EP NA POI Emir EE —— i eR TT TE Ee — pS EE THE LOWLIEST FLOWER, Nay, not too low! Pale, tender flower, half hidden in the grass ; The sun and dew and kindly winds that biow Will find you as they pass. Nay, not too low! Pure, humble life, whose wayside graces meet Few friendly eyes. know How fair you are—how sweet! —DMadeline S, Bridges, in Home Journal. God's watchful angels CHAPMAN'S LABOR DAY, BY CHARLES M. HARGER. less. All through the hot days of July and the greater part of August the wheat shockshad stood in the fierce sun and torrid prairie winds, just us the company of harvesters left them. “Mother, what shall we do?” asked Joe, discouraged, as he knelt beside the widow's chair in the rude cabin. ‘“There has been but one thing to do 80 far,”’ she answered. ‘It was bet- ter to help those needing comforts worse than ourselves than to get in the wheat.” ‘So you have told us; but we have worked for Mr. Clark all summer nearly, and I don’t think we ought to do any more for our neighbor. He can pay us nothing and seems to expect us to continue.” Clark, the lam& renter on the ad- joining section, had been ill a great deal, and Mrs. Hawley had urged her boys to assist him with his herding and farming. Joe's advice, however, won, and the next morning the Hawley boys pitched the heavy bundles of wheat on their own field throughout the drowsy August hours. They worked slowly, and the grain rattled to the ground from every sheaf as they lifted it to the wagon. “I’m ashamed to be working at this job so late in the season,” said Joe, stopping a moment. Gregg looked down from the wagon. “Well, how was we to do it sooner? We had to help Clark, and mother’s been so miserable.” “I know it; but it does look awful back-handed to see the wheat shocks a-standing in the field from July until ’most September—it’ll be that to- morrow. Besides look at the grain we're wasting,” as another shower of kernels rattled down when he went on with his work. It was discouraging—twenty acres of grain ahead of them and a likeli- hood of the end of the dry weather any day. By noon two shambling loads had been added to the badly shaped stack which they had begun a month before. By night the boys were wearied out and had broken one of their decrepit forks. ‘“That means a trip to the store,” said Joe; and after started. “I hope Clark won’t call us,” re- marked Gregg, as the neighboring cabin came in sight. “Well, you know he was awful good to father befors—before he died.” Joe-gulped down 2 sob. It was indeed a debt of kindness to the friend of their departed father that they had been paying. Their mother realized it, if they did not, and knew what the men had been to each other as comrades in the war. There was no call to them as they passed the cabin, but their quick ear caught the sound of a moar. “It’s Clark,” exclaimed Joe. see what’s the matter.” They approached the door; it was locked. Stout shoulders burst the slender fastenings. There on his lone- some bed was Clark, crying almost like a child with distress. They could catch enough of the old man’s story to learn that his daughter had gone to the next county to visit, and that he had been very ill since the night be- fore. ‘You go for a doctor, Gregg,” were Joe’s orders; and the younger lad hur- ried away through the night while the other endeavored to make his patient easier. Around the store in the station agent’s office the committee was ar- ranging for the observance of the ap- proaching Labor Day. The town of Chapman had read the Governor's proclamation and proposed to make of the occasion a time of rejoicing. There was to be a procession, a picnic din- ner, speeches, music and other atirac- tions. Every settler and every towns- man was to be called on to contribute to the celebration. The eommittee had nearly completed the list of" resi- dents, when Merser, the station agent called the name of Hawley. “The Hawleys can’t drive in any procession that I manage,” said Blake, who was to be marshal of the day. “What have you got against em?” meekly inquired the postmaster. Blake glared at the little group from beneath very savage gray eyebrows. His fierce glances were most lost in the gloom, but his words were not. “We don’t want nobody in the parade that can’t drive a decent rig an’ that can’t keep their place lookin’ respect- able—that’s why 1 object to em.” “Oh, well, those boys and their mother have a hard time,” replied the postmaster. ‘“Since their father died last spring —or was it winter?--they’ve been buy- ing potatoes by the gunarter’s worth,” put in the other committeeman, Pier- son, the storekeeper; and I know they “Let's HE Haw-| ley claim! certainly looked shift- supper they | would send the flag her husband car- ried in the war, but didn’t say any- thing about givin’ a team.” “Well, we don’t want ’em, anyhow,” persisted the ebstinate Blake; ‘‘my chief reason is—" What his reason was never was known, for with a clangor and screech the 11 o’clock express came rumbling by, and Blake ran to the platform to put aboard the mail and speak to the conductor. The long line of lighted coach win- dows glided past the heavy Pullman cars with lamps turned low, that the passengers might sleep, rolled by him, and the green and red lanterns on the as the train sped away across the plain. Blake turned and nearly stumbled over a boy—a stranger. “Hello! did you belong on the train?” he asked. “No, I'm lookin’ for a doctor; be you one?” replied & piping voice. “Not much; come inside. Here boys,” he called to his comrades, “which of you is a doctor?” then, after a closer look, ‘‘bless me, if it isn’t one ‘of th’ Hawley boys! what's the matter, my lad?” Gregg instinctively knew he had found a friend and quickly told his errand. “Poor old Clark!” ejaculated the | postmaster, ‘‘he’s always lookin’ for a letter with money in it. I'm afraid he’ll never get it.” “Well come on, we'll find a doctor,” said Pierson, rising; ‘‘and I believe I'll go out with you myself to see that Clark don’t suffer.” He was as good as his word, and | midnight saw three riders hurrying | through the dry grass, the long, steady “swish” of the horses’ feet making a kind of music as they cantered on. | It seemed to Joe that his brother | would never return. Patiently he bathed the suffering settler’s head, and tenderly as he could he straightened the crumpled sheets. The watch in the little cabin, so cramped and un- tidy, was anything but pleasant; and it seemed that the whole night had passed when he caught the sound of approaching hoofs. ‘“‘He is in a bad way,” pronounced the doctor, ‘‘and must not be left alone. If he gets much worse he can- not be moved. Is there any place where we can take him?” ¢‘I know mother will care for him,” spoke up Gregg. ‘‘He and father went to war together, and mother thinks we owe him a great deal of care.” ¢I don’t see anything else to do,” decided Pierson, ‘‘although it seems like a big burden to put on these folks.” ¢“Never mind,” insisted the boy; ‘it is better than leaving him here. We have taken most of the care of him and his place this summer.” “What's that? You've helped him run his farm?” “Yes. Mother said we should; he | needed it worse than we did.” ‘I’ve wondered how he got along; now I see. Well, come on; we’ll take him over for a day or two, and then we’ll get some one to care for him.” The little procession of four horse- men made an odd sight as it slowly moved to the Hawley cabin. Mrs. Hawley was anxiously awaiting the re- turn of her sous. “I’ve got the fork, mother,’ called Gregg; and indeed he had remem- bered that essential implement. “But there’s something else,” called the doctor, as they lifted Clark down and carried him inside. ‘Just think of it!” indignantly ex- claimed the storekeeper, as he got the physician to one side when the patient had been made comfortable. ‘“This poor family the only one out of this whole prosperous neighborhood to look aiter the old soldier in his troubles! T’ll stir up the boys at Chapman so they’ll think judgment has come to them ; and they’ll do something, too— see if they don’t.” When Pierson left for the settle- ment it was after a look over the claim and a careful estimate of the family’s situation. His first duty when he | | the committee for that night. met at the depot. “We were too fine,’ with more sarcasm than he had ever nsed in his life before, ‘‘to let them into our procession, and yet those | three poor people have cared for that sick veteran while we let him alone.” | Blake winced, and the postmaster | clapped his hands gleefully. It was | long after the express went through | when they adjourned, and then it was with promises ‘to keep it quiet.” Pierson the next morning sent his son Charles on horseback in one direc- tion, while he himself took another. They bore a mysterious message to the heads of families, and it was nearly | night when they completed their | rounds. The day which was to mean so much to the community as the day when They ’ brated, dawned bright and clear on the Hawley claim. Joe and Gregg were in the field early, struggling with the discolored sheaves and the rattling kernels. ¢-It'll be a labor day for us, sure enough,” remarked Joe; and he lauged at his own pun. “It’s been labor day for us all sum- mer,” answered the other, bitterly. «Mother didn’t need to take care of Clark all the time.” «“Well, bub she thought she ought to do all she could. Never mind, we'll get this wheat all stacked by Christ- mas if we keep at it.” “Yes, unless we wait until next year and harvest two crops together,” with don’t have provisions enough to last sixty hours at a time.” “I ain’t sure they want to drive in the procession,” remarked the post-| | have some fireworks.” master, slowly. “When we asked for a feeble smile. Joe was apparently thinking of something else. <J¢’ll be a big day. The storeman said last night that they'd probably volunteers Mrs. Hawley sent word she i rear platform were becoming dimmer | “Who's sick?” inquired Pierson; | reached home was to call a meeting of | he sneered, labor’s