IN QUIET BAYS. In quiet bays by storms unspent I moor my boat with calm content -I sought of yore the deep, wide sea The tempest set my spirit free ; <I loved to match my puny power . With Nature in her stormiest hour. But now I bring my little boat In quiet bays, to drift and flow Idly upon the idle tide : The sea for me is all too wide! I seek no more my spirit’s mate The awful, wind-swept sea of fate. —~fharlotte Pendleton, in Lippixostt. EBEN. BY EVELIN A. EING. , N the days before the railroads were established, the arrival of the coach was a mat- ter of much im- portance to the 3 inhabitants of XY) the little village of Kinhope, which was situated within fifty miles of Boston. As the coach approached the village this beautiful morning in May, it as- cended a long, steep hill, from the brow of which could be seen the many hills lying about, with the pretty wooded valleys between ; and away off to the right a mountain peak, which was Mount Wachusett. Among the pas- sengers riding on top of the coach was Eben Eames, and many, many years after, when his last days were spent in a house not then built upon this very hill, Eben recalled the bright anticipa- tions of this day. Eben was going home after having spent several years as an apprentice with Cobbler Gore in Boston, while two years of work in addition to the ap- prenticeship, in which he had been in- dustrious and saving, had ensbled him | to lay by a little sum. On leaving the coach Eben made his | way hurriedly to his home, where he was received with a shout of welcome, and turned about to be praised and ad- mired to his complete satisfaction. After the exclamations had subsided somewhat, Eben said with a little em- barrassment . ‘‘How—how is Molly?" ““An’ how should I know; go an’ see for yerself,” said Eben’s mother good- naturedly, understanding his impa- tience to see the girl who was so soon to be his wife. As Eben crossed the road, Molly saw him coming, and with a first impulse started to run down the garden path to meet him. Then suddenly a feeling of bashfulness coming over her, she drew back into the house. With Eben’s knock at the door, there came a young | knew what this meant. woman with the fresh bloom of health on her cheeks, and Eben felt almost shy when he greeted Molly, she seemed to him so lovely. When about to leave, Eben said: | ““An’ then it will be this day week, Moliy ?” and Molly demurely answered : Yes.” ; A week later a'few neighbors, with the immediately related families, were present at the wedding of Molly and Eben. From Molly’s home they went to live on the main street of the vil- lage. There was a cosy house in the rear, and a little shop in front, while a big sign, with its gilt letters proclaim- | ing to all passersby: ‘Eben Eames, Shoemaker,”” was next to Eben, the pride of Molly’s heart. These were happy days. Molly sing- ing about her work would stop now | and then to hear the rap-rap-tap-tap of Eben’'s hammer. When the stitch-| ing began and all was still, the silence | oppressed her, and after listening at | with her usual light way, but meeting no response asked: ‘Eben, what’s the matter of you?” Then Eben, lifting his head, said heavily, “Molly, I am ruined.” ‘‘Ruined !” “Yes. ruined. Mr. Simms, one of the head ones on the road, has just been in, and said the road’ll not touch this town. It is goin’ by on the other | side.” Molly’s face blanched, for she well Money nearly spent on the larger shop. No one would buy it. dashed in a moment. Recovering somewhat, she put her arms about Eben, saying: “Even so, Eben. again and live as we have lived these past few years. You are but twenty- eight now.” At last her sensible words and com- forting touch reached aim, and he agreed to try to regain his cheerfulness. A year passed. Molly saw with dis- may the change wrought in Eben by ! his misfortune. He was restless, long- | ing to do something, to go somewhere ; irritable even, at times; so unlike the gay, good-humored husband of other days. Molly feared, she scarcely knew what, and when sitting at their evening | meal one evening, Eben said : ‘I've made up my mind, Molly, leave this place.” She felt the blow had fallen. “Well, Eben,” she answered quietly, ‘““when and where shall we go?” Eben glanced down at his plate, not liking #o see a look of surprise and pain, which he know would come to the face of his wife, about to say. ‘I've been thinkin’, Molly,” he said, slowly, ‘‘as how you mightstay on here a while, an’ I'll go to Boston first an’ see what I can do, an’ if I don’t find the right lay of the land, mebbe I'll go farther till I do.” ‘But Eben—" Molly remonstrated. Eben did not wait for her to finish, and continued : ‘“There’s a little money I'll leave ye, to which will keep ye for a while, until I | {find = place to settle ; then I'll send for ye. ‘Yes, Eben,” said Molly, ‘‘the money will keep me for a little while, but I want to go with you. Do let me. Take me with you. Oh, don’t leave me be- hind. both be sorry for it, if you don’t let me go with you now." As she clung to him, Eben almost yielded to her sweet persuasion, but suddenly answered with determined obstinacy. ‘‘No, Molly, I'm a-goin’ first.” It was with a sad and heavy heart that Molly prepared Eben’s valise for his journey. The next morning, ssshe stood watching him going down the road, Eben, turning, saw her there and for the instant his heart prompted him to turn back, she looked so sorrowful, and he thought of her words, “I feel as though we'd both be sorry if you don’t let me go.” But he would not give in to such feelings, and soon he was on his way lost in bright hopes of future success, when he and Molly would be living in luxury. ‘When Eben disappeared, Molly went in through the shop. here every- thing had been put away, and the shop cleared of the shoemakers’ tools. It looked so desolate as Molly took the seat Eben used to occupy that her self-control gave away and the sobs! came quick and hard. As the days | passed Molly often caught herself lis- tening for the sound of Eben’s ham- mer, but no such sound came to Molly listening, waiting for years. No ac- customed sound came to the passerby ard in time the people came to the little shop to buy the shining loaves of bread which Molly baked. It was a May day like the one when All their bright hopes | We can begin | at the words he was I feel, Eben, as though we'd | been working he sighed often, and there came to him the memory of a young man in thespringtime of youth, and in the spring time of the year go- ing home to claim a happy bride. It was fall now, leaves decaying, frost | soon to come. When he looked at the | carriage turning into the driveway, he | thought : | ““What poor man or woman is this, { who, like myself at the end of life’s journey, comes here to the poorhouse, to be taken care of by the town?” | He did not see who alighted, nor hear the kind voice of the overseer’s wife ask an old woman if the journey had been hard. For this was the first | journey Molly had taken in the train. strangely enough. | The overseer's wife, Mrs. White, made her comfortable and then going | to Mr. White, said: ‘‘How shall we tell old Eben?” “Oh,” her husband answered easily, | ““we will wait, and it will work about | itself.” The great bell rang for dinner. | Those of the inmates who were able to | work in the field left their labor and after washing themselves, sat down to the midday meal. Those who still pre- served any interest or curiosity con- cerning what passed on about them eyed the new comer curiously. Eben | particularly felt himself looking again | and again. Not that he knew of ever | having seen her, but he felt a pity that had never before been experienced | when others had come. White said : | “Eben, how did the potatoes seem | in that patch this morning?” At the name the woman gave a start and looked at the old man addressed, but as the man answered she turned away again with a sigh, and the mo- mentary gleam of interest in her eyes passed away. As the dinner ended, Mrs. White said to the old woman * ‘Molly, if you are ready now, you may pare those apples fcr sauce.” Eben went out saying to himself, “Molly, Molly,” and all the afternoon one could hear him muttering, ‘Molly, Molly.” During the afternoon Mrs. Wkite took the occasion to say: ‘“2Iolly, wasn’t your first husband’s name Eben Eames?” As Molly answered. ‘Yes, it was; he has been dead these many years,” one caught something of the old sweet- ness of tone, though it did quaver and crack. ‘Did you notice Mr. White spoke to a man, calling him Eben?” ‘“Yes,” answered Molly, much interest. ‘This man once lived in Kinhope many years ago, when he was young.” Molly gave her whole attention now. “And,” continued Mrs. White, ‘‘af- ter living here several years, he went away, went to California, where it was afterwards reported he was dying. He did not die. After recovering, the | luck he had been striving for did not | come immediately, and determined not to return to his home and wife until he was rich, he remained until his am- | bition was attained. In all this time | he had not sent any news of himself | but once, to his home, and that was | immediately after his recovery from | the illness. This news never reached | his wife. He returned to Kinhope full of the thought of the bright future, to | find his wife had left Kinhope, married | again. We have often heard him say : ‘“‘How could I have stayed away so | long for money, money; I was blind.” But Molly had not heard the last sentence. With one gasp she had laid | her head back and for the first time in i her seventy-eight years of life, fainted. It had, grown colder. Near the fire | sat two old people at dusk. The man | was saying : | “When 1 found ye had married again, | I felt that I was receivin’ my judgment Presently Mr. | without the door to make sure no customers Eben had come home and said, ‘This | from God A’mighty for not bein’ con- were in, she would open the door