Of nil the men the world has seen Since Time his rounds began, There's one I pity every day— Earth's ilrst and foremost man; Just think of all he missed By failing to enjoy The dear delights of youthtime, For—he never was a boy. He never stubbed his naked toe Against a root or stone, He never with a pin-hook fished For minnows all ulone. He never sought the bumblebee Among the daisies coy, Nor felt its business end, Because—he never was a boy. He never hookey played nor tied A bright and shining pail Down in the alley all alone To a trusting poodle's tail. And when be home from swimmin' came, His pleasure to destroy No slipper interfered, Because—he never was a boy. | THE DREAM RIDE OF A BOY. | jj An Adventure After Meetimj Two Indian tTnyqlei's. | The shooting party had gone away and left eight-year-old Freddie behind to liis great disgust. It was just about sunrise, the coolest, nicest time o' day in India, and his mother was not yet up, and the servants were busy else where, so there was nobody to pre vent him from wandering to the boundary of the tea plantation. There ho observed of a sudden a quite unex pected and amazing sight. Two brown men, one quite old and the other quite young, were in the shadow of the trees. They were stripped to the waist, and the old man wore a cummerbund aud sandals, while the young, wiry man's legs aud feet were bare. The old man was evident ly instructing the youiiger aud super vising a lesson far more interesting to Freddie than the worrying intricacies of the reading book and multiplication table. Flisb, flash! Flickerty, flick! Up in the air, glancing iu the morning's slanting sunbeams, quivered a prodi gious number of knives. They must sometimes have touched the juggler's hands, but so deftly did the man fin ger them that the knives darted about his head aud body like a swarm of great dragon flies, grazing his ears, soaring above his turban, swooping to j his kuees, but never by any accident touching the ground until, with a swift clatter and a clash,they all came together in the juggler's grasp, aud he laid them down. Now, the little boy's eyes and mouth were soon very wide open indeed, and when the feat was over, his uncon scious legs had borne him, step by step, right up to the jugglers, where his brown hair and pale face and pretty suit of snow-white duck con trasted strangely with their dusky skins aud bright black eyes and cloths of glowing colors. He was immensely interested aud rather awed, but by no means afraid, for he had been born ; in India and was accustomed to com mune in a lordly manner with all sorts of natives. Even traveling jugglers were not unknown to him. So when the swarthy men salaamed humbly to j the little sahib, the boy acknowledged Iheir salute aud said, with the simple ; dire tness of one used to being oleyed: "Do it again." The older mau turned to the boy at i once with an air of having expected him, and smiled and salaamed very 10-v in quite a gratified way. They obeyed him at once, and the young native began to perform even more amusing tricks. It was almost terri fying, but the curious and rather un nerving thiug was that the okl juggler never seemed to take his eyes ofl' the boy. The old man gave him a mat to sit on, and smiled into his face with great piercing eyes, aud told him to be good aud he would see what he would see. The old man then took a mango stone from a basket, aud care fully planted it. Then he covered the spot for au instant with the basket, and there was the young plant already sproutiug from the earth. Freddie gasped, and the plaut grew aud grew right before his eyes. It grew and it grew and it grew.uutil iu a very short time it was a tree. Then it spread and it spread, and had many branches aud leaves, nnd at last little mangoes began to appear, aud they grew aud ripened in a marvellous way, until the fakir plucked a big juicy one and gave it to the boy, who ate it and found it delicious. Then the juggler waved h'.s bauds aud—the tree was gone. "Goodness me!" cri.»d Freddie, "I don't see how that was done." The old juggler smiled again and took a coil of rope fiom the wonderful basket. It was a very ordinary rope, just, in fact, a wash line. But the fakir threw one eud of the coil far up, and the marvelliug boy saw that the rope spuii slowly out, up and up tow ard the sky, quite straight as if some one were hauling at the upper end. It went up and up until the end van ished altogether. "Gracious goody!" cried Freddie. **l don't see how that was done!" The old man clapped his hands, and the young man at the rope at once and seized it aud began to climb up, hand over hand, at a tre mendous rate, aud he went up and up and up until he also was out of sight. "I never, never did!"' cried Freddie, who was now limp with amazement. "Where did he goto?" "Wherever he wished togo," the juggler said. "Does the sahib wish to go anywhere?" "Yes,'' cried Freddie with a sudden baryy thought. "Where my papa and uncle are huntiug." In a moment the juggler placed the rope in his hauds. "Climb," said he, and without tak ing time to think Freddie climbed. WHAT HE MISSEC* He might mmer-ber splendid times In Eden's bowers—yet He never acted liomeo To a six-year Juliet. He never sent a valentine Intended to annoy His good but inuiden aunt. Because—he never was a boy. He never cut a kite string, no, Nor hid an Faster egg; He never spoiled his pantaloon 9 A-playin mumbley-peg; He never from the attic stole A 'coon bunt to enjoy Nor found the "old man" waiting, For—he never was a boy. I pity him, why should I not? I even drop a tear. He never knew how much ho missed ; He never will, 1 fear. And always wbou those dear old days My memories employ, I pity bim, Earth's only man, who—never was a boy. —Pittsburg Dispatch. Just how aud when it happeued that he let goof the rope he could not tell, but without any trouble to him self he suddenly found that the rope had disappeared, aud he was stauding in a great compound beside a river. Ey the river bauks were great stacks of lumber, and a small army of ele phants, each in charge of a mahout who, perched ou the brute's neck,was picking up huge logs and carrying them, according to their length and thickness, to other stacks, where the elephants piled them with almost hu man intelligence aud exactness. Fred die remembered this government dock yard, for he had beeu taken ta watch the elephants once before by his father. He was greatly interested and wan dered about freely. He chatted to the mahouts aud others,but it seemed odd they were all very, very busy, for they did not answer, indeed, they did not seem to see the little boy at all. Freddie did not iniud that., there was so much to watch. At last he came to a corner of the yard where a big elephant was stand ing all by himself, swaying from side to side, chained by one leg. Freddie recognized hiin by his size as one that he had ridden on in cave of the ma hout when he was here before. Natu rally, the boy wished to enjoy a ride agaiu. There was no attendant near to help him up, but somehow he found that the swarthy, tnrbaned old jug gler was looking into his eyes again, and the next instant he was tri umphantly seated atop of tho ele phant. He was tremulously pleased at first, but all of a moment the beast raised his trunk oud trumpeted with a savage roar. At the same time he gave his leg a mighty jerk, and the iron chain burst, and the elephant was free. He roared again and tossed his trunk high, aud then charged straight through the compound. The black men and the white men scattered iu all directions, yelling in fear. "Run! Kun! Look out! Look out! The Rajah's loose! He's mad! Run for your life!" They all ran so quickly that a clear path was left for the mad elephant, whe dashed straight through the yard, shattered the great gates as if they were orange boxes and, trumpeting furiously, galloped wildly into the far sprea ling open country. Easily and incomprehensively as Freddie had got up he found he could not now get down, and he was dreadfully nfraid, but he seemed fastened to the huge beast's neck just behind the great ears. He would have liked to jump olf, but he could not; he just stuck and stuck aud stuck. He had had no idea be fore that elephants could run so fast. The Rajah ran like a racehorse. The trees and houses flashed past. They came to a native village, and the in habitants—fathers and mothers grab bing babies and howling with fear— dashed and darted and climbed aud crawled to all imaginable hiding places. Crish! Crash! through the branches of trees; splish! splash! through a muddy liver; swish! swash! through meadows of high,thick grass,in which tame buft'alos were entirely hidden from sight! Through wood and river aud grass Freddie held ou in a most marvellous mauner. At last they came to a spot somewhat familiar to the lit tle boy, a strip of jungle with a belt of open, rolling grassland in front. Through an opening iu the jungle Freddie saw the dark greeu brushes of a plantation, aud beyond that the roof and upper veranda of a high bungalow. Freddie recognized his own home. He had no time to look twice, however,for suddenly right be fore the elephant, directly in his path, there stepped out from the jungle two big men with guns, and Freddie saw that they were his father aud uncle. For the first time the boy found breath to yell. "Papa! Uncle Fred! Let me down!" he screamed. "The elephaut has run away! He's mad! Stop him! Take me down!" It was impossible to believe it, it was absurd to credit it. Those two big men, at sight of the mad elephant and the little boy charging upon them, turned and fled! True, they had only light, small calibre rifles, but —was that au excusefor deserting an adored son and nephew iu his extremity? They did not get away, however! Freddie's father tripped and fell right iu the road of the Rajah! Uncle Fred stopped, white as death, but steady, astride of the stunned figure of his brother. Seventy yards away the ele phant trumpeted and bore down tri umphantly. Uncle Fred took careful aim. There was but one little spot in the great beast's forehead to hit suc cessfully aud stop the Rajah. To mini it meant death for both men. The hunter gazed steadily through hia eights at that spot, and paid not the slightest attention to Master Freddie, who, in an agony of apprehension, screeched at the top of his voice: "Don't miss, uncle, or you'll hit me!" Seventy yards, fifty yurds, thirty yards! Uncle Fred fired. Flame and smoke and roar and crash,and Freddie found himself sitting on the grass alone, aud the wonderful Indian jug glers had both disappeared. He picked himself up at once and ran as fast a3 he could back ta the bungalow. It was past breakfast time, nnd everybody was on the veranda. Freddie's mother was tying up her husbaud's arm in a sling. Uncle Fred was standing up and talking ex« cited ly. Freddie heard him as he ran up. "The closest shave!" Uncle Fred cried. "By Jove, Dick, though I say it myself, it was a great shot, too! Bight on the vital spot, aud he went to his knees with a crash! Halloa!" "Freddie!" cried his mother. "Where have you been? Without a hat! oh! dear, oh! dear? You'll have sunstroke!" But Freddie leaped to his father's breast, sobbing. "I'm so glad," he sobbed. "1 didn't know whether yon killed the elephant or the elephant, killed you, aud I was afraid uncle missed a°id killed me, but I'm not killed, am I, papa?" All three grown-ups raised their hands, and their faces were pictures of bewilderment. "How do you know abont tho ele phant? Where were you?" his father gasped. "Didn't you see me?" Freddie asked reproachfully. "I was on the top of the elephant, where the mahout rides, you know. The old juggler let me climb the rope, and I weut to tho dockyard,and got on theßa'ah's back, and be went mad and ran away, and I thought you were killed aud " "Freddie!" cried his mother, "you have got sunstroke." She picked the little boy up in her arms and carried him into a cool room, where he was put to bed with ice on his head, while the doctor was sent for, in spite of his protests, but on the veranda his father aud uncle stared at each other. "Jugglers! Climbing up the rope?" cried his father. "The child mnst have met a troupe of these traveling conjurors!" "But—but," said Uncle Fred feebly, "of course all Auglo-Indians know the strange tricks these fellows can perform, which no man—no white man, at any rate —has ever explained, but—but—oh, bless my soul—there was an elephant, and you did fall, aud there was no boy on the elephant's back, aud therefore Freddie couldn't be there, but.—but—oil, confound it all, how did he know what happened, before anybody but our two selves and your wife knew any elephant hr.d been shot at all?" Freddie's father jumped up augrily iu spite of his sore urm. "I've seen that rope trick done often and the man climb into the clouds. Everybody lias seen it, and no one ever explained it, save by hypnotism of the audience. That's it! But the idea of practising their arts upon o little boy! It's 100 bad! I'll send out, nud if they are caught, they will have to hypnotize themselves out of jail!" "Of course," said the uncle, still with weak bewilderment, "but—but— was Freddie on the elephant or was he not? Don't you know? Oh, bless my sonl?" So riders were sent out in nil direc tions to catch the wonderful jugglers, but it was no use—these had juggled themselves far away. But Freddie's mother was very indignant at his father and Uncle Fred for such suggestions as hypnotism nnd jugglery. "You two big sillies!" she said. "The boy weut to sleep in the sun and dreamed, aud the rest is all coinci dence. So, there!" Still, however, men came from the dockyard to trace the deud elephant, ' and they told of his escape just as Freddie did. So, there!— Sun. He Was Mintnkon. The young man was telling the young lady that he believed there must be some sort of affinity between them. And he weut onto say that the other day when he was walking up the street he felt that she was coin ing up on that next car, nay, he kuew that she was in that car. Sure enough, when the car rolled by there she sat, and not ouly that, but she turned and* saw him walking. A few days after wards the young man was forced to make a confession to the young lady. He had told her about "feeling" thnt she was coming, and as the rumbling and roaring of the car grew nearer he was more'and more curious to see if his premonition was correct. "Well,"said he, "that car came light along aud I was as sure as could be that the next instaut I would turn around and see yon." "And then?" she asked. "And then," he went on "that rum bling aud roaring aud bumping came by and—no you weren't there. It was a freight car full of cabbages. Detroit Free Pr< ss. No* So Looney. Lunatics often assume a superiority of intellect to others which is quite amusing. A gentleman while walking along a road not far from the side of which ran a railway, encountered a number of iusane people out for exercise. With a nod toward the railway lines, he said to one of the lunatics: "Where does this railway goto?" The lunatic looked at hiin scornful ly for a moment and theu replied: "It doesn't go anywhere. We keep it here to rnn trains on."—Agate. DR TALMAGE'S SERMON. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED DIVINE. Snbject; The Responsibility of Those Who Are Welt and Strong—Physical Knercy Not Indicative of Spiritual Power— Fight the Battles of the Weak. [Copyright ISIKI.I WASHINGTON, D. C.—ln this discourse Dr. Talmage sets forth the responsibility of those who are strong and well, as In a former discourse he preached to the dls nbled and"the shut In," text, Judges xiv.. 1, "And Satnsou went down to Tlmnath." There are two sides to the character of Samson. The one phase of bis life, if fol lowed Into the partloulars, would adminis ter to the grotesque and the mirthful, but there is a phase of bis character fraught with lessons of solomn and eternal import. To these graver lessons we devote our sermon. This giant no doubt in early life gave evidences of what be was to be. It Is al most always so. There were two Napoleons —the boy Napoleon and the man Napoleon —but both alike; two Howards —the boy Howard and tlio man Howard—but both nlike; two Samsons—the boy Samson and the man Samson—but both alike. This giant was no doubt the hero of the play ground, nnd nothing could stand before his exhibition of youthful prowess. At eighteen vears of age ho was betrothel to the daughter of a Philistine. Ooing down toward Timuath, a lion came out upon him, nnd, although this young giant was weaponless, he seized the monster by the long mane and shook him as a hungry houud shakes a March hare aud mnde his bones crack aud left him by the wayside bleeding under tho smiting of his flst aud the grinding hert of bis heel. There he stands, looming up above other men, a mountain of flesh, his arms bunched with muscle that can lift the gate of a city, taking an attitude defiant of everything. His hair had nevor been cut, and It rolled down seven great plaits over his shoul ders, adding to his bulk fierceness aud ter ror. The Philistines wnnt to conquer him, and therefore they must find out where the secret of his strength lies. There Is an evil woman living in the val ley of Sorek by tho name of Delilah. They appoint her tlie agent in the case. The Philistines are secreted In the snme build ing, and then Dulllu > goes to work and coaxes Samson to tell whnt Is tho secret of iiis strength. "Well," hesnys, "if you take seven green withes such as they fasten wild beasts with and put them around me I should bo perfectly powerless." So she binds him with the seven green withes. Then she claps her hands and says, "They come—the Philistines!" and he walks out as though there were no Impediment. Sho coaxes him again and says, "Now, tell me the secret of this gr«at strength." And he replies, "If you should take some ropes that have never been used, and tie me with them I should be just like other men." She ties hlin with ropes, claps her hands and shouts, "They come —the Philistines!" He walks out us easily as ho did before--not a single obstruction. She coaxes him again, and he says, "Now, If you should take these seven long plaits of hair aud by this house loom weave them into a web, I could not get away." So the house loom Is rolled up, and the shuttle flies backward and for ward, and the long plaits of lialr are woven Into a web. Then she claps her hands and snys, "Tbey come—the Philistines!" He walks out as easily as he did before, drag ging a part of the loom with him. But after awhile she persuades him to tell the truth. He says, "If you should take a razor or shears aud cut oil this long liuir, I should be powerless and in the hands of my enemies." Samson sleeps, and that she may not wake him up dur ing the process of shenrlng, help is called in. You know that the barbers oi the East have such a skillful way of manipulating tho head to this very day that, instead of waking up a sleeping man, they v'.ll put a man wido awake sound asleep, r bear the blades of thu shears grinding against each other, and I see tho long locks falling off. The shears or razor accomplishes what greeu withes and new ropes aud house loom could r.ot do. Sud denly she claps her hands and says."The Philistines lie upon thee, Samson!" He rouses up with a struggle, but his streugth is all gone. He is in the bauds of his en emies. I hear tho groan of the giant as they tako his eyes out, and theu I see him stag gering on In his blindness, feoling bis way lis lie goes ou toward Gaza. The prison door is opeu, and the giant is thrust in. He sits down aud puts his bauds ou the mill crank, which, with exhausting hori zontal motion, goes dny after day, week after week, month after month—work, work, work! Tho cousternatlou of the world In captivity, his locks shorn, his eyes punctured, grindiug coru in Gaza! First of all, l>ehold in this giant of the text that physical power is uot always an index of moral power. He wns a huge rrtan —the lion found It out and the SOOO men whom he slow found It oat; yet he wns tho subject of petty revenges aud outglanted by low passion. lam far from throwing nny discredit upou physical stamina. There are those who seem to have great admiration for delicacy and sickness of constitution. I never could see nny glory in weak nerves or sick beudache. What ever effort in our day is mudo to mnke the men and womeu more robust should have the favor of every good citizen as woll as of every Christian. Gymnastics may be positively religious. Good people somotlmes ascribe to a wicked benrt what they ought to nsoribe to a slow liver. Tho body and soul are such near neighbors that they often catch each other's diseases. Those who never saw a sick day and who, like Hercules, show thu giant in the cradle have more to answer for than those who are the sub jects of lifelong infirmities. He who can lift twice us much ns you can aud walk twice as far nud work twice ns long will have a double account to meet in the judg ment. How often it is that you do not And physical energy indicative o( spiritual powerl If a clear head is worth more than one dizzy with perpotual vertigo, if muscles with the play of health lu thom are worth more than those drawn up in cbrouie "rheumatics," if an eye quick to catch passing objects is better than one with vision dim and uncertain, then Ood will require of us efficiency just in proportion to what He has given as. Physical energy ought to be a typo of mornl power. We ought to have as good digestion of truth as we have capacity to assimilate food. Our spiritual hearing ought to be as good ns our physical heariug. Our spiritual taste ought to be as clear as our tonguo. Sam sons In body, we ought to be giants in moral power. But while you find a great many men who realize that tbey ought to use their money aright and use their intelligence aright, bow few men you And aware of the fact that tbey ought to use their physical or ganism aright) With overy thump of the heart there Is something saying: "Work! Work!" And lest we should complain that we have no tools to work with, Ood gives us our bands and feet, with every knuckle and with every joint and with every muscle saying to us,"Lay holdnnddo something." But bow,often it Is that men with physi cal strength do not serve Obrlstl They are like a ship full manned and fully rigged, capable of vast tonnage, able to endure all stress of weather, yet swinging idly at the docks when these men ought to be crossing and reorossing the great ocean of human suffering and sin with God's supplies of mercy. How often it is tbat physical strength is used in doing positive damage or in luxurious ease, when, with - fdeeves rolled up and bronzed bosom, fearless of the shafts of opposition. It ought to be laying bold with all its might and tugging away to lift up this sunken wreck of a world. It is a most shameful fact that muoli of tUe business of the ehuroh and of the world must be done by those comparatively Inva lid. lilcbard Baxter, by reason of his dis eases, all his days sitting In the door of the tomb, yet writing more than one hundred volumes and sending out ac Influence for God that will endure as long ns "The Saint's Everlasting Rest;" Edward Payson, never knowing a well day, yet how he preached and bow he wrote, helping thou ands of dying souls like himself to swim In a sea of glory. And Robert McCheyne, u walking skeleton, yet you know what ho did in Dundee and bow lie shook Scotland with zeal tor Ood; Philip Doddridge, ad vised by his friends, because of iiis illness, not to enter the ministry, yet you know what he did for the "Rise and Progress of Religion" in the church and in the world. Wilberforce was told by his doctors that be could not live a fortnight, yet at that very time entering upon philanthropic en terprises that demanded the greatest en durance and persistence; Robert Hall, suf fering excruciations, so that often iu the pulpit while preaching he would stop and lie down on a sofa, then getting up again to preach about heaven until the glories of the celestial city dropped on the multi tude, doing more work, perhaps, than al most any well man in his day. Oh, how often is it thut ;neu with great physical endurance are not as great in moral and spiritual stature! While there are achievements for those who are bent all their days with sickness —achievements of patience, achievements of Christian en durance—l call upon men of health, men of muscle, men of nerve, men of physical power, to devote themselves to the Lord. Behold also. In the story of my text. Il lustration of the fact of the damage that strength can do if it be misguided. It seems to nie that tills man spent a great deal of bis tlmo iu doing evil, this Samson of ray text. To pay a bet which he had lost by the guessing of his riddle lie robs and kills thirty people. He was not only gigantic in strength, but gigantic iu mis cliiof, aud a type of those men in all ages of the world who, powerful in body or mind or any faculty of social position or wealth, have used their strength for inlquitou-i purposes. It Is not the small, weak men of the day who do tho damage. These smalt men who go swearing and loaflug about your stores aud shops and banking houses, assailing Christ and the Bible aud the church—they <lo not do tho damage. They have no In fluence. They are vermin thnt you crush with your foot. But it is the giants of tho day, the misguided giauts, giants in phys ical power, or giants iu mental acumen, or giauts in social position, or giants in wealth, who do the damage. The men with sharp pons that stab re ligion and throw poison all through our literature, the men who use the power of wealth to sanction iniquity and bribe justice and make truth and honor bow to their golden scepter. Misguided giant?— look out for them! In the middle nnd lat ter part of the last century no doubt there were thousands of men in Paris and Edin burgh aud London who hated Ood and blasphemed the name of the Almighty, but they did but little mischief—they were small men, insignlflcant men. Yet there were giants in those days. Who can cal culato the soul havoc of a Rousseau, go lug on with a very enthusiasm of In iquity, witli flery imagination seizing upon all the impulsive nature-! of ills day? Or David Hume, who employed his* life as a spider employs Its sum mer, in spinning out si ken webs to trap the unwary? Or Voltaire, the most learned man of his day, marshaling a great host of skeptics and leading them out in the dark land of infidelity? Or tiibbon, who showed an uncontrollable grudge ngainst religion In his history of one of the most fascinat ing periods of the world's existence—the ' Decline nnd Fall of the Reman Empire" —a book in which, with all the spleudors of his genius, he magnified the errors of Christian disciples, while with a sparse nessof notice that never can bo forgiven he treated of tho Christian heroes of whom the world was not worthy'/ Oh, men of stout physical health, men of great nieutal stature, men of higli social position, men of gre.it power of any sort, I want you to understand your power aud 1 want you to know that that power devoted to Ooil will bo a crown on earth, to you typical of a crown in heaven, but misguid ed, bedraggled in sin, administrative of evil, Ood will thunder against you with His condemnation in the day when millionaire nnd pauper, muster and slave, klug and subject shall stand sido by side iu the judg men and money bags aud judicial crime nnd royal robe 9hall bo riven „with the lightnings. Behold also how a giant may be slain of a woman. Delilah started tho train of cir cumstances that pulled down the temple of Dagou about Samson's oars. And tens of thousanls of giants have gone down to death and hell through the same fascina tions. It seems to me that it is high time that pulpit and platform and printing press speuk out against I've impurities of uodern society. Fastidiousness and prud ery say, "Better not speak; you will rouse up adverse criticism; you will make worse what you want to make better; better deal in glittering generalities; the subject Is too delicate for polite ears." But there comes a volco from heaven overpowering tho mincing sentimentalities of the day, ally ing, "Cry aloud,-spare not, lift up thy volco like a trumpet, and show My people their transgressions and the house of Jacob their sins." The trouble is that when people write or speak upou this theme they are apt to cover it up with the graces of belles lettres, so that the crime Is made attractive Instead of repulsive. Lord Byron, in Don Juan, adorns this crime until it smiles like a May quoen. Micbelet, the great French writer, covers It up with bewitching rhetorio until It glows like the rising sun, when it ought to be mad) loathsome as a smallpox hos pital. There are to-day Influences abroad which, it unresisted by the pulpit nnd the printing press, will turu car modem cities iuto Sodoms and Gomorrahs, lit ouly for the storm of flre aud brimstone that whelmed the cities of the plain. If, then, we are to be compelled togo out of the world, where are we togo to? This body nud soul mils'-Si-on part. What shall he the de-tiuy c.'tne former I know— dust to dust. But what shall be the des tiny of the latter? Shall it rise into the companionship of the white robbed, whoso sius Christ lias slain, or will it go down among the unbelieving, who tried to gain the world aud save their souls, but wore swindled out of both? Blessed bo God! We have a Champlou! He is so styled in the Bible: A Champion whe has conquered death and hell, nud He is ready to fight all our battles from the first to the last. "Who Is this that cometh up from Edom with dyed garments from Bozrah, mighty to save?" Iu the light of this subject I want to call your atteutlon to a fact which muy not have been rightly considered, and that Is the fact that we must he brought into judgment tor the employment of our physi cal organism. Shoulder, brain, hand, foot —we must answer In judgmeut for the use we have made of them. Have they beeu used for the elevation of society or for its depresslou? In proportion aB our arm Is strong and our step etastlo will our account at last bo intensified. Thousands of ser mons are preaohed to Invalids. I preach this sermou to stout men and healthful women. We must give to God uu account for the right use of this physical organism. These invalids have comparatively little to uccouut for perhaps. They could not lift twenty pounds. They could not walk half a mile without Bitting down to rest. Yet how much many of them accomplished! ltlslng up in judgment, standing beside the men and women who had only little physi cal euergy and yet consumed that energy In a conflagration of religious enthusiasm, how will we feel a-bashedt O men of the strong arm and the stout heart, what use are you making of your physical forces? Will you be able to stand the test of that day when we must answer for the use of every talent, whether It where a physical energv or a mental- acumen or a spiritual power? THE GREAT DESTROYER, SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. flow My Boy Went Down—The U»e of Liquor* It Decreasing Among Men, Bat It Neera* to Be Increasing Among Women—An Alarming Symptom. It WAS not on the fluid ol battle, It was not with a ship at sea, Gut a fute far worse than either That stole him awav from me. 'Twns the death la the tempting dram That the reason and senses drown; lie drank the alluring poison, Aud thus my boy went down. Down from the heights of manhood To the depths of disgrace and sin; Down to a worthless being, From the hope of what might have been For the brand of a beast besotted He bartered his manhood's crown: Through the gate of a sinful pleasure My poor, weak boy went down. fis only the same old story That mothers so often tetl With accents of infinite sadness, Like the tones of a funeral bell; But I never thought, once, when I heard it I should learn all its meaning myself; J I thought he'd be true to his mother, I thought he'd be true to himself. But, alas, for my hopes/ all delusion! Alas! for his youthful pride! Alas! who are safe when danger Is open on every side? Oh, can nothing destroy this great evil? No bar In Its pathway be thrown. To save from the terrible maelstrom The thousands of boys going down? Women nnil Wine. That the intemperate use of stimulating and Intoxicating liquors is decreasing among men In this country Is frequently asserted aud Is sustained by u very good showing. But now the alarming theory that the aluse of alcoholic liquors is increasing among women is ndvanced by some medi cal journals aud finds endorsement from some students of economic questions aud some newspapers In our great cities. It is said that.there were more women on the streets of Atlanta under the influeuca of liquor last Saturday night than the po lice had ever observed before In all their experience, and In our exchanges from other cities we see frequently acoonnts of women who have been urrested for drunk enness. The Chicago Journal declares that the increase of intemperance among women in that city is very noticeable, and adds: "The explanation of this phenomenon Is not difficult. As life has become mor> tense, more strenuous for woman, the need, real or fancied, for stimulants has come upon her as it did upon men. It is the ex ceptional woman to-day who is not in some sense a business woman, for evon the pur suit of society has become a business. With greater independence, heavier cares, and a livelier intellectual life than her grandmother enjoyed—or suffered—the twentieth century girl may bo expected to seek much the same method of securing re lief or stimulus as her brother does. "Doubtless this will be bad for the race. The alcoholic taint inherited from out) parent has wrecked enough lives. If the danger be doubled the gravity of the re sults will be enhanced. But It is au irre futable proposition thnt if women are com pelled to do an over-Increasing share of man's work, they will ultimately contract a share of man's vices, too." The rather free indulgence of women In wine aud even stronger drinks at entertain ments Is one of the deplorable events of modern social life, and we tear that it Is on the increase. The proprietor of a fashionable New York hotel is quoted as saying that wom9ii guests give his bar a very large patronage by orders from their rooms, and that the drink habit among women of the higher as well as the lower classes Is growing. It would be pleasant to believe that such statements ns wo have referred to are either entirely uutrue or grossly exagger ated, but the frequency and emphasis with which they are made will not permit them to be brushed aside merely because it is painful to give them credence. What are wo goiug to do about it?— A tlanta Journal. Lincoln'* Temperance Froi>liecy. (Liucoln's Washington's Birthday Speech,' Delivorod February 22, 1842.) Of our political Revolution of 177G wo aro |ustly proud. It has given us a degree of political freedom far exceeding that of any other nation of the earth. Iu it the world lias found a solution of the long mooted problem as to the capability of man to govern himself. In it was the germ which has vegetated and Is still to grow aud ex pand iuto the universal liberty of man kind. Turn now to the temperance revolution. In It we shall Hud a stronger bonduge broken, a viler slavery mauumltted, a greater tyrant deposed; In it more of want supplied, more disease healed, more sor row assuaged; by It no orphan starving, no widows weeping; by It none wounded In feeling, none injured In Interest—even the dram maker and dramseller will have glided iuto other occupations so gradually as never to have felt the change aud will stand ready to join all others In the uni versal song of gladness. And what a noble ally this to the cause of political freedom! With such au aid Us march cannot tail to be on and on, till every son of oarth shall drink In rich fruition the sorrow-quenching drafts of perfect liberty. Happy day when, all appetites controlled, nil passion sub dued, all matter subjected to mind—all conquering mind shull live and move the monaroli of the world! Glorious consum mation! Hail, fall of furyl Reign of reasou all hall! And when the victory shall be oomplete when there shall be neither a slave nor drunkard on the earth—how proud the title of that land which may truly clnim to be the birthplace and the cradle of both those revolutions that shall have ended in thnt victory! How nobly distinguished that people who shall have planted and: uurtured to maturity both the political and morul freedom of their speciesl Progress of the Cause. In no deportment of human thought and endeavor has the temperance oause made more notable progress in recent years than In that of medical science. Alcoholic li quors, Instead of being regarded as a panacea for all human ills, as they were years ago, are fast being excluded from medical practice generally. Almost with out exception, all great London physi cians, ana nil great surgeons, are In favor of total übstlnenoe. Some surgeons will l not undertake to perform operations upon persons who have been addicted to drink; they value their reputations too highly to risk failure. The Crusade In Brief. The saloon is an Incubus upon all indus try. The saloon Is a legalized drunkard fac lory. i In the British Parliament strenuous ef forts are being made to seoure separate recreation rooms for total abstainers in the British army, In all camps and bar racks. The Kearneys ttll the New York Evening World how they live on 912 a week, and have the best of food and inade-to-order clothes, and spend #SO for Christmas, and pay *2O to a doctor for their sick baby, and: yet have a snug nest-egg In the savings bank. They don't use mixed alel '
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers