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THE LEWISTO N TELLER.
CAUL A. FOKKBMAN, K dit or and Prop LEWISTON. s ! IDAHO. It is strange how last American rifles have rid the new world of the larger carnivora. Within the last fifty years wolves and bears have entirely disappeared from hundreds of thou sands of squaro miles where they once were as numerous us rabbits. Sitting Bull is described as a drunkard, a libertine, a habitual liar— a man utterly devoid of one decent trait of character. The old rascal could hardly have turned out worse bad he 6peut all his life at the popu lous centers of civilized white men. The hot lands can never boast of the highest grade of health. The av erage length of life is greater in Nor way than in any other country in Europe. This is attributed to the fact that the temperature is so generally uniform, and it is cool throughout the year. _ The enterprising people of Australia propose to celebrate the centennial of the first settlement on their island by fitting out an expedition to explore the Aatarctic pole. All the Austra lian provinces, it is said, will con tribute to the great enterprise, and several wealthy mon have offered | largo sums of money. It has long been the facetious custom of mankind to attribute all perversity of temper and dejection of spirit otherwise not explainable to the condition of ones' liver. Now arises a now prophet, who dcolares that this same long-sufforing and over worked portion of the physical being is to blame for the decadence of natural golden hair. A man has with him a working pump called his heart, a working bellows called his lungs, a working vat called his stomach, a working condenser called bis brain and a working evap orator called his skin, all of which must be ut work whether he will or not The he irt is expending over his body day by day, 122 foot-tons of work. He will go on lifting so many millions ,of tons in so many years. If he meet with no accident the time wilt come when his lust stroke will be finished and he will die. In this age of materialism there is but little room for belief in the old jheroes and in the stories of their he roic deeds which have been a delight and an inspiration to past generations. Historical iconoclusta have pulled down many of the world's idols from the pedestals on which they have stood to loug, or else have striven to show that they were only figures of cofnmon clay; and we have been asked to sur render Sir William Wallace. William Toll, Joan of Arc, Jessie Brown of Lucknow, and all the heroic figures that crowd the Walhalla of the ages, to the domain of legend and imagina tion. Princeton stands second to none of our American colleges la the part her graduates have played in the general history of the United States. Her roll of fame is long in proportion to her numbers. She has given her country nine of the fifteen college graduates who sat in the constitutional conven tion, one president, two vice presidents, four justices of the supreme court— one a chief justice—fivo attorney generals., and fifteen other cabinet officers, twenty-eight governors of states, a hundred and. seventy-one senators and congressmen, a hundred and thirty-six judges, forty-three col lege presidents, and a hundred and seventy-five professors. It is likely that in every country there are many persons who would ex change life for gold, providing they could receive the compensation a con siderable time in advance of deliver ing themselves up to do ith. The number of suicides in our own and other countries show how many think that life is not worth living. If a premium were offered the number of suicides would increase. Money will kempt persons to engage in the most perilous pursuits. The compensation of soldiers is generally much smaller than that of persons engaged in peace ful pursuits that are not attended by danger, but at the commencement of a war there are always voluutecrs enough. ______ It has been shown that it is not only possible for the bypootizer to reduce his subject absolutely to his will at a certain time when the force is in operation, but that at aur subsequent, time its influence can be revived and the subject involuntarily be compelled to perform acts willed originally per haps six months or a year before by the bypnotizer. The vista that is thus opened is simply boundless. A con scienceless specialist practicing hyp notism would have at his meroy all persons susceptible to this elusive power. One man might bo induced to will his property away unjustly and to make the will at a distance from the hypnotiser and years after the hypnotism had been effected; the vic tim himself might honestly believe and maintain that the unjust act was the ▼oiurtary doing of an unbiased and hw agent I | - BIS I NHERI TANCE. Two gentlemen, both past middle age, were seated beside a glowing grate-fire, chatting as old friends will, who have met after a long separation. The hour was late, nearly midnight, but no sign of weariness was on either face. The