— rove ’ od £ a ¥ WR Em IT © was her one horror—a tramp. Ee FULFILLED, "She drank from out her curving palms A draught she could not see ; Full filled they were and running o'er, There had been space for not one more— , Full filled with kisses three. ‘A lover's kisses, newly pressed | On soft palms, tenderly ; With thirsty lips she eager quaffed, And smiled, until for joy she laughea . Through tears, and could not see. —Anna C. Brackett, in Seribner. How Cassie Saved the Spoons. BY ANNIE H. FRECHETTE. OWN in the milk- ing yard of the Bostwick farm two young girls were milking and talk- ing cheerily. The autumn evening was closing over them and already in the shadows of the barn it was quite dark. ose and Cassie Bost- wick, and their pleasant chatter fol- lowed their parents upon a journey they had that morning undertaken. They were also speculating as to when their brother, who had driven them to the station twenty miles distant, would be back. They were bright, capable girls with little timidity about them, so that the fact that they were com- paratively alone upon an isolated farm did not trouble them much. Es- pecially was this the case with Cassie, the younger of the two. Self-reliant and full of resource, she would have laughed to scorn any one suggesting the thought of fear. She was big and strong, and to her life was a grand frolic, and her sixteen years had been one unbroken ‘‘good time.” At the house their younger sister, Florence, was preparing the supper and entertaining ‘‘the baby,” a boy of three, who between the falling of evening and the pangs of hunger was growing sleepy and low spirited. Out from the kitchen’s open door appetizing odors of coffee and frying ham stole to greet the two girls as they came toward the house with their | brimming pails of frothy milk. “It smells good,” said Cassie, I'm hungry as a tramp—" “Oh, Cassie, why did you say that? I've just been trying not to think about tramps. I always feel creepy when I'm about the barn after dark anyway, and now—"’ ‘“Well, my saying that won't bring eny along.” “They are positively the only things in the world that I am afraid of.” “Well, then, I'm not afraid of them. And suppose one should come along, surely three great, stout girls ought to be able to take care of themselves.” ‘Oh, Cassie dear, please stop talking about them. IT feel as if one were step- ping on my heels. Let's run.” ‘‘And spill the milk? Not much!” The kitchen looked so bright and cheery as they entered it, that Rose | seemed to leave her fears outside with | the duskiness, and by the time she had | strained the milk and put it away she | had forgotten that tramps existed. Cassie had gone up stairs to make- some needed changes in her toilet, the baby had roused from his tired nap, and was taking a rather mournful in- terest in the preparations for supper, when Rose, who had just stopped to ask him whether he would have honey or preserves, heard a stealthy step upon the porch. A moment later, the door was pushed slowly open and a man walked in. “‘Good evening, ladies. at home?” ““N—no," faltered Rose, trying to gettle to her own satisfaction whether this dirty looking stranger might not be some new neighbor, who had come on legitimate business or whether he ‘‘and Is your pa ‘‘Any of your big brothers in ?"’ with rather a jocular manner. “N-—no, sir.” “And I don’t see any bulldog loafing round,” he added. ““Our dord, he is dead,” explained the baby, solemnly. “Well that'sa good thing. Will the old gentleman be in soon?” “I—I don’t know—you—I—TI hope go. Is there any message you wouid like to leave for him?” Before the man could answer, the boy’s voice was again heard. ‘“My faver he’s dorn orf.” ‘“Where’s he gone, sonny?” ‘“He’s dorn on the tars, so’s my mover—and my brover he putted yem on—and he won't be home ’till I'm asleep—and he’s doin’ to brin’ me a drum and put it in my bed.” (Oh, how Rose longed to shake the baby!) “Well, then, ladies, since you are likely to be alone, I think I'll stay and keep you company, and since you press me to, I will stay to tea and spend the evening. Don’t go to any extra work for me though. I'm rather hungry, so you may dish up that ham at once, my dear.” This to poor Florence, who had shrunk almost into visibility behind the stove-pipe, and who seemed glued to the spot. “I've | usually a very iair appetite and I am | sure I will relish it.” He tossed his hat down beside the gasp. She could not have told you why she said ‘‘poor sister,” unless it was from the sense of calamity which had overtaken them all. “In that case be spry, for I'm hungry and want you to pour out my tea for me. I like to have a pretty face opposite me at table.” Rose dragged herself up the narrow, unclosed stairs and into Cassie’s room. ‘“Well, Rose, you must be about tuckered out. You