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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,