achievements were to be cele- | ‘“Maybe we can see em from here—* the prairie’s so level.” Joe looked from his place of vant- age on top of the wagon load of bun- dles off toward the settlement, as if to | estimate the chances of such good for- tune befalling them. | Something met his sight that drove | fireworks and nearly everything else | from his mind. | “What's that?” he exclaimed, point- | ing to aline of teams approaching from | the farm. | “Maybe it’s the procession comin’ clear out in the country,” suggested | Gregg, who had quickly clambered up | by his side. Both had stopped work to gaze at the unwonted spectacle. | “The storeman’s leading,” broke out Joe. { He was right. Mounted on a fiery | nag, Pierson, bedecked with sash and i sword and wearing an old army over- coat to give him a military appearance | fitting the commander of so consider- able a force, was issuing orders to the | drivers with all the self-possession of | a General at review. | “Why, they're turning in!” said | Gregg, as the long line of teams filed | into the field. { The visitors paid no attention to the | bewildered occupants of the farm, who | made a pathetic picture as their little forms, perched on the rickety load of | wheat, were outlined against the vast spread of prairie sky. “‘Hurry up now, men! Get to work!” were Pierson’s orders, as he set the example by doffing his regalia and the brass-buttoned overcoat. Coats and vests were thrown aside, sleeves were rolled up; and with an energy that astonished Joe and Gregg until they could do nothing but’stand | and gaze in wonder at the proceedings, the farmers and farmers’ sons, as well | the novel expedition, took forks from the wagons and began loading the dis- colored shocks of grain. Load after load was hauled up to the | stacks, and one mound of grain after another arose, until the year’s yield of the little farm was concentrated in what looked like mammoth yellow eggs of straw in the midst of the prairie. “Now, young men,” broke out Pierson, in pretended gruffness, com- ing to the side of the boys’ wagon when the last bundle was hoisted to cap off the final stack, ‘‘we’ve some- thing to say to you. When the town has a Labor Day we want everybody to attend; and we have decided to punish you both, as well as your mother for not doing so, by making you ride in the procession.” There was a twinkle that removed any uneasiness his voice might have caused, and when he repeated his or- ders to Mrs. Hawley on going to the house, and showed her a wagon, half filled with clean straw, in which to ride, they accepted the decree, one of the men having volunteered to stay with the convalescing neighbor on the bed inside and to assist the nurse Pier- son had engaged in removing him to his home. Mrs. Hawley'’s pale face brightened as she stepped into the vehicle, and she impulsively kissed the two boys who bashfully clung to her side. Down at the grove the wives and children of the settlers were ready, and on the arrival of the teams the procession started. The band played, | the horses pranced, the children { laughed and Pierson shouted his or- | ders more vociferously than ever. The center of attraction was the Hawley wagon, which led thelong line that wound about the sparsely settled streets, and no one enjoyed the parade more than its occupants. It was well past noon when the pro- cession returned to the grove and the bounteous picnic dinner was spread. Then came singing and speaking. The orator of the day, a judge from a neighboring county, omitted a good deal of the speech he had prepared in order to tell the story of themorning’s doings and the events leading up to them. ¢‘The chief duty of labor as well as of capital,”’ he said in closing, “is to help the helpless and lift up those struggling under burdens of | trouble and care. The lessonhasbeen well learned by this community. This | has been the noblest celebration of | Labor Day I ever saw.” | “Mother,” whispered Joe, as they | were being driven home after the fire- works that evening, ‘I wish Labor | Day would come every week.” { “Perhaps,” she answered, ‘‘we can | get along so well that we shall not We are ! need another day like this. rich in friends now, if innothing else.” | Her prediction came true, for the | Hawleys entered upon a brighter and | more prosperous life.—The Independ- | ent. re ET meen How to Remember Rainbow Colors, The common people of Great Britain | and the East Coast of our own coun- try use many odd systems of mne- | monies which it would be well for the | more progressive West to adopt. One | of these is the phrase ‘‘by vigor,” as an aid in recalling the names of the primary or rainbow colors. Put down the word v-i-g-o-r, horizontally, with the b-y in the center, and divide the whole with the letter g, and you will ever after have the colors of “God’s covenantal bow’ indelibly en- graved upon your memory. See: Violet. Indigo. Blue. Green. Yellow. Orange. Red. A reversal of this system is not alto- gether unknown in New England. The Rev. S. I. Gerould, of Goffstown,’ N. H., says that he has alwaysseen the’ initials of the several colors arranged as ‘‘royg., biv,” but the first is by far | the better, as it gives you two sensible | Fonglish words as a basis of your fore } mula.—St. Louis Republic. | as many townspeople who had joined | GARDENS OF THE SEA. REV. DR. TALMAGE PREACHES er CER On the Ocean Fauna. Lessons That Can Be Learned fromthe Mighty Deep. —— TXT: “The weeds were wrapped about my head."—Jonah ii., 3. “The Botany of the Bible; or, God Among the Flowers,” is a fascinating subject. I hold in my hand a book which I brought from Palestine, bound in olive wood. and within it are pressed flowers which have not only retained their color, but their aroma. Flow- ers from Bethlehem, flowers from Jerusa- lem, flowers from Gethsemane, flowers from Mount of Olives, flowers from Bethany, flow- ers from Siloam,flowers from the valley of Je- hoshaphat, red anemones and wild migno- nette, buttercups, daisies, cyclamens, ecamo- mile, bluehslls, ferns. mosses, grasses and a wealth of florn that keep me fascinated by the hour, and every time 1 open it itis a new revelation. It isthe New Testament of the flelds. But my text leads us into another realm of the botanical kingdom. Having spoken to you in a covrse of ser- mons about “God Everywhere '—on ‘‘The Astronomy of the Bible; or, God Among the , Stars ;” “I'he Ornitholozy oi the Bible; or, { God Among the Rirds;’ ‘The Ichthyclogy | of the Bible; or, Gol Among the Fishes” “The Mineralogy of the Bible ;or, God Among ! the Amethysts’ “The Conchology of the | Bible; or, Gol Among the Shells;” “The Chronolozy of the Bible ; or, God Among the Centuries’—I speak now to you about “The | Botany of the Bible; or, God in the Gardens of the Sea.” Although I purposely take this morning for consideration the least observed { and least appreciated of all the botanical | products of the world. we shall find the con- -templation very absorbing. | In all our theological s:minaries waere we make ministers thers ought to bs professors | to give lessons in natural history. Physical ! science ougit to be taught side by side wit revelation. It is the same God who inspires the page of the natural world as the page of the Scriptural world. What a freshening up it would be to our ssrmons to press into them even a fragment of Mediterranean sea- i weed ! We should have fewer sermons aw ully dry if we imitated our blessed i ord, and in our discoursz, like Him, wo would let a lily bloom, or a crow fiy, or a hen { brood her chickens, or a crystal of salt flask | cut the preservative qualities of religion. The trouble is that in many ef our theo- iogical seminaries men who are so dry them- salves they never could get people to come and hear them preach are now trying to teach young men how to preach, and the student is put between two great presses of dogmatic theology and squeezed until there is no life left in him. Give the poor victim at least one lesson on the botany of the Bible. That was an awful plunge that the reereant , prophet Jonah made when, dropped over the gunwales of the Mediterransan ship, he sank many fathoms down into a tempestuous sea. Both befors and after the monster of the desp swallowed him, he was entangled in seaw=ed. The jungles of the desp threw their cordage of vegetation around him. Some ofthis seu- weed was anchored to the bottom of the watery abysm, and some of it was afloat and swallowed by the great sea monster, so that, while the prophet was at the bottom of the deep aiter he was horribly imprisoned he could ex:laim and did exclaim in the words o: my text, *“I'he weeds were wrapped about my head.” . Joaunah was the first (0 record that there are growths upon the bottom of the sea as well as upon land. The first picture I ever owned was a handful of seaweeds pressed on a page, and I called them ‘‘the shorn locks of Neptune.” These products of the deep, whether brown or green or yellow or pur- ple or rad or intersyot of many colors, are most fascinating, They are distributed all over the depths and from Arctic to Antarctic. That God thinks well of them I conclude from the fact that he has made 6000 species of them. Sometimes these water plants are 400 or 700 feet long, and they cable the sea. One specimen has a growth of 1500 feet. On the northwest shore of our country isa geaweed with leaves thirty or forty feet long, amid which the sea otter makes his home, resting himself on the buoyancy of the leat and stem. The thickest jungles of the trop- ics are not more full of vegetation than the depths of the sea. There are forests down thers and vast prairies all abloom, and God walks there as he walked in the Garden of Eden ‘in the cool of the day.” Oh, what entrancement, this subsqueous world! Oh, the God given wonders oi the seaweed! 