THE UNFAILING CONSOLATION.
How beautiful to be dead! How beautiful to be dead !
Where nothing dreauis or grieves, To be alone again,
To Ue where sunshine weaves Safo from the struggle vain,
The shadows of the leaves The tired, Insistent pain,
Above my head. The noises overhead.
How blessed to be dead I How peaceful to be dead I
How beautiful to be dead 1 How beautiful to be dead 1
The anguish to forget. Life, I have borne thee long,
The turmoil and the fret, But all thy strife and wrong,
The sharpness of regret— Some day shall melt to song.
All calm instead. And then be fled.
How gracious to be dead ! Some day I shall be dead.
—Samantha Whipple Shoup, In New York Independent.
j 'TWIXT LOYE AND HONOR.
it was 5 o'clock in tbe afternoon of
t dark November day. The clerks in
the office of the great manufacturing
firm of Coleman & Parker were all
working at high pressure. At 6
•j'clock the great horn in the works
would sound, and the army of oper
atives, 3000 strong, would pour from
the gates like a turbulent flood. Six
a'clock was also, nominally, the hour
for stopping work in the office, but if
there was auy stress of work punctual
ity was not enforced so rigidly then
is at hour of arrival in the morning.
Suddenly, through the click and
rattle of the dozen typewriters, smote,
three times in quick succession, the
strident clang of the manager's bell.
"There you are again, Hinde,"
said a young fellow of about 26 to his
lesk companion.
Hinde, the firm's foreign corre
spondent, who was tall, fair and clean
shaven, with well-opened, wide-set,
Jark blue eyes that looked the world
In the face dauntlessly, rose from his
stool, smiling.
"Right you are, Fraser," he re
plied. " The old man is getting very
iond of my society I think."
He went quickly up the office to the
door of the manager's room, knocked
aud went in.
When he entered, Bunting, the
manager, was standing on the hearth
-u-g, his back to the fire, with a tele
frain in his hand.
" Here's a wire from these people
Uvargonzalez in Buenos Ayres," he
taid abruptly, holding out the flimsy
pink paper. " What does it say?"
Hinde took the cablegram, glanced
it it and translated:
"Cancel orders; we are writinc."
"Phew!" ejaculated Bunting.
"That's a nice mess, with all these
ipecial goods ready for shipment. We
iaven't another customer on the
jlessed globe that buys their sizes,
and we may as well throw the stuff
into the Clyde as put it into stock.
IVhat's the value of it, Hinde?"
"About £4OOO, sir, I believe," was
the reply.
"Well," said Bunting, "I'll have
:o consult Mr. Coleman about this.
That will do just now."
Hinde had barely got back to his
place when the bell rang for him
again.
When he re-entered the manager's
room Bunting was seated at his desk
writing. In a short time he looked up.
"I have consulted Mr. Coleman,"
he said, "aud this is the message you
ire to cable. Get it translated and
tent off tonight."
Without meeting the young man's
sye Bunting hauded him a sheet of
paper ou which was written:
"Impossible cancel; goods gone."
Hinde read the words, stood a mo
ment irresolute, and then said in a
low but firm tone of voice:
"Pardon me, sir, but I cannot send
;his cable."
As soon as Bunting had banded
aver the message he had resumed his
writing, but now the scratching pf his
oen over the paper stopped suddenly,
aud he looked up. His eye glittered
:oldly aud his face hardened.
" You are forgetting yourself,
Hinde," he said harshly. "I presume
you are aware that it is your duty to
abey orders, or take the consequences."
The young man's eye met the mana
ger's steely glance without wavering.
"No, sir," he replied firmly,though
ais heart was thumping in his breast,
"I am forgetting neither myself nor
aiy duty, but I cannot bring myself
to believe that Mr. Coleman would
wish me to send this message if he
knew all the facts of the case."
" These are Mr. Coleman's instruc
tions," said the manager. "As a mat
ter of fact, the words of the message
are his own. Look at it again, and
you will see it is in his handwrtting."
Hinde looked again at the paper he
held in his hand, and recognized the
senior partner's writing.
The manager continued:
" Mr. Coleman has gone home, but
he will be certain to ask as soon as
he co nes in tomorrow morning if the
sable was sent as he instructed. Y'ou
are the only person iu the office that
knows Spanish; it is too late to send
the message out of the office for trans
lation; so it is upon you that the re
sponsibility rests."
"Very well, sir," replied Hinde,
"so be it. I accept the respouaibi.ity.
I will not send this cable."
" That being so," said Bunting, "I
wash my hands of the whole affair. I
have done my duty to the firm, and,
as I said before, jou will have to take
the consequences if you fail in yours. "
"My duty to the firm must be the
secondary consideration in this case,
Mr. Bunting," replied Hinde. "I
cannot send the cable, and whatever
the consequences, I must accept
them."
Without another word he went out
of the room aud walked to bis desk.
It was after 6 o'clock by this time,
and most of the clerks were gone, but
be stayed at his post till the bauds of
the clock pointed to 7, putting his
papers iu perfect order against his ex
pected dismissal next day.
An hour later Hinde was sitting iu
the cosy little drawing room of a
bouse in Crossbill, one of tbe suburbs
of Glasgow. A bright fire was burn
ing in the grate, and a shaded lamp in
a corner of the room diffused a soft
glow throughout the Apartment. The
furniture in the room was inexpensive,
but a few delicate water color draw
ings on the walls and the fresh chrysan
themums in vases on the mantel shelf
and on the occasional table and piano
were evidences of a refined taste of
their owner.
In the centre of the mantel shelf
stood a full-length photograph of
Hinde himself. He was taken stand
ing erect, one baud grasping the lapel
of his coat, his head thrown back, aud
a look in his fine eyes which seemed
to defy the universe.
He sat now in his chair facing the
photograph and soliloquized:
"Yes," he said in a low tone of
voice, "you seem to think you're a
fine, independent sort of a chap, quite
ready to say 'Come on' to anyone, and
certain that it won't be you that will
get the worst of the fight And now
you've said it, and I hope you're satis
fied. What right has a poor beggar
like you to indulge in the luxury of a
conscience? Heigho! Well, you've
gane your aiu gait, and you know
what the result will be. 'We hereby
give you notice to leave our employ
ment.' In plain words, Dick Hinde,
your pernickety conscience has got you
the 'suck,' and Isabel—ah! my darling
Isobel!" his voice softened, and his
bright eyes grew dim as be mur
mured:
"I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more."
A pair of soft bands covered his
eyes; there was a musical laugh be
hind him,and a merry voice demanded:
"Aud who is this Miss Honor that
you love so much, sir? I shall keep
you blinded till you tell me. Do you
want to make me jealous?"
Hinde gently raised the hands from
his eyes, and smiled up to the sweet
young face that was looking dowu on
him over the buck of the chair.
" Ah! you witch," he said, tenderly,
"when I am with you I am always
blind to everything save your dear
face."
He rose aud took her in his arms,
nud their lips met in a lover's kiss.
Some minutes went past without a
spoken word from either, so delightful
is the conversation that can lie carried
on in certain circumstances by the j
language of the eyes. Then Isobel j
sighed happily, blushed, and said:
" Oh, Dick, you're dreadful! I don't
kno\g what my hair must bo like." |
" It'.s perfectly beautiful," said Dick, [
truthfully. "You look, if possible, ]
even more charming than usual when |
it is ruffled. These little cnrls about j
your neck are like waves of gold, only j
they are a thousand times more beau- !
tiful thau gold. You must remember, j
darling, how long it is since I saw you j
last. It is twenty—why, it's twenty
one hours."
Isobel Masters glanced at the clock I
on the mautelpiece.
"You are wrong, sir," she cried, j
laughing. "It is exactly twenty-two 1
hours now. And, by the way," she |
added, " you are late tonight. Were !
you very bnsy at the office?"
Hiude's face fell.
"hit dowu, darling," he snid grave- j
ly. "I have something to tell you." j
Isobel's airy manner disappeared in j
a moment.
"Is there anything wrony, dear?" I
she asked, as Dick led her to a chair j
and sat down beside her.
"I'es, there is something wroug," !
he replied, and then he related the
events of the afternoon.
The girl listened intently to his ,
story, her bright young face growing i
serious as he proceeded.
"And now," he concluded, "I may |
as well look out for another situation
at once. I expe.'t my dismissal as j
soon as Igo in tomorrow morning. It j
is hard, indeed, is it not, especially
when we were looking forward to being
married so soon?"
"Oh! my own love!" cried Isobel, •
kissing him tenderly on the forehead,
" you have made me so happy." Her
eyes filled with tears, but they wer«
tears of joy. "It is hard, and yet it
is not hard. You could not have done
otherwise, and you know, Dick, we
can wait Better so than that you
should do what is not right." She
smiled bravely, and as Dick took her
to his heart without a word, she said,
gayly:
" I am not jealous of Miss Honor.
I hope you will always love her more
thau me."
Next morning Hinde was at his desk j
punctually at o'clock, and as he got I
out his papers his face was calm aud j
his greeting to Fraser cheerful. His j
pulse was beating fast, however, nnd
lie sat down to the translation of a i
catalogue into Portuguese, expecting
every moment to hear the bell summon i
him to an interview with the senior
partner of the firm.
The bell did not ring, but about 10 ,
o'closk Bunting came out of his room j
and walked down the office to Hinde's !
desk.
" Mr. Coleman wants you," he said, j
brusquely,passing onto the next desk, i
When Hinde entered the senior
partner's room that gentleman was
seated at a desk absolutely bare of nil
paper* save the cablegram that had
arrived the previous day. Mr. Cole
man was tbe son of the founder of tbe
firm and a man of about 45. He catne
little into contact with tbe general of
fice staff, as most of his orders were
convened through Bunting, and he
made it a rule not to interfere with his
manager's arrangements. Hismauner
was sharp and decisive, but the clerks
who had beeu in the employment of
the firm for some time had a great
respect for him as an upright and fair
dealing man of business.
•*Whnt's this Mr. Bunting tells me
about the cable from Alvargonzalez?"
he asked. " Yon refused last night to
translate and send off my reply, I un
derstand?"
"Yes, sir, I did."
" And why, pray?"
" Because it was not true."
"You speak boldly, Mr. tiinde. Do
you not consider it your duty to obey
the orders given yoa by the firm's
mauager?"
" Not in all circumstances, sir."
"Then, do I understand you still
persist in your refusal?"
" I must, sir. I cannot do other
wise," said liinde, firmly.
" Then I presume you are prepared
to accept tbe consequences?" de
manded Mr. Coleman.
"I am, sir."
Mr. Coleman up to this point had
regarded Hinde sternly,and the young
man bad met bis gaze fearlessly.
Now there was sileuce between them
for nearly a minute, while the senior
partner Lent over his desk and seemed
to be studying the cablegram closely.
Suddenly he looked up.
," How long have you been with us?"
he asked.
"Five years lust month, sir."
"Ah! What is your salary now?"
"Two hundred aud twenty pounds
per annum."
"That's pretty good for a young
man of your age, Mr. Hinde. I sup
pose you're only about 2b?"
"Not so much, sir. I was 25 last
birthday."
" Indeed! so young? You look older.
Then you still adhere to this line of
conduct, eh?"
"I do," was Hinde's reply, as he
wondered to himself how long this
budgeritig was going to last.
"Well," said Mr. Coleman, "by
your action you will lose this goo 1
salary." He paused; then rising from
his chair, he went forward to the
young man.
"You will lose it,"he continued,
"but you will gain a larger one. 1
shall give instructions to the cashier
that from the first of last month you
are to be paid at the rate of 41260 per
annum."
" Shake bauds, Mr. Hinde, "he said,
cordially. "I am glad to think our
firm has the privilege cf being served
by a man of your principle, and I hope
we shall lung retain your services. I
was just leaving last night when Mr.
Bunting brought in that wire, and in
my haste I understood him to say the
goods had left, although ho now says
that what he told me was that the
order was completed. You will pardon
me for putting you to a further test
this morning."
Hinde took the outstretched hand
of the senior partner, aud confusedly
began to try 10 express his feelings.
The uuexpectedness of the turn that
evonts had taken was too much for
him, however, and he could only
stammer forth his thanks.
" There! there!" said Mr. Coleman,
laying a friendly hand 011 his shoulder.
"By the way, I heard casually the
other day that you were .thinking of
getting married soon. Hemember
that I shall expect to be invited to the
wedding."
Marvellous Gift of a Itllnd Hoy.
Mason City, lowa, has produced a
wonderfnl musical prodigy iu the per
son of little Cecil Emsley Gale, a 4-
year-old child who was born totally
blind. Cecil has never takeu a lesson
in music, but when he was but 10
months old he began to pick out har
monious chords upon the piano. Be
fore be was 2 years old he startled
liis parents by playing through with
out a mistake "A Hot Time in the Old
Town." Almost simultaneously with
his first achievement he began to play
mauy popular airs and hymns. If he
hears a selection once, whether vocal
or instrumental, he reproduces it upon
the piano. He now plays (i0 different
hymns and songs, and has never had
a hint or suggestion from an instructor
or his parents. What he does he does
by instinct; the rhythm of his child
ish soul directs tho tiny fingers and
they glide gracefully over the key
board, producing perfect hnrmonv,
while the handsome little fellow prat
tles on about his dog and toys, appar
ently unconscious of the music.
Many musicians have visited the
home of the child genius to see and
hear him play, and many have begged
for the privilege of training him.
Others have sought the cousent of his
parents to make a tour with him. But
his pareuts are carefully harboring
his strength for the future, when they
will give him every opportunity to de
velop his remarkable genius. If his
present power is at all prophetic he
will become one of the musical mar
vels of the age.—Chicago Times-Her
ald.
a* Fuel.
Ocean driftwood is quite the fad for
use as fuel iu open fireplaces. It is
impregnated with copper and ocean
salts, aud when burned gives out the
most brilliant colored fii.ines. It is
asserted that a New Be Iford dealer
has orders for tho wood from all parts
of the couutry, and even from Eu
rope, and ships hundreds of barrels
of it yearly. Various attempts have
been made to imitate this wood 1 y ar
tificial processes, but without sue ess.
Long submersion to the sea water is
necessary to produce the br.lliant
flames. —Philadelphia Record.
DI». TALMAGES SERMON.
SUNDAY'S DISCOURSE BY THE NOTED
DIVINE
Sulij«cl: Tiellgloui Creeiln— 4 Plea For the
J>olns Away With the Il'/ginalltH and
t'ov the Substituting of a Creed
founded on Faith In (Jlu Ist.
(Copyright I'.iuu.l
WashisgtoX, D. C.—At iv time when the
old discussion of creeds Is being vigorously
nii>l somewhat bitterly revived tills dis
course of l)r. Tulmuge has a speclul in
terest. Tbo text Is John xi., 41, "Loose
him and let him go."
My Bible Is, at the place of this text,
written nil over with lead pencil marks
made at Bethany on the ruins of the house
of Mary and Martha and Lazarus. We dis
mounted from our horses on the way up
from Jordan to the Dead Sea. Bethany
was the summer evening retreat of Jesus.
After spending the day in the hot city of
Jerusalem He would come out there almost
every evening to the house of His three
friends. I think the occupants of that
house were orphans, for the father and
mother ure not mentioned. But the son
und two daughters must have Inherited
property, for it must have been, judging
from what I saw of tho foundations and
the size of the rooms, an opulent home.
Lnzurus, tho brother, was now at the head
of the household, and his sisters depended
on him and were proud of him, for he was
very popular, and everybody liked him,
and these girls were splendid girls—Martha
u first rate housekeeper and Mary a splr
ltuelle, somewhat dreamy, but affectionate,
and as good a girl as could bo found in all
Palestine. But one day Lazarus got sick.
The sisters were In consternation. Futhor
gone and mother gone, they feel very ner
vous lest thoy lose their brother also. Dis
ease did its quick work. How the glrjs
hung over his plllowl Not much sleep
übout that house—no sleep at all.
From tho characteristics otherwise de
veloped I judge that Martha prepared the
medicines and made tempting dishes of
food for the poor appetite of the sufferer,
but Mary prayed and sobbed. Worse and
worse gets Lazarus until the doctor an
nounces that he can do no more. The
shriek that went up /rom that household
when the last breath had been drawn and
the two sisters wero being led by sym
pathizers into the adjoining room all those
of us can Imagine who have had our own
hearts broken. But why was not Jesus
there, as He so often had been? Far away
in the country districts, preaching, healing
other sick, ho w unfortunate that this omni
potent doctor had not been at that do
mestic crisis in Betbauy. .When at last
Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazurus had
been burled four days, and dissolution had
taken place. In that climate tho breath
less body disintegrates more rapidly than
in ours. If immediately after decease the
body bad been awakoned into life, unbe
lievers might have said be was only in a
comatose state or In a sort of trance and
by some vigorous manipulation or power
ful stimulant vitality had been renewed.
No! Four days dead.
At the door of the sepulcher Is a crowd
of people, but tho three most memorabio
are Jesus, who was tho fnmily friend, and
the two bereft sisters. We went into the
traditional tomb one December duy, and
it Is deep down and dark, and Willi torches
we explored it. We fouud it all quiet that
ufternoou of our visit, but the day spoken
of In the Bible there was present an ex
cited multitude. I wonder what Jesus will
do? He orders the door of the grave re
moved, and then He begins to descend the
steps, Mary and Martha close after Him
and the crowd after them. Deeper down
Into the shadows and deeper! The hot
tears of Jesus roll over His cheeks and
plash upon tho backs of His hands. Were
ever so many sorrows compressed into so
small a space as in that group pressing on
down alter Christ, all tho time bemoaning
that He had not come before?
Now all the whispering und all the cry
ing and ull the sounds of shuffling feet are
stopped. It is the silence of expectancy.
Death has conquered, but now tho van
quisher of death confronted the scone.
Amid tho awful hush of tho tomb tho fa
miliar name which Christ had often had
upon His lips in the hospitalities of tho vil
lage home eamo back to Ills tongue, and
with a pathos anil an almlghtlnoss of wllloh
the resurrection of the lust day shall only
be a;i echo He cries, "Lazarus,corao forth!"
i'iie eyes of the slumberer open, and he
rises and comes to the foot of tho steps and
with great difficulty begins to ascend, for
the cerements of the tomb are yot on him,
and his feet nro fast, and his hands are
fast, und the impediments to all his move
ments nrn so great that Jesus eommuuds:
"Take off these cerements! ltemove these
hindrances! Unfasten these gruveclothes!
Loose him and let him go!"
Ob, I riu so glad that after the Lord
raised Lazarus He went on and commanded
:he loosening of tho cords that bound his
feet, so that he could walk, and tho break
ing oH of tho cerement that bound his
bunds, so that ho could stretch out Ills
arms in salutation, and the tearing off of
the bunduge from uround his jaws, so that
he could speak. What would resurroctod
life have been to Lazarus if he hud not
been freed from ull those crlpplements of
his body? I am glud that Christ com
manded his complete emancipation, say
ing, ".Loose him and let him go."
The unfortunate thing now Is that so
many Christians ure only hulf liberated.
They have been raised from tho death and
burial of sin into spiritual life, but they
yet hove the graveclothes on them. They
are like Lazarus, hobbling up tho stairs of
the tomb bound hand and toot, and tho
object of this sermon is to help free their
body and freo tliolr soul, and I shall try to
obey tho Master's command that comes to
mo and comes to every minister of re
ligion, "Loose him and let him go."
Many are bound hand und foot by re
ligions creeds. Lot no man misinterpret
me as antagonizing creeds. I have eight
or ten of them—a creed about religion, a
ireoil about art, a creed about social life,
t creed about government, and so on. A
jreed Is something that u man believes,
whether it be written or unwritten. The
Presbyterian Church Is now agitated
übout its creed. Home good men in it are
for keeping it because It was framed from
the belief of John Calvin. Other good mou
In it want revision. I am with neither
party. Instead of revision I want substi
tution. I was sorry to have tho question
disturbed at all. The creed did not hinder
us from offering tho pardon and the com
fort of the Gospel »o ull men, and the West
minster Confession hat not Interfered with
me ono minute. Luc novs that the electric
lights have been turned on tho Imperfec
tions of that creed—and everything that
man fashions Is imperfect—let us put the
old creed respectfully aside and get a briud
new one.
It is impossible that people who lived
Hundreds of years ago should fashion an
appropriate creed for our times. John
Calvin wus a great and good man, but he
died 330 years ago. I could call tho names
of tweuty living Presbyterian ministers of
religion who could muko a better creed
than John Calvin. Tho nineteenth century
ought not to be culled to sit at tho feet of
the sixteenth.
"But," you say, "it Is the same old Bible,
and John Calvin hud that us well us the
present student of tho Scriptures." Yes;
so it is tho sumo old sun In tho heavens,
but in our time it has gono to making
daguorreotypes and photographs. It Is
tho snme old water, but in our century it
has gono to ruunlng steam engines, it is
tho same old electricity, but In cur time It
has become a lightning footed errand boy.
80 it Is the old Bible, but new applications,
new uses, new interpretations. Yon must
remember that during the lust 300 years
words have changed their meuning, and
some of them now -mean more and some
le9s.
I do not think that John Calvlu believed,
as some say i.e did, In tho damnation of in
fants. uithough some of the recent hot dis
putes would seem to imply that there If
such u thing as the damnation of infants.
A man who believes In the damnation of
infunts himself deserves to lose heaven. I
do not think any good man could admit
such 11 possibility. What Christ will do
with all the babies in the next world I con
clude from what He did with tho babies in
Palestine when He hugged them and kissed
them.
When somo of you grown pooplo go out
of this world, your doubtful destiny will bo
an embarrassment to ministers officiating
nt your obsequies, who will have to be
cautious so as not to hurt surviving
friends. But when the darling children go
there are no "ifs" or "buts" or guesses'
We must remember that good John Cal
vin wus a logician and a metaphyslclau
and by the proclivities of hl9 nature put
some things in an unfortunate wuy. Loglo
has Its use, and metaphysics has its use,
but they are not good at making creeds.
What a tlmo we bnvo had with the
dogmatics, tho apologetics and the her
meneutiosl The defect in somo of the
creeds Is that they try to tell us all about
the decrees of God. Now, the onlv human
being tbnt was ever competent to handle
that subject was Paul, und ho would not
huvo been competeut bad ho not beon in
spired. I bellevo 111 the sovereignty of God,
und I believe lu mnn's free ugency, but 110
ono cuu harmonize the two. It is not
necessary that we hurmonlze them.
Every sermon tluit 1 have ever heard
that attempted such harmonization was to
me as clear as a London fog, as clear as
mud. My brother of the nineteenth cen
tury, ray brother of tho sixteenth century,
give us Paul's statement and leuve out
your own.
Better one chapter of Paul on that sub
ject than all of Calvin's institutes, able
and honest and mighty as they are. Do
not try to measure either the throne of God
or the thunderbolts of God with your little
steel pen.
What do jou know about the decrees?
You cannot pry open- the door of God's
eternal Counsels. You cannot explain tho
iriysterlos of God's government now, much
loss tho mysteries of His government live
hundred quiutlllion ye urs ago.
w. But now that the old creeds have been
put under public scrutiny something radi
cal must be done. Some would split them,
some would carve them, some would elon
gate them, some would abbreviate them.
At the present moment In tho present
shape they are a hindrance. Lazarus Is
alive, but hampered with tho old gruvo
clothes. If you want one glorious church,
free und unincumbered, take off the cere
meuts ot old eccleMustical vocabulary.
Loose her, and let her go!
Again, ray text has good advice concern
ing any Clirlstiuu hnmpered and bothered
and bound by fear of his own dissolution.
To such the book relets when It speaks of
those who through fear of death were all
their lifetime subject to bondage. Tho
most of even it we have the Christian
hope, are cowards übout death.
Backed up by the teachings of your Bible,
just look through the telescope some bright
night and see how many worlds there are
and reflect that ull you huvo seen, com
pared with tho number ot worlds in exist
once, are less than the fingers of your right
hund as compared with nil the lingers of
the human race. How foolish, then, for us
to think that ours is tho only world lit for
us to stay in.
Ono of our first realizations In getting
out of this world, I think, will be that lu
this world we were verv much pent up und
had cramped apartments and wero kept on
tho limits. The most, even of our small
world, is water, and tho water says to tho
human race, "Don't come here or you wi'i
drown." A few thousand feet up the at
mosphere is uninhabitable, and tho ut
mosplmre says to tho human race, "Don't
come up hero or you cannot breathe." A
few miles down the earth Is a furnace of
lire, and the lire says, "Don't eome here or
you will burn." Tuo caverns of the mount
ains are full of poisonous gases, and tho
gases say, "Don't come here or you will bo
usphyxluted."
And pneumonias and pleurisies ana con
sumptions and apoplexies go across this
earth iu (locks, in droves, in herds, audit
is a world of cquiuoxes und cyclones and
graves. Yet wo aro under the delusion
that it is tho only place fit to stay In. Wo
want to stick to the wet plank in mldocoau
while tho great ship, the City of God, o£
tho Celestial line, goes sailing past und
would gladly take us up iu a lifeboat. My
Christian friends, let mo toar off your de
spondencies and frights about dissolution.
My Lord commands mo regarding you,
saying, "Loose him, and let him go."
lleuven is nlnety-livo por cent, better
tliau this world, a thousand per cent, bet
ter, a million per cent, bettor. Take the
gladdest, brightest, most jubilant days
you ever bad on earth and compress them
ull into one hour, and that hour would be
a requiem, a fust day, a gloom, a horror,
as compared with the poorest hour they
have hud iu heaven since the Hrst tower
was built or its first gates swung or its
llrst song caroled.
"Oh," you suy, "that may be true, but I
am so afraid of crossing over from this
w\rld to tho next, und I feur the snapping
of tho cord between soul und body." Well,
all the surgeons and physicians and sci
entists declare that there is no pang at the
purtlng of the body aud soul, and all the
iostlessneas at the closlug hour ot life is
involuiiturv and no distress at ull.
"But," you say, "I fear togo becauso
the future is so full of mystery." Well, I
will tell you how to treat the mysteries.
The mysteries have ceused bothering me,
for I do as the judges of you r courts ofteu
do. They hear ull the nrguinouts In'tho
case, aud they say, "I will take these
papers aud give you my decision next
week." 80 I have heurd ull the arguments
In regard to tho next world, and scmo
things aro uncertain and lull of mystery,
und so I fold up the pupers and reserve
until the noxt world iny deolslon übout
them. I cau there study ull the mysterlos
to better advantage, for the light will be
better and my faculties stronger, and I
will usk tho Christian philosophers, who
have had all tho advantages of heaven for
centuries, to help mo, aud I may be per
mitted myself humbly to usk the Lord, aud
I think thjre will be only one mystery left;
that will be how ono so unworthy as myself
got Into such uu enraptured place.
The only part of tho journey I made
years ago to Palestine tliut I really dread- !
ed was the lauding at Joppa. That Is tbo
port of entrance for tho Holy Laud, und
there ure many rocks, and iu rough weath
er peoplo cannot laud at all. The boats
taking the people from the stoamer to the
docks must ruu between reefs that looked
to me to be about llfty feet apart, and 0110
mlsstroke of an oursmttu or uu unexpected
wavo bus sometimes been fatal, and
hundreds have perished along those
reefs. Besides that, as we left Port
Said the evening before, an oid; trav
eler said- "The wlurt Is just right to
give you 11 rough lauding at Joppa; indeed
I think you will not be able to laud at ull."
The fact wus that when our Mediterranean
steamer dropped anchor near Joppa and
we put out for shore lu the small boat, tho
water wus as still as though It Lad been
sound asleep it hundred years, and we
landed as easily as I entered tills pulpit.
Well, your fears have pictured for you an
appalling arrival at the end of your voyage
of life, aud they say that tho seas will ruu
high aud that the breakers will swallow
you up, or that If you reach Cauauu at all
it will be a very rough lauding.
The very opposite will be true if you
have the eternal God for your portion.
Your dlsemburkutlou for the promised
land will be as smooth as was ours at
Palestine. Christ will meet you far out at
sea and pilot you into complete snfetv, and
you will land with a hosauna on one side
of you aud a halleluiah on the other.
"Land ahead!" Its fruits nro waving
O'er the hill of fadeless greeu
And the living wuters laving
Shores where heavenly forms are seen.
Bocks and storms I'll fear no more
When on that eternal shore.
Drop the anchor, furl the sail!
I uu sufe within the veil!
I THE GREAT DESTROYER.'
SOME STARTLINC FACTS ABOUT
THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE.
Hard Cider—%n Kptnode Which ltevealu
the Utter HeartleMnes* of the Avei
'»»e Rum Seller—Opened His liar to a
Drunken Man Despite ft Wife's Plea.
What nils that man? Ila walks with a
swagger
| So very pronounced It is almost a stagger;
N'ow.that ho Is tipsy don't ever bo thinking.
For how cau that bo when he's only been
drinking
Hard older?
What makes him SUIIOD, SO savage, and
cross,
And for words of profanity ne'er at a loss?
What makes his breath so offensive and
strong?
Ha doesn't drink anything all day long
But hard older.
What makes his face such a cardinal red?
I Suggesting the thought that he ought to be
bled;
His eyes look exactly like ripe melon sends.
And to cure all these uliments it must bo
he needs
More hard cider.
A Typical Saloon Keeper.
No one will accuse the Post-Standard, ot
Syracuse, N. Y., with being nn organ of
:iuy temperance society, hence we give the
following story as related by one of its
staff a place in our columns:
"Don't drink anything more to-night.
Pleiiso don't."
"Stop your infernal whining and come
along. I guess I lcnow when I've had
auougb."
It was 1 o'clock In the morning, cold ami
stormy. A young woman, bare-bonded,
thinly clad and shivering inside a ragged
blanket shawl that was thrown over her
jallco dress clung to the arm of a big,
hulking fellow, evidently her husband,
who made his way unsteadily toward a
bunch of saloons not far from the heart of
the city.
The words recorded above and a rougli
shake ol the slight girl whom he held (irm
ly by the shoulder were the man's auswer
to her tearful pleading. He staggerlug, sbo
beseeching him to return, they passed the
flatlrou corner of the block at the intersec
tion of and Genesee streets, neither
observing a silent figure muffled to the
chin in a warm ulster, that stood In the
shadow of the building watching them.
Tills man was tho proprietor of one of the
saloons. He stood still until ho saw the
pair halt before the door of his place,
which had just been closed for the night.
A late pedestrian who had observed all
three approached. Tho saloon keeper,
whom he knew by sight, remarked casu
ally:
"There's trade headed for my place. I'il
have togo over and open up."
Si 111 the distracted woman's pleadings
nnd tho man's churlish replies could be
heard, but it made no difference to tho sa
loon keeper. Soon a light was burning
over ills bar.
The late pedestrian heard the sound of a
scuffle, the saloon door swung open and
tho girl, crying as if her heart would
break, burst out of the place, disheveled,
and ran up the street. After a little the
light in the saloon went out, the intoxi
cated man emerged, staggering more than
before. Then the saloon keeper also came
out, locked the door, buttoned his warm
ulster up to his chin and with a satisfied
and contented air started toward home.
Driven to niiiulness by Drink.
Thomas Ward, tho Yale graduate, wbc
was told by several Camden (N. J.) physi
cians that, unless he stopped drinking, ho
would become blind, has been uuable to
withstand temptation. Regardless of the
result to his eyes, he became drunk again
and lay all night in the city jail.
Ward, while drunk, became Involved in
.1 fli<ht, and received a blow under the evo
which cut n big gash iu Ills cheek. He fell
to the floor aud the wound was illled with
iirt. inflammation set in and the sight was
almost destroyed. Ho was told that if he
irank before the wound healed there would
be no help for him.
Ward is a well educated mau, hnving
D'>en graduated from tho Yale law school.
While lu college ho drank hoavilv, and
ifter ho left school lie went from bad to
worse. Ho was full ot remorse as 110 lay
in his cell, But he has lost all hope and
ill belief in himself. "It Is no use," ho
laid, "I'be appetite for driuk is too strong
tor mo. I could not give it up. I begau
:o drink while I was ill college, aud, un
conscious ot the evil which would result,
created an appetite which has become my
master. When I first begau to practice I
.lad brilliant prospects, but my liking for
drink destroyed thein all.
"It may be that I shall become blind, as
.lie doctors said I would, but I do not care
iny more. lam worthless, audit does uot
matter. '
Alcohol, the Skin, and the Heart.
A party of Americans in crossing Sierra
Nevada encamped at a spot above thesnow
line. Some of them took a good deal of
spirits before going to sleep, and they lay
iown warm aud happy; some took a mod
crate quantity, and they lay down some
what but not very cold; others took none
it all, and they lay down very cold aud
miserable. Next morning, however, those
who had taken 110 spirits got up feeling
lult'j well; those who had taken a little
jot up foellug coid and wretched, those
who had taken a great deal did not get up
it all; they had perished from cold during
tho night. Those who took 110 alcohol
kept their hearts warm at the expense of
tbelr skin, and they remained well; those
who took much warmed tlioir skin at the
expense of their hearts, and they died.—
Dr. Carter.
Sale of Brandy l)rop% Stopped.
The sale of candy, with the innocent out
ride appearance of an ordinary chocolate
drop, but containing. It Is said, brandy, in
stores in tlie neighborhood of Public
School 57, Lee nvenue and Van Brunt
street, Brooklyn, has aroused the activi
ties of the W. C. T. U. A crusade against
tho sale of those brandy drops has just
been successfully finished, aud no longer
is this particular brand of confectionery
allowed to be sold lu the vicinity of that
school. It is said that the sale of the
brandy drops was stopped by two of tho
seventy-two special deputy sheriffs ap
pointed by Sheriff Walton at tho request ot
the W. C. T. U. aud other allied organiza
tions. The shopkeepers have sent the
vundy back to the wholesale dealers.
Drink Slay* More Than llatile.
Under the present law the consumption
ot spirituous liquors lu the Philippines is a
new and growiug busluess. One of our
contemporaries says:"lt is probably not
untruthful to say of tho deaths of the
bravo boys who have gone there from
homes in everyStateof the Union,one-half,
excepting those killed In battle, have been
from tho use of lutoxlcating drinks taken
in United States ships, sold by men frouv
tho Uultod States under the protection ot
the Amorlcau Hag."—The Evangelist, New
York.
The Crusade In llrief.
The liquor devil is the same old devil.
Wlue has drowned more men than water. .
The Society of Total Abstainers, just I
formed iu Vienna, is tho first everestub-l
Mailed iu Austria. 112
Under the "Indiana plan," thirteen paid,'
"evangelists" oro devoting their entire
time to prohibition party work lu the
Hoosier State.
The Board of Aldermen ot Kenosha, Wis.,
rccoutly passed an ordinance compelling
saloonkeepers to post in their saloons a list
ot the known habitual drunkards ot the
town, to whom no intoxicating liquors
must be sold under auv circumstances. -