came upstairs as though you were eighty,” said Cassie, looking up from the shoe she was fas- tening. ‘“Why, what ails you? You look as if you had seen a ghost!” ¢“Oh, Cassie, there is one of them downstairs,” came in a whisper. ¢“What do you mean, Rose Bostwick ? | A ghost downstairs!” ¢“No—no—a=a tramp “Whew!” and Cassie gave a low | whistle. “And I s’'pose you're scared >” | «Oh, Cassie, I feel as if I were chok- ing! Do hurry down; he mey be! killing poor little Florence and the baby | —what shall we do? The baby has | told him we are all alone. What can | we do—try to think.” Cassie sat swinging the button hog in her hand and thinking very hard | and fast. “Does he know I'm here?” ‘Yes, I've told him.” “Then it would be no use for me to pretend to be Ned;” thinking aloud. “I'm afraid not.” Another silence dedicated to thought. “Rose.” “Yes.” “I'm going to be crazy. to chase him off the farm.” ¢‘Oh, Cassie, you can’t. He's a great big impudent wretch. What folly to talk about chasing him off the farm." “It’s our only chance.” “Don’t count on me. I can’t help you. I couldn't help chase aflyl” ‘“You can scream, I s'pose?” Oh, yes, I can do that.” “Well, you do the screaming and | T11 do the chasing. Rush down stairs | and scream and scream—and bang the | door to, and just shriek: ‘She’s out— | she’s out—she’s coming down stairs!’ And you will see what a perfectly beau- tiful lunatic I will be—it’s a good thing I have this old dress on—and only one shoe. Now make a rush— and scream.” Rose's over strained nerves were her best allies, and as she flew down the stairs, it was the easiest thing in the world for her to give one piercing shriek after another. They resounded from the narrow stairway through the kitchen, and for the moment seemed to paralyze its inmates. As she burst in upon them, Florence was transfixed midway of the table and the stove, with the platter of ham in her hands— the baby had climbed upon a chair— and the tramp had arisen with a be- wildered air from the table. As her skirts cleared the door, she turned and dashed it shut and flung herself against it, shrieking: ‘‘She’s out—she’s out of her room!” 1 I'm going **There, there, baby,” going to the still affected boy, ‘‘don’t cry any more, sister Cassie was just making a dirty old tramp hop; she didn’t really shoot him, she was just playing shoot.” “Oh, Cassie, you splendid brave girl, how did you ever happen to think to go crazy?” asked Rose, as she looked over her shoulder from the door which she was barricading. “Well, I knew something had to be done, and that just popped into my mind. Iwas doing ‘Ophelia’ the other day up in my room, so I was in prac- tice, and didn’t I make a sweetly pen- sive maniac. Now I hope you girls will never again make disrespectful comments upon any little private the- atricals of mine. If I had never cul- tivated my dramatic talents, what would have become of you, I'd like to know?” It was some time before the tidal wave of excitement subsided sufficient- ly for the girls to settle down for the evening or for the baby to go to sleep. Again and again they thought they heard stealing footsteps, and, although the door was locked and doubly locked, they drew up into battle line when- ever the antumn wind shook down a shower of leaves upon the roof. Just as the clock was on the stroke of eight a pleasant sound come fitfully to them. It was a softly whistled tune, and the cheery cadence told of a mind free from unpleasant doubts of wel- come. “Surely that can’t be Ned back al- ready-—he wasn’t to start home till 9,” said Rose, going to the window and cautiously peeping out under the cur- tains. . “Right you are thers, Sister Rose,” assented Cassie. It sounds uncom- monly like young Farmer Dunscomb’s whistle to me.” “Well, whoever itis, I am deeply thankful that somebody beside a tramp | is coming,” interrupted Florence. “And so am I,” demurely agreed Rose. “Do go to the door, Cassie, and peep out and make sure that it isn’t that dreadful creature coming back.” ““Are you a dreadful creature com- ing to murder us all!” demanded Cas- sie of the whistler, setting the door slightly ajar and thrusting her head ut. “Well, T don’t go round giving my- self out as a dreadful creature’ re- sponded a jolly voice from the porch. “Hello! What’s this I'm breaking my neck over?” as the owner of the voice tripped upon an old slouch hat. “Bring that article of wearing ap- parel to me if you please,” requested Cassie as she opened the door letting a flood of light out upon the visitor. That is a little token of remem- brance which I wish to keep. There?” holding the hat out at arm’s length, ‘I have long wanted a gilt toasting fork or rolling pin or something artis tic for my room; now I shall em broider these shot holes and gild the To the mystified Florence there came but one solution to her behavior— fright had overthrown her sister's reason, and with a wail she rushed to- | ward her erying: ‘‘She’s crazy! Oh, she’s crazy !”’ “Who's crazy?” yelled the tramp. The baby now wildly terrified set up a loud weeping, while from the stair- way came a succession of blows and angry demands thatthe doorbe opened. A moment more it was forced ajar, and a head crowned with a mass of tossed hair was thrust out, and quickly fol- lowed by a hand in which was clutched a gun. . ‘“She’s got the gun—oh, Florence, run to the baby,” cried Rose. “Who's that?’ demanded the ap- parition, making a rush toward the tramp. ‘Here, keep off —leave me alone,” backing away and warding off an ex- pected blow. She stood before him, tall, strong and agile. “1 won't leave you alone. What do you mean locking me into that room? fm no more crazy than you are. What's this?” as she stumbled over the hat which the tramp had put beside the chair and into which he had de- posited the silver spoons from the table. *‘Oh, I see, you are all in league to rob me of my gold and precious stones!” and catching it up on the muzzle of the gun she gave it a whirl which sent the spoons glittering in every direction, then advancing upon him she thrust the hat and gun into the face of the horrified man. With a volley of oaths he sprang back- ward, upsetting his chair and falling over it. “Oh, don’t kill him, Cassie, don’t kill him.” “We'll have a merry time,” gayly dancing about him and prodding him sharply with the gun, as he tried to scramble to his feet. ‘‘Keep off with that gun, can’t you!” he yelled. ‘‘Can’t you hold her, you screaming idiots?” and half crawling, half pushed, he gained the kitchen door which had stood partly open since he entered. “Where are you going, my pretty maid? Don’t you try to get away,” shouted Cassie as she flitted lightly after him. The tramp stayed not to answer her question nor to obey her command, but clearing the door fled wildly through the dusk. ‘‘Here’s your hat—T'll fire 1t after chair which he drew up to the table. With the light falling full upon his | dirty, insolent face, Rose knew that | her greatest dread was before her. | With her knees almost sinking under | her, she started toward the stairs, for she felt that she must let the intrepid | Cassie know, and find out what she advised. “Where are you asked the tramp, susp not got any big that } you are going to call | going, my dear?” iciously. “You've sin or uncle or | anything of . **0h, no; t but my poor | himself to supper another time saved the sg you,” she called, and a sharp report rang out on the quiet evening air, then all was still. : The three girls stood for a moment i > door watching the dim outline | : : : i in the dour watching th | some inches between the sides, ends fleeing across the meadow in the di- | rection of the highway. “He'll think twice before inviting | etly remarked Cassie with a satis smile. | ‘Oh, Cassie darling, you have saved | our lives,” cried Florence, flinging her around he er. **7 don’t 1 wbout that, bat I've | s anyway.” brim and hang it up by long blue rib- | bors, just where my waking orbs can rest upon it as they open in the morn- | ing. Ab, this hat will ever have stir- ring memories for me, friend George,” eyeing the young man dramatically. He looked at her a moment then burst into a hearty laugh. ‘‘Is she crazy, Rose?” ‘Yes, she’s the dearest and bravest lunatic in the world, George,” an- swered Rose. Courier-Journal. Hints Concerning Tee. A medical authority says that the best ice is always cold and sometimes a slight moisture may be observed upon the surface. It is devoid of smell and will melt when exposed tc a temperature of 110 degrees Fahren heit. Ice made of water is most de sirable. It should be transparent ox nearly so, and should break into frag- ments when given a sharp blow. Tough ice that will not break is gener: ally adulterated. Avoid soft ice, or ice that has been subjected to exces: sive heat while under process of manu- facture. It sometimes presents a fine appesrance, but is unhealthful. Tee more than three days oldshould not be purchased, as it is liable to turn sour on your hands and will have to be thrown away. After having melted ice loses many of its virtues and should not be used. It should always be kept in a cool place and at a distance from gas fixtures to avoid explosions. — Washington News. re Err mee A Bucket for the Stomach, The litt» electric lamp with which the doctors go on exploring tours | through a man’s stomach is interesting | enough. They have lately fashioned | another curious instrument. This con- sists of a little rubber bucket with a rope and pulley. In fact, it is a minia ture of the old onken bucket of child. hood. When the stomachic juices re- fuse to do their duty the doctor comes i and lowers his little bucket into the stomach. Then he winds it up on a baby windlass and examines his bucket- ful of stomach juice. In this way he finds out just what is going on in that important part of man.—New York Commercial Advertiser. ~ | ec Fish Packed For Transporiation. Fish transported long distances in hot weather are thus packed: They are laid in tight layers in boxes and loaded in refrigator cars, which are reduced to as low a temperature as | possible. The floor of the ear is | covered to a depth of several inches | with chilled sawdust, upon which’ the | boxes are loaded, leaving a space of and top of the car, which space is filled with cold sawdust. Then the car is closed and the door sealed. No SHARPEN YOUR AXES lps, REV. DBE. TALMAGE PREACHES a et Touching Sermon on the Existing Con- dition of Religion. The Church Needs More Backbone. ee ip—— TEXT: “Now, there was mo smith found throughout all the land of Israel,” etc.—I. Samuel xiii , 19-21. My loving and glad salutation te this nn- counted host, Chautauquans, Christian En- deavors, gospel workers and their friends from all parts of Wisconsin and America, saints and sinners! My text is gloriously appropriate. What a galling subjugation the Israelites were suffering ! The Philistines had carried off all the blacksmiths and torn down all theblacksmiths'shops and abolished tbe blacksmith’s trade in the land of Israel. These Philistines had a particular grudge against blacksmiths, although I have always admired them and have sometimes thonght I ought to have been one myself. The Phil- istines would not even allow these parties to work their valuable mines of brass and iron, nor might they make any swords or spears. There were only two swords left in all the land. Yea, these Philistines went on until they had taken all the grindstones from the land of Israel. so that if an Israelitish farmer wanted to sharpen his plow or his ax he had to go over to the garrison of the Philistines to get it done. There was only one sharpen- ing instrument left in the land, and that was a fille. The farmers and the mechanics hav- ing nothing to whet up the coulter, and the goad, and the pickax save a simple flle, in- dustry was hindered and work practically disgraced. The great idea of these Philistines was to keep the Israelites disarmed. They might get iron out ofthe hills to make swords of, but they would not have any blacksmiths to weld this iron. If they got the iron welded, they would have no grindstones on which to bring the instruments of agriculture or the military weapons up to an edge. Oh, you poor, weaponless Israelites, reduced to a file, ow I pity you! But these Philistines were not forever to keep their heel on the neck of God's children. Jonathan, on his hands and knees, climbs up a great rock beyond which were the Philistines, and his armor bearer, on his hands and knees, climbs up the same rock, and these two men, with their two swords, hew to pieces the Philistines, the Lord throwing a great terror upon them. So it was then; so it is now. The two men of God on their knees mightier than a Philistine host on their feet. * I learn first from this subject how danger- ous it is for the church of God to allow its weapons to stay in the hands of its enemies, These Israelites might again and again have obtained a supply of swords and weapons, as for instance, when they took the spoils of the Ammonites, but these Israelites seemed content to have no swords, no spears, no blacksmiths, no grindstones, no active iron mines, until it was too late for them to make any resistance. I see the farmers tugging along with their pickaxes and plows, and I say, ‘“Where are you going with those things?” They say, “Ob. we are going over to the garrison of the Philistines to get these things sharp- ened.” I say, “You foolish men ; why don’t you sharpen them at home?’ Qh,” they say, ‘‘the blacksmiths’ shops are all torn owe: and we have nothing left us but a a." 80 it is in the church of Christ to-day. We are too willing to give up our weapons to the enemy. The world boasts that it has gob- bled up the schools, and the colleges, and the arts, and the sciences, and the literature, and the printing press. Iafldelity is making a mighty attempt to get all our weapons in its hand and then to keep them. You know it is making this boast all the time, and after a while, when the great battle between sin and righteousness has opened, if we do not look out we will be as badly off as these Is- raelites, without any swords to fight with and without any sharpened instruments. I call upon the superintendents of literary institutions to see to it that the men who go into the classrooms to stand beside the Ley- den jars, and the electric batteries, and the microscopes or telescopes be children of God, not Philistines. The atheistic thinkers of this day are trying to get all the intel- lectual weapons of this century in their own grasp. What we want is scientific Christians to capture the science, and scholastic Chris- tians to capture the scholarship, and philoso- phic Christians to capture the philosophy, and lecturing Christians to take back the lecturing platform. We want to send out against Schenkel and Strauss and Renan of the past men like the late Theodore Christlieb of Bonn, and against the infidel scientists a God worship- ing Silliman and Hitchcock and Agassiz. We wart to capture all the philosophical apparatus and swing around the telescopes on the swivel until through them we can see the morning star of the Redeemer, and with mineralogical hammer discover the ‘‘Rock of Ages,” and amid the flora of the realms find the ‘Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley.” We want a clergy learned enough to dis- course of the human eye, showing it to be a microscope and telescope in one instrument, with 800 wonderful contrivances and lids closing 30,000 or 40,000 times a day, all its muscles and nerves and bones showing the infinite skill of an inflnite God, and then winding up with the peroration, ‘He that formed the eye, shall He not see?’ And then we want to discourse about the human ear, its wonderful integuments, membranes and vibration, and its chain of small bones, and its auditory nerves, closing with the question, ‘‘He that planted the ear, shall He not hear?” And we want some one able to expound the flrst chapter of Genesis, bringing to it the geology and the astronomy of the world, until, as Job suggested, ‘‘the stones of the fleld shall be in league” with the truth, and ‘‘the stars in their courses shall fight against Bisera.’” Oh, church of God, go out and re- capture these weapons. Let men of God go out and take possession of the platform. Let all the printing press of this country speak out for Christ, and the reporters, and the typesetters, and the editors and publishers swear allegiance to the Lord God of truth. Ah, my friend, that day must come, and if the great body of Christian men have notthe faith, or the courage, or the consecration to do it, then let some Jonathap on his busy hands and on his praying knees climb up on the rock of hindrance, and in the name of the Lord God of Israel slash to pieces those literary Philistines. If these men will not be converted to God, th®n they must be destroyed. Again, I learn from this subject what a large amount of the church's resources is actually hidden and buried and undeveloped. The Bible intimates that that was a very rich land—this land of Israel. It says, “The stones are iron, and out of the hills thou shalt dig brass,” and yet hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of this metal was kept under the hills. Well, that is the diffi- culty with the church of God at this day. Its talent is nct developed. If one-half of its energy could be brought out, it might take the public iniquities of the day by the throat and make them bite the dust. If human eloquence were consecrated to the Lord Jesus Christ, it could in a few years persuade this whole earth to surrender to God. There is enough undeveloped Christian energy in the United States to bring the whole world to Christ, but it is buried un- der strata of indifference and under whole | | { | | ice is placed in the tanks of the refrig- erator car, as it has been found that ice is unnecessary if the packing is | thorough. a It is said that to keep the jaws in rapid motion by chewing gum is the best way to stop bleeding of the nose mountains of sloth. Now, is it not time for the mining te begin, and the pickaxes to plunge, and for this buried metal to be brought out and put into the furnaces and be turned into howitzers and carbines for the Lords host? The vast majority of 12¢er the hills. Oh, is it not time for the church of God to rouse up and understand that we want all | realth | the energies, all the talents and allthe Christians in this day are useless. The the Lord’s battalion belong to the torps. The most of the crew are he hammocks. The most of the | enlisted for Christ's sake? I like the nick- name that the English soldiers gave to Blu- cher, the commander, They called him ‘Old Forwards.” We have had enough retreats in the church of Christ ; let us have a glorious advance. And I say to you now as the general said when his troops were affrighted. Rising up in his stirrups, his hair flying in the wind, he lifted his voice until 20,000 troops heard him, crying out, ‘‘Forward, the whole line !" Again, I learn from this subject that we sometimes do well to take advantage of the world's sharpening instruments. These Israelites were reduced to a file, and so they went over to the garrison of the Philistines tc get their axes, and their goads, and their plows sharpened. The Bible distinctly states in the context that they had no other instru- ments now with which to do this work, and the Israelites did right when they went over to the Philistines to use their grindstones. My friends, is it not right for us to employ the world’s grindstones? If there be art, if there be logic, if there be business faculty on the other side, let us go over and employ it for Christ's sake. The fact is we fight with too dull weapons, and we work with too dull implements. We hack and we maul when we ought to make a clean stroke. Let us go over among sharp business men and among sharp literary men and find out what their taste is, and then transfer it to the cause of Christ. IT they have science and art, it will do us good to rub against it. In other words, let us em- ploy the world’s grindstones. We will listen to their music, and we will watch their acu- men, and we will use the'r grindstones, and we will borrow their philosophical apparatus to make our experiments, and we will bor- row their printing presses to publish our Bibles, and we will borrow their rail trains to carry our Christian literature, and we will borrow their ships to transport our ionaries. That was what made Paul such a master in his day. He hot only got all the learning he could get of Dr. Gamaliel, but afterward standing on Mars hill and in crowded thor- oughfares quoted their poetry and grasped their logic and wielded their eloquence and employed their mythology until Dionysius, the Areopagite, learned in the schools of Athens and Heliopolis, went down under his tremendous powers. That was what gave Thomas Chalmers his power in his day. He conquered the world’s astronomy and compelled it to ring out the wisdom and greatness of the Lord, until for the second time the morning stars sang to- gether, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. That was what gave to Jonathan Ed- wards his influence in his day. He con- quered the world’s metaphysics and forced it into the service of God, until not only the old meeting house in Northampton, Mass., but all Christendom, felt thrilled by his Christian power. Well, now, my friends, we all have tools of Christian usefulness. Do not let them lose their edges. . We want no rusty blades in this fight. We want no colter that cannot rip up the glebe. We want no ax that can- not fell the trees. We want no goad that cannot start the lazy team, Let us get the very best grindstones we can find, though they bein the possession of the Philistines, compelling them to turn the crank, while we bear down with all our might on the swift revolving wheel until all our energies and faculties shall be brought up to a bright, keen, sharp, glittering edge. Again, my subject teaches us o~ what a small allowance Philistine iniquity puts a man, Yes, these Philistines shut up the mines, and then they took the spears and the swords, then they took the ee then they took the grindstones, and they took everything but a fille, Ob, that is the way sin works. It grabs everything. It begins with robbery, and it ends with robbery. It de- spoils this faculty and that faculty and keeps on until the whole nature is gone. Was the man eloquent before, it generally thickens his tongue. Was he fine in personal appear- ance, it mars his visage. Was he affluent, it sends the sheriff to sell him out. Was he in- fluential, it destroys his popularity. Was he placid and genial and loving, it makes him splenetic and cross, and so utterly is he changed that you can see he is sarcastic and rasping and that the Philistines have left him nothing but a file. Oh, ‘‘the way of the transgressor is hard.” His cup is bitter. His night is dark. His pangs are deep. His end is terrific. Philis- tine iniquity says to that man, ‘Now, sur- render to me, and I will give you all you want—music for the dance, swift steeds for the race, imperial couch to slum- ber on, and you shall be refreshed with the rarest fruits in baskets of golden filigree.” He lies. The music turns out to be a groan. The fruits burst the rind with rank poison. The filigree is made up of twisted snakes, The couch is a grave. Small allowance of rest, small allowance of peace, small allow- ance of comfort. Cold, hard, rough—noth- ing but a fille. So it was with Voltaire, the most applauded man of his day * The Scripture was his jestbook, whence he drew Bonmots to gall the Christian and the Jew; An infidel wnen wel , but what when sick? Oh, then a text would touch him to the quick. Seized with hemorrhage of the lungs in Paris, where he had gone to be crowned in the theater as an idol of all France, he sends a messenger to get a priest that he may be reconciled to the church before he dies. A great terror falls upon him. He makes the place all round about him so dismal that the nurse declares that she would not for all the wealth of Europe see another infidel die. Philistine iniquity had promised him all the world’s garlands, but in the last hour of his life, when he needed solacing, sent tearing across his conscience and his nerves a file, a file. So it was with Lord Byron, hisuncleanness in England only surpassed by his unclean- ness in Venioe, then going on to his brilliant misery at Missolonghi, and fretting at his nurse, Fletcher, fretting at himself, fretting at the world, fretting at God, and he who gave to the world ‘Childe Harold,” and ‘‘Sardanapalus,” and ‘*‘The Prisoner of Chillon,” and ‘“The Siege of Corinth,” re- duced to nothing but a flle ! Oh, sin has great facility for making prom- ises, but it has just as great facility for breaking them. A Christian life is the only cheerful life, while a life of wicked surrender is remorse, rnin and death. Its painted glee is sepulchral ghastliness. In the brightest days of the Mexican Empire Montezuma said he felt knawing at his heart something like a canker, Sin, like a monster wild beast of the forest, sometimes licks all over its victim in order that the victim may be more easily swallowed; but generally sin rasps and galls and tears and upbraids and filles. Is it not so, Herod? Is it not so, Hil- debrand? 1s it not so, Robespierre? Aye! aye! itis so; it isso. ‘‘The way of the wicked He turneth upside down.” History tells us that when Rome was founded, on that day there were 12 vultures flying through the air, but when a trans- gressor dies the skies is black with whole flocks of them. Vultures! When I see sin robbing so many people, and 1see them go- ing down day by day and week by week, I must give a plain warning. I dares not keep it back lest 1 risk the salvation of my own soul. Rover, the pirate, pulled down the warning bell on Inchcape rock, thinkingthat he would nave a chance to despoil vessels that were crushed on the rocks, but one night his own ship crashed down on this very rock, and he went down with all his cargo. God declares, “When I say to the wicked thou shalt sarely die, and thou givest him not warning, that same man shall die in his iniquity, but his blocd will I re- quire at thy hands.” I learn from this subject what a sad thing it is when the church of God loses its metal. These Philistines saw that if they could only get all the metallic weapons out of the hands of the Israelites all would be well, and there- fore they took the swords and the spears. They did not want them to have a single me- tallic weapon. When the me of the Is- raelites was gona, their strength was gone. This is the trouble withthe church of God to- day. It is surrendering its courage. It has not got enough metal. How seldom it is that you see a man taking his position in a pew, | or in pulpit, or in a religious soc { holding that position against all oppr Ee sion, and all trial, and all persecution, and all crit- icism. The church of God to-day wants more backbone, more deflance, more consecrated bravery, more metal. How often you see a man start out in some good enterprise, and at the first blast of newspaperdom he has oolla; , and all his courage gone, forget- ful of the fact that if a man be right ali the newspapers of the earth, with all their col- umns pounding away at him, cannot do him any permanent damage! It is only when a man is wrong that he can be damaged. Why, God is going to vindicate His truth, and He is going to stand by, you, my iriends, in every effort you make for Christ's cause and the salvation of men. I sometimes say to my wife: “There is something ‘wrong ; the newspapers have not assaulted me for three months! I have not done my duty against public iniquities, and I will stir them up next Sunday.” Then I stir them up, and all the following week the devil howls and howls, showing that I have him very hard. Go forth in the service of Christ and do your whole duty. You have one sphere. I have another sphere. ‘The Lord of Hosts is with us, and the God of Jacob is our refuge. lah.” We want more of the determination of Jonathan. I do not suppose he was a very wonderful man, but he got on his knees and clambered up the rock, and with the help of armor bearer he hewed down the Philistines, and a man of very ordinary in- tellectual attainments, on his knees, can storm anything for God and for the truth. We want something of the determination of the general who went into the war, and as he entered his first battle his knees knocked together, his physical courage not quite up to his moral conrage, and he looked down at his knees and said, ‘‘Ah, if you knew where I was going to take you, you would shake worse than that !” There is only one question for you to ask and for me to ask. What does God want me to do? Where is the fleld? Where is the work? Where is the anvil? Where is the prayer meeting? Where is the pulpit? And finding out what God wants us to do go ahead and do it—all the energies of our body, mind and soul enlisted in the undertaking. Oh, my brethren, we have but little time in which to fight for God. You will be dead soon. Put in the Christian cause every ener; that God gives you. ‘‘What thy hand findet! to do, do it with all thy might, for there is neither wisdom nor device in the grave whither we are all hastening.” Oh, is it not high time that we wake out of sleep? Church of God lift up your head at the coming vic- tory! The Philistines will go down, and the Israelites will go up. We are on the w! side. Hear that—on the winning side! I think just now the King's horses ara be- ing hooked up to the chariot, and when He does ride down the sky there will be sucha hosanna among His friends and such a wail- ing among His enemies as willmake the earth tremble and the heavens sing. I see now the plumes of the Lord’s cavalrymen tossing in the air. The archangel before the throne has already burnished his trumpet, and then he will pit its golden lips to his own, and he will blow the long, loud blast that will make all Nations free. Clap your hands, all ye pople! Hark! I hear the falling thrones and the dashing down of demolished in- iquities. re ree eee Sleep in Disused Quarries. One of the most curious and deplore able sights in connection with pauper- ism during the winter in Paris is the influx of peripatetic beggars who in- vade at night the disused quarries of Argenteuil and Montmartre, where they huddle together, as close as they safely can, to the limekilns, in order to obtain a little warmth. Along the suburban roads in the direction of Paris they can be seen in twos and threes bent double almost and hungry, hurrying on and footsore, in the hope of being in time to obtain a night's shelter in the isiles de nuit--night refuges——of the capital. But in those buildings, according to the Philadel- phia Ledger, there is not sufficient room to accommodate all applicants. Their hospitable doors are open only for a short time late at night, and when once they are closed all entreaties for admission are rigorously unheeded. In the disused quarries they can find plenty of room. A whole army of mendicants could easily obtain shelter in their long galleries—a warm corner to huddle up in and a convenient stone for a pillow. Moreover, there are no awkward questions asked as at the aisles de nuit, such as “Who art thou? From whence cometh thou? What is thy calling?” And so from all direc- tions leading toward Paris they come in large numbers at night, mud-be- shattered, hollow-cheeked, worn out with fatigue, and numbered by hun- dreds as they” descend into the quar- ries, where, pressed pell mell one against the other, they endeavor by contact to keep out the cold. The largest number and deepest of these disused quarries are in the neighbors hood of Argenteuil,and there it is that the police often make their raids when in search of some criminal who has escaped capture, and who, it is thought, may be hiding among the ‘‘malfrats.”’ rr re re ren Barefooted Among Snakes. While we are telling snake stories the following good one comes to us from the mountein regions, E. T. Dulin standing as authority. The country between Little Big Black Mountain is a ginseng region, and the Parker family are noted as ‘‘sengers.” The girls go out barefooted in the mountains, though the country is in- fested with rattlesnakes and copper- heads, and dig the ginseng, for which they get good prices at the stores, and from which it is taken to Pennington Gap for shipment. But along Clover Gap and up Rattle. snake Creek there are numberless rep- tiles. Beckie Parker is a girl, about nineteen years of age, strong, healthy- looking and handsome, but with a very determined face. She is a splendid rifle shot and is often seen with her Winchester. She goes after ginseng barefooted and often alone. The roots are gath- ered in May and September, and duz- ing the month just past she did a thriving business. One day, however, she came across a den of rattlesnakes. She had only stones and sticks with which to fight the desperate battle. Some of the snakes were larger than a man’s arm, and few of them as large as the calf of a man’s leg. For hours she fought them as they hissed and writhed and rattled around her. But the brave, determined girl battled with them until she exterminated every one that did not succeed in hid- | Ing among the crevices of rocks and {in the dense underbrush. When shs ! had crushed the last one to be seen | she counted the dead, and there were | justsixty-three. —Fredericksburg (Va.) | Star,