71s birthplace is a palace of crystal. The cradle that roeks it is {he storm. Its grave is asar- cophagus of beryl and sapphire, There is no night down tuere. There are creatures of God on the bottom of the sea so constructed that, strewn all along, they make a firmament besprent with stars, constellations and galaxies of impos- ing luster. The sea featheris a lamplighter. The gymuotus is an electrician, and he is surcharged with electricity and makes the deep bright with the lightning of the sea. The gorgonia flashes like jewels. There are sea anemones ablaze with light. There are the starish and the moonfish, so called be- causethey so poweriully suzgest stellar and lunar illumination. Oh, these midnight lanterns of the ocean caverns ; these processions of flame over the white floor of the deep ; these illuminations taree miles down under the sea; these gorgeously upholstered casties of the Al- mighty in’ the underworld! The author of the text felt the pull of the hidden vegetation of the Mediterranean, whether or not he ap- preciated its beauty, as Iie cried out, “The weeds were wrapped about my head.” Let my subject cheer all those who had friends who have been buried at sea or in our great American lakes. Which of us brought up on the Atlantic coast has not had kindred or friend thussspulchered? We had the useless horror of thinking that they were denied proper resting place. Wesaid: “Ob, if they had lived to come ashore and had then expired! What an alleviation of our trouble 1t would have been to put them in some beautiful family plot, where we could have planted flowers and trees over them." Why, God did better for them than we could have done for them. They were let down into beautiful gardens. Before they had reached the bottom they had garlands about their brow. : In more elaborate and adorned place than we could have afforded them they were put away for the last slumber. Hoar it, mothers, and fathers of sailor boys whose ship went down in our last August hurricane! There are no Greenwoods or Laurel Hills or Mount Auburns so beautiful on the land as there are banked and terraced and scooped and hung in the depths of the sea. The bodies of our foundered and sunken friends are girdled and canopied and housed with such glories as attend no other Necropolis. They were swamped in lifeboats, or they struck on Goodwin sands or Deal beach or the Skerries, and were never heard of, or dis- appeared with the City of Boston, orthe Ville de Havre, or the Cymbria or were run down in a fishing smack that put out from New- foundland. But dismiss your previous gloom about the horrors of ocean entombment. When Sebastopol was besieged in the Anglo-French war, Prince Mentchikof, com- manding the Russian navy, saw that the only way to keep the English out of the har- bor was to sink all the Russian ships of war in the roadstead, and so 100 vessels sank. When, after the war was over, our American engineer, Gowan, descended to the depths in a diving bell, it was an impressive spece tacle. One hundred buried ships? But it is that way neariy all across the Atlantic Ocean. Ships sunk not by command of admirals, but by the command of cyclones. But they all had sublime burial, and the sur- roundings amid which they sleep the last sleep are mors imposing than the Tai Mahal, the mausoleum with walls incrusted with precious stones and built by the great mogul of India over his empress. Your departed ones wers buried in the gardens of the sea, fenced off by hedges of coralline. The greatest obsequies ever known on the lanl were those of Moses, where no one bat God was present. The sublime report of that entombment is in the book of Deuteronomy, which says that the Lord buried him, and of those who have gone down to slumber in the deep the same may be said, ‘The Lord buried them.” As Christ was buried in a garden, so your shipwrecked friends and those who could not survive till they reached port were put down amid iridescence—*‘‘In the midst of the garden there was a sepulcher.” It has always been a mystery what was the particular mode by whica George G. Cook- man, the pulpit orator of the Methodist Church aud the chaplain of the American Congress, left this life after embarking for England on the steamship President, March 11th, 1841. The ship never arrived in port. To one ever signaled her, and on both sides of the ocean it has for fifty years been ques- tioned what became of her But this I know about Coosman—that whether it wasiceberg or conflagration midsea or collision he had more garlands on his ocean tomh than if, ex- viring on land, ‘each of his million friends nad put a bouquet on his casket. Inthe midst of the garden was his sepulcher. But that brings me to notice the misnomer dn this Jonahitic expression of the text. The propbet not only made a mistake by trying i 10 go to Tarshish when God told him to go to Ninevab, but he made a mistake when he styled as weeds these growths that enwrapped him on the day he sank. A weed is some- thing that is useless. It is something you throw out from the garden. Itis something that chokes the wheat. Itis something to be grubbed out from among the cotton. It is something unsightly to the eye. Itisan invader of the vegetable or floral world. But this growth that sprang up from the depth of the Mediterranean or floated on its surface was among the most beautiful things that God ever makes, It was a water plant known as the red colored alga and no weed at all. It comes from the Joom of infinite beauty. Itis planted by heavenly love. It is the star of a sunken firmament. Itis a lamp waich the Lord kindled. It isa cord by whaieh to bind whole sheaves of praetieal suggestion. Jtis a pcam ail whose cantos are rung by Divine goodness. Yet we all make the mistake that Jonah made in regard to it and call it a weed. “The weeds were wrapped about my head.™ Ab, that is the trouble on the land as on the soa! We call those weeds that are flowers, Pitehed up on tae beach of society are chil- dren without home, without opportunity for anything but sin, seemingly without God. They are washed up helpless. They are«ille® ragamufins. They are spoken of as the akings of the world. They are waifs. Taey are street arabs. They are flotsam and jet- sam of the social sea. They are something to be leit alone, or something td be trod on, or something to give up to decay. Nothing but weeds. They ara up the rickety stairs of that garret. They are down in the cellar of that tenement nouse. They swaiter in sum- mers wien they sse not one blade of green grass, and shiver in winters that allow them not one warm coat or shawl or shoe. Such the city missionary found in one of our city rookeries, and when the poor woman was asked if sy sent her children to school sae replied : *‘No, sir, I never did send ‘em to school. I know it, they ought to learn, but I couldn't. I try to shame him some- times (it is my husband, sir), but he drinks and then beats me—Ilook at that bruise oa my faes—Td I tell him to ses what is comin’ to his children. There's Peggy goes sellin’ fruit every nicht in those cellars in Water street, and they're hells, sir. She's learnin’ all sorts of bad words thereand don’t get back till 12 o’clock at nigat. If it wasn’t for her earnin’ a shillin’ or two in them places. I should starve. On, I wisi they was out of the city. Yes, it is tue truth. I would rather have all iny children dead than onthe street, but I can’t heip it.” Another one of those poor women found hy a reformatory association recited her story of want and woe ani looked up and said, “I felt so hard to Jose the children when they died, bur now I’m glad they're gone.” Ask any one of a thousand such children on the siraets, Whers do you live?” and they will answer, “I don’t live no- where.” Taey will sleep to-night in ash bar- rels, or under outdoor stairs, or on tue wharf, kicked and bruised and hungry. Woo cares for them? Onee in a wiile a eity mis- sionary, or a tract distrivutor, or & teacher of ragzed schools will rescue one of them, but for most people they are only weeds. Yet Jonah did not mors completely mis reprasent the red alga about his head in the Mediterranean than most people misjudee these poor and forlorn and dying children of the street. Taey are not weeds. They are immortal flowers. Down in the deep sea ot wo=, but flowers. When society and the chureh of God come to appreciate their eter- nal value, there will be more C. L. Braces and mors Van Meters and more angels of mercy spending their fortunes and their lives in the rescue. Hear it, O ye philanthropic and Christian and merciful sou!s—not weeds, bat flowers. I abjurs you as the friends of all newsoys’ lodging houses, of all industrial schools. of all homes for iriendless girls, anl for the :nany reformatories and humane associa- tions now on foot, How much they have al- ready accomplished! Out of what wretch. edness, into what good homes! Of 21,000 of theses picked up out of the streets and sent into country homes only tweleve children turned out badly. . In the last thirty years a number that ne man can number of the vagrants have been lifted into respectability ani usefulness and a Christian life. * Many of them have homes of their own. Though rasged boys once and street girls, now at the head of prosperous families, honored on earth and to be glorious in heaven. Some of them have been Govern- ors of States. Some of them are ministers of the gospel. In all department gf lite those who were thought to be weeds aave turned out to be flowers. One of those rescued lads from the streets of our cities wrote to another, saying: “I have heard you are studying for the ministry. £o am L” My hearers, I implead you for the news- boys of the streets, many of them the bright-‘| est children of the city, but with no chance, Do not step on their bars feet. Do not, when thev steal a ride, cut behind. Whea the paper is three cents, once in a while give them a five cent piece and tell them to keep the change. I like the ring of the letter the newsboy sent back from Indiana, where he had been sent to a good home, toa New York newsboy's lodging house: ‘‘Boys, we should show ourselves that we are no fools, that we can become as respectable as any of the countrymen, for