room was a library, with well-filled book-cases on all sides, a large business-like table in the center, and deeply cushioned chairs scattered about One book case contained only medical works in substantial bindings, and with murks of service plainly visible. Dr. Thornton, host and owner of the handsome house in which the room was situated, was a man past forty, with iron-gray hair, strongly marked features, a tall, erect figure, and an expression at once kindly and resolute. You read prompt decision in his dnrlc-bluo eyes, and a sympathy in the pleasant smile that often cross ed his lips. His companion, heavily bearded and bronzed by travel, was a far hand somer man, but with a weaker face. "At last," he said, stretching him self lazily in his deep arm chair, "I find you alone and disengaged. Give me permission to stuff a towel into that obtrusive office-bell of yours, so that no whining woman or squalling brat can summon you away and make me unhappy." "Can't be done, Tom. Make the I most of mo now, for the claims of the whining women and the squalling bruts cannot be denied." "You know what I want to hear. I left you, twelve years ago, a poor man with u struggling, almost wholly gra tuitious practice, a sworn bachelor, and almost a hermit outside of your professional duties. I find you wealthy, with, a charming wife, and a popular member of society, and yet your prac tice is, as before, almost entirely amongst those who could not fee you if they would. From what relative, unknown to me, your own cousin, did you iuherit your fortune?" "Did it ever occur to you, Tom, that there are Romances h: real life, all about us, quite as improbable as those found upon the shelves of tho circulating library? My experience will convince you that I speak with authority. Twelve years ago—wo are getting old Tom!— I was, as you say, a poor man, studying hard, living in a stuffy little house in a poor neigh borhood, hoping for better times, more profitable practice and a fuller purse. I was a bachelor bocauso I could afford only poverty to a wife; a hermit becauso my studies wero en grossing. In my small house I kept ope old woman servant, who cooked for me and kept things tidy. Having no carriage I needed no boy, for Mar tha could write, aud I had a much larger office practice than that outside. "It was late, one bitter night in January, whon I was rousod by the office bell, and the shout Of excited voices under my window. Hastening down I found several men carrying upon a shutter the unconscious putieut I was to aid if possible. " 'An old man, sir, knocked down by runaway horses, and run over,' ■aid one of the party, as they gently deposited their burden upon a sofa. "Badly hurted. I'm thinking, doctor, but not dead!' , "Badly hurt, indeed, I found him, and my examination convinced me that any further motion would result fatally. Keep him I must or risk his life by removal to a hospital. With the assistance of two of the men, I undressed him and put hitp into my own bed, noticing then that he wore no coat " 'Somebody took it off!' they told me, and apparently somebody kept it as it never appeared again. In tho trousers pockets were only some trilling articles, a bunch of keys and a handkerchief, but nothing to give any clew to the identity of u>y patient and uninvited guest "I will not enter into the details of the injuries that excited my interestas a physician and surgeon as much as they called for my sympathy as u man. There wero complications in tho case that called upon all my skill and knowledge, and the patient endur tnee of great suffering made me respect ray unfortunate guest from the first "It was nearly a fortnight before ho recovered from tho brain injury suffi ciently to speak distinctly. When the sufferer could speak he told me his name was Fanshawe. but said nothing more of himself, and I supposed him unwilling to confess to poverty and the inability to pay me for my services. "I do not take much credit to my self for my hospitality or devotion, be cause I was so deeply interested in the 'case,' professionally considered that I would have lived on broad and water rather than have it taken out of my hunds. As he became stronger, my patient became my friend, and inter ested mo deeply by the vnriotv and depth of his information, his experi ence of travel and charm of conversa tion. "Not until he was convalescent, and had been an iumute of my house for lour months, did I know that he was a man of wealth, living lu the hosue I now occupy. "To cure him was beyond human skill, but through two years I at tended him. alleviating great suffer ing, and often accepting his Invitation to 'sperm) an hour or two with a lonelv CU man.' ^Then he died he left me his entire fortune, which I supposed to bo mine only bocauso he had no direct heirs or near relatives. He hud never spoken but once of his family, and then said briefly that ho was a wid ower, and had lost his only child. "I had eujoyed my inheritance for more than nine years, when I fell in love. I, who had never cared for female society before, became deeply attached to the mother of one of my patients, a lady nearly my own age, tho widow of an artist who died in Rome some four or five years before I met her. She had sent for me to see her boy, an only child, slowly dying with an incurable disease of the spine. "Mrs. Eastvvell know before she saw me that there was no hope of saving the child's life, but she thought I could ease tho pain and restlessness from which ho suffered. She was herself an artist, working in water colors for tho large stores that dealt in fancy goods, and embroidering most exquis itely. But her child cluimed much of her time and attention, and I knew she worked in hours when she should have shared tho boy's slumbers. "Patient, self-sacritieing, gentle and refined, she filled my ideas of pure womanhood, and I loved her with all the strength of thé first love of years. I gave her a man's devotion—not a boy's infatuation. But I knew that it was useless for mo to speak while the child lived. She would have thought it sacrilege to give my love considera tion while the mother love in her heart was the ruling spirit. Love making while her child was dying! I could see how she would shrink from tho mere suggestion. "So I tried to be content with win ning the place of a trusted friend, delicately trying to make my presence a comfort and a help to her and doing all that I could to make smoother the hard p ths the childish feet wero pressing. "One afternoon she came to my office to ask some question about the little boy, and as tho waiting room was full I took her through the parlor to the front door. As we passed by the mantelpiece of the front room she suddenly give a cry of pain and sur prise, stopping short before a life-size portrait of Mr. Fanshawe. Her face was white, her whole form trembling, and before I could catch her she gave a cry of "Father!" and dropped in a dead faint "It was the old story, Tom. She had loved her husband better than her father, and eloped with him. never winning forgiveness. The home she had left was broken .up, and Mr. Fan shawe removed to another, city, so that for years she had not known where to find him, and had never heard of his death. Her husband had taken her abroad soon after their marriage, and sho did not know whether her father had ever tried to trace or follow them. "You may imagine how like a thief I felt when I could calmly consider this story, and think of my inherit ance—I, living in luxury, and she toil ing for bread! And the money was hors by every claim of humanity. "At once 1 commenced to arrange for restoring the property to her, and knowing her pressing needs, instruct ed my lawyer to supply her with ready money, and inform her that, as soon as it could be legally done her futher's fortune would be restored to her. "Tom, she flatly refused to take it. Sho had offended her lather and had accepted her punishment, and she would not listen to any proposal to accept his money. In vain 1 urged the justice of her claim, the burden that money so wrongly willed away fron her would be to me. She threat ened to le ve the city and never re turn. if I persisted. "While nothing was settled, her child died. Sho grieved, as only the mother of an only child can grieve, and yet I think I comforted her. 1 dropped all question of tho disputed inheritance in those long months, when her loneliness led her to turn to me, her true, loving friend. "And so, Tom, when a year had passed, and the little lire was a sacred memory, no longer a passionate pain to romembor, I asked her once more to accept her father's fortune and his heir with it. "We needed no lawyer then to make the transfer, for I won my wife with out losing my inheritance." "And there goes that confounded office-bell!" said Tom, rising, "so I am off."— N. Y. Ledger. An Immiait EiUbilihmeat. The drummer who cannot do his share of bragging, and perhaps a little more, is as rare in tho community as the black swan of antiquity. The latest specimen of drummer'e hyper bole I give hero word for word as it was told me: "You can't begin to con ceive of the enormous dimensions of our establishment. Just think of it!. Wo didn't flud out until we began to tiike stock lately that two of our cashiers had been missing for four weeks!" — Jeweler's Weekly. , litBsalmAsr. A friend reports the following con versation between himself and a rich but miserly old customer. Jeweler—This is a fair watch, but I can hardly guarantee it The customer—Oh, that's just what I want. I am going to give It to my nsphew as a keepsake. Thepoorer It nsi the oflener he will think of on— Jewelers' Weekly. HILLS ABOUT NAZAKLin. DR. TALMAGE'S HOLY LAND DIS COURSES CONTINUED. the Scenes of Christ's Boyhood Des cribed.—The Vaine ofthe Country bred Boy to Civilization.—The Ser mon on the Mount.—Turning 'Wa ter into Wine. Brooklyn, N. Y., Nov. 23, 1800. —The Interest in the series of sermons in which Dr. Talmage is describing his recent tour in Palestine and inculcating Gospel lessons suggested by his theme, increases from week to week. There was never so large a crowd at any one of the previous eight sermons as there was today around the Brooklyn Academy of Music In the morning and at the New York service in the evening to hear the ninth sermon. The subject was "Among the Holy Hills," and the text Luke 4:16—"Ho came to Nazareth where he was brought up." Following is the sermon: What a splendid sleep I had last night in • Catholic convent, my first sleep within doors since leaving Jerusalem, aud all of us &s kindly treated as though we had been tho Popo and his college of cardinals passing that way. Last evening tho genial sisterhood of the convent ordered a hun dred bright-eyed Arab children brought out to sing for me, and it was glorious! This morning I come out on the steps of the convent and look upon the most beautiful village of all Palestine, its houses of white limestone. Guess its name! Nazareth, historical Nazareth, ono of the trinity of places that all Christian travelers must see or feel that they have not seen Palestine, namely, Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Nazareth. Babyhood, boyhood, manhood of Him for whom I believe there are fifty million peo ple who would now, if it wero required, march out and die whether under axe or down in the floods or straight through the fire. All Christ's boyhood was spent in this village and its surroundings. There is the very well culled "The Fountain of the Virgin," to which by his mother's side he trotted along holding her hand. No doubt about it; it is tho only well in tho village, »Dd it has been the only well for three thousand years. This morning we visit it, and the mothers have their children with them now as then. The work of drawing water in all ages in those coun tries has been women's work. Scores of them are waiting for their turn at it, three great and everlasting springs rolling out into that well their barrels, their hogs heads of water in floods gloriously abundant. The well is surrounded by olive groves and wide spaces in which peoplo talk and children, wearing charms on their heads as protection against the "evil eye," are playing, and women with their strings of coin on either sido of their faces, and in skirts of blue, and scarlet, and white, and green, move on with water-jars on their heads. Mary. I suppose, almost always took Jesus the boy with her, for she had no ono she could leave Him with, being in humble circum stances and having no attendants. I do not belicvo there was one of the surround ing fifteen hills that the boy Christ did not rango from bottom to top, or one cavern in their sides He did not explore, nor one species of bird flying across the tops that Ho could not call by name, or one of all the species of fauna browsing on those steeps that He had not recognized. You see it all through His sermons. If • man becomes a public speaker, in his orations or discourses you discover his early whereabouts. What a boy sees be tween seven and seventeen always sticks to him. When the Apostle Peter preaches you see the fishing nets with which he had from his earliest days been familiar. And when Amos delivers his prophecy you hear in it the bleating of the herds which he had in boyhood attended. And in our Lord's sermons and conversations you see all the phases of village life, and the mountainous life surrounding it. They raised their own chickens in Nazareth, and in after time he cries: "O Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! how often would I have gathered thee as a hen gathcreth her chickens under her wings !" He had seen his mother open the family wardrobe at the close of summer and the moth millers flying out, having destroyed the garments, and in after years he says; "Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth doth corrupt." In childhood Ho had seen a mile of flowers, white as tho «now, or red as the flame, or olue as the sea, or green os the tree tops, and no wonder in His manhood sermon He said, ■'Consider the lilies." Whilo one day on a high point where now stands the tomb of Neby Ismail, he had seen winging past Him so near as to flurry His hair, tho partridge, and the hoopoe, and tho thrush, and the osprey, and the crane, and the raven, and no wonder afterward in His manhood sermon He said, "Behold tho fowls of the air." In Nazareth and on the road to it there are a great many camels. I can see them now in memory making their slow way up the zig-zag road from the plain of Esdraclon to Nazareth. Familiar was Christ with their appearance, also with that small insect the gnat which Ho had seen His mother strain out from a cup of water or pail of milk, aud no wonder ho brings afterward the largo quadruped and the small Insect into His sermon and, while seeiDg the Pharisees careful about small ■ins, and reckless about large ones, cries out: "Woe unto you blind guides which ■train out a gnat and swallow a camel." He had iu boyhood seen the shepherds get their flocks mixed up, and to one not familiar with the habits of shepherds and their flocks, hopelessly mixed up. And a ■beep-stealer appears on the scene and dis honestly demands some of those sheep, when he owns not one of them. "Well," say the two honest shepherds, "we will soon settle the matter," and one shepherd goes out in one direction and the other shepherd goes out in the other direction, and the sheep-stealer In another direction, and each one calls, and the flocks of each of the honest shepherds rush to their owner, while the sheep-stealer calls, and calls again, but gets not one of the flock. No wonder that Christ years after, peach ing on a great occasion and illustrating hi* own shepherd qualities, says: "When Ho putteth forth His own sheep He goeth be fore them, and the sheep follow Him for they know His voice, and the stranger they will not follow for they know not the voico of a stranger." The sides of these hills ire terraced for grapes. Tho boy Christ bad often stood with great round eyea watching the trimming of the grape-vines. Clip, goea tho knife, and off falls a branch. The child Christ says to the farmer, "What do you do that or?" "Oh," oayo ko fanner, "that is a dead branch and it • doing nothing and Is only in tho way, so ' cut if off." Then tho farmer with hie harp knife prunes from a living broach his aad teat tendril aad tho other tendril. "But," says the child Christ, "these twigs that you cut off now aro not dead; what lio you do that for?" "Oh," says tho farmer, "we prune oft these that the main branch may have more sap and be more fruitful." No wonder in after years Christ said in His sermon; "I am the truo vine and my Father is tljo husbandman: every branch in me that beareth not fruit Ho taketh away, and every branch that beareth fruit He purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit." Capital ! No ono who had not been a country boy would have said that. Streaks of nature nil through Christ's sermons and conversations. When a pigeon descended upon Christ's head at his baptism in tho Jordan it was not tho first pigeon He bad seen. And then Ho has such wide sweep of discourse as you may imagine from one who has stood on the hills that overlook Nazareth. As far as I understand Christ visited the Mediterranean Sea only once, but any clear morning He could run up on a hill near Nazareth and look off to tho west and see the Mediterranean, whilo there in the north is snowy Mount Leban on, clad as in white robo of ascention, and yonder on tho east and south-east Mount Gilboa, Mount Tabor and Mount Gilead, and yonder in the south is tho plain of Esdraclon over which we rode yesterday on our way to Nazareth. Those mountains of His boyhood in His memory, do you wonder that Christ when He wanted a good pulpit, made it out of a mountain—"seeing the multitude Ho went up into tho moun tain." And when He wanted especial com munion with God, Ho took James and John and Peter into "a mountain apart." Oh, this country boy of Nazareth, come forth to atono for the sins of the world, nnd to correct the follies of tho world, and to stamp out the cruelties of tho worfd, aud to illumine tho darkness of the world, aud to transfigure the hemispheres! So it has been the mission of the country boys in nil ages to transform and inspire and rescue. They come into our merchandise and our court-rooms, nnd our healing art and our studios and our theology. They lived in Nazareth before they entered Jerusalem. And but for that annual influx our cities would have enervated and sickened and slain the race. Late hours and hurtful apparel and overtaxed digestive organs and crowded environments of city life, would have halted the world, but tho valleys and mountains of Nuzareth have given fresh supply of health and moral invigoration to Jerusalem, aud the country saves the town. From the hills of New Hampshire and tho hills of Virginia aud the hills of Georgia come into our national eloquence the Wcb sters and the Clays and tho Henry W. Gradys. From the plain homes of Massa chusetts and Maryland come into our na tional charities the George Pcabodys and the William Corcorans. From the cabins of the lonely country regions come into our national destinies tho Andrew Jack sons and tho Abraham Lincolns. From plough boy's furrow and village counter nnd blacksmith's forge como most of our city ' giants. Nearly all tho Messiahs in all de partments dwelt in Nazareth before they came to Jerusalem. I send this day thanks from these cities, mostly mado prosperous by country boys, to tho farm house and the prairies and tho mountain cabins and tho obscure homesteads of North and South and East and West, to the fathers and mothers in plain homespun, if they be still alive, or tho hillocks under which they sleep the long sleep. Thunks from Jerusalem to Nazareth. On this December morning in Palestine on our way out from Nazareth wo saw just such a carpenter's shop as Jesus worked in, supporting his widowed iWt'.iÿ, uije. he was old enough to do so. I looked in, and there were hammer, and saw, and piano, and auger, and vice, and measuring-rule, and chisel, and drill, and adze, and wrench, and bit, and all tho tools of carpentry. Think of It! He who smoothed the surface of the earth, shoving a plane. He who cleft the 'mountains by earthquake, pounding a chisel. He who opened the mammoth caves of tho earth, turning an auger. He who wields the thunderbolt, striking with a hammer. Ho who scooped out the bed for the ocean, hollowing a ladle. He who flashes the morning on the earth, and makes the mid night heavens quiver with aurora, con structing a window. I cannot understand it, but I believe it. A sceptic said to an old clergyman, "I will not believe any thing I cannot explain." "Indeed!" said tho clergyman, "You will not believe any thing you cannot explain. Please to ex plain to me why some cows have horns, and others have no horns." "No!" said the sceptic, "I did not mean exactly that. [ mean that I will not believe anything I have not seen." "Indeed!" said the slergyman, "You will not believe anything you have not seen. Have you a backbone?" "Yes," said the sceptic. "How do know?" said the clergyman. "Have you ever seen it?" This mystery of God-head and hu manity interjoined I cannot understand, and I cannot explain, but I believe it I am glad there are so many things we can not understand, for that leaves something for heaven. If we know everything here, heaven would be a great indolence. What foolish people, those who are in perpetual fret because they cannot understand all that God says and does. A child in the first juvenile primer might aa well burst into tears because it cannot understand conic sections. In this world we are only In the A-B-C class, and we cannot now understand the libraries of eternity which put to utmost test faculties archangellc. I would be ashamed of heaven if we did not know more there, with all our facul ties intensified a million fold and at the center of the universe, than we do here with our dim faculties and clinging to the outside rim of the universe. in about two hours we pass through Cana, the village of Palestine where the mother of Christ and our Lord attended the wedding of a poor relative and having come over from Nazareth for that purpose. The mother of Christ—for women are first to notioe such things—found that the pro visions had fallen short and the told Christ and He, to relieve the cm harass ment ofthe housekeeper, who had Invited more guests than the pantry warranted, became the butler of the occasion, and out of a cluster of a few aympathetio words squeezed a beverage of a hundred and twenty-six gal lons of wine in which waa not one drop of intoxicant or it would have left that party as maudlin and drunk as the great centen nial banquet in New York two years ago left senators and governors and generals and merchant princes. The difference be tween the wine of the wedding in Cana and the wine at the banquet in New York being that the Lord made the one and the devil made the other. Wa got off our boraea and examined some of these water }ara at Cana said to be the very ones that held the plain water that Christ turned in to the purple bloom of an especial vintage. I measured them and found them eighteen Inches from edge to edge and nineteen Inches deep, and declined to accept their Identity. But we realized the immensity af a supply of a hundred and twenty-alx gallona of wine What waa that for? Probably one gallon would bava b oon wongh, for it waa only an additional In stallment of what had ilready been p r ._,, cd, nnd it is probable that the houseu, V could not have guessed more than oiV '■!? Ion out of the way. But a hundr and twenty-six gallons! What will u V j with the surplus? Ah, it was just like'ou Lord! Those young people were ah. ut" to start housekeeping, and their means \ limited, and that big supply, whether in their pantry or sold, will be a m: u help. You see there was no strychn I 0 ' logwood, or nux vomica, in tint biuvra' ■/ and as tho Lord trade it It would keep j[. makes mountains and seas that keep thuj sands of years and certainly He could r a ki a beverage that would keep four or fi v ! years. Among tho arts and invcnti&rs of the future I hope there may be some one that can press tho juices from tiro priino and so mingle them and without one dron of damning alcohol that it will keep f 0 , years. And the more of it you take the clearer will bo the brain and the health;,., tho stomach. And here is a remarkable fact in -my recent journey—I travelled through Italy, and Greens, nnd Egypt um . Palestine, and Syria, and Turkey, ' anf i bow many intoxicated persons do you think I saw in all thoso five great realms.' \ ot one. Wo must in our Christianized land, have got hold of come kind of bev. ra -o that Christ did not make. But wo must hasten on, for I ,i 0 not mean to close my eyes tonight till ] from a mountain top, Lake Galilee, on whose banks, next Sabbath, we will wor ship, nnd on whose waters tho f<s •■; n „ morning wo will take a saii. On and up wo go in tho severest climb of all j'.br». tine, the ascent of tho Mount of beati tudes, on the top of which Christ piviu-hod that famous sermon on the HI. _ Blessed this and Blessed that. Up to their knees the horses plunge iu mole-hills, and a surface that gives way at the first tourh of tho hoof, and again and a,yum j 10 tired beasts halt, as much as to say to tir.-i "It is unjust for you to mako U3 climb these steeps." On aqd up over mountain sides where in the later season, hyacinths and daises, and phloxes, aad anemones kindle their beauty. On and up until on tho rocks of black basalt wo dismount, and climbing to the highest peak, look out on an enchantment of scenery that seems to be the Beatitudes themselves arched into skies, and rounded into valleys, and sil vered into waves. The view is like that of Tennessee and North Carolina from the top of Lookout Mountain, or like that of Vermont and New Hampshire from the top of Mount Washington. Hail hills of Gali lee! Hail Lake Gennesaret. only four miles away! Yonder, clear up and most conspicuous, is Safed, the very city to which Christ pointed for illustration in the sermon preached here, saying, "A city set on a hill cannot bo hid." There are rocks around me on this Mount of Beatitudes, enough to build the highest pulpit tho world ever saw. Aye, it is the highest pulpit. It overlooks all time and all eternity. The valley of Hattin between hero and Lako Galilee is an ampitheatre, as though the natural contour of the earth had invited all nations to come and sit down and hear Christ preach a sermon, in which there were more startling novelties than were ever announced in all the sermons that were ever preached. To those who heard Him on this very spot. His word must have seemed the contradiction of everything that they had ever heard or road or •xperienced. The world's theory had been : Blessed nro tho ar rogant; Blessed aro tho supercilious; Blessed are the tearless; Blessed aro they that have everything their own way; Blessed aro tho war eagles: Blessed aro the persecutors; Blessed arc tho popular; Blessed are the Herods and the Caesars, and the Ahabs. "No! no! no!" says Christ with a voice that rings over theso rocks, and through yonder val ley of Hattin, and down to the Opaline lake on the one sido and the sapphire Mediterranean on tho other, aud ucross Europe in ono way, and across Asia in the other way, and around the earth both ways, till the globe shall yet be girdled with the nine beatitudes: Blessed are tho poor, Blessed are the mournful. Blessed are the meek, Blessed are tho hungry. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed aro the pure. Blessed are the peacemakers, Blessed are the persecuted, Blessed aro the falsely reviled. Do you see how the Holy Land and the Holy Book fit each other? God with His left hand built Palestine, nnd with His right wrote tho Scriptures, the two hands of the same Being. And in proportion ns Palestine is brought under close inspec tion, the Bible will be found more glorious and more true. Mightcst book of tbs past! Mlghtest book of the future! Monarch of all literature! The proudest works of Genius shall decay. And Reason's brightest lustre fad» sway. The Sophist's art, the poet's boldest flight. Shall sink In darkness, and concludo In night; But faith trlumphantover limit shall stand. Shall grasp the sacred volume in tier band; .sick lai lis source t ne heavenly mil. convey Tuen lu tuu uoou ut glory melt away. lml. —I da* Race improvement by Women, In u society in which women were all pecuniarily independent, were nil fully occupied with publio duties and intellectual or social enjoyments and had nothing to gain by marriage as re gards material well being, we may be sure that the number of tho unmar ried from choice would largely in crease. It would probably come to lie considered a degradation for any wo man to marry a man she could not both love and esteem, and this feeling would supply ample reusons for either abstaining from marriage altogether or delaying it till a worthy and sym pathetic husband was encountered. If man, on the other hand, the passion of lovo is more general, and usually stronger, and as in 6uch a society as is here postulated there would be no wsy of gratifying this passion but by' ®* r - riage, almost every woman would re ceive offers, and thus a powerful se lective agency would rest with the male sex. , , Under the system of education an of public opinion here suggested there can be no doubt how this selec ion would bo exorcised. The idle and ie selfish would be almost universally rc jeeted. The diseased or the weak m intellect would also usually ''oniain married, while those who exhi J tendency to insanity or to here i y disease would in hardly any case partners, because it would be con ered an offense against society the means of perpetuating such dis ease or imperfections.—Alfred B lace in Popular Science, The man who runs hta boot* down at the heel has a hard time keeping hta toe* equere with the world.