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p . REV. DR. TALMAGE. i THE BROOKLYN DIVINE'S SUNDAY SERMON. I^Snbject: "Lifted from the Brickkilns." Text: "Though ye have Iain among the pots. yt shall </c be as She wings of a dov. covered with silver, and hrr feathers with yellow {/oW/'?Psalms. l.wiii., i:j. I suppose you know what the Israelites did down 111 Egyptian slavery. They made bricks. Amid the utensils of the brick-kiln there were also other utensils of cookery? the kettles, the pots, the pans, with which they prepared their daily food?and when these poor slaves, tired of tneday s wot-K, my down to rest, the}" lay down amid the im plements of cookery and tlie iniple ments of hard work. Wtoen they arose Pin the morning they found their I garments covered with the clay and P tne smoko and the dust, and besmirched and I begrimed with the utensils i f cookery. Hut j J after a while the Lord broke up that slavery, j i and He took these poor slaves into a land I where they had belter garb,bright and clean j and beautiful apparel. No more bricks for | them to make. Let 1'haroah make his own < bricks. When 1 avid in my te:ct comes to | 'describe the transition of these poor Israelites j from their bondage amid the brick-kilns into j the glorious emancipation for which Uod j had prepared them, he says: '"Though ye | bave lain among the pots, yet shall ye l>e as j the wings of a dove covered with silver, and i her feathers with yellow gold.'' Miss Whately," the author of a celebrated book, "Life in .Egypt," said she sometimes saw people in the East | cooking their food on the tops of j houses, and that she had often seen, just be- | fore sundown, pigeons and doves which bad, during the heat of the day, been hiding | among the kettles and the pans with which I the food was prepared,picking up the crumbs | that they might find?just about the hour j Of sunset would spread their wings and lly j heavenward, entirely unsoiled by tli9 ' region in which they had moved, for I the pigeon is a very cleanly bird, t ADd as me pigeons new ay mo setting sun would throw silver on their wings and gold on their breast. So you see it was not a far-fetched simile, or an unnatural comparison, when David in my text I 8ays to these emancipated Israelites, and ? says to all those who are brought out of any kind of trouble into any kind of spiritual I ( joy: "Though ye have lain among the > pots, yet shall ye be as the wings of a dove j covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold." Sin is the hardest of all taskmasters. | Worse than Pharaoh, it keeps us trudging, trudging in a most degrading service; but | after a while Christ comes, and Hesays: "Let I my people go," and we pass out from amo.ig j the brick-kilns of sin into the glorious liberty j of the Gospel; we put on the clean robes of a j Christian profession, and when at last we soar away to the warm nest which Uod has provided for us in heaven, we shall go fairer than a dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers covered with yellow gold. I am going to preach something which some of you (io not believe, and that is that the | grandest possible adornment is the religion | of Jesus Christ, -a There are a great many j people who suppose that religion is a very different thing from what it really is. The reason men condemn the Bible is because ' they do not understand the Bible; they have j not properly examined it. Dr. Johnson said | that Hume told a minister in the bishopric I of Durham that he hail never particularly | examined the New Testament, yet all lus iile ' warring against it. Halley, the astronomer, i announced his skepticism to Sir Isaac New- I ton. and Sir Isaac Newton said; "Now, sir, I | have examined the subject and you have not. and 1 am ashamed that you, professing to be a philosopher, consent to condemn a thing you never have examined." And so men reject the religion A# Tac-Iic Phttief. nco fhdTT ranllv llfLVA never investigated it. '1 hey think it something impractical, something that will not i work, something Pecksniltian, something ! hypocritical, something repulsive, when it is i so bright and so beautiful you might compare it to a chaffinch, you might compare it j to a rob: 11 redbreast, you might compare it ; to a dove, its wings covered with silver, and j its feathers with yellow gold. But how is it if a young man becomes a . Christian? All through the clul> rooms where I he associates, all through the business circles where ho is known, there is commiseration, j They say: '-What a pity that a young man ! who had such bright prospects should so [ have been despoiled by those Christians, giv- | ing up all his worldly prospects for some- ! thing which is of no particular present | worth!'' Here is a young woman who be- ! comes a Christian, her voice, her face, her j mannei s the charm of the drawing room. Now all through the fashionable circles the I whisper goes; 'What apity that such a bright ! light should have b<->en extinguished, that ; such a graceful gait should be crippled, that ; such worldly prospects should be obliterated!"' Ah, my friends, it can be shown that re- I ligion's"waj*s are ways of pleasantness and j that all her paths are peace: that religion, ! instead of being dark, and doleful, and lachrymose, and repulsive, is bright and beau- j tiful, fairer than a dove, its wings covered ; with silver and its feathers with yellow ; gold. Bee, in the first place, what religion will ! do for a man's heart. I care not how cheer- j ful a man may naturally be before convcr* j sion, conversion brings him up to a higher j standard of cheerfulness. I do not say he will laugh any louder, I do not say but ho may stand back from some forms of hilarity in which he once indulged; but there comes inta his soul an immense satisfaction. A young man, not a Christian, depends upon worldly successes to keep his spirits up. >iow ] he is prospered, now he has large salary, now he has a beautiful wardrobe. now he has pleasant friends, now he ' Has more money man lie Knows now i to spend; everything goes bright j and well with bun. l'.ut trouble ccrass? there are many young men in the. house tbi-3 : morning who can tes.ify out of their own ex- ; perience tbat sometimes to young men! trouble does come?his friends are gone, his j salary .is gone,his health is gone; he goes down, j down. He becomes sour, cross, <,ueo:\ mis- j anthropic, blames the world, blames society, j biames the church, blames everything.! rushes perhaps to the intoxicating cup to | drown his trouble, but instead of drowning his trouble drowns his body ani drowns his soul. But here is a Christian young man. Trouble comes to him. 1 Joes he give up; No. He throws himself back on the resources of heaven. Ho says: 4*Uo.l is my father. Out of all these disasters I shall pluck advantage f->r my soul. All the ' promises are mine. Christ is mine, Christian ' companionship is mine, heaven is mine. ! What though my apparel be worn j out* Christ gives me a robeot righteousness, j What though my money be gone; 1 htve a j title deed to the whole universe in the prom- J ise: 'All are yours.' What though my j worldly friends fad away.' Ministering angels are wv bo lyguard. W hat though my fare be ptor and my bread be scant.' 1 ! sit at the King's banquet" Oh, what a shallow stream is worldly en- j joyment compared with tho deep, broad, j overflowing river of Uoris peace. roiling | midway in the Christian Imrt! Sometimes j you have gone out yn the iron-bound beach ' of the sea when tfcore has been a storm on ! the ocean, aud you have seen the waves dash ! into white foam at your feet. They did not I do you any harm. While there, you thought | Of the chapter writt-n by the .t'salmist, and I perhaps you recited it to jourself while the 6tcrm was making commentary upon the I passage: "God is our retugo uul strength, a very present help in lime of trouble. | Therefore will 1 not fear though the earth Le I removed, and though ttie mountains be j carried into the midst of the sea: though the I waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling | thereof. Selah !" Oh, how independent the religion of Christ makes a man of worldly suceess and worldly circumstances! Nelson, the night before his last battle, said: "Tomorrow I shall win either a peerage or a grave in Westminster AbOey." Ami it does net male* much difference to the Christian whether he rises or falls in worldly matters: he has everlasting renown any way. Other plumage ma}* be torn in the blast, but that soul adorned with Christian grace, is fairer than the dove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold. You and I have found out that people who pretend to be happy are not always happv. Look at that young man caricaturing the Christian religion, scoffing at everything good, going into roystermg drunkenness, dashing the champagne bottle to the floor, rolling the glasses from the barroom counter, laughing, shouting, stamping the floor, shrieking. Is he happy i I will go to his midnight nillow. 1 will see him turn the gas off. I will ask myself it the pillow on which he sleeps is as soft as the pillar on which that pure young man sleeps. Ah! no. "When he opens his eyes in the morning, will i the world be as Bright to him as co that young man who retired at night saying his prayers, invoking God s blessing upon his own soul and the souls of his comrades, and father and mother, and brother and sister far away/ No, no. His laughter will ring out from the saloon so that you hear it as you pa?s by, but it is hollow laughter; in it is the snapping of heart-strings and the rattle of Happy; that youn* man happy; .Let mm nu mgtt tne oowi; no canI not drown an upbraiding conscience. Let I the balls roll through the bowling alley; I tho deep rumble and the sharp crack cannot overpower the voices | of condemnation. Let him whirl in the dance > of sin and temptation and death. All the ! brilliancy of the scene cannot make him forI get the la'st look of his mother, as ho left ! home, when sho said to him: '\Xow, my son. | you win no right, 1 am sure you will do ri^lit; you win, won c your- rcai young mull happy? Why. across every night there Hits shadows of eternal darkness; there are adders coiled up in every cup: there are vultures . of I dtspair striking their iron beak into his j luart; there are skeleton lingers of grief I pinching at the throat, i come in amid the j clicking of the glasses and under the Mailing of the chandeliers, and I cry: "Woe! woe! The way of the un.odiy shall perish There is no peace, saith my (.lod.to the wicked. The way of the transgressors is hard." Oh, my friends, there is more joy in one drop of Christian satisfaction than in whole rivers of sinful delight. Other wings may be drenched of the storm and splashed of the tempest, but the dove that comes in through ths window of this heavenly ark has wings like the dove covered with silver, and her feathers with yellow gold. Again 1 remark, religion is an adornment in the style of usefulness into which it inducts a man. Here are two young men. The one has lino culture, exquisite wardroho, pienty of friends, great worldly success, but he lives for himself. His chief care is for his own comfort. He lives uselessly. He dies unregretted. Here is another young man. His apparel mav not be so good, his education may not be so thorough. Ho lives for others. His happiness is to make ocners nappy. He is as self-denying as tnat dying soldier, falling in the ranks, when ha said: "Colonel, there is no need of those boys tiring themselves by carrying me to the hospital; let me die just where lam." So this younc man of whom I speak loves God, wants all the world to love him, is not ashamed to carry a bundle of clothes up that dark alley to the poor. Which of those young men do you admire the better? The one a sham, the other a prince imperial. Oh, do you know of anything, my hearer, that is more beautiful than to see a young man start out for Christ? Here is some ou? falling; he lifts him up. Hera is a vagabond UirM a mieniAn uuy , uo luuuuutn uim w ^ uiwivn -? Here is a family freezing to death; he carries them a scuttle of coal. There are eight hundred millions perishing in midnight heathen darkness; by all possible means he tries to send to them the Gospel. He mav be laughed at, and he may be sneered at and ho may bo caricatured, but he is not ashamed to go everywhere, saying: "I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. It is the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation." Such a young man can go through everything. There is no force on earth or in hell that can resist him. I show you threv spectacles. Spectacle the first: Napoleon passes by with the host that went down with him to Egypt, and up with him through Russia, and crossed the continent on the bleeding heart of which he sot his iron heel, and across the quivering flesh of which he wont grinding the wheels of his gun-carriages?in his dying moment asking his attendants to put on h:s military boots for him. Spootacle the second: Voltaire, bright and learned and witty and eloquent, with tongue and voice and stratagem infernal, warring against God and poisoning whole kingdoms with his infidelity, yet applauded by the clapping hands of thrones and empires and continents?his last words, in delirium supcfnu/lm^ Kw fVin 1 loHcirfp?his last words: "Crush tbat wretch!" Spectacle the third: Paul?Paul insignificant in person, thrust out from all refined association, scourged, spat on. hounded like a wild beast from city to city, yet trying to make the world good and heaven full: announcing resurrection to these who mourned at the barred gates of the dead; speaking consolations which light up the eyes of widowhood and orphanage and want with glow of certain and eternal releases: undaunted before those who could take his life, his cheek flushed with transport, and his eye on heaven; with one hand shaking defiance at all the foes of earth and ail the principalities of hell, and with the other hand beckoning messenger angels to ccrne and bear him away, as he says: "I am r.ow ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand; I have fought the good fight. I have finished my course. 1 have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me." Which of the three spectacles do you most aumire.