care- | fully, tiptoeing up to Eben who sat | with his back toward her, when to his | great surprise a pair of hands would cover his eyes, and a sweet voice would | be sounding in his ears: “Guess, Eben.” Naturally Eben guessed correctly | after a few trials. This play came to | be looked forward to by the young man, for it was not always presented | in the same way, Molly being a young woman of resources. But after a time Eben began to be restless, the village was too small; he could not earn money fast enough, and | he began to think of going to Boston, | when there came a rumor that a rail- | road was to be built. | ‘Molly, when that railroad comes, it will be a great day for us. Tl] build a bigger shop and make shoes enough to send to other tewns, and | hire several men ts work for me. Oh, Molly, then we’ll get rich.” “That would be well, Eben, but we are happy now without riches,” she would reply. The railroad was begun. Thetracks were laid almost to the adjoining town and Eben no longer restraining his impatience, began to build his larger shop, Molly said : 1 wouldn’s. hurry, Eben. You know the proverb tells us ‘haste makes waste.” Detter wait another year.” Unheeding, Eben pushed on the work of building. One day a stranger came into the little shop; a fine-looking gentleman. The new railroad naturally became a topic for conversation. “Tt will do great things for our vil- lage,” said Eben. “Ah,” said the gentleman, ‘‘have you not heard? We have decided not to have it touch this place, but con- tinueit by way of Rocksboro’. By the way, going to enlarge your business? Nice shop going up opposite.” Eben choked some inarticulatereply, | and tho stranger left, wondering what | had happened to the cobbler, but little knowing or caring what grief his words had wrought. A fewmoments later Molly came in | day week, Molly,” and Molly had so | shyly answered ‘Yes.” It was the time of day when few customers came in. In the back part of the shop or store sat a woman about thirty-five | years old, still fair to look upon, but with an expression in her face which told of anxiety and disappointment. She did zot notice the entrance of any one, being so absorbed in the thought. The memory of another May was alive still and sue was living those early days over again. Until a man’s voice close to her aroused her, saying with- out further preface: ‘Molly, I came for the answer.” Molly looked up at him without ag- itation, but there came no reply. It seemed to her she could not speak. | The man continued: ‘You know, Molly, Eben is dead, for your last word from him that he was dying with the fever, and James brought you the news from the Cali- fornia mining camp five years ago. Surely I have waited patiently for my answer. What is it?” And the reply in a low voice was: “I will go with you. I've waited hoping against hope to hear again from Eben, but I believe now that he died at that time.” A few days later, a ceremony was quietly performed at the parson’s, and the shop was closed for Molly forever. A chaise carried the two to a distant town, which for many years became 2 | peaceful home for Molly. After these quiet years had passed the man whom Molly had married died. His sickness tented with my lot when we was so happy together, and then I keered no more for the money I had made an’ gave it away. Yes, and threw it away, an’ when the war broke out, I listed hoping to die, but thank the Lord he kep’ me for this last happiness. Some time after the war I grew so feeble, an’ my money had nearly been lost in some spekelation, so I had to come here.” And Molly, drawing her chair a little closer, laying her hand in his said inst one word softly, full of quiet thankful- | ness: ‘‘Eben.”’—Yankee Blade. ree Re Honey in a Petrified Tree. While digging a well on the place of Reginald C. Dunham, at Live Oak, Fla., the diggers’ pickaxes struck | against something so hard that it was impossible to bring any chips from it. The object not being more than ten feet below the surface of the earth it was disinterred, when it was found to be part of a petrified tree, and the | petrification being only on the outside | an inch or two the trunk was soon split | open. It was found that it was filled with a soft, sticky mass adherentto the | sides of the tree. On tasting this it was found to be very sweet, of the luscious- | ness of honey, and at last it was decided that it was honey which had been shut | up in that buried tree, it was impossi- ble to say how many years. This was further confirmed by the | discovery in the mass of objects, | which, being examined, proved to be | bees. It was a curious study to eto- had been long, and the little money | mologists to observe that the insects which he had possessed had been spent, only enough being left to give him a | decent burial. So Molly was to go in her old age back to Kinhope. As the carriage in / which she rode slowly ascended the | hill toward the comfortable looking | white farm house, from the brow of which could be seen the hills lying about, and the pretty valleys between, with a mountain peak rising in the distance at the right, an old, old man, digging potatoes in the field, stoppeu his work and looked at the carriage coming up the road. While he had were identically the same as of to-day and the honey cells of the same struec- ture. Mr. and Mrs. Dunham that night enjoyed a feast such as few sit down to, but a goodly portion of it was left to send to the Smithsonian Insti. tution, while a quantity of the honey, perhaps of antedeluvian manufacture, was left in the tree where it had re- posed so long, but after some hours of exposure to the air, which happened to be damp, it lost its tenacious quality and became slightly more liquid, or about the consistency of tar or turpen- tine.—Philadelphia Times. i eried unto the Lord the Lord raised t — ie REV. DR. TALMAGE PREACHES lg On the Power of Those Who Strive Perseverance the Sure Road to Succsss in Religion. TEXT: “But when the children of Israel up a deliverer, Ehud, the son of Gera, a Benjamr ie, a man left handed.” —Judges iii., 15. Ehud was a ruler in Israel. He was left banded, and what was peculiar about the tribe of Benjamin, to which he belonged, there were in it 700 left handed men, and yet so dexterous had they all becoms in the use of the left hand that the Bible says they could sling stones at a hair's breadth and not miss. Well, there was a king of the name of Eglon who was an oppressor of Israel. He imposed upon them a most outrageous tax. Ehud, the man of whom I first spoke, had a divine commission to destroy that oppressor. He came, pretending that he was going to pay the tax, and asked tosee King Eglon. He was told he was in the summer house, the place to which the king retired when it was too hot to sit in the palace. This summer house was a place surrounded by flowers and trees and springing fountains and warb birds. ' Ehud entered the summer house and said to King Eglon that he had a secret errand with him. Immediately all the attendants were waved out of the royal presence. King Eglon rises up to receive the messenger. Ehud, the left handed man, puts his left hand to his right side, pulls out a dagger and thrusts Eglon through until the haft went in after the blade. Eglon falls. Ehud comes forth to blow a trumpet of recruit amid the mountains of Ephraim, and a great host is marshaled, and proud Moab submits to the conqueror, and Israel is free. So, O Lord, let all Thy enemies perish! So, O Lord, let all Thy friends triumph! I learn first from this subject the power of left handed men. There are some men who by pbysical organization have as much strength in their left hand as in their rigat hand, but there is something in the writing of this text which implies that Ehud had some defect in his right hand which ecora- pelled him to use the left. Oh, the power of left handed men! Genius is otten self obser- vant, careful of itself, not given to much toil, burning incense to its own aggrandizzment, while many a man with no natural endow- ments, actually defective in physical and mental organization, has an earnestness for the right, a patient industry, an all consum- ing perseverance which achieve marvels for the kingdom of Christ. Though left handed as Ehud, they can strike down a sin as great and imperial as Fzlon. I have seen men of wealth gathering about them all their treasures, snuffing at the cause of a world lying in wickedness, roughly ordering Lazarus off their doorstep, sending their dogs, not to lick his sores, but to hound him off their premises, catching all the pure rain of God’s blessing into the stagnant, ropy, frog-inhabited pool of their own selfishness —right-handed men, worse than useless— while many a man with large heart and little purse has out of his limited means made poverty leap for joy and started an influence that overspans the grave and will swing round and round the throne of God, worl without end, amen. Ah, me, it is high time that you left handed men who have been longing for this gift and that eloquence and the other man’s wealth should take your left hand cut of your pock- et. Who made all these railroads? Whoset up all these cities? Who started all these churches and schools and asylums? Who has done all the tugging and running and pulling? Men of no wonderful endowments, thousands of them acknowledging themselves to be left handed, and yet they were earnest, and yet they were determined, and yet they were triumphant. But I do not suppose that Ehud the first time he took a sling in his hand could throw a stone a hair's breadth and not miss. I suppose it was practice that gave him the wonderful dexterity. Go forth to your spheres of duty and be not discouraged if in your first attempts you miss the mark. Ehud missed it. Take another stone, put it care- fully into the sling, swing it around your head, take better aim, and the next time you will strike the center. The first time that a mason rings his trowel upon the brick he does not expect to put up a perfect wall The first time a carpenter sends a plane over a board or drives a bit through a beam he does not expect to make perfect execution. The first time a boy attempts a rhyme he does not expect to chime a ‘‘Lalla Rookh™ or a “Lady of the Lake.” Do not be sur- prised if in your first efforts at doing good you are not very largely successful, Under- stand that usefulness is an art, a science, a trade. There was an oculist performing a very difficuit operation on the human eye. young doctor stood by and said : ‘‘How easily you do that. It doesn’t seem to cause you any trouble at all.” ‘‘Ah,” said the old ocu- list, “‘it is very easy now, but I spoiled a hat- ful of eyes to learn that.” Be not surprised if it takes some practice hefore we can help men to moral eyesight and bring them to a vision of the cross. Left handed men to the work! Take the gospel for a sling and faith and repentance for the smooth stone from the brook, take sure aim, God direct the weapon, and great Goliaths will tumble be- lore you. I learn also from this subject the danger of worldly elevation. This Eglon was what the world called a great man. There were hundreds of men who would have considered it the greatest honor of their life just to have him speak to them. Yet, although he isso high up in worldly position, he is not beyond the reach of Ehud's dagger. I see a great many people trying to climb up in social position, having an idea that there is a safe place somewhere far above, not knowing that the mountain of fame has a top like Mount Blane, covered with perpetual snow. We laugh at the children of Shinar for try- Ing to build a tower that could reach to the heavens, but I think if our eyesight were only good enough we could see a Babel in many a dooryard. Oh, the struggleis fierce! It is store against store, house against house, street against street, Nation against Nation. The goal for which men are run- ning is chairs and chandeliers and mirrors and houses and lands and presidential equip- ments. If they get what they anticipate, what have they got? Men are not safe from calumny while they live, and, worse than that, they are not safe after they are dead, for I have seen swine root up graveyards. One day a man goes up Into publicity, and the world does him honor, and people climb up into sycamore trees to watch him as he passes, and as he goes along on the shoulders of the people there is a waving of hats and a wild huzza. To-morrow the same man is caught between the jaws of the printing press and mangled and bruised, and the very same persons who applauded him before cry : “Down with the traitor! Down with him !” Belshazzar sits at the feast, the mighty men of Babylon sitting all around him. Wit sparkles like the wine and the wine like the wit. Music rolls up among the chandeliers 3 the chandeliers flash down on the decanters, The breath of hanging gardens floats in on the night air ; the voices of revelry floats out. Amid wreaths and tapestry and folded ban- ners a finger writes. The march of a host is heard on the stairs. Laughter catches inthe throat. A thousand hearts stop beating. The blow is struck. The blood on the floor is richer hued than the wine on the table. The kingdom has departed. Belshazzar was no worse perhaps than hun- dreds of people fn Babylon, but his position slew him. Oh, ba content with just sucha position as God has placed you in! It may not be said of us, “He was a great general,” or ‘“He was an honored chieftain,” or ‘‘He was mighty in worldly attainments,” but this thing may be said of you and me, ‘““He was a good citizen, a faithful Christian, a friend of Jesus.” And that in the last day will be the highest of all eulogiums. I learn further from this subject that death ABOUT LEFT - HANDED MEN | chon fomses om tiempo xpect to die in that fine place. Amid all the Aower leaves that drifted like snow into the window ; in the tinkle and dash of the foun- tains ; in the sound of a thousand leaves flut- tering on one tree branch ; in the cool breezs that came up to shake feverish trouble out of the king’s locks, there was nothing that spake of death, but there he died! In the winter, when the snow is a shroud, and when the wind is a dirge, it is easy to think of our mortally, but when the weather is pleasant and all our surroundings are agreeable how difficult it is for us to appreciate the truth that we are mortal! And yet my text teaches that death does sometimes come to the sum- mer house. » He is blind and cannot see theleaves. He is deaf and cannot hear the fountains. Oh, iraeacn wouia ask us for vietims, we could point him to hundreds of people who would rejoice to have him come. Push back the door of that hovel. Look at that little child cold and sick and hungry. It has never heard the name of God but in blasphemy. Parents intoxicated staggering around its straw bed. Oh, death, there is a marx for thee! Up with it into the light! Before these little feet stumble onlife’s pathway give them rest. Here is an aged man. He has done his work. He has doneit gloriously. The com- panions of his youth are all gone, his chil- dren dead. He longs to be at rest, and wearily the days and the nights pass. He says. ‘Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.” Oh, death, there is a mark for thee! Take from him the staff and give him the sceptre! Up with him into the light, where eyes never grow dim, and the hair whitens not through the long years of eternity. Ah, death will not do that. Death turns back from the straw bed and from the aged man ready for the skies and comes to the summer house. What doest thou here, thou bony, ghastly monster, amid this waving grass and under this sunlight . sifting through the tree branches? Children are at play. How quickly their feet go and their locks toss in the wind! Father and mother stand at the side of the room looking on, enjoying their glee. It does not seem possible that the wolf should ever break into that fold and carry off a lamb. Meanwhile an old archer stands look- ing through thethicket. He points his arrow at the brightest of the group—heis a sure marksman—the bow bends, the arrow speeds! Hush, now! The quick feet have stopped, and the locks toss no more in the wind. Laughter has gone out of the hall. Death in the summer house! Here is a father in midlife. His coming home at night is the signal for mirth. The children rush to the door,andthere are books on the evening stand, and the hours pass away on glad feet. There is nothing want- ing in that home. Religion is there and sacrifices on the altar morning and night. You look in that household and say: “I can- not think of anything happier. I do not really believe the world is so sad a place as some people describe it to be.” The scene changes. Father is sick. The doors must be kept shut. The deathwatch chirps dole- fully on the hearth. The children whisper and walk softly where once they romped. Passing the house late at night, you see the quick glancing of lights from room to room. [t is all over. Death in the summer house. Here is an aged mother—aged, but not in- firm. You think you will have the joy of car- Ing for her wants a good while yet. = As she goes from house to house, to children and grandchildren, her coming is a dropping of sunlight in the dwelling. Your children see her coming through the lane, and they cry, ‘‘Grandmother’s come!” Care for you has marked up her face with many a deep wrinkle, and her back stoops with car- tying your burdens. Some days she is very quiet. She says she is not sick, but something tells you you will not much longer have mother. She will sit with you no longer at the table nor at the hearth. Her soul goes out so gently you do oot exactly know the moment of its going. Fold the hands that have done <o many kind- nesses for you right over the heart that has beat with love for you since before you were born. Let the pilgrim rest. She is weary. Death in the summer house! Gather about us what we will of comfort and luxury, when the pale messenger comes he does not stop to look at the architecture of the house before he comes in, nor entering does he wait to examine the pictures we have gathered on the wall, or bending over your pillow he does not stop to see whether there is a color in the cheek, or gentleness in the eye, or intelligence inthe brow. But what of that? Must we stand for ever mourning among the graves of our dead, No! No! The people in Bengal bring cages of birds to the graves of their dead and then they open the cages, and the birds go singing heavenward. So I would bring to the graves of your dead all bright thoughts and congratulations and bid them think of victory and redemption. I stamp on the bottom of the grave, and it breaks through into the light and glory of heaven. The arcients used to think that the straits entering the Red sea were very dangerous places, as they supposed that every ship that went through those straits would be de- stroyed, end they were in the habit of put- ting on weeds of mourning for those who had gone on that voyage, as though they were actually dead. Do you know what they called those straits? They call them the ‘‘Gate of Tears.” Oh, I stand to-day at the gate of tears through which many of your loved ones have gone, and I want to tell you that all are not shipwrecked that have gone through those straits into the great ocean stretching out beyond. The sound that comes from that other shore on still nights when we are wrapped in prayer makes me think that the departed are not dead. We are the dead—we who toil, we who weep, we who sin—we are the dead. How my heart aches for human sor- row! This sound of breaking hearts that I hear all about me! This last look of faces that will never brighten again! This last kiss of lips that never will speak again" This widowhood and orphanage! Oh, when will the day of sorrow be gone? After the sharpest winter the spring die mounts from the shoulder of a southern gale and puts its warm hand upon the earth, and in its palm there comes the grass, and there come the flowers, and God reads over the poetry of bird and brook and bloom and pronounces it very good. What, my friends, if every winter had not its spring, and every night its day, and every gloom its glow, and every bitter now its sweet hereafter? If you have been onthe sea, you know, as the ship passesin the night, there is a phosphorescent track left behind it, and as the waters roll up they toss with unimaginable splendor. Well, across this great ocean of human trouble Jesus walks, Oh, thatin the phosphorescent track of His feet we might all follow and be illumined ! There was a gentieman in the rail car who saw in that same car three passengers of very different cireumstances. The first was a maniac. He was carefully guarded by his attendants ; his mind, like a ship dismasted, was beating against a dark, desolate coast, from which no help could come. The train stopped, and the man was taken out into the asylum to waste away perhaps through years of gloom. The second passenger was a culprit. The outraged law had seized on him, As the cars joited the chains rattled. On his face were crime, depravity and despair. The train halted, and he was taken out to the penitentiary, to which he had been con- demned. There was the third passenger un- der far different circumstances. She was a bride. Every hour was gay as a marriage bell. Lifeglittered and beckoned. Her com- panion was taking her to his father’s house, The train halted. The old man was there to welcome her to her new home, and his white locks snowed down upon her as he sealed his word with a father’s kiss. Quickly we fly toward eternity. We will soon be there. Some leave this life con- demned culprits. They refused a pardon; they carry their chains. Oh, may it be with us that, leaving this fleeting life for the next, we may find our Father ready to greet us to our new home, with Him forsver. That will be a mariage banquet. Fathar’s walcoms! Father's bosom! Father's kiss! Heaven! Heaven! SUNDAY SCHOOL ——eie LESSON FOR SUNDAY, JUNE i8. —_— “Messiah’s | Kingdom,” Mal. iii, 1-32. Golden Text: Mal. iii, 17. Com- mentary. 1. *Behoud, I will send my messenger, and he shall prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek shall suddenly come to His temple, even the messenger of the cove- nant whom ye delight in. Behold He shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts.” Some 400 years before Christ came, and more than 100 years after the restoration from Babylon, this servant of the Lord uttered His message. It is the word of the Lord to Israel (chapter i., 1), and about twenty-five times we find “*Saith the Lord” or ‘*‘Saith the Lord of Hosts.” It has been called a minature of the times before the day of the Lord, when un. godliness shall prevail and the Lord shall come. The last words are suggestive of Him who was made a curse for us. John the Bap- tist was the messenger preparing the way of the Lord at His first coming (Luke i., 76), but Elijah will be the messenger at His sec- ond coming {Sagpeor iv., 5). John came in the spirit and power of Elijah, but he was not Elijah (Luke i., 17; Jobn i., 21). Had John and Jesus been received the kingdom would have come, but both having been re- jected the kingdom is postponed. Jesus Himself said that Elijah shall come (Math. xvii., 10-13). 2. “But who may abide the day of His coming?” This is not the birth in Bethle- hem, but the coming in power and glory. He did not come judging and overturning, but in great grace and love and humility, calling men unto Him, and instead of exert- ing His power against His enemies He suf- fered Judas to betray Him, His disciples to forsake Him and the Roman soldiers, at the instigation of the Jews, to take Him and crucify Him. He had powér to keep His life or lay it down, and He chose to lay it down (John x., 18). But when He comes as a re- finer He Will be judge, and other lives will be laid down. , 3. “And He shall sit as a refiner and puri- fier of silver.” It will be the time of Israel's redemption, the restoration of all things of which the prophets have spoken, when the Nation shall be all righteous (Luke xxi., 27, 28 ; Acts iii., 21; Isa. Ix., 21). The manner of it is given in Isa. i., 25-27, “I will turn My hand upon thee, and purely purge away thy dross, and take away all thy tin ; afterward thou shalt be called the city of righteousness, the faithful city.” See also Zech. xiii., 8, 9. Two parts are to be slain or perish, and it is the third part that is to be refined. 4. “Then shall the offering of Judea and Jerusalem be pleasant unto the Lord, as in the days of old and as in former years.” When He came the first time, they crucified Him ; then their city was destroyed, and to this day they are a people scattered and peeled, a byword and a reproach. But when they shall see Him coming in power and glory they shall be as a Nation converted in a day (Zech. iii, 9; xii. 10; xiii., 1). Then shall a righteous Nation glorify God, and all that see them shall acknowledge them as the seed which the Lord hath blessed (Isa. 1x., 21; Ixi,, 9). 5. “And I will come near to you to judg- ment, and 1 will be a swift witness against those that fear not Me, saith the Lord of Hosts.” In connection with the forgiveness of the penitent, there must be judgment on the ungodly. It will be ‘the day of the Lord’s vengeance and the year 61 recompenses for the controversy of Zion,” “the day of the vengeance and the year of His redeemed” (Isa. xxXiv. 8;Ixiii.,, 4). When He comes to be glorified in His saints, it will be to yield vengeance on them that know not God and obey not the gospel (IT Thess. i., 7-10). 6. “Forl am the Lord ; I changenot ; there- fore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.” Long suffering and abundant in goodness and truth in His name from the beginning of their history (Ex. xxxiv., 6) and because of His covenant He will have mercy notwithstand- ing all that they have done (Jer. xxxi., 36, 37). ‘‘He being full of compassion, forgave their iniquity and destroyed them not—yea, many a time turned He His anger away and 2 not stir up all His wrath” (Ps. lxxviii., 7. “Return unto Me, and 1 will return un- to weu, sayeth the Lord of Hosts. But ye, said, Wherein shall we return?” He re- reminds them of the iniquity of their fathers. Even Moses testified in these words, “Ye have been Mhellious against the Lord from the day that I knew you” (Deut. ix., 24). Yet He is ever pleading with them to return, because He is love and has loved them with an everlasting love (Jer, xxxi., 3). 8. “Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed Me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed Thee? In tithes and offerings.” In Nehemiah’s day the Levites and singers were 80 neglected that they had to leave their work in the house of God and goto the fields for a living, because the tithes were not brought in (Neh. xiii., 10-12). 9. “Ye are cursed with a curse, for ye hava robbed Me, even this whole nation.” “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the Look as thelaw to do them (Gal. iii.. 10). Whosoever shall keep ‘the whole law 2nd yet oYend in one point is guilty of all (Jas. ii., 10). Ananias and Sapphira died becaus> they pretended to give all, but kept back part of the price. How many sudden deaths there would be to- day if all the liars and deceivers and robbers of Godin time and money were dealt with 1¥ze ananias and Sapphira | 10. “‘Bring ye all the tithes into tho store- house that there may be meat in mine house, and prove Me now herewith, saith the Lord ol Hosbs * Here is a challenge from the Lord of Hosts in which He says that if we obey Him in this matter of tithes He will give such blessing that there will be lack of ronm to re- ceive it. It is the testimony of thousands of believers that since they began to give to God a tenth of every dollar they have prospered beyond all precedent even in temporal things, and much more in spiritual things. 11. “And I will rebuke the devourar for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground.” The tithe would recognize all as the Lord’s, and He would see to it be cause they acknowledged it as His. The de- vourer and destroyer through the world and the flesh is tontinually getting the best of us until we present our bodies a living sacrifice to Him who redeemed us ; then He takes con- trol of us as His own possession and rebukes the destroyer. 12. ““And all nations shali call you blessed, for ye shall be a delightsome land, saith the Lord of Hosts.” This is Israel's restoration in the latter day. The enemy shall fill the breadth of Immanuel’s land, but shall be broken to pieces (Isa. viii., 8-10), and the glory of the Lord shall rise upon Israel. Then gentiles shall come to her light, and kings to the brightness of her rising; the wealth of the gentiles shall come unto her, and the na- tion and kingdom that will not serve her shall perish” (Acts iv., 36 ; v. 10).—Lesson Helper. A Bank Robbed in Daylight. At Little Rock, Ark., six men with Win- chester rifles on Tuesday afternoon walked into the People s Bank, stole $10,000, mount- ed horses and rode away. Citizens exchang- ed shots with the robbers and three of the former and two of the latter were wounded Taylor Stone, one of the injured citizens, Bey die. A Sheriff's posse if after the rob. ers. met ———— —CAPraIN Rreq, of the schooner Alber Ane Adon, died at Philadelphia, Pa., from the effects of a human bite, received from vne of his crew while quelling a mutiny, Che wound developed blood Poisoning, —Two masked men captured a Chicago, Burlington and Qui Cy passenger train af Nodaway, Ia., but let it go when they found it was not the Denver express. sell it Ifam son's La Mr. Bi and bottle before better year h is left, D. H DRO “Resp My w for th Drop times SB aes CE ET 1 I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers