‘We stood together in early spring, Farmer Johnand I; - Together we heard the wild bird sing, Farmer John and I; He can thrive on songs or flowers, 0 in toil we passed youth's morning hours; He turned the furrow and dropped the seed, i He sowed with clover the waiting mead, He pruned and grafted the orchard trees, He planted the garden and hived ths bees; And I kept the cottage trim and neat, ‘While love made labor light ‘and sweet, In the homé of Farmer Joan. We stood together in summer time, We heard the brook’s slog-measfired rhyme; But we could not wait to dream, for lol If hands wera idle the weeds would growl. Bo he toiled the tasseled corn among, Adown the clover his scythe he swung; The path that away to the sheep-field led Echoed early and late his cheerful thread; And not till the stars shons out at night Was there rest or ease by the fireside bright In the home of Farmer John. ‘We stood together in harvest hour, To count the wealth of the autumn’s dower; The huge, slow-movinz loaded wain Had homeward brought the ripened grain; The barns were filled from floor to eaves With fragrant hay and close-bound sheaves; The trees had showered their fruit of gold Far more than crowded bins could hold; But better and best of all, we knew, “Had been love's sunlight, warm and true, In the home of Farmer John. We stood together on winter's crest, Farmer John and I; ‘We saw the sun fadeout in ths west, Farmer John and I; But what though spring, with its birds, had fled, And what though summer flowers wera dead! The song and fragrance that could not sleep Were hid away in our hearts to keep! And happy are we, though years roll on, Till all life's summer-time is gone, And c'en its harvest-hour is past, For love, we know, will bloom to the 1ast _ In the home of Farmer John. —Louise S. Upham, in the Ledger. MAKING A MATCH. SEE. 5 p HY, I wouldn't marry the best man A that ever lived!” £7 And she meant it, f or, what answers the same purpose, she thought she ‘meant it. After all, how few of us ever really know what » we mean? ¢I en- gaged myself once, whe a girl, and the simpleton thought he owned me. I soon took the conceit out of him and sent him away about his business.” The voice was now a little sharp. What wonder, with so galling a memory. *‘No man shall ever tyran- nize over me—never! What the mis- chief do you suppose is the matter with this sewing machine?” «Annoyed at your logic, most likely, said my friend, a bright young matron, as she threaded her neédle. “My hus- band is not a tyrant, Miss Kent.” “I am glad you are satisfied,” was the laconic reply. Miss Kent was a little woman, fair as a girl and plump as a robin. © She wasn't ashamed to own that she was forty years old and an old maid. She had earned her own living most of her life, and was proud of it. She was a good nurse, a taithful friend and a jolly companion, but stroke her the wrong way and you'd wish you hadn’t in much shorter time than it takes me to write it. +*What are you going to do when you establishment. ¢*What other folks do, I suppose.” “But you can’t work forever.” +Can’t say that I want to.” ss Now, Miss Kent, a husband with means, a kind, intelligent man—"’ «J don’t want any man, I tell you, Mrs. Carlisle: I wouldn't marry the best man living, if he were as rich’as Croesus ‘and would die if I didn’t have kim.” There was something behind all this I knew well. By friend's eyes danced with fun, and as Miss Kent fitted the waist, she “hrew me a letter from the bureau. “Read that,” she said with a’ know- | / ing look; ¢‘it may interest you.” This is what the letter said: My. Dear Jennie—I shall be delighted to spend a month with you and your hustand. 1 here must be, however, one stipulation about my visil—you must say no more about marriage. shail never be foolish again. Twenty years azo to-day I wrecked my whole life.” So unsuitable was this mar- riage; so- utterly bad and wretched have been its consequences, that I am forced to believe the marriage institution a mistake, Fo for the last time let me assure you that 1 wonldn’t marry the best woman that ever lived, if by so doing I could save her life. Xour old cousin, MARK LANSING. stRich, isn’t it,” said Jennie,and then pointéd to the chubby little figure, whose back happened to be turned. ~ I shock my head and laughed. s+You'll see,” said the incorrigible. , ¢8ee what?’ inquired Miss Kent,quite unaware of our pantomime. «That parties which are chemically atiracted will unite. Don’t you think this sleeve a little too long, Miss Kent?” © «Not after the seam is off. But what were you saying, Mis. Carlisle? The other day, at Professor Boynton's, I saw | somé wonderful experiments.” «And did they succeed?” inquired Jennie, demurely. «Beautifully.” “So will mine. 1 never yet botched ‘a jobin my life.” Tinta of i “I don’t think I quite" understand | | you,” replied Miss Kent, perplexed. " «No? 1 always grow scientific when ! talking about marriage, my dear,” | * «Bother!” was all the little woman said, but the tone was much better-| patured than I expected. 7 The next week Cousin Mark arrived, nd I liked him at once, ‘marriage would have been the last thing thought of in connection with that gen- An unbappy | He had accepted the situation. i | domestic happiness. maker was in hers. reminded of the other. necessary to caution me about that, window. ridiculous!” with a wink at me: to my sitting room. And in the same breath, “Come, let us go to you, will it?” Of course Cousin Marx answered, about the trap being laid for him. and Miss Kent rose, dropped her scis- sors, blushed and sat down again. Cousin Mark picked up the refractory imple- ments, and then Mrs. Jennis proceeded of love. : Two or three invitations to the sew- Cousin Mark perfectly at home there, and after a ‘week he became familiar enough to say: «If you are not too busy I would like to read this article.” ¢¢Oh, I am never too busy to be read to,” Miss Kent would say. by ths window, in this comfortable chair, and let's hear it.” After a couple of weeks, when the gentleman came in hoarse, with a sud- den cold, Miss Kent hustled about, her voice full of sympathy, and brewed him a dose which he declared he wouid never forget to his dying day,’but one dose cured. After this occurrence, Miss Kent was a really wonderful woman. Ah, what an arch plotter! gether. the very evening preceding Mark's departure for California. care to leave quite alone with his nurse. Mark will cousin?” read to you—won’t you, it,” replied the gentleman. time. most in use during the evening, and out and garden. den. In vain I protested. lifetime. John wanted to come awfully, but I knew he'd make an awful noise him.” to lock the closet door from the outside, so there was no fear of detection. i awaited results. from a protracted reverie, | ““Weuld you like to bave me read?” | «Oh, I'm not particular,” Kent. «tHere i3 an excellent article on elec- tive affinities. How would you like thas?” away my breath. «Who is it by?” she inquired. Jennie exclaimed (clear in my ear): ‘That is to gain time, see if it ain’s.” believe,” said Cousin Mark. to-night,” said Miss Kent. continued. New York, Miss Kent.” she returned. «He is the wreck, you remember,’ whispered Jennie. : A long pause. Miss Kent. +¢Oh, no,” said Cousin Mark. Kent” No answer from Miss Kent. *¢I have been a lonely man, Kent,” Cousin Mark resumed, ‘but life mast be antil I came to thus house.’ «0h, how lonely,” echoed Jennie. of Kent. so fond Miss | for a man life. ag I am, I me if am ill, nobody to feel very badly i 1Ldie) Ls «That'll fetch her,” said Jennie, <4] wish that I lived in San Francisco,’ ' said Miss Kent, in a little quivering «You could call upon me at any voice. time if you needed anything.” - + Jennie in convulsions. . Jf you will go to, California with me Miss Kent, I'll wait another week.” «Why, Mr. Lansing, what do you mean “I What would folks say?” she said. {ts We don't care for folks.” said Mark | «Tf you will go, pleasant as money can hall ha make it. | few could have endured. Death relieved | him at last, and now the poor fellow actually believed himself an alien from Singular as it may appear, Cousin Mark was the embodiment of good healtn and good pature; fifty, perhaps, though he didn’t look it, and as rotund and as fresh in his way as the little dress- As I looked at him I defied anybody to see one and not be +] was surprised you should think it Cousin Mark,” cooed the plotter, as she stood by his side, looking out of the «The idea of my being 180 We are at work there, but it won't make any difference | «No” promptly, as inngcent as a dove «This is my cousin, Mr, Lansing, Miss Kent.” ‘And Mr. Lansing bowed politely with rare caution and tact to her labor ing room were quite sufficient to make «Sit down She let them skirmish about, but not once did she give them a chance to be alone to- Her plans were not to be de- stroyed by premature confidence until Cousin Then Miss Kent was very demurely asked to remain and keep an eye on Master Car- lisle, whom the fond mother did not “We are compelled to be gone a couple of hours,” said she, ‘‘but Cousin ¢Certainly, if Miss Kent would like The infant Carlisle, thanks to good management, was never awake in the evening, so the victims of this matri- mouial speculation would have plenty of The back parlor was the room of this room was a large closet with a large blind ventilator, and out of this closet a door leading to her back stoop Imagine the surprise when I was told that Mr. Carlisle was going to the lodge, and that we, after profuse warnings about the baby, ana promises not to be gone too long, were to pro- ceed to this closet overlooking the back parlor by way of the back gate and gar- +Why, you little goose,” laughed Jen- nie, *‘there’ll ‘be fun enough to last a and spoil everything, so I wouldn't let The wily schemer took the precaution Oa a 3 { high h, still t i ¢ gre old?” persisted the mistress of the | big beach, 2% 2 wo Bas We Presently Cousin Mark, as .if arousing asked: replied Miss Jennie’s elbow in my side almost took «It’s by a prominent French writer, I «I don't think I care for a translation “Nor I; nor reading of any kind,” he «This is my last evening in “I hope you've enjoyed your visit,” Jennie (into my very head this time); «¢She’s as shy as a three-year-old colt.” ¢«¢] didn’t think I should feel so bad about leaving,” Cousin Mark went on “You | are fond of babies, are you not, Miss Miss | never realized how lonely the rest of my “Now I must return to my business and my boarding-house—boardiag house domestic have friends in San Francisco, of ;course, but no fireside like this, no one to care for we will have a house as You and flowers and horses | Nicholas me. Will you be my wife?” Just then Jennie and I stepped up an- other peg, and there was that little old mai¢, who ‘would not marry the best man that ever lived, hugged close to a man's breast who wouldn’t marry the best woman that ever lived, not even to save her life. We came away then, buc it's my opinion that they remained in just that position till we rang the bell half an hour later. “Why, Miss Kent, what makes your face so very red?” inquired Jennie upon eutering;‘‘and Cousin Mark, how strange- ly you look! Your hair is all mussed up.” ‘And I hope to have it mussed often)” said Cousin Mark, boldly. ¢ Miss Kent and I are to be married this week.” Jennie laughed until her face was pur- ple, and when I went up stairs Miss Kent was pounding her back.—Baltimore Herald. ee t—— A e— Epicurean Elephants. very rapid, and the animal, therefore, requires daily a large amount of fodder— 600 pounds at least. In its wild state the elephant feeds heartily, but waste fuily. It is careful in selecting the few or folinge. But it will tear down branches and leave Lalf of them un- touched. It will strip off the bark from other trees and throw away a large por- tion. : As it is a nocturnal animal, it selects its trees by the senses of touch and smell. Its sense of smell is so delicate’ that a wild elephant can wind an enemy at a distance of 1000 yards, and the nerves of its trunk are so sensitive that the smallest substance can be discovered and picked up by its tiny proboscis. An elephant’s palate is very delicate and the animal is whimsical in selecting or rejecting morsels of food. Sir Samuel W. Baker, in his ¢“Wild Beasts and Their Ways,” tells an anecdote illustrative of the whims of a tame elephant belonging to the police of Dhubris This elephant was fed with rice and plantains. The stems of tae plantations were split” and cut into transverse -sec- tions two feet in length. Three-quarters of a pound of rice was placed within each tube of plantain stem. One day, while the elephant was being fed, a lady offered the animal a small, sweet biscuit. It was taken in the trunk and almost im- mediately thrown on ‘the ground. The mahout, or driver, thinking that the elephant had behaved rudely, picked up the biscuit and inserted it in a parcel of rice within a plantain stem. This was placed in the elephant's mouth, and at the very first crunch it showed its dis- gust by spitting out the whole mess. The small biscuit had disgusted the animal, and for several minutes it tried by its inserted trunk to rake out every atom from its tongue and throat.—Chi- cago News. \ —————————————— Mexico's Rich Onyx Mines. Concessions have been granted by the Mexican General Government, and sup- plemented by the State Government to a party of Americans, who will at once ‘begin to work the famous onyx mines of Durango. A company composed of capitalists from St. Louis, Chicago and Philadelphia has been formed for the purpose, and will be ready to begin work 1n a very short time. This valu- able bed of beautiful stones has been known to the people of this State for hundreds of years, and has furnished many fine specimens which have been sent to the capital and to the Umted States for polishing; but there has never been a regular effort to get the stone out in any quantify, and the present grant of thousands ¢" Acres of land is done for the purpose of developing the country. There are old quarries all over the vast mountain which is almost one solid mass of onyx from the centre to the circum- ference, and it is said that some of these quarries were worked by the Spaniards | when they first came to this country hundreds of years ago. Some of the quarries are known to have been worked by the ancient Aztecs, and in several of them are found old implements which were used before white men came to America. In one of the mines is to be seen a magnificent specimen of the rock, which is said to have been there over two hundred years and to have been carved out by old Indians ages ago. This specimen is most beautifully veined and is carved to bring out all its peculiar beauties. On it are many hieroglyphies, and it is said to have been a religious stone which was unfinished when the’ conquerors came and was left just as it was found. It is seven feet long, five feet wide and three feet thick, and is veined with four colors. It is under- ' | stood that the stone will be sent to the World's Fair.—New York Herald. i] think I hear the baby,” exclaimed | ‘‘Prayer-sticks” of the Pueblo Indians How many of my young countrymen who have read of the ‘‘prayer-wheels” of Burmah, and the paper prayers of the Chinese, know that there is a mechanical prayer used by thousands of people in the United States? The Pueblo ¢‘prayer- stick’ is quite as curious a device as those of the heathen Orient; and the feather is the chief part of it. Prowling in sheltered ravines about any Pueblo town, the curiosity-seeker will find, stuck in the ground, carefully whittled sticks, each with a tuft of downy feathers (generally white) bound at the top. : : Each of these sticks is a prayer—and none the less earnest and sincere because so misguided. Around the ' remote I ° i ' | thousand of these strange invocations in one day's ramble; but never a tithe as many by any other pueblo. 5 | = According to the nature of the prayer | the stick, the feathers, and the manner ; of tying them vary. The Indian who i has a favor to ask of the Trues prepares his feather-prayer with great solemnity and secrecy, takes it to a proper spot, - | prays to all those above, and plants the prayer-stick that it may continue his petition ‘after he has gone home.—St, as ? and all that you want, and you shall} never sew another stitch tor anybody but | | An elephant's digestive functions are. forest trees which it likes fo their bark | | to reign. pueblo of Zuni I have counted over three. | THE GREATEST NAME OF ALL. Brooklyn Divine. Trxr: “The mame which is above every name.”’—Philippians ii., 9. ; Paul is here making rapturous and en- thusiastic description of the name of Christ. There are merely worldly names that some- times thrill you through and through. Such was the name of Henry Clay to a’ Kentuck- ian, the name of William Wiet to a Virgin- ian, the name of Daniel Webster to a New Englander. 'g By common proverb we have come to be- lieve that “‘there is nothing ina name;” and s0 parents sometimes at the baptismal altar gives titles to their children reckless of the fact that that title, that name, will be a life- time hindrance or a lifetime help. You have no right to give your child a name lacking either in euphony or moral mean- ing. pi is a sin to call a child Jehoiakim or Tiglath-pileser—or by anything that 1s disa- greeable. Because you have had an exas- perating name yourself is no reason why you should inflict it upon your progeny. And yet how often it is that we see a name. full of jargon rattling down from generation to generation simply because a long while ago some one happened to be afflicted with it. Institutions and great enterprises some- times without sufficient deliberation take nomenclature. Mighty destinies have been decided by a name. - While we may by a long course of Christian behavior get over the misfortune of having been baptized with the name of a despot or a cheat, how much better it would have been if we could have all started life without any such incum- brance! ‘When Pagl, in my text and in other pas- sages of Scripture, burst.forth in aspirations of admiration for the name of Christ, I want to inquire what are the characteristics of" that appel'ation, “The name which is above every name.” ln thefirst piace, speaking to you in regard to the name of Christ, I want to tell you it is an easy name, You are sometimes introduced to people with long and unpronounceable names, and you have to listen cautiously to get the names, and you have to hear them pronounced two or three times before you risk trying to utter them, but within the first two years the lit- tle child folds its hands and looks upward and says “Jesus.” Can it be thatin all this church this morn- ing there are representatives of any house- hold where the children are familiar with the names of the father and mother and brother and sister, yet know nothing about ‘‘that name which is above every name?” Some- times you forget thename of a quite familiar friend, and you have to think and think be- fore you get it, but can yqu imagine any freak of intellect by which you should for- get the name of Jesus? That word seems to t the tungue in every dialect. Down to old age, when the voice is tremulous and uncer- tain and indistinct, even then this regal word finds potent utterance. When an aged father was dying one of the children came and said, ‘Father, do ou know me?” and in the delirium of the ast sickness he said, ‘No, I don’t know ou.” Another child came and said, “Father, do you know me?” ‘No,” he said, *] don’t know you.” Then the village pas- tor camein and said, ‘Dou you know me?’ He said, “No; Idon’t think lever saw you.” Then said the minister, “Do you know Jesus?” ‘Oh, yes!” said the dying man, “I know Jesus; Chief among ten thousand is He, and the One altogether lovely.” Yes, for all ages and for all languages, and for all conditions is an easy name, Jesus, I love Thy charming name, Tis music lo my ear; Fain would I sound it out so lond That heaven and earth might hear. But I remark further in regard to this aame of Christ, that it'is a beautitul name, Now you have noticed that you cannot dis- associate a name from the character of the person who has it. There are some names, for instance, that are repulsive to my ear. Those names are attractive to your ear. What is the difference? Why, I happened to know some persons of that name who were Cross or sour, Or queer or unsympa- thetic, and the persons you have happened to know of that mame were kind and genial. Since, then, we cannot disassociate a name from the character of the person who has the name, that consideration makes the name of Jesus unspeakably beautiful. 1 cannot pronounce the name in your presence, Lut you think of Bethlehem and ethsemane and Golgotha, and you see His loving face, and you hear His tender voice, and you feel His gentle touch. As soon ‘as I pronounce His name in your presence you think of Hiin who banqueted with heavenly hierarchs, yet came down and breakfasted on the fish which the rough man hauled out of Genesaret; you think of Him who, though the clouds are the dust of Bis feet, walked footsore on the road to Emmaus. I cannot speak His name in your hearing this moring, but 4 think right awav of the shining one who restored the centurion’s daughter, and who helped the blind man to Er and who made the cripple’s crutch useless, and who looked down into the laugh- ing eyes of the babe until it struggled to go rar then, flinging His arms around it, and impressing a kiss upon its beautiful brow, said: *Of such is the kingdom of heaven. : i Oh, beautiful name, the name of Jesus, which stands for love, for patience, for self sacrifice, for magnanimity, for everythin ‘that is good and glorious and tender an sympathetic and kind! 1t is aromatic with all odors. It isaccordant with all harmonies. Sometimes when I look at that name of Jesus Christ it seems as if the letters were made of tears, and then they seem to be gleaming crowns. Sometimes that name seems to be twisted out of the straw on which He lay, and then it ssems to be built out of the thrones on which His people are Sometimes 1 sound that word Jesus,and 1 hear in it the sob of Gethsemane and the groan of Calvary, and then I speak His name and it is all a ripple with gladness and a ring with hosanna. Glorious name! Take all the glories of bookbindery and put them arcand the page on which that nanie is printed. On Christmas morning wreathe it on the wall. Let it drip from barp’s string and let it thunder out in organ’s diapason, Sound it often, soundit well, un- til every star shall seem to shine it, and every flower shall seem to breathe it, and mount- ‘ain and sea, and day and night, and earth and heaven acclaim in full chant, “Blessed be His glorious name forever.” ‘The name which is above every name.” Have you ever heard in a Methodist church, during a time of revival, a score of souls come to the altar and cry out for mercy under the power of just two limes of glorious old John Wesley? Jesus, the name high over : heaven, or earth, or sky. 4 Tc the repenting soul, to the exhaustedin- ‘valid, to the Sunday-school girl, to the snow white octogenarian it is beautiful, The aged man comes in from a long walk, and he tremulously opens the door of his home, and he hangs his bat on the old nail, and he puts his cane in the usual place, and he lies on his couch, and he says to his children and his grandchildren, “My dears, I am going away from you.” And they say, * ‘hy, where are you going, grandfather?” *‘Oh,” he says, “I am going to Jesus;” and so the old man faints away into heaven. And the little child comes in from play and she flings herself in your lap, and she gays, “Mamma, Um so sick, I'm so ver sick:” and you put her to bed, and the fever is: worse and worse, while you are shaking up the pillow and giv- ing the medicine, she looks up in your face and says, *“ ma, I'm going away from vou.” , You say, ‘Why, where are you go - ing, my darling?’ And she says, “I am go- ing to Jesus.” And the red cheek that you re to be the mark of the fever turns out to be only the carnation ally m of heaven. |: Oh, was it not beautiful when a little \ The Sunday Sermon as Deliverad by the 1 and some midnight, . eas ihe Hedle gir] that o give the ing kiss’ mate, “Web thant you are give my love to Him.” Iti name, whether on the ‘lips of childhood or on the lips gt the ¢ld man. When my father was dying the village minister said to him. quoting over his pillow this passage, “This isa faithful Saying and worthy of all ac- eptation—that ist Jesus came into the save sinners,”an ere he stopped. Then my father finished the Cy by saying, “of whom I am chief.” n ut I remark again, in regard to this name of Christ, that it is a mighty name. Rothschild is a name mighty in the com- mereial world, Silliman isa name mighty in the scientific world, Irving is a name mighty in the literary world, Washington is a name mighty in the political world, Wellington is a name mighty in the military world, but wherein all the earth is a name so potent to lift and thrill and arouse and rally and bless as the name Jesus? Why, the sound of that one name unhorsed Saul and ‘threw Newton on his face on ship’s deck, and that onename to-day, while I speak, holds a hundred mil- lion souls under omnipotent spell. That name in Eagland to-day means more than Victoria. n Germany shat name to-day means more than Emperor William, On, mighty name! have seen a man bound hand and foot of the devil and captive of all evil habits, at the sound of that name dash down his shackles and march out forever free. I have seen a man overcome of misfortune and trial, every kind of trouble had he; but at the sound of that name the sea dropped, aud the clouds parted, and the sunburst of eternal gladness poured upon his soul. I have seen a man hardened in infidelity, de- fiant of God, full of jeer and scoff, jocose of the judgment day, reckless of eternity, at the sound of that name blanch and cower and groan and kneel and weep ani repent and pay and believe and rejoice and tri um Oh, it is a mighty name. Under its power the last temple of superstition will come down and the last Juggernaut of iniquity will be shattered to pieces. The red horse of carnage, spoken of in apocalyptic vision, and the black horse of death must.come back on their haunches, while the white horse of victory goes forth mounted of Him who hath the moon under His feet and the stars of heaven for His tiara. Mighty name! It will make the whole earth tremble, and then it will make all the nations sing. igh name! Other dominions seem to be giving way; provinces; Spain has lost a great deal of her power; many of the thrones of the world are being lowered; many of the scepters of the world are being shortened, but every tract distributer, every Bible printer, every Christian institution established spreads abroad the mighty name of Christ. It has already been heard under the Chinese wall, and in the Siberian snow castle, and in the Brazilian grove and in the eastern pagoda. That name will swallow up all other names. That crown will yet cover up all other crowns. That empire will yet: compass all dominations. 3 All crim es shall cease and ancient frauds shall fail, Returning justice lift aloft her scale; Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, And white-robed innocence from heaven descend. But I remark again, taking a step forward in this subject; that the name of Christ is an enduring name. You get over the fence of the graveyard and you pull the weeds back from the name that has nearly faded from the tombstone, and you wish that Walter Scott's ‘Old Mortality” would come along and rechisel it so that you might really find out what the nameis. hy, that was the name of the greatest man in all the town, in. all the country, in all the State, now almost faded from the tombstone. And so the greatest names of this world either have perished or are perishing. Gregory VI., Sancho of Spain, Conrad I. of Germany, Richard I. of England. Catherine of Russia, Those names were once mighty, and they made the earth tremble, Who cares for them now? None so poor as to do them reverence. ‘But the name of Clirist is enduring forever. It will be preserved in the world’s fine art. There ‘will be other Bellinis to sketch the Madonna, and other Ghirlandaajos to present the baptism of Christ, and other Bronzinos to show Christ visiting the spirits in prison, and other Giottos to appal the vision with the Cruci- fixion, It will be preserved in the world’s literature. There will be other Alexander Popes to write the *‘Messiah,” and other Dr. Youngs to celebrate His triumph, and other Cow- rs to sing His love. It will be preserved in the world’s grand and elaborate archi- tecture, and Protestanism shall yet have its St. Mark’s and its St. Peter’s. It shall be preserved in the world’s literature, for there will be other Paleys tp write the *‘lividences of Christianity.” ore than all, it will be embalmed in the hearts of all the good of earth and all the great ones of heaven. Shall the emancipated bondsman ever for- get who set him free? Shall the blind man ever forget the Divine Physician who gave him sight? Shall the lost and wandering ever forget who brought them home? Why, to make the world forget that name would be to burn up all the Bibles and burn down all the churches, and then in the spirit of universal arson go through the gate of heaven and put the torch to all the temples and mansions and palaces until in the awful conflagration all heaven went down and the ple come out to look upon the charred ruins; but even then they would hear the rime of Christ in the thunder of falling towers and in the crash of temple walls, and see it interwoven into the flying banners of flame, and the redeemed of heaven would say, ‘Let the temples and the palaces burn; let them burn; we have Jesus left.” Blessed be His glorious name forever. *‘The name which is above every name.” My friends, have you made up your mind by what name you will accost Christ when you see Him in heaven? Now thatis a prac- tical question. For you will see Him, child of God, just as certainly as you sit there and 1 stand here. By what namehave you made up your mind to call Christ when you first meet Him in heaven? Will you call Him “Anointed One,” or ‘Messiah?’ or will you take some one of the symbolic terms which you read in your Bible on earth—terms by which Christ was designated? Some day perhaps you will be wandering among the gardens of God on high, the place abloom With eternal springtime, infinite lux- ury of lily and rose and amarath, and per- haps you will look up into the face of Christ and say, ‘My Lord, Thou art the Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley.” Some time there will be a new soul come into heaven to take its place in the firmament and shine as the stars forever and ever, and ‘the luster of a useful life will shine forth tremulous and beautiful, and you will look up into the face of Christ and say, * Lord, Thou art a brighter star, the Morning Star, the Star of Jacob, the Star of the Re- deemer.” ’ Some day you will be walking areng he fountains that toss in the sunlight, falling in crash of pearl «nd amethyst into golden and crystalline urn, and wandering up the round banked river to the p! where the water first tinkles in silver on the rock, and from chalices of love you will be drinking. to honor and everjasting joy, and you will look np into the face of Christ and say, “My Lord, my Lord, Thou art the Fountain of Living Water.” Some day you will be wandering among the lambs and sheep of heaven feeding by the rock, rejoicing in the care of Him who brought you out of the wilderness world into the sheepfold, and you will look up into His and say, “My Lord, my rd, Thou art the Shepherd of the Ryverlasting Hills.” “ “Bult there is another name by which you can call Him. Perhaps that will be the uname I have not mentioned yet. I imagine that heaven is all full, Every throne has its king. Every harp has its harper. All the wealth of the universe has come into heaven. There is nothing to be added. The song full. > fi France had to give up some of her favorite YE dh solid pearl of the twelv: noon in heaven. Noon on the rivi on the hills. i valle noon. And then you will look ally accustoming your vision to the shading your eyes at the first lest the extinguished with the insufferable splendt until after awhile you can look upon tha fi irradiation, and you will ery out, **My Lo my Lord, Thou art the Sun that Ni But at tais point I am staggered with thought that ‘thers may be persons in house for whom this name has no charm, though it is so easy, though it is so beaut ful, though it is so potent, thouzh it is so during. Ob, comg to-day and see whether there is anything in Christ! Ichallenge yo to test with me this morning whether Gol: good, and whether Christ is precious, and whether the Holy Ghost is omnipotent. Come, my brother, I challenges you. Come, and we will kneel at the altar of mercy. You kneel on the one side of the altar and I will kneel on the other side of the altar of mercy, and we will not get up from our Knees until our sins are pardoned and we are able to ascribe all honor to the name— you pronouncing it and I pronouncing it— *‘the name which is above every name.” : His worth if all the nations knew, : Sure the whoie earth would love him too. I pray God that He may move upon this assemblage now, that we may see Him walk- ing through all these aisles, that the Hol irit may spread His wings over this audi- tory. Now is your time for heaven. Ob, my friends! meeting once, perhaps never again until the books are opened, what shall we say of this morning’s service? Havel told you the whole truth? Have you listened to the whole truth? Now is your fime for heaven. Come into the kingdom. If yo never had an invitation (before, I gi yOu now. ; : I donot ask what your sin has: what your wandering. That is no nent to the question. The only thing whether you want rist. Come in, . Come, the nearest by, * ed, grace shall much m Is there in all this august blage a man who feels he is too wi come? You are Com “Now is the accepted time; now is of salvation.” O ye who are young, come now! If is gloomy religion that I preach. It will no lustre from your eye. It will ta color from your cheek. It will ta spring from your step. Iknow what talking about. I have felt the eo of this grace in my own heart. It is theory with me. I know inwhom I and He has been so good a friend to m havea g right this morning to commend friendship to all the Qh, come into the 7 C you are too bad. ‘‘Let the wicked forsa his way and the unrighteous mi thoughts.” *‘Look unto Me, all ye the earth.” How is He going to do—dr ou into the kingdom? He will not do tf you get in at all it will be because are drawn in by His love. What say? ‘Look uato Me, all earth,” He was lifted up. drive? No! lifted up to draw. Ol now, come mow into the kingdom Lord Jesus! fell, and as he lay with his face up sun and the life blood was oozing away, put his hand to his heart and took a handiu of blood from the wound and held it up: to the sun and cried out, **Oh, Jesus! Thou congu 2 J Andif to-day, my bearer, struck through by the arrow of God’s gracious Spirit, you realize the truth of what I have been sayin you would surrender yourself to the Lor who bought you, you would say: “Iwill no longer battle against Christ's merey. Jesus, Thou hast conquered.” Glorious me. 1Iknow not what yon will do with it; but I will tell Io one thing before gop—-1 must tell it. TI will tell you one thing reand now, that I take Him to be my Lord, my God, my pardon, my peace, my comfort, my salvation, my heaven, Bles be His glorious name. forever. “The which is above every name.” Longfellow’s First Poem. The following has long been accepted as a true account of how Longfellow’s precocious poetic ability was discovere When the great poet was nine years old, and attended school, his teacher one day asked him to write a composition. Little Henry, like most all school boys, shrank from the undertaking. : His teacher =aid: words, can you not#” ¢Yes,” was the reply. ¢‘Then you can put words together?” ‘Yes, sir.” Fou ¢Then,” said the master, ‘you may take your slate and go out of doors, and there you can find something to write about, and then you can tell what it is, what it is for, and what is to be dons with it, and that will be a composition.” Henry took his slate and went out. He went behind Mr. Finney’s barn, © which chanced to stand near, and seeing a fine turnip growing up, he thought he. knew what it was, what it was for, and what would be done with it. : sil A half hour had been allowed Henry for his first undertaking in writing a composition. In a half hour he carried in his work all accomplished neatly, and his teacher is said to have been affected ‘You can write boy had done in so short a time. The composition had been writtenin a poetic form, and was as follows: 2 Mr. Finney had a turnip, And it grew, and it grew. And it grew behind the barn, And the turnip did no harm, And it grew, and it grew, Till it could grow no taller; Then Mr. Finney took it up And put it in the cellar, There it lay, there itlay Till it began to rof; : ‘When his daughter Susie wasted it And put it in the pot. Then she boiled it, and boiled it, As long as she was able; 1 Then his daughter Lizzie took it And put it on the table. Mr. Finney and his wife Both sat down to sup; And they ate, and they ate, « Until they ate the turnip up. eee ree Horse Running Forty Miles an Hour! 5 less than 1:40; Salvator, in 1890, I be- lieve, made it in 1:354, which is some- thing truly wonderful. Let us analyze = these figures. To begin with, it is nearly forty miles an hour—a speed averaged by few railway trains. There are 5280 feet in a mile, so that for every one of the ninety-five seconds he was in makin that mile he had to get over fifty-five and three-tenths feet of ground. Just think of the wonderful speed he was moving at—a half a hundred feet for The ranks full, The mans | each beat of a man's pulse!l—S8t. Louis Republic, iy Le aay almost to tears when he saw what the Few horses have made a mile dash in =
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers