‘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 =