A TALE OF "WHOA." lIOIIXINO. EVENING. Good-by, old horse, we'll turn you out Come hero, old horse, we need your pull To roam o'er hill nud plnln : To met U9 home tonight ; We've bought a horseless earriago and This nasty, stinking, putting thing, We'll never need you again ; Is not perfected—quite. With naphtha, oil or gasolene Ten miles from home It fussed and fumed We'll ride from morn till dark, And then refused togo ; ' And on a Sunday afternoon And minus both a push and pull Go pufllng through the park. Xt was a case of whoa ! You're hardly worth a piece of pie! If you return, so will our joy, Good-by, old horse, good-by ! Good boy, old horse, good boy. —The Trotter and racer. [ GRAY EAGLE AT THE FAIR. \ a BY F. E. C. ROBBINS. As Mr. George Everett was sittiug after supper on the piazza of the Hill side House he suddenly noticed two boys who had really been standing near by for some minutes. Taking a good look at them, he said to himself that they were certainly twins, and as alike as two peas in a pod. Then ha found himself associating them in some way with fried fish, and iu au in stant recognized them as boys who had brought some fine trout to the hotel a day or two before. He thought they seemed anxious to speak to him, but lacking iu confi dence. So he smiled iu a way that was meant to be encouraging. Then he heard a whisper: "Go ahead, Hod! What you 'fraid of?" The boys approached, and one of them said diffidently: "We thought p'r'apsyoa might like to look at our card." "Your card?" echoed Mr. Everett, at the same time accepting a square piece of pasteboard on which was written the following: RAYMOND nnos. GUIDES TO FISHING GROUNDS. TERMS REASONABLF. Mr. Everett was somewhat mysti fied, and looked at the boys inquir ingly. "We didn't know but yon might like to have us take you round to some good fishing places,"said the one who had offered the card. "We know just where they are aud how to catch them," added the other. "Oh, you are the Baymond broth ers, are you?" "Yes, sir. I'm Horace and he's Henry." "Ah,l see,but I'm afraid I shouldn't another time," said Mr. Everett, try ing hard to find some difference in the looks of the brothers. "How long have you been acting as guides, aud what are your terms'/" "We're just beginning," auswered Hornc \ " vVe'd take what you thought was right," said Henry. "Sit down, boy.-, and let us talk it over," said Mr. Everett, who found! his new acquaintances amusing. The conversation was satisfactory, an I Mr. Everett finally said: "I have been fishing considerably since I have been here, but have had poor luck. If you think you can show me some really good sport I will go with you, and I will pay you for your .lay. How will next Saturday suit you?" Next Saturday would suit the boys first rate, they said, and they went 011 their wuy in high spirits. Mr.Everett, who had been spending Biine weeks at the cosy Hillside House, thought that he had pretty thoroughly tested the fishing privi leges of the legion roundabout, but he fouud his mistake on that Saturday. The "guides" not only had the true fishermun's instinct, but they knew intimately every stream and pond for miles around,and they led their young gentleman a jauut which left him at night, as he expressed it, a "brokeu ilown old man." But as he dragged his aching limbs toward home, he was the owner of the finest string of trout and pickerel that had ever gladdened his eyes. As they began their walk home, Mr. Everett said: "Well, hoys, I think that I can rec ommend you as stars in your profes sion. By the way, how did you hap pen to take up the guide business?" "Well," b. gan Horace, "we wauted some money awfully. We've got a gray colt at home, name's Gray Eagle, and he's got speed—" "We thought he was all spavined np when pa bought him," observed Henry, parenthetically. "He's all right now," Horace went on, "we've been training him." "Take him out 011 the fair track most every night after milking," said Heury. "Go like the wind, the colt will." Horace continued, "after we've got hioi down to his work." "Yes?" said Mr. Everett. "And what has all this to do with wanting some money?" "Well," replie 1 Horace, "the town fair comes on next week, aud we want to enter the colt for a race in the three-minute class—" "Horses that never trotted better'n three minutes iu public," Henry ex plained. "And you have to pay to enter a horse for a race, and besides, we f-hall have to hire a gig." "Ah, I see!" said Mr. Everett. "Does your father happen to know about this?" "No. Pa don't know anything nbout it yet," auswered Henry, with s ime embarrassment. "But he won't care," said Horace, earnestly. "We want to kind of sur prise him. He's a deacon, pa is, but he says that the trots at our fair are well enough." "Ain't 110 pool-selling or anything, you know," observed Henry. "He's, oue of the trustees of the fair himse!*, 'added Horace, "but nil he cares for is cattle and sheep aud butter and such things." The boys liad evidently reserved their favorite theme until the last,and finding an interested listener, they spared no details. Before Mr. Ever ett had reached the hotel he was in possession of the complete history of the gray colt, and was fully informed iu regard to that great annual event —the town fair. Furthermore, he had promised to delay his departure to the city for a day or two in order to be present at Gray Eagle's performance. When he liunded the boys the five dollars which they had hoped for but hardly expected, their faces glowed with delight. "You'll see Gray Eagle trot now!" said Henry."And he'll come in ahead, sure as guns!" "If he doesn't buck," added Horace. "Won't it be rather daugerous busi ness for bo.vs like yon?" asked Mr. Everett. "Which cf you is to drive?" "Oh, Horace, of course," replied Henry."He can drive as well as any man in this town." "Henry can drive as well as I can," explained his brother, "but he sort of lacks confidence before folks." "You had better tell your father what yon propose to do," was Mr. Everett's parting advice. "Oh," that'll le all right," was the cheerful lejoinder. Agreeably to promise, Mr. Everett, on a pleasant day early in October, made one of the throng in attendance at the town fair grounds. He spent an hour or two inspecting the sleek stock of the farmers, admiring the handiwork of the farmers' wives and daughters, witnessing a plowing match, listening to the e!oquen"o of the lemonade venders, and especially noting the odd characters which are always to be seen on such occasions. Then, following the movemeut of the crowd, ho found himself at length nt the great centre of attraction, and ho took his place iu the front tier of seats opposite the judges' ttand by the "half-mile track." The judge- had taken their positions, and had rung the cracked be 1 hang ing over the stand a-i a signal to the drivers in the first race to prepare for action. Seven more or le-s fleet-footed steeds wore being driven on the track for the preliminary "warming up," and as this was the "three-minute class," Mr. Everett looked them over anxiously to discover if the gray colt and his driver were among the con testants. Sure enough,there they were! That loose-jointed,shambling, rough-coated animal, looking as if he were just out of the pasture, was doubtless Gray Ea?le. And the little fellow perched on a rickety gig aud clad in a uniform con sisting of a red flannel shirt and visor less cap, was no other than his young friend, Horace. Hardly had Mr. Everett identified one of the Bavmond twins when the other appeared at his elbow. "How d* do, Mr. Everett?" said the drawling voice. "Soy, we're in luck. Hod and I are! They've drawn for positions, and Gray Eagle's got the pole!" Again the bell rang, aud the scoring begau. The usual number of false starts occurred, ond Mr. Everett no ticed, to his surprise, that Gray Eogle, in spite of his uncouth appearance, trotted iu a very lively way, and that the diminutive Horace was nt least as skillful a driver as any of his competi tors. "Thnt colt of yours has a wicked look iug eye," he temarked to Henry. "i'es, he's ugly," admitted the boy, " but Hod knows how to manage him." Ouce more the horses came down.to the wire. "Go!" shouted one of the judges, and away they went—all but Gray Eagle. The excitement had proved too much for him, aud in-dead of trotting, he seemed to be executing something like a war dance. Up ami down, from right to left, forward and backward he prauced, to the great delight of the crowd aud to the deep mortification of poor Henry. "He's bucking, just as I was afraid of? ' said he, with tears in his eyes. But the young driver was uot dis mayed. He had loosened the reins when the trouble began, and for an iastant he let the colt take his own course. Then, with a sharp pull and a resounding cut with the whip, ho brought Gray Eagle to his feet and seut him on his way. The affair had taken but a few sec onds, but even the slowest of the horses now strung along the track was far ahead of the gray colt. But the mirth of the spectators was soou chauged to ama/.euieut at that colt's performance. "Didn't I say he could trot?" drawled Henry. There was no doubt about it. When Gray Eagle had made the first circuit of the track.it was evident that he was not to be the lust in the race. But conld he possibly overtake the two horses which, well ahead of the others, wero contending for the first place? Steadily lie gained. Down the Loin* stretch whirled the two leaders, nnd Gray Eagle was only a length behind. Then came an unearthly cry from the lips of the young driver, and the whip descended on the gray colt's back. "I knew Hod was going to yell!' said Henry, exnltiugly, us Gray Eagle swept under the -wire the winner by a neck. In the midst of the cheering, Horace drove up, and with a professional nil threw the reins to Henry, who al once went to the stable with the colt. Now, forcing his way through the crowd, there appeared an elderly mat with a look of astonishment on his face that was comical to see. "Horace," he began, "what in all nature does this mean';" 'Vather, this is Mr. Everett, that's stopping at the tavern," said Horace, evidently glad of a diversion. "Hope to see yon well, sir. But, Horace, what yon been up to? I nevei was so took back in ray life as 1 was when they told me down to the hail what you were doing!" Horaee began to explain awkwardly enough, but his father cut him short. "i can't stop to talk now. All is, let thiß be the end ou't! It isn't safe for a boy like you." "O pn,do let me drive him one more heat! It's be side along tlie truck,dashed ti:e frish'eued animal. At every instant it seeme I to the horrified specta ors as if Henry must be thrown to the ground. Tho reius were broken, and the boy was powerless to guide or check the horse. "He'll be killed!" gasped Horaee. "And it'll be me that kdled him!" Now the wild horse aud his helpless driver were once more nearing the staud. Horace's face showed palo under the tan, but there was the fire ol purpose iu his eyes. "I'm going to try it,"he said, and he sprang ou to the track. A leap for the bridle— there was a chance in a thousand, but he caught it! Au instant later the horse hal been brought to the fence by the sale of the track. Henry had picked himself tip, somewhat dazed by his fall from the gig.but not seriously hurt,and Horace lay on the grouud with bleeding head und broken arm. Gray Eagle was being held by a dozen men who hal rushed to Hor ace's assistance, while the other con testants, hardly realizing what had happened, were just finishing the race. Horace was taken to his home, aud at the boy's earnest re juest, Mr. Ever ett displayed really excellent sur gical skill in setting the broken arm and dressing the wounded head. Thus Horace was his first patie.it. When he had heeu made comfort able he said to his father, who was standing by his bed: "I want to tcii you, pa, that Henry wasn't one bit to blame. It was ail my fault." "I guess I wouldn't talk now," said Mr. Raymond. "But I must tell you. Henry didn't even know that I had seen you at all. I just said when I weut to the stable that I wasn't going to drive again. He thought I just wanted to give him a chance, and took the h use. I pre tended to myself that I wasn't dis obeying you, but I knew all the time that I was. It serve Ime right to get hurt. But I'm glad enough that it wasn't Henry." "Well, we I, I'll forgive you as fat forth as I am coucerue l," said his father, "and I think this'll be a lesson that you won't forget. How do you fee! now, my son?" And be laid his rough hand touderly on the cheek ol this repentant boy. "Well, my head aches pretty ba 1, aud luv urin pains me, aud I keep thinking how I did wrong. But I tell you, I feel awful good 'side of the way 1 felt wheu l.ray Eagle nnd poor Henry were coining down the home stretch:"— Youth's Companion. Unclaimed dogs in Chicago are to be killed by electricity. Dlt. TALSIAGES SERMON. SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE Br THE NOTED DIVINE. Snbject: The Iteinnrectlnn of Christ—Tlie >«H(ou of Spiritual Olndnea* and Ite- Ireilunent—Victory Over Heath and tile Grave—The Mission of Flower*. (Copyright 11HHI. 1 WASHINGTON, D. C.—This sermon of Dr. Talmage rings all the bells of gladness, especially appropriate at this season, when ill Christendom is celebrating Christ's resurrection; text, John xlx., 41, "111 the garden n new supulcher." Looking around the churches this morn tug, seeing flowers in wreaths and flowers °n stars and flowers in crosses and flowers n crowns, billows of beauty, conflagration 3t beauty, you feel us If you stood lu a iinall heaven. You say these flowers will fado. Yes, but perhaps you may see them again. They inuy be immortal. The fragrunce ot the flower may be the spirit of the flower; the body of the flower dying on earth; Its spirit may appear lu better worlds. Ido uot say It will be so. I suy it may be so. The ancestors of those tuberoses and camellias and japonlcas and jasmines and heliotropes were born lu paradise. These apostles of beauty came down in the regu lar line of upostolic succession. Their an cestors durlug the flood, underground, afterward appeared. The world started with E leu; It will ond with Eden. Heaven is called a paradise of Qod. Paradise means flowers. While theo logical geniuses in this day are trying to blot out everything material from their Idea of heaven, and, so far as I can tell, their future state is to be a floating arouua somewhere between the Greut Bear aud Cassiopeia, I should uot be surprised if at last I cau pick up a daisy on the everlast ing hills and hear it say; "I am oue of the glorified flowers of earth. Don't you re member me? I worshiped with you on Easter morulug In l'JOO." My text introduces us into a garden. It ts a manor in the suburbs of Jerusalem owned by a wealthy gentleman ot the name jf Joseph. He belonged to the court of seventy who hud condemned Christ, but ho hud voted lu the negative, or, being a timid man, bail absented himself wheu the vote was to be takeu. At great expense he laid out the garden. It being a hot climate, I suppose there wore trees broad brauched, ind there were paths wludlng under these :rees, and here and there were waters drip ping down over the rocks Into fish ponds, and there were vines aud flowers blooming from the wall, und all around the beauties of kiosk and arboriculture. After the fa tigues of the Jerusalem courtroom, how refreshing to come into this suburban re treat, botanical aud pomologlcal! Wandering in the garden, I behold some rocks which have on them tlie mark ot the sculptor's chisel. I come neurer, and I find there Is a subterranean recess. I come down the mp.rble steps, nnd I come to a portico, over which there Is an architrave, by the chisel cut into representations of rrults and flowers. 1 euter the portico. On either side there are rooms—two or four or six rooms ot rock, the walls of these rooms huving niches, each iitalie large enough to hold a dead bodv. Here Is one room that is especially wealthy of sculpture. Tlie fact is that Joseph realizes he cannot always walk this garden, nnd ho lias pro vided this place for his last slumber. Oh, what a beautiful spot in wlitoli to wait for the coming of the resurrection! Mark well I his tomb, for it is to bo the most celebrat ed tomb In all the ages. Catacombs of Egypt, tomb or Napoleon, Mahal Taj of In dia, nothing compared with it. Christ has jus! been murdered, and His body will bo thrown to the dogs and the ravens, like other crucified bodies, unless there lie prompt and efficient hindrance. Joseph, the owner of tills mausoleum in tho rocks, begs for the body of Christ. He washes the poor, mutilated frame from tho dust and blood, shrouds it and perfumes it. 1 think that regular embalmment was omitted. When in olden time a body was to be embalmed, tho priest, with some pre tension of medical skill, would point out the place between the ribs where the in cision must be made,and then tho operator, having made the Incision, ran lest ho be slain for a violation of the dead. Tlion tho other priests would come with suit of niter and cassia and wluo of palm tree and com plete the embalmment. But I think this em balmment ot the body of Christ was omitted. It would have raised another contention and another riot. The funeral hastens on. Present, I Ihlnk, Joseph, the owner of tho mauso leum; Nicodomus, the wealthy man who had brought the spikes, and the two Marys, No organ dirge, uo plumes, no cutnfuique. Heavy burden for two men as they carry Christ's body down the marble stairs aud Into the portico and lift tlie dead weight to the level of the niche lu the rock aud push tbe body ot Christ into the ouly pleasant resting place It ever had. Coming forth from tbe portico, they close the door of rock against the recess. The governmeut, afraid that the dis ciples may steal the budy of Christ and play resurrection, order tho seal of the sanhedrin to be put upon the door ot the tomb, the violation of thut seal, like the violation ot the seal of tlie Government ot (lie United States or Great Britain, to be followed with great puulsbment. A com pany of soldiers from tho tower of Autonia is detailed to stand guard. At the door of the mausoleum a light lakes places which decides tho question for all graveyards and cemeteries. Sword of lightning against sword of steel. Angel against miiitary. No seal of letter was ever more easily broken than that seal of the sanhedrln on tho door of the tomb. The dead body In the niche in tho rock begins to move in Its shroud of fine linen, sillies down upou the pavement, moves out of the portico, appears in the doorway, ad vances Into tho open air, comes up tlie marble steps. Having loft His mortuary attire bebiud Him, Ho comes forth in work man's garb, us I take it, 'rom the fact that the women mistook Him for the gardener. Tlint day the grave received such shat tering it can never be rebuilt. All tie trowels of earthly masonry cau never mend It. Forever and forever It is a brokeu tomb. Death, taking side with the mili tary In that light, received a terrible cut from the augel's sueur ot flame, so that he himself shall g« down after awhile under It. Tlie king of terrors retirlug before the King of grace! The Lord is risen! Let eartli and heaVuu keep Easter to-day! fclosauna! Some things strike my observation while stun ding in this gurden with u new sepul cher. And, first, post mortem honors In contrast with ante mortem ignominies, if they could have afforded Christ such a costly sepulcher, why could not they have given Him an earthly residence? Will they give this piece of marble to a dead Christ Instead ot a soft pillow for the living Jesus? If they had expended half the vulue of that tomb to make Christ comfortable, it would not have been so sad a story. He asked bread; they gave Him u stone. Christ, like most of the world's benefac tors, was appreciated better after Uo was dead. Westminster Abbey and monu mental Greenwood are the world's attempt to atono by honors to the dead for wrongs oI he living. Poet's corner in Westmin ster Abbey attempts to pay for the suffer ings of Grub street. Go through that Poet's corner in West minister abbey. There is Handel, the groat musician, from whose music you hear to day; hut while I look at his statue I caunot help but think of tho discords with which ills feilow musiciaus tried to destroy iilm. There is the tomb of Johu Dryden, a beau tiful monumeut; but I cannot iiolp but think at seventy years of ago he wrote of Ills being oppressed lu fortune and ot the contract that he had just made for a thou sand verses at sixpence a line. Aud there, too, you Ilnd the monument ot Samuel But ler, the author of "Hudibtas;"' but while I look at his monument In Poet's corner I cannot but ask myself where he died. In a garret. Therj I 800 tbe costly tablet ic the Poet's corner—tile costly tablet to one of whom tbe celebrated Wnller wrote: "The old blind schoolmaster, John Milton, has just Issued a tedious poem on the tall of intiu. If the length of It be no virtue, It has none." There Is n beautiful monument to Sheridan. Poor Hhnrlden! If he could have only discounted that monument for a mutton chop! Oh, you unfllfal children, do not give your parents so much tombstone, but a few more blankets—less funeral and more bedroom! If live per cent, of tbe money we now spend on Burns's banquets could have been expended in making the living Scotch poet comfortable, be would not have been harried with the drudgery of an exciseman. Horace Greeley, outrageously abused while living, when dead Is followed toward Greenwood by tbe President of the United States and the leading men of the urmy and navy. Massachusetts tries to atone at tbe grave of Charles Sumner for the Ignomiuious resolutions with which her Legislature denounced tbe living Senator. Do you think that tbe tomb at Springfield can pay for Hooth's bullet? Ob, do justice to the living! All the jus tice you do them you must do this side tbe gates of the Necropolis. They cannot wake up to count tbe number of carrluges at tbe obsequies or to notice tbe polish of the Aberdeen granite or to read epltaphal com memoration. Gentleman's mausoleum in tbe suburbs of Jerusalem caunot pay for Bethlehem manger and Calvurenn cross and Pilate's ruffian judiciary. Post mor tem houors cannot atone for ante-mortem ignominies. Again, standing in this gardon of the sepulcher, I am impressed with thu fact that floral and arooresceut decorations are appropriate for the place of the dead. Wo are glad that among flowers and sculptural adornments Christ spent the short time of His inhumation. I cannot understand what I sometimes see in tbe newspapers where the obsequies are announced and the friends say in con nection with It, "Send no flowers." Rather, if tbe menus allow—l say If the means allow—strew the casket with flowers, the hearse with flowers, tbe grave with flowers. Put them on the brow—lt will suggest coronation; in their hand—lt will mean victory. Christ was burled in a garden. Flowers mean resurrection. Death is sad enougli anyhow. Let conservatory and arboretum contribute to its alleviation. The harebell will ring the victory; the passion flower will express the sympathy; tbe daffodil will kindle Its lamp and illume the dark ness. The cluster of asters will be the constellation. Your little child loved flowers when she was living. Put them in her hand now that she can go forth no more and pluck them for herself. On sun shiny days lake a fresh garland aad put It over the still heart. Brooklyn has no grander glory thnn Its Qreenwoo 1, nor Boston than its Mount Au burn, nor Philadelphia than its Laurel Hill, nor Cincinnati than Its Sprlug Grove, nor San Francisco than its Lone Mountain. But what shall we say to those country graveyards with the vines hrokon down ami the slab aslant and the mound caved in and the grass a pasture ground for the sexton's cattle? Indeed, were your lather and mother of so little worth that you can not afford to take care of their ashes? Homo day turn out all hands and straighten the slab and bauk up the mound and cut away the weeds and plant the shrubs and flow ers. Some day you will want to lie down to your last slutnbt?. You eanuot expect any respect for your bones if you have no de ference for the bones of your ancestry. Do you think those relics are of no impor tance? You will see of how much impor tance they are in the Jay whou the arch angel takes out his trumpet. Turn all your cemeteries into gardens. Again, standing in this garden of the new sepulcher, I am Impressed with tin.' dignity of private and unpretending obse quies. Joseph was moiirum, sexton, liveryman —hail eutire charge of everything. Only four peoploat the burial of the King ot the Universe! Oh, let this be condolatory to those who through lack of means or through luck of acquaintance have but little demonstration of grief at the graves of their loved ones. Long line ot glitter ing equipage, two rows of sllvev handles, casket of richest wood, pallbearers gloved and scarfed, rro not necessary. If there bo six at the griw», Christ looks down from heaven and renumbers that is two more than were at III* obsequies. Not this idea, how many small properties are scattered aud widow hood and orphanage go forth into cold charity! The departed left a small prop erty, which would have been enough to keep the family together until they could take care of themselves, but the funeral expenses absorbed everything. That went for crape which ought to have gone for bread. A man of moderate means ami hardly afford to die In any ot our great cities. By all means, do honor to the de parted, but do not consider funeral pageant as necessary. No one was ever more Wiv ingiy and tenderly put away to sepulcher than Christ our Lord, but there wore only four people In the procession. Again, standing In this garden with a new sepulcher, I am impressed with the fact that you cannot keep the dead d'>wu. Seal of sanhedriu, companv of soldiers from the tower of Autoula, floor of rock, root of rock, walls of rock, door of rock, cannot keep Christ In the crypts. Come out aud come up He must. Come out aud come up He did. Prollguration. First fruits ot them that slept. Just as certain ly as wo go down into the dust, just so certainly we will come up again. Though all the granite ot the mountains were piled on us we will rise. Though buried amid the corals of the deepest cavern of tho Atlantic Oceaa, we will come to the sur face. With these eyes we may not look into tho face of the noonday sun, but wo shall have stronger vision, because the tamest thing In the laud to which we go will lu> brighter than the sun. We shall have bodies with tile speed of the lightning. Our bodies improved, energized,swiftened, clarilled—mortality, immortality. The door of the grave taken off Its hinges and flung flat into the dust. Oh, my brethren, death and tlie grave are not so much as they used to be; for while wnudcring in tills garden witli the new sepulcher I find that the vines aud flowers of tlie garden have completely cov ered up the tomb. lustead of one garden there are four gardens, opening Into each other—garden of Eden, garden ot the world's sepulcher, garden of the earth's regeneration, garden of heaven. Four gardeus. Bloom, O earth! Bloom, O heaven! Oh, my friends, wake up to glad ness ou this Easter morning! This day, if I interpret it right, means joy—lt means peace with heaven, and it means peace with uli tbe world. Oh, bring more flowers! Wreathe them around the brazen throat of tbe cannon; plant them lu the deserl, that It may blos som like tho rose; braid them into the inane of the returned war charger. No more red dahlias of human blood. Give us white lilies ot peace. All around the earth strew Easter flowers. And soon the rough voyage of tho church militant will be ended, and she will sail up the heavouly harbor, scarred with tnauy n conflict, but the llagj of triumph floating from her top gallants. All heaven will come out tc greet her Into port, nnd with u long re verberating stout of welcome will say "There she comes up tho bay, the glorious old ship Zlon! After tempestuous voyag' she dr jps anchor within the veil." Armor Plate Slnml» tlie Ten. A tost was mude lit lndiun Hsad, non Washington, of a plate representing 30C tons of ttie turnrt armor of tho battleship Wisconsin. Tho fourteeu-inch plate was attacked by a ten-inch gun, with the usual results. The shell was smashed ou the face of the plate, which received no sub stantial Injury, so the lot was accepted. i The Governor ol Ohio lias no veto power. THE GREAT DESTROYER. CCME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. The Soni; of tlie Hrewer—How lie II Pushing: Hid Vile Trade lu Our New Possessions \ Lesson Taught by »- MiHikey Wlilch Topers Should Heed. [The cargo ot the flrst ship of Ibo now lino b-jtweeu Sim DIURK, Cal., uud Manila ?ousisted of whisky and bier. J bay, vat do you dink of mine soldiers It blue. And vnt do you sny or mine mariners drue- Teui win bravo, noble follows to pour ou' dure blood, And do such burd vork for mine brewerie# eood. Vou Dewey sail in mit bis donder am' blireu It didu't take long for Ills Runners to lis 'em. For Dewey aud Sampson, ob, bow I di< cheer! Dey opens new goundry for mine lager beer. Vas dere offer a frient like mine dear Uncle Sam? Don't lie do for mine blsliness shoost al vat line m? I dakes all liis goundry from seaside tf shore, An den lie pays millions to Ret mo 90m more, ]li) goes mit Ills navies var olier do sea, Au conquer* now peoples au gives doui t* n.e. A'i Cuba, she makes sooch a beautiful dele To.' done barrels of lager mine biewario.'- yield. And lie Rlvos mo Ills boy", Hhoost as It dey vim toy*, An some of ilem drinks, 1 se« il«m and dinks Vnt recruits dey will be Vttudey comes home to ine. Von eoiue m!t your gospel of sheer, I come mit mine g jspel of beer. Vou vlmtiieus vilt tench, You tellers vnt breaon, i> ioost do vat you can. Make do beaden 11 mauj ibit I'll pull lilin back Along de obi track. vill please uudorstan Dot lie vas my man. S'ioo«t look at de f joining or threatening could ever Induce :he monkey to got on that dog's back »galn. Compare, now, this monkev's conduct pith the conduct of the man who Is being ruined by strong drink. Ho gets drunk, tobers off, regrets Ills liaviug been so Deastly, vows lie will drink 110 more, aul ;lien goes back to his cups again. Truly, Sam Jones was right when he said :liat. considering how some men behave, die Darwinian doctrine of evolutiou Is a ierrible reflection on the monkey. We once read of a monkey on board a ihip that the sailors Induced to drink whisky until he became verv drunk; but ifter ho had sobered off, when they brought out the bottle again he Instantly skipped »way to the very top of the mast, anil sould not be Induced to comedown as long is the bottle was lu sight. Would that iie-i ami boys had as much souse lu this 'egard 119 monkeys.—Religious Telescope. •Tn