* ? ami luo muu ui ueum uuu mc conqueror anil the infidel they were tossed like sea-gulls in a tempest, drenched of tho wave and torn of the hurricane, their dismal voices heard through the everlasting storm: but when the wave and the wind of death struck Paul, like an albatross, he made a throne of the tempest, and one day iloated away into the calm, clear summer of heaven, brighter than thedove, its wings covered with silver, and its feathers with yellow gold. Oh, are you not in love with such a religion ?a religion that can do so much for a man while he lives, and so much for a man when he come? to die.' I suppose you may have noticed the contrast between the departure of a Christian and the departure of an infidel. Deodorus, dying in chagrin because he could not compose a joke equal to the joke uttered at the other end of his table. Zeuxis, dying in a fit of laughter at the sketch of an aged woman?a sketch made by his own hand. Mazarin, dying playing cards, his friend holding his "hands because he was unable to ho!d them himself. All that on one side, compared with the departure of tho Scotch minister, who said to his friends: "I have no interest as to whether I live or die: if I die I shall be with the I.ord, and if I live the Lord shall be with me.'' Or tho last words of Washington: "It is well." Or the last words of Mcintosh, tba learned and the great, ' Happy!" Or the last word of Hannah M<re, "the Christian poetess: "Joy:" Or *.( *1 musw iiiuusnuu^ ui vuiioii.uio .. iiv have gone, saying: "Lord Jesus, receive inv spirit. Come. Lord -Jesus, como quiiklv." "O death! where is thy sting; O grave! where is thy victory:" Behold the contrast, Behold the charm of the one. behold the darkness of the other. Now, I know it )9 very popular in this day for young men to think there is something more charming in skepticism than in religion. They are ashamed of the old-fashioned religion of the cross, and they pride themselves on their iree thinking on ali these subjects. My young friends, I want to tell you what 1 know from observation that while skepticism is a beautiful land at the st irt, it is the great Sahara Desert atihe last. Years ago a minister's son went off from home to college. At college he formed the acquaintance of a young man whom I shall call Ellison. Ellison was an infidel. Ellison scoffed at religion, and the minister's son soon learned from him the infidelitv, and when he went home on his vacation broke his father's heart by his denunciation of.Christianity. Time passed j on and va'-ation came, and the minister's son went off to spend the vacation, and was on a journey and came to a hotel. The hotelkeeper said: "I am sorry that to night I shall have to put you in a room adjoining on<> where there is a very sick and dying man. I can give you 110 other accommodation." 'i 11. ? coirl t-.lirt vnnnsr oollesro student and minister's son, "that will make no difference to me. except the matter of sympathy with anybody th;it is suffering." The young man retired to his room, hut could not sleep. All night long he heard the groining of the sick man, or the step of the watchers, and his soul trembled. He thought to himself: "Now, there is only a thin wall between me and a departing spirit. How if Ellison should know how I feel? How if Ellison should lind out how my heart i'utters? What would Eliison say if he knew my skepticism gave way? He slept not. In the morning, coming down, he said to the hotol-keep;;r: "How is the sick man!" "Oh," said the hotel-keeper,"he is dead, poor fellow! The doctors told us he could not last through the night." "Well," said the young man, "what was the sick one's name; wh=re is he from.'" "Well,"' said the hotel-keeper." he is from Providence College.'1 "Providence College! what is his name?'' "Ellison." "Ellison!" Oh, how the young r-iau was stunned! It was his'old college mate?dead without any hope. It was many hours before the young man could leave that hotel. He got on his horse and started homeward, and all the way he heard something saying to him: "Dead! Lostl Dead! Lost!" He came to no satisfaction until heeutered the Christian life, until he. entered the Christian ministry, until he became one of the moat eminent mwsfonarla* ; . . - ' v, / of the cros3, the greatest Baptist missionary the world han ever seen since the days of Paul?no superior to Adonirara Judson. Mighty on earth,mighty in heaven?Adonirara Judson. Which do you like the best. Judson's skepticism or Judson's Chrtstian life? Judson's suffering for Christ's sake, Judson's almost martyrdom? Oh, young man, take your choice between these two kinds of live3. Your own heart tells you this morning the Christian life is luoro admirable, more peaceful, more comfortable and more beantifuL Oh, if religion does so much for a man on earth what wilt it do for him in heaven? That is the thought that comes to me now. If a soldier can afford to shout "Huzza!" when he goes into battle, how much more jubilantly he can afford to shoat "Huzza!:' when he has gained the victory! If religion is so good a thing to havo h?re, how bright a thing it will be in heaven; I want to see that young man when the glories of heaven have robed and crowned him. I want to hear him sing when all huskiness of earthly colds is gone, and he rises up with the great doxology. I want to know what standard he will carry when marching under arches of pearl in the army of banners. I want to know what company he will keep in a land whero ttoey are an Kings ana queens rorever ana ever. If I have induced one of .you this morning to begin a better life, then I want to know it. I may not in this world clasp hands with you in fr ion .I chin T mav not hear from vour own lips the story of temptation and sorrow, but I will clasp hands with 3*011 when the sea is passed and the gates are entered. T^int I might woo you to abetter life, and that I might show you the glories with which God clotues His dear children in heaven, I wish I could this morning swing back oae of the twelve gates that there might dash upon, your ear one shout of the triumph, that - there might flame upon your eves one blaze of the splendor. Oh,when 1 speak of that good land, you Involuntarily think of somo one there that you loved?father, mother, brother, ister. or dear little child garnered already. You want to know what they aro doing this morning. I will tell you what they are doing. Singing. You want to know what they wear. I will tell you what they wear. Coronets of triumph. You wonder why oft they loo'-c to the gate of the temple, and watch and wait. I will tell you why they watch and wait and look to the gate of the templa For your coming. I shout upward the news to-day, for I am sure some of you will repent and start for heaven. Oh, ye bright ones before the throne, your earthly friends are coming. Angels, posing mid-air, cry up the name. Gatekeeper of heaven, send forward the tidings. Watchman on the battlements celestial, throw the signal. "Oh," you say, "religion 1 am going to have; it is only a question of time.1' My lirnthftr. I am afraid that vou mav lose heaven the way Louis Phillippe lost his Empire. The Parisian mob came around the Tuileries. The National Guard stood in defense of the palace, and the commander said to Lou;s Phillippe: "Shall I fire now? Shall I order the troops to fire.' With one volley we can clear the place." "No," said Louis Phillippe. "not yet." A few minutes passed on, "and then Louis Phillippe, seeing the case was hopeless, said to the General: "Now is the time to fire." "No." said the General, "it is too late now; don't you see that the soldiers are exchanging arm3 with the citizens? It is toollate." Down went the throne of Louis Phillippe. Away from the earth went the House of Orleans, and all becauses the King said: "Not yet, not yet." May God forbid that any of you should adjourn this great subject of religion, and should postpone assailing your spiritual foes until it is too late?too late, you losing a throne in heaven the way that Louis Philippe lost a throne on earth. " When the Judge descends In might, Clothed in niajeety and lleht. When the earth ohatl quake with fear. Where, O where, wilt thou appear?" POPULAR SCIENCE. Cne hundred bushels of com are about equal to a cord of wood as fuel. All the scientists will assert that it would take a cannon ball only eight days to reach the moon. William Murdock, of England,^ discovered the use of combustible air, or gas, about the close of the last century. There are localities where the annual rainfall i3 eaual to six hundred inches, and the average over the whole earth is nearly sixty inches. An Indianapolis druggist has discovered a poison so powerful that a quantity of its vapor will kill every living thing on an acre of ground. Charcoal is recommended as an absorber of gases in the milk room where foul gases are present. It should be freshly powdered and kept there continually. To cure deafness, take two-thirds British oil and one-third of laudanum. Shake well before using. Put two diops twice a day in the ear, but once a day if it makes you dizzy. Various compositions have been employed for making leather water proof by filling up the minute pores. A simple and readily made composition is composed of two parts of tallow and one of rosin, applied while hot. Yellow beeswax, Burgundy pitch, turpentine, and linseed oil are also much used for this purpose, and by some persens preferred to the tallow and rosin. An ingenious plan for testing the condition m horses' fpet is under tonsidera tion by New York blacksmiths. one terminal of a battery giving a light current is attached to the animal's bit and the other to the shoe. If the horse suffers from the shoe or nailshe will squirm under the test. If there is no irritation it will pay no attention to it. A little electrical science in the blacksmith shops would locate mu-.-h suffering. Guarding the Graves of .Millionaires. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," said a well-dressed, active-iookinir young New York busiuess man the other day. "Now, it may sound strange to yon, but the robbery of Stewart's body has been of great benefit to me and a great many other people whom I could name." 4,In what way?" inquired the friend to whom the rcrairk was addressed. ' Well, it opened up an entirely new line of busine-s and created a demand for my goods in a quarier that 1 had never thought of before. You know I manufacture electrical watch clocks, designed lor use in factories and other large buildings where watchmen are employed. "Well, ever since the Stewart rrrfivii robberv there has been a demand O *1 for those watch clocks in every part of the country lor use iu cemeteries. The grave of nearly every rich or public man is protected in some such way, and I could tell you of graves that are watched night and day by private watchmen. "There's Yanderbilt's grave, for instance, down in the big manusoleum on Staten Island. I sold them two of my electrical clocks, one of which is placed inside the tomb and the other outside of it. Every fifteen minutes each clock is visited by a Pinkerton detective, two of whom are con-tantly on guard. One of these detectives patrols outside the tomb, while the oth.>r is locked iu and sits behind the iion bars with a loaded repeating rille on hU knees ready for instant use. It would be next to impossible for any robber to get away with the remains of William II. Vanderbilt so long as it i3 protected as it is now. The Pinkerton men are hired by the year, and there is quite a little colony of them established down there on Statcn Island very near the mausoleum. I think they keep eight or ten there ail the time, so that those on duty at the grave are relieved at frequent intervals and are therefore not liable to fall asleep at their po3ts. It costs more to look after the old man now that he's dead than is spent by most men when they're alive." .'iiAHit"-', . s TEMPERANCE. The Result of Temperance. Jack Sprat would drink no beer, And his wife would drink no brandy, between them both There was a loaf, And meat and butter handy. Says Jack, "If I drank, I'd have nothing in the bank, And be uoor as tippling Sandy." The Old Alan's Lt-ctnre. I shall never forget the commencement ofc the temperance reform. I was a child at the time, about ten years of age. Our home had every comfort, and my parents idolized me. Wine was often on the table, and both my father and my mother frequently gave it to me m me oottom ot iuu niu?>. uuo uuuuaj, at church, there was a startling announcement made to our people. I knew nothing of its import, but there was much whispering among the men. The pastor said that on the next evening there would be a temperance meeting, and an address upon the evils of intemperance in the use of alcohoiic drinks. He expressed himself ignorant of the meeting, aud could not say what course would be best to pursue. The subject of the meeting came up at the table after the service, and I questioned my father about it with all the curious eagerness of a child. The whisper and words which had been dropped in my hearing clothed the whole affair in great mystery to me, and I was all eagerness to learn of this same strange thing. My father said it was some scheme to unite Church and State. The night came, and troops of people gathered on the tavern steps, and I hoard the jest and lau?h, and saw drunken men reeling out of the bar-room. I urged my father to let me go, but he refused. Finally thinking it would be an innocent gratification of my curiosity, he put on his hat and passed across the green to the church. I remember well how all the people appeared as they came in, seeming to wonder what kind of an exhibition was to come off. In the corner was the tavern-keeper, and around him a number of friends. For an hour the people of the place continued coming in, until there was a house fulL All were curiously watching the door wondering what would next appear. The pastor stole in and took his seat behind a pillar under the gallery, as if doubtful of the propriety of being there at all. Two men finally came in and took their seats near the altar. All eyes were fixed upon them, and a great stillness prevaded the house. The men were unlike in appearance, one being short and thick in build, the other tall ov?i TTi? vniinrsp had tha man ner and dress of a clergyman, a full round face, and "quiet, good natured look, as he leisurely looked around the audience. But my childish interest was all in the old man, with his broad, deep chest and unusual height; looking giant-like, as he strode up the aisle. His hair was white, his brow deeply seamed with furrows, and around his handsome mouth lines of calm and touching sadness. His eye was black and restless, and kindled as the tavern keeper uttered a low jest aloud. His lips were compressed, and a crimson flush came and went over his pale cheek. One arm was off above the elbow, and there was a wild scar over his right eye. The younger arose and stated the object of the meeting, and asked if there was a clergyman present to open with prayer. Our pastor kept his seat, and the speaker himself made a short prayer, and then made a short address, at the conclusion calling upon any one present to make remarks. The pastor arose under the gallery and attacked the position of the speaker, using the argument I have often heard since, and concluded by denouncing those engaged in the new movement as meddlesome fanatics, who wished to bar up the time-honored usage? of good society, and injure the business of respectable men. At the conclusion of his remarks, the tavern-keeper and his friends got up a cheer, and the current of feeling was evidently against the strangers and their plan. While the pastor was speaking the old man had fixed his dark eyes upon him, and leaned forward as if to catch every word. As the pastor took his seat, tho old man arose,his tall form towering in its symmetry, and his chest swelling as he inhaled his 1 *U?./v..nrl? V?!o thin slilotxk/l tinofrilc UreULIl UlIUU^U UIO VIIIU, wv? *.w. To me at tno time there was something aweinspiring anil grand in the appearance of the old man, as he stood with his full gaze upon the audience, his teeth shut hard, ami a silence like that of death throughout the church. He bent his eye upon the tavernkeeper, and that peculiar eye lingered and kindled for half a moment. The scar grew red upon his forehead, and beneath the heavy eyebrows his eyes glittered and glowed like those of a serpent. The tavernkeeper quailed before the searching glance, and I felt a relief when the old man withdrew his gaze. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, and then in a low and tremulous tone commenced. There wa9 depth in that voice, a thrilling pathos and sweetness, -which riveted every heart in the house before the first period had been sounded. My father's attention had I ecome fixed on the speaker with an interest which I had never before seen him exhibit. 1 can but brielly remember the substance of what the old man said though the scene was vivid before me as any that I ever witnessed. "My friends, I am a stranger in your village, and I trust I may call you friends. A new star has arisen, and there is hope in the dark night which bancs like a pall of gloom over our country." With a thrilling depth of voice the speaker continued: "O God, Thou who lookest with compassion upon the moat erring of earth's children, 1 thank Thee that a brazen serpent has been lifted, upon which the druuken cm look and be helped; that a beacon has burst out upon the darkness that surrounds him, which shall guide back to honor and heaven the bruised and weary wanderer." It is strange what power there is in some voices. The speaki r was slow and unmoved, but a tear trembled in every eye, nnd before I knew why, a tear dropped upon my hand, followed by others, like raindrop. The old man brushed ono from his own eyes, and coil tiDueu: ' Men and Christians, you havo just heard that I am a vacant and funatic. I am not. As God knows my own sad heart, I came here to do good. Henr nie and be just: I amran old man, standing alone at thf end of life's journey; there is deep sorrow in iny heart and tears in my eyes. I have journeyed over a dark and beaconless ocean, and all life's hopes have been wrecked. 1 am without home, friends or kindred upon earth, and look with longing to the rest of the nisht of death, without friends, kindred or home! It was not so once!" No one could withstand the touching pathos of the old man. I noticed a tear trembling on the lid of my father's eye and I was no more ashamed of my own. "No myifriends, it was not so once! Away over the dark wave3 which have wrecked my hopes, there is a blessed light of happiness and home; I reach again convulsively for the shrines of the household idols, thai onco were?now mine no more." The old man seemed looking through fancy upon some bright vision, his lips aparl and finger extended. I involuntarily turned in the direction where it pointed, dreading tf> see some shadow invoked by its movements. "1 once had a mother. With her heart crushed with sorrow she went down to the grave. I once had a wile?as fair a woman as ever smiled in an earthly home, her eye? as mild as a summer sky. and her heart at faithful and true as ever guarded nnd cherished a husband's love. Tier eyes grew dim as the Hoods of sorrow wnsliO'i nwc.y their brightness, nnd tlie loving heart was broken. I once had a noble. ?< brave and beautiful boy, but lie was driven out from the ruins of bis home, an 1 my heart yearns to know if he yet lives. I onei! hadal>abe?a sweet, smiling babe, but my hand destroyed it, and it lives with the One who loves ohiMren. Do rot bo stnrtled, friends! lam not a murderer in the common acceptation of the term. Yet there is a light in my evening sky. A spirit mother re .joices over the return of her prodigul sou "i lie wife smiles upon him who again turn? back to virtuo and honor. Tin child angel visits me at night-fall, nnd 1 fed the SJlowed touch of a tiny palm upon my fe,-erij..'i I cheek. -My boy if he yet lives, would forgivo the sorrowing old mnn for his treatment which drove him into the world, and the blow which maimed him lor life. God for give me for the ruin I have brought upon ;n? and mine." He again wiped a tear from his eye. father watched him with a strange interest, and a countenance unusually pale, and ex cited by some stranze emotion. "I was once a fanatic, and followed the malign light which led me to ruin. 1 was a fanatic when I 'sacrificed my wife, children, happiness and home to the accursed demon of the bowl. I was a drunkard. From respectability and affluence I plunged into degradation and poverty. I dragged my famijy down with ma I left wife and children amid the wreck of their home idols, and rioted ad the tavern. They never complained, yet they were hungry for bread. One New Year's night I returned late to the hut where charity had given us a home. Mary was up and shivering, over the coals. I demanded food, but she burst into tears, and told me there was none. I fiercely ordered her to get some. She turned her eyes sadly upon me, the tears falling over her pale cheeks. At this time the babe in the cradle awoke and sent up a famishing wail, startling the despairing mother like a serpent's sting." "We have no food, James. I have had none for several days. I have nothing for the babe. Must we starve:" "The sad, pleading face, and those streaming eyes, and the feeble wail of the child maddened me, and I, yes I?struck Mary a fierco blow in the face and she fell forward upon the earth. The furies of hull boiled in my bosom, and with deeper intensity as I felt I had committed a wrong. - I bad never struck Mary before: but now some terrible impulse bore me on, and I stooped as well as I could in my drunken state, and clutched both hands in her hair.' "God of mercy, James," exclaimed Mary, as she looked up into my fiendish countenance, "you will not kill us; you will not harm Willie?'and she sprang to tho cradle and grasped him to her embrace. I caught her utroin liv t.hn hnir jmd (lr?fr?rod her to the door. As I lifted tho latch, the wind burss in with a cloud of snow. With the yell of a fiend I still dragged her on, and hurried her out in the storm. With a wild ha! ha! I closed the door and turned the button, her pleading moaus mingling with the wails of the blast and sharp cry of her babe. But my work was not complete. I turned to the little bed where lay my elder son, and snatched him from his slumbers; and against his half awakened struggles, opened the door end thrust tim out. In the agony of fear he called to me by a name 1 was no longer fit to bear, and locked bis fingers into my pocket. I could not wrench that frenzied grasp away, and with the coolness of a devil as I was.shut the door upon his arm, and with my knife severed it at the wrist." Tho speaker ceased a moment, and buried his face in his hands, as if to shut out some fearful dream, and bis deep chest heaved like a storm-swept sea. My father had arisen from his seat ana was leaning forward, his countenance bloodless, the large drops standing out upon his brow. Chills crept back to my young heart.and I wished I was at home. The old man looked up, and I never since beheld such mortal agony pictured upon a human face as there was on his. "It was morning when I awoke, and the storm had ceased, but the cold was intense. I first secured a drink of water, and looked in the accustomed place for Mary. As I missed her for the first time, a shadowy sense of some horrible nightmare began to dawn upon my wandering mind. I thought 1 had a fearful dream, but I involuntarily opened the outside door with shuddering dread. As the door opened the snow burst in, followed by the fall of something across the threshold, scattering the snow, and striking the floor with a sharp, hard sound. My blood shot through my veins, and I rubbed my eyes to keep out the sight. It was?oh, God, horrible! It was Mary and her babe, frozen to ice. The ever true mother had bowed herself over the child to shield it, her ct-arlr onil h?r? tn th? storm. She had placed her hair over the face of the child, ana the sleet had frozen it to the white cheek. The frost was white upon its halfopened eyes, and upon its tiuy fingers. I know not what became of my brave boy.'' Again th6 oJd man bowed and wept, and all that were in the house wept with him. In tones of love and heart-broken pathos, the old man concluded: "I was arrested, and for months raved in delirium. I awoke, was sentenced to prison for ten years; but no torture could have been like those I endured in my own bosom. Oh, God, no! I am not a fanatic! I wish to injure no one. But while I live, let me strive to warn others not to enter the path which has been so dark a ojh to me." The old man sat ilown, but a spell as deep and strong as some wizard s breath rested | upon the audience. Hearts could have been hoard in their beating, and tears to fall. The old man tnen asked tho people to sign the pledge. My father leaped and snatched at it eagerly. I had followed him, and as he hesi| tated a moment, with pen in the ink, a tear fell from the old man's eye on the paper. My j father wrote "Mortimer Hudson." The old I man looked, wiped his tearful eyes, and looked again, his countenance alternately flushed with a death-like paleness. "It is?no, it cannot be; how strange," muttered the oW man. "Pardon me, sir, but that was the name of my brave boy." My father trembled, and held up the left | arm, from which the left hand had been severed, lneynom iweaiur&iuumcuu m each other's eyes, an 1 reeled and gasped. "My own injured son!" "My father!" They fell upon each other's neck and wept, and it seemed that their souls would grow and mingle into one. There was weeping in that church, and sad faces around me. "Let me thank God for this great blessing which has gladdened my guilt-burdened soul?" exclaimed the old man; and kneeling down, he poured out his heart in one of the most meltmg prayers I ever heard.?Musical UUlio n. Temperance News and Notes. Liquor bills are often paid at the lunatic asylum. In Russia, last year, 80,000 dram shops were dono away with by law. The United Kinedom Band of Hope Union is raising a fund of ten thousund pounds for promoting temperance teaching in day schools. The Presbyterian Syno 1 of Tennessee has passed a resolution favoring the suppression of^the manufacture and silo of intoxicating liquors by prohibitory laws. In tho National Temperance Hospital neither medicate'", pills nor tinctures with alcoholic basis are us 3d. Remedies are prepared in aqueous extracts or saccharated powders. A Temperance Temple has been built in San Diego County, California, at an expense of SfSUUO. Saloons within three miles of the building have been prohibited by the city council. It is alleged in the Congo country, Central Africa, there are seventy thousand gallons of rum to every missionary, and one hundred drunkards to every convert to Christ. Under the influence of intoxicating liquors sent from Massachusetts two hundred natives were killed by their fellows in a single day. Dr. Joseph Parker, in a sermon denouncing the Whitochapel murders, ou'ls attention to that other and more terrible, slow murder of women go.ug on all over the world. As to condemning tho criminal he pertinently asks if we bad not better consider how far wo are responsible for his creation by running profits so low as to drive young nien to gambling hv Ciirrntinrliiirr them with legalized drinking places, yet fining them for drinking, j English Grammar iu Rhyme. The following verses, written by Mr. Buchanan, Librarian to the Legislative j Council of Cnpc Colony, Mass., form what is undoubtedly the shortest English grammar published:? I. Three little words you often see Are articles a, an and the. II. A noun's the name of anything. As school or garden, hc-op or swing. III. Adjectives teii the kind of noun. As great, small, pretty, white or brown. IV. Instead of nouns the pronouns stand? His head, her face, your anu, my haud. V. Verbs tell something to he done? To read, count, lau^h, sing, jump or ruu. VI. How things are done the adverbs toll, As slowly, quickly, ill or welL VIL Conjunctions join tho words together, As men ami women, wind and weather. VIII. Tho preposition stan-ls before The noun, as in, or through, tho door. , IX. The interjection shows surprise. As Oh! how pretty. Ah! how wise. i The whole are called nine parts of speech, Which reading, writing, speaking teach. In Lapland tho test of oratory is ' seeing who can rattle off the most ' words without stopping to draw a * breath, and the women knock the men j out almost in every case. If that was J the test among Americans we should have better Fourth of July speaking. 3 RELIGIOUS READING. God Known by Loving Him. 'Tfs not the skill of human art, Which gives me power my God to know; The sacred lessons of the heart Come not from instruments below. Love is my teacher. He can tell The wonders that he learnt above; No other master knows so well;? Tis love alone can tell of love. Oh. then, of God if thou wouldst learn, His wisdom, goodness, glory see; All human arts and knowledge spurn; Let love alone thy teacher be 1 Love is my master. "When it break? The morning light, with rising ray, To thee, O God, my spirit wakes, And love instructs it all the day. And when the gleams of day retire, And midnight spreads its dark control, Love's secret whispers still inspire Their holy lessons in the soul. 3Iy Father's Business. Are you "about your Father's business?" Very likely you would say, "I do not know wh:it it means." See what it meant for the Lord Jesus, and then you will see what it means for you. When he said these words he was in the Temple "hearing and asking questions." . You are going to God's temple today; will you do as Jesus did? Not ait thinking about all sorts of things,and watching the people and wondering when it will be over; but really hearing and watching to see what your heavenly Father will say to you. There is sure to be some message from bim to you tcday, if you will only listen for it. Do you not wonder what it will be? and will it not be a pity if you do not hear it, but miss it because you forget to listen to it? And have you not any questions to ask. Not of learned doctors, but of Jesus Christ himself i He who once asked questions in the Jewish temple now answers many a question in His own temple. Think what you would like to ask Him about, and if they are right questions He will answer them. Might you not ask him today to tell how you too can be about His Father's business? When St. Paul said, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" the Lord told him one thing at a time, and Eromised to tell him what else as soon as he ad done that. So if you go this day to God's house, and thus do one thing which He wants you to do, you are sure, if you listen, to hear something else which He wants you to do when vou couie awav.?[Frances Ridley Haveigal "Come Unto Me." What kind, sweet words are these! Jesus says them to you. "How am I to know?" Weil, they are for every one that is weary and heavy laden. Do not you know what it is to be weary and tired sometimes? Perhaps you know what it is to feel almost tired of trying to be good?weary with wishing that you could be better. So, you see, it is to you that he says "Come!" And if you have not yet come, you are heavily laden, too, even if you do not feel it, because the burden of sin is heavy enough to sink you down into hell, unless Jesus takes it from you. So it is to you that he says, 'Come." And lest you should th nk that he says it to grown-up people only, he said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me." Are you a little child? Then it is to you that he says "Come!" "If He were here, and if I could see Him, 1 should like to come." He is here, as really and truly as you are. Suppose your mother and you were in a dark room together, and she said, "Come to me!" you would not stop to say, "I would come if I could see you." You would say, "I am coming, mother!" and you would soon feel your way across the room, and be safe by her side. Not seeing her would not make any difference. Jesus calls you now, this very duy. He is here, in this very room. Now, will you not say, "Iam coming, Lord Jesus," anil at>k him to'stretch out his hand and help you to come, and draw you quite close to himself, the blessed, beloved Lord Jesus,who loved you and gave himself for you, who has waited so patiently for you, who calls you because he wants you to come and be his own little lamb, and be taken up in his arms and blessed. Will you not "Come?" Tho Captive. It is a well known f wet that certain mountainous regions in modern Greece are infested by desperate bands of robburs. They profess to wage a ceaseless war against the Turks, but they are only engaged in oppressing the weak. They have adopted a barbarous code of laws for their own government, and look upon the surrounding country as their natural inheritance. They visit the unprotected, and plunder the helpless without mercy. They often capture citizens, and if a ransom is not paid for them on demand, the unfortunate prisoners are cruelly tortured and put to death. A few years ago a peasant was captured by these brigands, and carried into one of the mountainous strongholds. At the suggestion of the chief, he wrote a letter to his friends informing them of his perilous condition and the amount that must be paid for his deliverance. They were unable to raise the sura demanded, and the unhappy man was left to perish. After waiting a few days for the expected ransom, the robbers assembled in council and decided that the prisoner must die. According to their custom, they drew lots as to which one should perform the execution, and it fell on the chief,who ever delighted in acts of cruelty. He disregarded the entreaties of the unfortunate, appointed a place and com pelied mm to dig ms own grave, no swvu i impatiently watching the helpless victim as I lie toiled at his unpYe?>sant task, and when I the work was done, he prepared to strike the fatal blow. "Mercy!" exclaimed the prisoner, "mercy! have mercy!" "Our laws admit no mercy." "Spare me," pleaded the trembling captive: "I have a wife and children." "Ransom or death!" exclaimed the chief. "Set me free," continued the captive, in an agonizing tone, "and I will pay the sum demanded." "Ycu are a beggar," said the chief, delighted at the torture his words inflicted. "I will work and raise the money." "No, you must die," said the unfeeling wretch, as he raised the knife to plunge it into bis vitals. A voice suddenly arrested tfce uplifted weapon, and a robber advanced, followed by Salee, a well-known citizen, whom the prisoner had long hated and considered his worst enemy. "I have sacrificed my cattle," said Salee, addressing the peasant, "and paid the ransom. You have injured me without causo when I was your best friend. Now you are redeemed from death, and I only ask your love in return." The prisoner was astonished at such an unexpected favor. He begged Salee's pardon for bis ltumerous offences, and wept many tears of gratitude. A multitude now living in tuis worm are willing captives of Satan, and do not seem I to realize their wretched condition. They are unable to escape from the hard task- j master, and are digging their own graves. ! They have insulted their best friend, and are j exposed to eternal death. The ransom is j paid, but they must perish or accept it on i the terms of the gospel. A Franco-English Hill of Fare. A Boston man publishes in the Transcript the following copy of a bill of fare in a little inn in Sevres, France. The proprietor had done his viands in French ! and then in Knglish for the convenience j of his English-reading patrons, with the j following result: Uno potage seul. Basin of soup alone. Potato aux croutons. Peas soup with [ crust of brea 1. Hiz a la Turque. Rice at the Turkish j manner. Potage a la reine. Soup at the queen. Kurn steack. (Not translated.) Une cote;ette the mouton. One muttons chou- ^ Beef steack aux pommos sautes, ueec 1 3teack with the tumbled potatoes. Lobsters were served "with sharp sauce," at prices varying "aoeordinz the bigness." Bishop Vladimir, of the Greek Church in America, has the largest Jiocese in the world. It includes all Df North America to Buenos Ayres, in South America. The Bishow lives in Sitka, but spends a good deal of his time in San Francisco. is now visiting his North American diocese. $ '' T v;*':W~ /.' ' ,:'<?! ; ; ;:;/ ill King Ja Ja in Exile. King Ja Ja, the deposed West African monarch, who was captured some six fe months ago by the marines of the British man-of-war Icarus, is still a prisoner nn tlm Tolnnfl nf St. Vincent, in tne West Indies, where the Icarus landed him. Judging by the report recently brought in by a gentleman arriving on s West India steamer, the royal exile is having a pretty good time, though he pines occasionally for the companionship of the sixty or more wives left behind him in his late kingdom of Opopo. Ja Ja, it will be remembered, was accused of breaking a certain treaty with England. He purchased a couple of Krupp guns, it is said, and began >. % to make preparations to blow any "blawsted" Britisher who trespassed on his territory to 'kingdom come." He was induced by British Consul General Johnson to pay a visit to the Consulate at the mouth of the River Opopo for the alleged purpose of arranging matters. He was surrounded by marines, and almost before he knew it he was on board a prisoner.) f"r& He still vigorously protests that he was not guilty of violating any treaty between his country and England, but ha has grown more resigned to his exile. "Her Majesty," continued my informant, "has presented the King with a rear admiral's uniforn, and he struts . r around in it as proud as a peacock. "Governor Llewellen has treated h:m * very kindly, and King Ja .la bas been furnished with a pleasant residence in Kingstown. Every day he rides out in style accompanied by a mounted orderly. He is also said to have become a great fur/\rito in 'onnintr 1 onrl Vio r\ffun H1 npa at the Government House, where his broken English is listened to with great interest. ' The colored people of Kingstown treat the monarch with a great cleal of v ^ respect. His Royal Highness has a very careless habit of leaving jewelry scattered around loose in his apartment. It is related that a short time ago while King Ja Ja was enjoying a dinner at the Government House, a telegraph message announced the capture of a big black girl In the King's lodging. Ja Ja on hearing it jumped up and at once yelled through the instrument a request for the immediate release of the girl. "The latest news concerning the King is that he has finally induced his favorite wife to join him, and that she is now on her way to St. Vincent, from Liverpool, where she arrived some time ago. Her name, I believe, is Patience, and she is is said to be about eighteen years of age, and a very plump creuture, with an inclination to stoutness. She is not entirely black, and can, I understand, speak a little English. With her is her little brother, who will be one of the King's household."?New York Herald. An Infant Raised on Nicotine. Winchester probably possesses the youngest smoker in the State, if not in the whole country. His name is Wallace Lochridge and he is one year and ten months old. He will smoke a pipe or cigar with as much ease and apparent comfort as a confirmed smoker of adult years. He craves tobacco, and indulgence in the weed never makes him sick. Young Wallace has smoked ever since he was a year old, his father says, and the habit is evidently growing on him. Your correspondent saw the "baby" puffing away at a pipe in front of his father's livery stable this morning, and the little fellow seemed to relish the ? narcotic immensely and greatly enjoy the great wreaths of smoke issuing from his tiny lips. He seems to havo a natural appetite for tobacco, and cries if deprived of a smoke. He is an unusually bright and intelligent child, is fine looking, stout and robust, and is assuredly a wonder. A crowd collected in front of his , ;father's office, attracted by the little one puffing away delightedly at the old and ? * ? anil mnoVi anmrlcA U1CUI/IUc-ouoacu auu uiucu out and wonder were evinccd at the infant's singular performance. This is certainly a remarkable case, and an unusual instance of pervated taste in one so young. There is no hoax about this matter. Your correspondent is well acquainted with the boy, has seen him smoking at different times, as have also others here, and know3 there is no humbug about it. The parents of the child are well known and highly respected people, and they are at a loss to account for the baby's extraordinary passion for the seductive weed. ? Chattanooga (_Term.) News. -r ? Working l'ower of Nations. The American Financier says: In a very instructive paper, read recently by 3Ir. M. Mulhall, before the British Association, in session at Bath, England, it was shown that in every one of the three principal sources of power?man, horse and steam?the United States ex ceeas me leading shuuus ui j-mupc. . Mr. Mulhall presented the following table, showing the aggregate energy of the pricipal nations in millions offfoot tons daily: Cm>itrir.f. Hand. JJnrtr. Steam. Total. United States....x,4.=0 o3,(KX) 4$, 400 89,450 United Kingdom.5,^00 8,700 :W,9tJ0 52,950 France 5,000 $,*>00 16, ISO 30,:Jrl0 Germany (5,9:30 10,500 19,SOU 37,1330 In round numbers the working power of the United States is three times as great as that of' France, two and onehalf times a3 great a? that of Germany, one and two-thirds times as great as that of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, aud equal to that of the two greatest of the older nations combine i. Mr. Mulhall thinks the unparalleled growth of the I nited States has only begun, as he says at present the increase of industry, energy and wealth goes on unabated. The next census in t IS! 0 will probably show a population of G(:,000,000, with an aggregate energy of 100,000,000 of foot tons daily, and an accumulated wealth of $?o,oue, U00,000, figures never before applicable to any nation in the world. If Worked Just As Wei'. A prominent New York physician re late* an amusing incident of his practice as showing how great is the forcc of imagination. A lady injured the bull of one of her feet, by striking it ajjainst a curb. The bruise was scve:e and she feared cancer. Upon her visiting her physician, he told her to paint the bruise with iodine, and not use the foot. She went away content, and upon reaching home took a bottle from a cabinet and painted her foot. The stain was brown and sat sfactorily unpleasant to look at. The following day she felt so much better that she called ag<*in on the physician to have him make a final e.\?mination of the bruise. When he saw the stain he exclaimed: "Why, Madam, what have you on your loot?'' "Iodine, doctor," was the confident reply. The physician adv'sed her to return home and get the bottle containing the iodine and bring it to him. She searched for the bottle, and niscovered to her intense discomfiture that it was labeled: "Cholera mixture." Its adin n stratiou was efticaciom, however. w