnd it a poison, but rather seem to devel op energy from it, ho must attack tho teachings of the text books which hold that alcohol Is a poison, ou?ht ho not also to equally attack the common beiiof and the universal teaching that carbonic acid gas is poisonous? Girls Checking Intemperance. Mrs. L. M. N. Stevens, President of the National Woman's Christian Temperance Union, writing of "What Girls Cau Do to Check Intemperauce," says: "First, theexample ot her own lifeshould be that of total abstinence. On the Queen's Jubilee Day, In June, 1897, at the banquet table of the Lord Mayor of London, a young woman was urged to have her glass tilled with Vine. She firmly declined, say- Jug in a sweet, strong voice, 'I never taste that which I know may do another harm.' This course was safe for herself, but, more than that, she set a safe example for others about her, and she will never know the good which came because of her decision and her bravery in declaring it. Girls should be self-respectful; to take wine or alcoholic liquors because invited to do so shows a lack of courage and self-reliance. Young women should reaulre that the young men with whom they associate should be as good as they themselves aro. Are they total abstainers from principle? By the same token, the young men should be total abstainer*. "If the young women of our Nation.witli so much of life before them, with all or their enthusiasm and ability, would be strict total abstainers from all that can in toxicate, Including wlue, beer and older; if they would try in all reasonable ways to win others to do the same; if they would stand opposed to the trafflo in alcoholic liquors, the day would be greatly hastened when the shadows caused by intemperance shall flee away, and when uothing In the shape of strong drink 'shall hurt or destroy In all God's holy mountain."' You Cannot Drink Without Injury. A man is like a thermometer. His spir its are equable—nolthor joyous nor sad. He takes a drink. It fills him with joy. When be recovers from its effects the re action carries him just as far in the other direction. You cannot take a drink of whisky without an injury, either mental or physical. Let it alone. —New York Journal. The Saloon In the Way. Dr. J. G. Evans, a prominent Methodist minister, speaking of the twentieth cen tury movement ot his church to ralso $20,- 000,000 and secure the conversion ofa mill lon BOUIS by the close of 1901, says: "With the 9aioon out of the way It would be far easier to raise $39,009,030 and win two million souls than to raise $20,000,000 and Win a million souls to Christ, with 250,900 saloons In full blast in their work ot pauperising men and damning souls, and especially when this awful crime is per petuated through the suffrage of Christian voters whose prayers oro solicited for the conversion of souls."
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers