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<t two in three, and I cau
surely beat nud pet the premium!"
"No, Horace, I won't risk ycur
ne.'k for all the premiums in the world.
I've got togo back now. but you must
promise not to drive again.
"But, pa, suppose 1 cau find some
body to drive tho colt?"
"Weil," said bis father, who was
perhaps in his benrt somewhat proud
of tbe colt's performance, "if you ca'i
get anybody that knows how, I dou't
care. All is, dou't yon do it." So
saying, he withdrew.
"Too bad!" exclaimed Ho'ace, start
ing for tbe stable with tears iu his
eyes. "There's nobody that I can get
to drive that colt, with all his tricks.'
Mr. E\erett saw nothing of the
Raymond boys for the uext hour. He
took but little inteie3t in the
other race", but he kept his place,
having some curiosity to see whether
the gray colt would appear again with
a new driver. The time for the sec
ond trial in the three-minute class
came at last.
"Yes, there is Gray Eagle again,"
said Mr. Everett to himself. "And
ean it be possible? Will Horace dis
obey his father aud drive the colt.aftet
all? Ah,here is Heurv again! Ee:iry,
1 wouldn't have thought that Horn e
would break his promise to his father!"
"That isn't Horace behind Gray
Fagle," said tlie boy, flushing guilt
ily. "I'm Horace, l-ather didn't say
that Henry couldn't drive."
"Oh,that is the way of it!" said Mr.
Everett. "I'm sorry it that is your idea
of obedience," he added, quietly.
Horace made uo reply, anil the race
began.
*ilay Eagle took tbe lead and kepi
it easily once nrouud the track.
"He's got the race!" cried Horace.
But in a moment his face fell.
"Oh, he's o i'his feet! Why doesn't
Hen pull him down? Why, what's
happened? l enry can't liohl him!
He's running away!"
It was too t ue. Swerviu ; from
side t > 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<tar3
Vat vly ofer my bars;
S'toost see bow dey vloats,
All look lit de boats.
An look at ilem Runs,
Am seo de big sums.
Vnt do Government spend?,
Vlch mine iiißer defeuds.
Cy llio lioly red dew which bus watero 1 I lie
soi
la the far away Holds which our horoc.-
have trod,
Cy the lives of our brothers, so valiant Ir
light.
Who so bravely have battled for order unc
light,
Uy the prayers which have floate.l froix
many u home.
And have gone up like Inconse to garlanc
the throne,
May the fruits of our victories uover be
Rivon
Tor the curse of the race and dishonor t<
heaven.
And our star spangled banner, our joy anc
delight,
Which should evermore float o'er the tru»
and the right,
Which should ever be puro as the souls o:
ourslro3.
An 1 over be sacred as liberty's fires.
As clean as the air is hi which it shall wave.
An emblem of all that is worthy mid brave,
should never more have such a lager beet
small,
As would make 11s afraid 'twas the banner
of hell,
—ltov. C. Harrison, In National Advocate.
A Monkey's Sense vs. » Drunkard's.
The story goes that an Italian showaii:
3iice bud a monkey that rode ou the bisk
)t a liouu.l wlille four dogs dunce ). One
lav tlio little show was passing through a
park where there were some deer. The
lound 9«w them, aud. true to bis-Instinct,
le tore after them. Poor Sir. Monkey was
Ihuined to his collar, so ho had togo along,
nueli ns he wished not to. He cliattore I
lud screamed, but all in valu. The houud
cept up the cliaso uutil tlio showman
Inally succeeded lu stopping lil-.u and took
:ho frlghtene i monkey o!T his back. N >
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<lge linker's Opinion of Saloons.
lleceutly Judge Baker, of tlio PederA
Court, Indianapolis, in passing sentence
upon a young man limned Heemlng for as
slstlng in the robbery of a postofllce, said
"It Is an unpleasant thing to semi an lit
tolllgcnt young man like you to the peui<
tontiary. It Is a sorry thing that so mauj
young men do not realize until it is toe
late that the saloon lends to prison. J
doubt if there i.s one man out of fifty thai
i am called upon to send to prison thai
does not begin tils career by frequoutlni;
saloons and gambling (daces. If the young
men of tho country would study theprlsot
records of the various penitentiaries Ii
would be to them a stronger sermon thac
all tho temporuueo lecturers could ever do
tivor. When you got out of prison there
will be little hope fur you unless you right
about face—turn your face from the
saloons. I think I will send you to the
workhouse. Maybe the memory ot your
lead father and mother, aud tlio prayers
Df your good mother, offered for you In
your childhood, may yet inakj a man ot
you."
Heemlng was then llued $lO and sent to
iho Marlon Couuty workhouse for six
months.
Heredity.
Tho torrlblu rosult of drluk to the Inno
sent childrou ot tho drunkar I, was recent
ly brought out by the Investigation ot Dr.
3. G. Howe, who traced the pareutage ol
three hundred Idiots, and reported to the
Legislature of Massachusetts that of the
three huudrol, one hundred ami forty
sevi-u were found to be tho children c.
drunkards. In one instance seven idlotu
children wero tho offspring of a drunker
father and mother. This fact of inhertte 1
disease is 11 terrible contradictlou of the
argument Hint 11 man bus a right to .Iriuk
if ho wants to.
The Crusnde In Uriel".
Is it by your vote that beer and whisk]
follow tho flag?
A mini has 110 right to clotho the publi ,
can's wife lu silks and his own iu rags.
How many thciv| aro WHO have be
brought into the fold of total aosliuo'
bv ! lie touch of love!
The touch of love and the kind v
have made many drumcards sober
helped to stop those who had commei.
the downward career.
Tho City Council of Morgnnsflel I, N
has begun a new treiument ot the sal
evil. An ordinance re-ently passed CO
pels saloons to close »t 11 u. m.