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ft' f/^Vy':',*' AA a Ji*. rrsN^ 5f A ir This Was the Text for an Eloquent Sermon by l)r. Talmage. Based Upon the Old but Ever New Parable of the Prodigal Son. BROOKLYN, 8pecial.—Dr. Talmage'a ser 2L 140,1 'or to dfty'"on 4bto prodigal aon, aud text, Luke xv.. 20: "When he was yet a If eat way off, his father daw him, and had -compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." Polio wing Is the sermon: One of the deepest wells that inspiration ever opened in this well of a parable which we can never exhaust. The parable, I suppose, was founded on facts. I have described to you the going away of this prodigal son from his father's house, and I have showed ,vou what a hard time he had down in the wilder ness, and what a very great mistake it was lor him to leave 60 beautiful a home for such ft miserable desert. But he did not always stay in the wilderness he came back after awhile. We do not read that his mother came to greet him. I suppose she was dead. She would have been the first to come out. The father would have given the second kiss to the returning prodigal the mother the Ant. It may have been for the lack of her example and prayers that he became a prod igal. Sometimes the father does not know how to manage the children of the house hold. The chief work comes upon the mother. Indeed, no one ever gets over the calamity of losing a mother in enrly life. Still, this young man was not ungreeted when he came back. However well apparelled we may be in the morning when we start out on a journey, be fore night, what with the dust and the jos tling, we have lost all cleanliness of appear ,ance. But this prodigal, when he btarted from the swine trough, was ragged and wretched, and his appearance, after he had gone through days ol journeying and expos ure, you can more easily imagine than de scribe. As the people see this prodigal com ing on homeward, they wonder who he is. They say: "I wonder what prison he has broken out of. I wonder what lazaretto he has escaped from. I wonder with what plague he will smite theair." Although these people may have been well acquainted with the family, yet they do not imagine that this is the very youag man who went off only a little while ago with quick step, and ruddy cheek, and beautiful apparel. The young man, I think, walks very fast. He looks as though he were intent upon something very important. The people stop. They look at him. They wonder where he came from. They wonuer where he is going to. You have heard of a Bon who went off to sea that never returned. All the people in the neighborhood thought the son would never return, but the parents came to no •uch conclusion. They would go by the hour, and day, and sit upon the beach, looking off upon the water, expecting tosee the Bail that would bring home thelong absent boy. And •o I think this father of my text sat under the vine looking out toward the road on which his son bad departed but the father has changed very much since wesaw him last, fiie hair hue beeome white, his etieeks are farrowed, his heart is broken. What is all his bountilul'table to him when his son may be lacking bread? What is all the splen dor of the wardrobe of that homestead when the son may not have a decent coat? What are ail the sheep on that hillside to that fa ther when his pet lamb is gone? Still he sits and watches, looting out on the roaS, and one day le beholds a foot-traveler. He sees him rise above the hill: first the head and after a while the entire body and as soon as he gets a fair glance of him heknows it is his recreant son. He forgets the cratch, and the stiffness of the joints, and bounds away. I think the people all around were amazed. They said: "It is only a footpad. It is only some old tramp of the road. Don't go out to meet him." The father knew him better. The change in the son's appearance could not hide the marks by which the father knew the boy. You know that persons of a great deal of independence of character are apt to indicate it in their walk. For the reason the sailor most always has a pecnliar step, not only because he stands much upon ship board amid the rocking of the sea, and he has to balance himself, but he has for the most part an independent character, which would show in his gait, even if he never went on^thesea and we knowfrom what transpired alterward, and from what transpired before, that this prodigal son was of an independent and frank nature and I suppose the charac teristics of his mind nnd heart were the char acteristics ofhiswalk. And so the father knew him. He put out his witherd arms toward him he brings his wrinkled face up against the pale cheek of his son, ho kisses the wan lips, he thanks God that the long ago ny is over. "When he was yet a great way off, his father saw liim, and had compassion, and ran and fell on hi»neck and kissed him." Oh, do you not recognize that Father? Who was it? It is God! I have no sympathy with that cast-iron theology which represents God as hard, severe and vindictivo. God is Father—kind, losing, lenient, gentle, long Buffering, patient, and He flies to our im mortal rescue, Oh, that me might realize it. A wealthy lady in one of the Eastern coun tries was going off for some time, and she asked one of her daughters for some memen to to curry with iter. One of the daughters brought a marble tablet, beautifully inscrib ed and another brought a benutiful wreath of flowers. The third daughter came and said: "Mother, I brought neither flowers nor tablet, but here iB my heart. I have in scribed it all over with your name, and wherever you go, it will go with you." The mother recognizcd it as the best of all the mementoes. Oh, that our souls might go out toward our Father—that our hearts might be written all over with the evidences of his loving kindness, and that we might never again forsake Him. In the first place, I notice in this text the father's eyesight in the second place, I no tice the father'sbaste and, in the third place, I notice the father's kiss. To begin: the father's eyesight. "When he was a great way off bis father saw him." You have noticed how old people some times put a book off on the other side of the light. They can see at a distance a great deal easier thhn they can close by. I do not know whether this father could see well that which was near by, but I do know he could see a great way off. "His father saw him." Perhaps he had been looking for the return oi that boy especially that day. I do not know but that he had been in prayer and that God had told him that that day the recreant boy would comehome. "The father saw him a great way o9." I wonder if God's eyesight can descry us when we are coming back to Him? The text pictures our condition—we area great way off. That young man was not farther off from his father's house, sin is not farther off from holiness, hell is not farther off from heaven, than we have been by our sins away off from our God aye, so far off that ws could bear His voice, though vehemently Hs has called us year after year. I do not know what bad habits you have formed, or in what evil places yon have been, or what falss notionsyoumay have entertained but you are ready to acknowledge, if your heart has not been chanced by the grace of God, that you area great way off—aye, so far that you cannot get back of yourselves. You would like to come back. Aye, this moment you would start, if it were not fof this sin. and that habit, aad disadvantage. But I am to tell you of the Father's eyesight. "He saw him a great way off." He barf s&en all your frailities, all your struggles, all your disad vantages. He has been longing for your coming. He has not been looking at you with a critic's eye or a bailiff's eye, hat with a Father's eye and if a parent ever pities a child, God pities you. You say: "Oh, I had so many evil surround ings when I started life." Your Father sees it. You say: "I havesomany bad surround ings now, and it is very difficult for me to break away from evil associations." Your Father see* it, and if you shqnjd start heavenward—as I pray you may-£your fa ther would not sit idly down and allow yon to struggle up toward Him. Oh, nol (toeing yon a great way off, He would fly to the rescue. How long doss it take a father tolwp intothe hlA wtttls ehildbe thWe, whlcle Is coming and may de itrof hia. Five hundred times longer then it 0,,r *i«. heavenly Father to spring to the deliverance of a lost child. "When be was a great way off his father saw him." I,..? ml' me noti«® father's tef SM Bible says he ran. No wonderl He did not know but that he would change .TnA and KoJmu*. He did not know he *oud down from exhaus that something fatal might overtake him before he got up the doorslll. and so the father ran. The Bible, for the most, part, speaks of ®.od *o'kinK- "In the fourth watch, of the night. It says, "Jesus came nnto them walking on the sea," "He walketh upon the wing of the wind." Our first parents heard Jn® joice of the Lord, walking in the garden rCO?l da-v bnt when a sinner nui ,1 Father runs to met him. un! if a man ever wants help, it is when he* tries to become a Christatn. The world says to him: Back with you. Have more spirit. Don be hampered with religion. Time enough yet. Wait until you get sick. Wait until you get old." Satan says: "Back with you you are so bad that God will have noth ing to do with you:" or "You are good enough and need no Itedeemer. Take thine ease, eat, drink and be merry." Ten thou sand voices say: "Back with you. God is a hard muster. The church is a collection of hypocrites. Back into your sins back to your ovil indulgences back to your praver less pillow. Tne silliest thing that a man ever does is to come back ulter ho has been wandering." Oh, how much help a man docs want when he tries to become a Chris tian! Indeed, the prodigal cannot find his way home to his father's house alone. Un less some one comes to meet him he had better have stayed by the swine-troughs. When the tide comes in, you might more easily with your broom sweep back the surges thnn you could drive back the ocean of your unfortunate transgressions. What are we to do? Are we to light the battle alone, and trudge on with no one to aid us, and no rock to shelter us, and no word o! encouragement to cheer us? Glory be to God, we have in the text the announcement: "When he was yet a great way off. his father ran." When the sinner starts for God. God starts for the sinner. God doeB not come out with a slow hesitating pace. The infinite space slip be neath His feet, and He takeB worlds at a bound. "The father ran." Oh, wonderful meeting, when God and the soul come to gether. "The father ran." You start for God and God starts for you, and you meet nnd while the angels rejoice over the meeting, your long injured Father falls upon your neck with attestations of compassion and pardon. Your poor, wandering, sinful, pol lutted soul, and the loving, the eternal tlicr have met. I remark upon the father's kiss. "He fell on his neck," my textsays, "and kissed him." It is not every father that would hnvo done that. Some would have scolded him, and said: "Here, you went olT with benutiful clothes, but now you are all in tatters, l'ou went off healthy, and come buck sick and wasted with your dissipations." He did not say that. The son, all haggard and ragged and filthy nnd wretched, stood before hie father. The father charged him with none ol his wanderings. He just received him. He just kissed him. His wretchedness was a re commendation to the father's love. Oh, that fnther's kiss! How shall I describe the love of God?—the ardor with which He receives sinner back again? Give me a plummet with which I may fathom this sea. Give me a lad der with which I may scale this height. Give me words with which 1 can describe this love. The apostlesaysin one place, "unsearchable in another, "past finding out." Height over toppinir all height depth plunging beneath all depth breadth compassing^all immensity Oh, this love! God so loved the world. He loves you. Don't you believe it? Has He not done everything to make you think so? He has given youlile, health, friends, home— the use of your hand, the sight of your eye. the hearing of your ear. He has strewn your path with mercies. He has fed you, clothed you, sheltered you, defended you, loved you, importuned you all your life long. Don't you believe He loves you? Why, if now you should start up from the wilderness ol your sin, He would throw both arms around you. To make you believe that he loves you, He stooped to manger, and cross, and sepulchre. With all the passions of His hoi/ nature roused, He stand* before yon to-day, and would coax you to happiness and heaven. Ob, this father's kiss! There is so much meaning, and love, and compassion in it so much pardon in it so much heaven in it. I proclaim him tho Lord pod, merciful, gracious, and long suffering, abundant in goodness and truth. Lest you wonld not believe Him, He goes up Golgotha, and while the rocks are rending, and the graves are opening, and the mobs are howl ing, and the sun is biding, Ho dies for you. See Him! See Him on the Mount of Cruci fixtion, the sweat on His brow tinged with the blood exuding from His lacerated tem ples! See His eyes swimming in death! Hear the loud breathing of the Sufferer as He pants with a world on his heart! Hark to the fall of the blood from brow, and haud, and foot, on the rocks benenth—dropl drop! drop! Look at the nails! How wide the wounds are! Wilder do they gape as His body comes down upon them. Oh! this crucifixion agony! Tears melting into tears. Blood flowing in to blood. Darkness dropping into darkness Hands of men joined with hands of devils to tear apart the quivering heart of the Son of God! Oh! Will He never speak again! Will that crimson face never light up again? He will speak again while the blood is suffuBing His brow, and reddening His cheek, and gather ing on nostril and lip, and you think Hn is exhausted and cannot speak, He cries out until all the ages hear him "Father, forgive them, they know not what, they do!" Is there no emphasis in such a scene as that to make your dry eyes weep, and your hard heart break? Will you turn your back upon it, and say by your actions what the Jews said by their words: "His blood lie on ns, and on our children." What does it uil mean, my brother, my sister? Why, it means, thnt for our lost race there was a Father's kiss. Love brought Him down. Love opened t.he gate. Love led to the sac rifice. Love shuttered the grave. Love lifted Him up in resurrection. Sovereign love! Omnipotent love! Infinite love! Bleeding lore! Everlasting love! "Oh, tor this love let rocks and hills Their lasting silcnce break: And all harmonious human tongues The Saviour's praises speak." Now, will you accept that Father's kiss? The Holy Spirit comes to you with Hie arousing, meltine, alarming, inviting, vivi fying influence. Hearer, what creates in thee that unrest? A Rival to the Pedometer. The pedometer's life of usefulness seems to be very seriously threaten ed by a French invention for record ing speed and. distance traveled by mad,'beast orvehicle. Theinventor, E. J. Marey, of the Institute of France, has devised a very simply machine to which thenameodographliasbeen given. It draws or traces a curve on a traveling band of paper, which is a register of the speed with which a person walks or a vehicle moves. The recording mechanism is not at all complicated and is not likely to get out of order. It consists of a cylinder covered with ruled paper and revoh ed by clockwork. On this a stylus actuated by a wheel which traverses the ground marks the trace, and the stylus moves at a rate proportional to the wheel while the paper moves past it at right angles witn a velocity proportional to-the time. The slope of the trace is a record of the speed. The odograph is capable of being adapted to special purposes, such as measuring the speed of soldiers on the march, the rate that railroad trains travel, or the time made by racehorses on the track, and it is that in the more general use which promises to be made of this instru ment it will be found to meet accur ately numerous purposes for which some such recorder has been needed. —New York Timed! A DENTIST of Kingston, N. Y., re cently pulled eight of his own teeth. He says he found it somewhat incon venient, because he couldn't keep his head still. AB HOME. Ui«M Information for ths Buy Agri culturiit Train Tow Colts, tat So Hot Break Than —IneoeMfnl Ken Come from the Farms— Diseases in Cereal Crops—Hints for the Housewife. Training Colts. The usefulness of a horse depends upon its early training. The first part of this training should be completed before the colt is a year old. During ttyls early period its disposition is formed, and its future character is fixed. It will be docile, tractable and gentle, precisely as it has been raised during the first few months of its life and whatever vices it may develop in the future will be due to errors made now. The education of the young colt should be such as to teach it subjection to its owner from the first This is done by using it tothe halter, to lead, and to be tied up, and by the gentlest treatment, firmness, and force gen tly used if needful, but punish ment in anger is to be strictly avoided. If necessary a light touch may be given with a switch but never so hard as to be painful. The whip should be discarded in all cases. A willful colt may be brought to sub jection in other ways. It may be hampered by means of straps and laid down on a bed of straw, and then handled gently until all fear is allayed, and in this manner, it may be taught that its owner is its master. By and by it may be used to the bit, to a sad dle. and to carry light loads on Its back to carry a child while it is led and thus to become familiar with its future work. A small light harness should be kept where colts are reared, and a light vehicle of some kind to which light loads can be drawn as the young animal is a year old. Pa tience and judicious teaching are all that may be necessary to bring the colt to its business when it is a year old. Such training displaces the usual breaking by forcible and cruel treat ment by which viciousness Is develop ed and horses are made fearful and are terror stricken when anything unusual happens afterwards. Where Successsul Business Men Come From. The remark as been made that it has frequently been observed that the suc cessful men of the city are often those who come to the city from the country, many of them poor lads, with little knowledge derived from school studies. In substantiation of this fact, it is only necessary to point to the very large number of successful business men throughout the country who are now alive and active, and to the names of those who have won an honorable posi tion in the past history of our country. Our greatest statesmen, lawyers, judges and financiers have been and are men who point with pride to their humble birth amid the green hills and fertile valleys of N|w England, where their early education was obtained by a few weeks or months schooling each year, and the remainder of the time spent in de veloping the brawn and muscle that has enabled them to fight with endur ance the battles of life in a |)road el and far different field. It is this very fact that accounts for their success. They have greater physical strength than their city-bred brothers, and are therefore better able to withstand the fatigues of harassiug and tiresome business. Their education, too, has been of a far more beneficial and bro: der nature, and may even be con sidered as much better than that ob tained wholly through book learning. They have studied men and things, as well as books, and as a rule are more observant, quicker to receive and apply the information gained only through the contact with and observa tion of business men and methods. A Flea for Shorter Hours. When the workingmen are striking all over the land for less hours of labor, the farmer who is his own master, should not be tempted to overwork himself, his hired men or his teams. A little planning, a little calculation in saving unnecessary labor, and a little extra energy put In during the shorter hours, will often accomplish quite as much. If the total crops are not as large, the short crops must bring an increased price. These are the arguments of the mechanic, and they are equally applicable and equally true for the farmer. It is true that the farmer cannot always limit him self to eight hours or to ten hours, as there are times when a few hours of overwork will save a crop, but If he has saved his strength by shorter hours on other days, he will have a reserve to draw upon, which will prove useful in those times of need. There is no reason why the farmer should toil from sunrise to sunset, and then have an hour or two to spend in "doing chores," to produce that which the mechanio will buy with the labor of eight hours or perhaps less time. Particularly is this applicable in the spring, when the character of the work to be done is different from that which has been done during the winter. A new set of muscles is brought into play and although they feel strong and vig orous at the start, they get tired and sore, and the 6peed must slacken to give them a chance to recuperate. Do not work yourselves or your teams so as to get "h&rness-ohafed" and have to lie idle to get over it, but take a lesson from the professional ball players, and from those who train horses. Put yourselves in training before you try to do all that you are capable of. Re member too, that four-fifths of the far mers and gardeners would accomplish best results in the year if they do not try to do so much. Cutting Gran. As a rule meadows should be cut reasonably early, not later than when the seed begins to form. Early cutting aids to thicken up, while allowing the nlania to mature seeds inorauni th« wtgwaeMat *W$!gsMm' loss, especially If the weather should keep hot and-dry. Thin or vacant places can be thickened up by raking or harrowing so as to loosen up the soil, and then sow plenty of good seed, either In the foil or spring, Diseases In Cereal Crop*. Of all the diseases that affect the cereal crops, the mildew and rust have caused the greatest amount of damage, and brought forth more comment from the experiment stations. In studying the mildew and rust of oats and wheat, the greatest diversity of opinion will be found from competent authorities. After all of tfie facts have been gener alized, and the results of experiments have been carefully studied, the chief causes in all cases will be attributed to certain conditions that can be reme died to a large extent by the farmers. In England and Sweden it is still gen erally believed that the rust and mil dew on these cereal grains are caused more or less by the barberry shrubs, which grow there In great quantities. These shrubs are nearly always attacked by a fungus resembling the mildew, and it is supposed that they communicate it to the grains. Although. there may be some founda tion for this belief, and there seems to be no doubt of it in the minds of lead ing European agriculturists, it is not safe to attribute the disease chiefly to this cause. The experiments in this country of recent years naturally lead us to the eonolusion that the weather, soil, mode of culture and fertilizers have more to do in causing mildew and rust in the cereal crops than anything else. Cold, wet and sunless weather affects the cereal crops very directly, and will frequently, if continued long enough, induce mildew to form on the grains, unless other conditions are very un favorable for the formation of this fun gus on the stalks. To Beat An Kgg, Any child knows how to beat an egg, which Is true so far as that any one by dint of patience and a fork can beat an egg to a froth, but one person will take fifteen minutes and have it less light than another In five. The one will beat fast, carrying the fork, but entangling very little air the other will lift the egg, as it were, and throw it over the fork. This is the proper way and does the work iu half the time. Acquire the habit of beating eggs, or, in fact, anything else, from the elbow, not using the whole arm the fatigue will be much lessened. The use of egg-beaters has made egg beating for cakes, such a formidable task in our mother's day, a very light one in ours, but for beating just one egg a fork, even now, is often most conven ient. Even with a beater, however, the best results are obtained by ob serving certain rules. In hot weather leave the eggs in ice-water or on ice for some time before using. It is not a good plan, however, to keep all your eggs on Ice, because they then become so thoroughly chilled that in boiling them you cannot estimate the time re quired, and should they become frost ed they are inferior for all purposes. In beating the whites of eggs a tiny pinch of salt will tend ty facilitate the work.—Good Housekeeping. Care for Horses. The old horse is safer and better for the use of the younger members of the family than younger ones, but for general farm work a horse should be young and strong. During the sum mer, when the work is very heavy, the horses should be fed three times a day and given two hours' rest at noon. The Household. Sprinkle places infested by ants with borax, and you will soon be rid of them. To whiten yellow piano keys, rub them with sand paper, and finish with apiece of chamois. A strip of flannel or a napkin wrung out of hot water applied round the neck of a child that has croup will usually bring relief in ten minutes. Hattan chairs that have become dis colored may be made very pretty by a coating of black or golden brown paint and finished with a handsome cushion. Tak. black court plaster, moisten enough to make it stick, and mend your silk umbrella by pressing it on tho wrong side with a warm iron over a thin paJper. One of the best things to cleanse the scalp thoroughly is to dissolve one-half toaspoonful of borax in a quart of water and apply it, rubbing it in well. Rinse thoroughly in clear water. A fine furniture polish is made by the use of the following recipe: Alcohol, half pint: resin,. half an ounce gum shellac, half an ounce a few drops of analinc browu. Let stand over night and add three gills of raw linseed oil and half a pint of spirits of turpentine. .Shake well before using. Put on with cotton fianuel, ani rub dry with another cloth. Dresses that are entirely good often have the under part of the sleeves worn out, and it seems too bad to patch them, so the best thing is to take out th.. sleeves and make new under*. Many ladies, in buying dresses for themsel cs or children, get enough extra for a new pair of sleeves and to allow for mending. A three-cornered tear in a dress can be neatly darned with silk, or ravelling* of the same color, if a small piece of the goods is placed under the tear. If the coffee is not ground home when needed it must positively be kept in a tight can. Beat an egg thorough ly, and add to it one taacupful of cold water. Wet the coffee thoroughly with a few tablespoonfuls of this mixture, and add it to the boiling water ten or twelve minutes before needed. The water should have just come to the boiling point continued boiling injures its flavor. After adding the coffee draw the pot near the edge of the stove where it will be six or eight minutes in coming to the boiling point As soon as It reaches this point remove it tn ths buk of ths ruira. DONE UFKO* FIFTY. How Two Man Duped the Fre quenters of a Saloon. #5i A well-dressed stranger was sitting la a Woodward avenge saloon the other day when a tramplsh-looking fel low came la and 4 'struck" the plaoe for a quarter. His request was eoldly re ceived by all except the stranger, who went down into his pockets, found nothing, says the Detroit Free Press, and finally opened his wallet to pull out a bill and say: "I have no change. Here's a $50 bill which you can take to the bank and get busted and I'll give you a quarter." When the tramp had gone with it the half-dozen men in the place ex pressed their wonder and amazement that a man oould be found green enough to take such a risk. "Why he looked honest'" protested the greenhorn. "Yes, but he's in Canada by this time," laughed the crowd. "Don't you tnlnk he'll come back?" "Why, of course not Never heard of such a thing before." After being guyed for a quarter of an hour the stranger seemed to get nettled, and when they kept piling it on he replied: "Well, I may be mistaken, but here's fifty that says I'm not We'll give him fifteen minutes more, and If he does not return Til lose an even hun dred or win your money." It was quickly covered, and all sat down to wait Nor for long, however, in about five minutes the tramp made his appearance, said a lame leg had bothered him about getting around, and counted down $50 in small blUs and silver. The stranger gave him his quarter, raked in his bet, and leav ing half a dollar on the bar for drinks he said good-by and walked out Then the men looked at each other In a sheepish way for a long time before one of them heaved a deep sigh and said: "Gentlemen, they are partners, and we have been done up for fifty!" LEATHER CANNON. Which Demonstrated the Value of Light Artillery. "Let me give you a bit of history," said a down-town leather merchant the other day, "that many a student has overlooked. The objects of peace are not all that leather figures in, for It is to leather that we owe the intro duction of light artillery. Leather cannons have been actually tried on the battlefield, and what is more, turned the tide of one of the greatest battles of modern times. The invent or of leathern artillery was a certain Colonel Robert Scott a Scotchman in the service of Charles I. of England. "He constructed guns of hardened leather and experimentally tried them. Tho result was that they were pro nounced superior to guns made of brass or iron. But the colonel did not live long to enjoy the greatest triumph of his invention. He died in 1631, and a monument erected to his memory I have seen in a churchyard in London. This monument represents him as an armor-clad, fierce-looking man, wear ing a heavy mustache and pointed beard. "In the very year of the colonel's death the effectiveness of his leathern artillery was amply proved on the memorable field of Loipsic, where Sept 7, 1631, Gustavus Adolphus achieved his splendid victory over the imperialists under General Tilly. It is said that it was owing to the inven tion of Colonel Scott that the victory was obtained. Misnamed Birds. Speaking of the queer misnomers of our fathers, the bird they called a turkey buzzard is neither a turkey nor a buzzard, but a vulture. The real buzzard is a hawk, like our lien-hawk, which indeed belongs to the family. Just so when Columbus took home his first Thanksgiving turkey (they seem to have put him in prison for it), the simple Europeans named it for the land of its supposed origin, Turkey, as the English is, or even India, ac cording to the French. But then America hardly had a name just then. So our robin is not a robin at all, but a thrush. The mountain lion isn't a lion, but a panther—if you will, painter, catamount, puma, or more properly still, cougar. The ruffed grouse is called a partridge, or more commonly "patridge" in New En gland, and a pheasant in Virginia. The European partridge, perdrix, the hero of the "toujours perdix" story, does not exist in this country. Neither does the pheasant, being represented solely by Its country cousin, the wild turkey. Finally, the ortyx Virginianus, perhaps because it is neither a quail nor a partridge, is called a partridge in Virginia and a quail in New En gland. Wherever it Is and whatever called, thus shall you know the bird: "Your ortyx sings or whistles what he has to say about it all in two notes, tho "Bob White" of our boyhood, whereas the true partridge pipes thrice, taken down by the stenographer as Peet weet weet" Still Higher. Who ever cares from off the ground To pick the fallen peach! And yet will climb and dangers brave For those beyond their reach. Down in the vale, we long to see The beauties up the hill W hen, toiling on, the spot we gain, Unreached find beauties still. Then id'.o not at mountain's base, But early sow your crop Aim for some goal though hills are steep, There ure prizes at the top. Won't Be Interviewed. Philadelphia Times: With some public men the aversion to giving out information is almost a disease. "Why, how are you, senator?" said a oprrespoudent to a prominent states mt|ln the other day. vl must firmly but respectfully de cline to be iect, sir. interviewed that sub. Quite at random I make up a list of artieles to whldl the English assiga names differing from those we ase: That which we call a bowl Is here known as a basin. In England you ask for a basin of bread and milk. That whieh is known to us a pitcher is here called a jug. donkey is here called a moke in America moke is a negro. Local slang for a cab horse is "sat's meat," because the meat of horses is peddled around the streets for feeding to oats. By the way, British cats averse much larger than our American eats, and they are notorious chioken-killers. The brindle cat seems to be the common est. What we call crackers are here known as biscuit, and I suspeet this is strictly correct What we call shoes are here known as boots, and what we call boots are here known as bluchers. There is one shoe called the hilo, because it runs high from the heel up back of the ankle and is cut low in front. Our druggist is here a chemist, many of the older practitioners retaining the old spelling—"chymist." What we call ale is here known as bitter beer. What is here known as hash we should call a stew, and what we call a hash is here known as a mince. In England our'' overcoat becomes a great coat, our undershirt becomes a vest, and our drawers become panta loons. It is said that when George W. Childs of Philadelphia, was in London a number of years ago he walked into a haberdashers and, seeking to appear to be a native, asked to be shown the styles in silk waistcoats. "Jeems," cried the proprietor to his assistant, "step this way and show this Hameri can gentleman our flowery weskits!" What we call sick the Englishman calls ill sickness here implies nausea and vomiting. The British usage is wrong but the late Richard Grant White settled that point pretty definite ly. How came the British to fall into this perversion? It was, I think, be cause the British can go nowhere ex cept by water that travel by water in duces unpleasant symptoms of nausea and retching, whieh condition, called sickness, gradually came to be re garded as tho correct definition of th? word sickness. I can't imagine how the British justify their use of the words homesick, heartsick, and love sick. Here they call a street car a tram correct. Here, too, an elevator is a lift, and that is right. What we call a telegram is here called a telegraph it will probably never be determined which of these usages is the better. Our postal card is here a post card cuffs become wrists. That material known to us as canton flannel is here called swan's down, and our "muslin" is known hereabouts as "calico." Our "locomotive" becomes "engine," and our "conductor" is here a "guard." What we call "stewing" (culinaiy term) the British call "simmering our "lunch" is here a "luncheon," and our "baggage" becomes "luggage." Our "wheat" is called "corn," and our "corn" is called "maize," or, sometimes, Indian corn. Pigs' feet are called "trotters." By the way, a theatrical name for a bad actor is "rot ter." A "chill" is here called a "rigor," and the eruption commonly known among us as "hives" is here known as "nettle-rash." Candy is known various ly as "sweets," "sweetmeats," and "lolly." Writing to John Smith, your social equal, you are expected to address him as John Smith, Esq. if he be your tailor, grocer, etc., you address him as Mr. John Smith. The word "apt" is exceedingly popu lar here. It is "apt to rain," "apt to be muddy," a man is "apt to go down town," a bank is "apt to suspend," etc. Even the best prints use this word as a synonym for "likely" and "like." Another barbarism everywhere preva lent in the United Kingdom is the use of the adverb "directly" for the con junction "as soon as"—e. g., "directly he went out I shut the door." Charles Dickens, who was quite slovenly at times, seems to have been addicted to this indefensible vice. What does this British word "left tenant" mean? I should like to know. "Quite11 is another hackneyed word here it is edged in upon every occa sion. The first criticism I would pass upon the press of London would be for the indirectness of its speech. When a newspaper writer wishes to convey the idea that yesterday was a pleasant day he says: "Yesterday was not an un pleasant day." A good play is "not half bad, "a'humorous speech is "not un relieved by wit," a riotously applauded address is "not wholly unaccented by demonstrations of approval," and so on, an injin. et ad naus. Now all this sort of thing may be subtle and it may be conservative, but it is not in the spirit of the Anglo-Saxon, and it vexes me to find so little of the Anglo-Saxon in the literature, the speech, and the practiccs of the very people where I had thought to find so much.—Chicago News. A Valensian Lark. Yale students recently made a raid on the street lamps in New Haven and stole the stens, which were stored in a room at the college. A city official sent for two of the leaders and re marked: "We don't want to be severe and therefore if you will bring back the signs within thirty-six hours there will be no further trouble. Otherwise the band will begin to play. Now, take your choice." The boys made the choice without stopping to discuss the matter, and the next evening 207 glass signs were brought back in bags and turned over to the authorities. The Sound of Light. One of the most wonderful discover ies in science that have been made within the last year or two is the fact that a beam of light produces sound, says the American Art Journal. trum tall in* by dlfferent parti of the there will be sllenoe in ol A beam of sunlight is thrown through a lens on a glass vessel that contains lampback, colored silk or worsted, or other substances. A disk having slits or openings cut in it is made to revolve swiftly in this beam of light, so as to cut it up, thus making alternate flashes of light and shadow. On putting the ear to the glass vessel strange sounds are heard so long as the flashing beam is falling on the vessel. Recently a more wonderful discovery has been made. A beam of sunlight is made to pass through a prism, so as to produce what is called the solar spectrum or rainbow. The disk is turned, and the polored\ light of the it 09a- fcainbow is madev FoWf pl«Qt th$, For lnstaaoe, If the vessel red worsted and the grem 11 upon it loud sounds wfll Only feeble sounds will be hMraP the red and blue parts of the fall upon the vessel, and other bol make no sound at all. Greea sUk| sound best in red light Every of material gives more or leas sound'1§L different colors, and utters no sound others. The discovery Is a strange owfcf® and it is thought that more wonderful things will come from It MIND SUPERSEDES INSTINCT. Row Man Has fant Mmny Instincts Tm* bj the Lower If the doctrine be true that man it really the heir of all the various species and genera of the animal kingdom, it seems a little hard upon us, says the AmeriSOn Analyst, that even by way Ol exception we inherit none of the most marvelous instincts of those species and genera, and have to be content with those greater but purely human faculties by which even the most won derfui of animal instincts have been somehow extinguished. Sir John Lub bock maintains with a good deal of plausibility that there are insects, and very likely even higher animals, which perceive colors of which we have no glimpse and hear sounds which are to us inaudible. Yet we never hear of human retina that includes in its vision those colors depending on vibration of the ether which are too slow or to* rapid for our ordinary eyes, nor of human ear which is entranced with music that to the great majority of our species is absolutely inaudible. Again, we never hear of a human being who could perform the feat of which we were told only recently, of a bloodhound. In a dark night it fol lowed up for three miles the trail of a thief with whom the bloodhound could have never been in contact (he had just purloined some rolls of tan from the tanyard in which the dog was chained up), and finally sat down uh der the tree in which the man had taken refuge. Why, we wonder, are those finer powers for discriminating and following the track oi the scent which so many of the lower anipials possess entirely extinguished in man, if man be the real heir of all the va rious genera which show power in ferior to his own! We se^ no trace in animals of that high enjoyment of the finer scents which make the blossoming of the spring flowers so great a delight to human beings, and yet men are en tirely destitute of that almost unerring power of tracking the path of an odor, which seems to be one of the principal gifts of many quadrupeds and some birds. It is tne same with the power of a dog or cat to find its way back to a home to which it is attached, but from which it has been taken by a route that it can not possibly follow on its return, even if it had the power of observing that route, which usually it has not. Nothing could be more con venient than sucn a power to a lost child. But no one ever heard of any child who possessed it. Still more enviable is that instinct possessed by so many birds of crossing great tracts of land and sea without apparently any landmarks or seamarks to guide them, and of reaching a quar ter of the globe which many of them have never visited before, while those who have visited it before have not visited it often enough to learn the way—at least by any rule which, in like circumstances, would be of any use to human intelligence. The mi gratory birds must certainly be in possession of either senses or instincts entirely beyond the range of human imagination, and yet no one ever heard of the survival of such a sense of in stinct in any member of our race. It may be said, indeed, that men have either inherited or reproduced the slave-making instinct of some of the military ants, though that unfortunate and degrading instinct does not ap pear to iiave been inherited by any of the higher animals which intervene between the insects and our own race but this only enhances the irony of our destiny, if we do, indeed, in any sense inherit from these insects aristocracies one of the most disastrous instincts of the audacious but indolent creatures which fight so much better than they work. If we have not inherited the architectural instincts of bees or beav ers, nor the spinning instincts of spiders, nor the power of the dog to track out his home, it is a little sad that we should have inherited the one disastrous instinct of the ant by which it makes itself dependent on a more timid and industrious species of its own race, and thereby loses the power to help itself. What is still more curious is that even where human beings have whol ly exceptional and unheard-of powers they betray no traces of the exceptional and unheard-of powers of the races whose vital organization we are said to inherit. The occasional appear ance of very rare mathematical pow ers, for instance, so far from being in any sense explicable from below, looks much more like inspiration..from above. The calculating boy who could not even give any account of the process whereby he arrived at correct results which the educated mathoina tician took some time to verify, cer tainly was not reviving in himself any of the rare powers of the lower tribes of animals. Nor do the prodigies in music who show such marvelous pow er in infancy recall to us any instinct of the bird, the only musical creatures except ourselves. Still less, of course, does great moral genius—the genius o! a Howard or a Clarkson—suggest any reminiscence of what happens in the world of animal life. Give Children Plenty of Water. For the reasons given, I advocate under all conditions a plentiful addi tion of water to children's food. In this connection I would lay stress upon the fact that as a rule, »mn children receive water only as they get it in their milk or milk food, «lifc« in summer and in winter. It is proba ble that the fact seldom occurs to a mother or nurse that a child maybe thirsty without being hungry at the same time. Certainly many a discom fort and even sickness in a child is con ditioned upon the fact that it has been compelled to eat in order to get its thirst satisfied, and often has to suffer thirst because the overstimulated and injured stomach will take no more nourishment at irregular and too short intervals.—Archives of Pediatries. -r- .a* a:- ALong Seclnaion. j? jv •. An inmate of a luuatio asylum $a Brescia, Italy, was released ba Feb. after a seclusion of this period hie «nt to"