Franklin and Webster and Clay were poor hoys once, and even George Law and Vanderbilt and Astor. And now, boys, stand up and let them see you have got the real stuff in you. Come out here and make respectable and honorable men, so they can say. ‘There, that boy was once a newsboy.’” My hearers, join the Christian philanthropists who are changing organ grinders and bootblacks and news- boys and street arabs and cigar wirls into those who shall be kings and queens unto God forever. It is high time that Jonah finds out that that which is about him is not weeds, but flowers. As I examine this red alga which was about the recreant prophet down in the Mediterranean depths, when, in the words of my text, he cried out. “The weeds wera’ wrapped about my head,” and I am led thereby to further examine this submarine world, I am compelled to exclaim, What a wonderful God we have! Iam glad that, by diving bell, and ‘Brooks’ deep sea soundiny apparatus,” and ever improving machinery, we are permitted to walk ths floor of tha ocean and report the wonders wrought by the great God. Study these gardens of the sea. Easierani easior shall the profounds of the ocean be- come to us, and more ani more its opu enc: of color and plant unroll, especially as **Vil- leroy s submar#ne boat’ has been construei- ed, making it possible to navigate under tie sea almost as well as on the surface of tho sen, and unless God in His mercy banishes war from the earth whole flests of armel saips far down under the water move onto plow up the argosies that float the surface, - open the won lars 0” Go i's work'ngs in {>a great deep and never for human devastation ! so-catled seaweeds are the pastues fields and the forage of the inn deep. Not one spsacies of them cst be spared from the economy of nature. Sunken Alps and Apennines and Himalayas of Atlantic and Pacific oceans. A continzngl {hat once conaeetel Europs and America, so that in the aes nast across from where England is to where wa now stand. all sunken and now covered wira the growths of the seaas it once was covered with growths of the land. England and Irelani ons a'l one pieces of Jand, but now much of it so {ursunken as to island. The islands, for the most part, aro only the foreheads of sunken continents. The sea conquering the land all along the coasts and crumbling the hemispoeres wider and wider become the suvaqueons do- minions. Thank God thar sgilled hy- drographers have made us meps aad charts of the rivers and lakes and seas and shown ‘us something of the work of the eternal God in the water world. Thank God that the great Virzinian, Lieu« tenant Maury, lived to give us “The Physical Geography of the Sea,” and that men of genius have gone forth to study the so-called weeds that wrapped about Jonah’s head and have found them to be coronals of beauty, and when the tide receded these scientists have wadea down and picked up divinsiy pictured leaves of the ocean, the naturalists, Pike and Hooper and Walters, gathering them from the beach of Long Island Sounc, and Dr. Blodgett preserving them from tug shores of Kay West, and Professors Emerson and Gray finding them alonz Boston harbor, and Professor Gibbs gathering them from Charleston harbor, and for all the other triumphs of alzolozy, or the science of szu- weed. Why confine ourselves to theold anihaek- neyed illustrations of tne wonder workinzs of God, when there are at least five great seas full or illustrations as yet not marsha.ec, every root and froni ani cell and coior and movement and habit of oceanic vegetation erying out: ‘God! God! He made us.’ Hs clothed us. He adorned us, He was tae God of our ancestors clear back to the firsts sea growth, when God divided the waters which were above the firmament from the waters which were under the firmament and shall be the God of our descendants clear down to the day when the sea shall give un its dead. We have heard His comamand, and we have obeyed, ‘Praise the Lord, dragons and all deeps.’” There is a great comfort nat rolls over upon us from this study of the so-called sea- weed, and that is the demonstrated doctrine of a particular providence. When I find that toe Lord provioes in the so-called sez- weed the pasturage sor the thronged marine world. so that not a fin or seals in all that oceanic aquarium suffers need I conciude He will feed us, and if He suits the aiza to the animal life of the de=p He will provids the food for our physical and spiritual neads. And if He cioth-s the flowers of the deep with richness of robe that looks bright as fallen rainbows by day. and at night makes the underworld look s&s though the 821 ware on fire, surely He will clothe you, **O ye of little faith!” And what fills me with unspeakable de- Lizht is that this God oI danths and heights. of ocern and of continent, may, through Jesus Christ, the divinely appointed means, be yours and mine, to help, to cheer. to vardon, to save, to imparadise. What matters who in earth or hell is against us if He s for us? Omnipotence to defend us, omnipresence: to companion us and infinite love 10 enfold and upliit and enrapture us. Ani wien God does small thinzs so well, seemingly taking as much care with the coil of a seawend as the outbrancning of a Lebanon cedar, and w.th the color oi a veg- etahie growth wirieh is hidden fathoms out of sigh: as He does with the solferino and purple of a summer sunset, we will be deter- mined to do well all we are called to do, though no one see or appraciate us. Mighty God! Roll in upon our admiration and holy appreciation more of the wonders of this supmarme world. My joy is that after we are quit of all earthly hindrances we may come back to this world and explore what we cannot now fully investigate. if we shall have power to soar into the at- mospherie without fatigue I think we shall have power to dive into the aqueous without peril, and that the pictured and tessellated sea floor will be as accessible as now istothe traveler the fioor of the Alhambra, and all the gardens of the deep will then swing oven to us their gates as now to the tourist Chatsworth opens on public days its cascades and statuary «nd conservatories for our en- trance. ‘‘1t doth not yet appear what we shall be.” You cannot make me believe that God hath spread out all that garniture of the deep merely for the polyps and crustacea to look at. And if the unintelligent creatures of the Mediterranean und the Atlantic ocean He sur- rounds with such beautiful grasses of the deep, what a heaven we may expect for our uplifted and ransomed souls when we are unchained of the flesh and rise to realms beatific! Of the flora of that ‘‘sea of glass mingled with fire,” I haveno powerto speak, but I shall always be glad that, when the prophet of the text, flung over the gunwales of the Mediterranean ship, descended into the boiling sea, that which he supposed to be weeds wrapped about his head were nos weeds, but flowers. And am I not right in this glance at the botany of the Bible in adding to Luke's mint, anise and cumin, ard Matthew's tares, and John’s vine, and Solomon’s cluster of cam- phire, and Jeremiah’s balm, and Job's bul- rush, and Isaiah's terebinth, and Hosea’s thistle, and Ezekiel’s cedar, and ‘‘the hyssop that springeth’ out of the wall,” and tre ‘‘roge of Sharon and lily of the valley,” and the frankincense and myrrh and cassia which the astrologers brought to the mau- ger at least one stalk of the alaga of the Mediterranean, And now 1 make the marina doxology of” David my peroration, for it was written] about forty or flity miles from the place’ where the scene of the text was enacted: **The sea is His, and He made it, and His hands formed the dry land. Oh, come, let us worship and bow down ; let us kneel be- fore the Lord, our Maker. For He is our God. and we are the people of His pasture.” Amen. ? Br EIN irs, Why Soldiers Break Ranks. There are very few bridges in the world over which troops are allowed to march in regular step. In general, when coming to a bridge, particular- ly a suspension bridge, the drums or bands are stopped, the array is brok- en and the soldiers pass over without keeping step, or rather taking pains not to keep step. The reason is found in fact that a very slight ini- tial vibration, if continued, is im- parted to the whole structure, and in a short time becomes so strong a downward strain at every recurrence as speedily to endanger the safety of the strongest bridge. The same principle is illustrated in some houses, which can be made to tremble from roof to foundation by persistently and regularly press- ing with the foot on a loose board in one of the floors. A similar curious circumstance is seen in the case of certain churches in which it is dan- gerous to play the heavy pedal pipes of a grand organ, for the reason that the vibration becomes so great as to shatter the panes of glass in the win- dows, and even to imperil the safety of the roof. SOME of the sweetest ‘grapes grow near the ground. May such submarine ships be used for laying Oh, the marvais of tae water world! Tacss meradie animais of to Valleys and. mountains and plants miles underneath tow waves are all coverad with flora and fauna. men eame on foot make a channe!, and Ireiand has become an — Dr. J Bcottis] for hi: gentle He re pit mir that M suspect stolen | lined tl balk ar a corne of the Half doctor turned hand o with g No’ the day in.?—% I offer Tam ove 3. 4ci8,; 1 piper | prices F ester Pa, Sworn ¢ lith cay C Tos use the revolve necessi The res learn tha that scie stages, & Cure ist the medi stitution: treatmen ternally, mucous Siroyine giving t constitut k. .7T Send for CBF Sa Belgiu hypno is Needs as promptly the most The best the Syru; fornia Fi Wa'er China an In eve men who the next Johnson will shoy Shavin adays. Impaire ls. Be About continen - Cough 1 of Hatch —Of 1( every ye Ifafflicte son’s Kye. Ea At time deputy s oN Mr, SI] . upon the: headache petite. St Ho is now fre cellent b nomical It is DIGEST] W. BA The FIS
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers