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The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, July 25, 1888, Image 3

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H Subject: "Sour Experiences." (Dolirered
at Chicago, III.)
? Text: " When Jesus therefore had rew
-ceived the vinegar."?John six., 30.
rS The brigands of Jerusalem had done their
K work. It was almost sundown, and Jesus
jg was dying. Persons in crucifiction often lingjg
gered on from day to day?crying, begging.
cursing; Dut unnst naa oeen exnaustea Dy
years of maltreatment Pillowless, poorly fed
Hogged?as bant over and tied to a low post?
His bare back was inflamed with the scourges
Intersticed with pieces of lead and bone?
and now for whole hours, the weight
of his body hung on delicate
tendons, and, according to custom,
a violent stroke under the armpits had been
.given by the executioner. Dizzy, swooning,
nauseated, feverish?a world of agony is
compressed in the two words: "I thirst!''
k 0 skies of Judea, let a drop of rain strike on
His burning tongue. CI world, with rolling
rivers, ana sparkling lakes, and spraying
fountains, give Jesus something to drink. It
there be any pity in earth, or heaven, or hell,
tot it now be demonstrated in behalf of
this royal sufferer. The wealthy women of
Jerusalem used to hare a fund of money with
which tbey provided wine for those people
who died in crucifixion?a powerful opiate
to deaden the pain; but Christ would not
*. take it. He wanted to die sober, and so He
refused the wine. But afterward they go to
a cup of vinegar and soak a sponge in it, and
put it on a stick of hyssop, and then press it
against the hot lips of Christ You say
the wine was an anaesthetic, and intended
to relieve or deaden the pain. But the vinegar
was an insult I am disposed to adopt
the theory of the old Englisu commentator,
who believed that instead of its being an i
opiate to soothe, it was vinegar to insult
Malaga and Burgundy for grand dukes and j
1 duchesses, and costly wines from royal vats
for bloated imperials; but stinging acids for
a dying Christ He took the vinegarIn
some lives the saccharine seems to predominate.
Life is sunshine on a bank of
flowers. A thousand hands to clap approval.
In December or in January, looking across
their tables, they see all their family present. !
Health rubicund Skies flamboyant. Days
resilient But in a great many cases there
are not so many sugars as acids.
The* annoyances, and the vexations,
and the disappointments of life
." overpower the successes. There is a
gravel m almost every snoe. An Arauian <
legend says that there was a worm in Solo- !
mon's staff, gnawing its strength away; and
there is a weak spot in every earthly support j
that a man leans on. King George, of England,
forgot all the grandeurs of bis throne
because, one day in an interview, Beau Bummell
called him by his first name,
and addressed him as a servant,
crying: "George, ring the bell!" :
'* Miss Langdon, honored all the world 1
over for her poetic genius, is so worried over j
the evil reports set afloat regarding her,
that she is found dead, with an empty bottle i
of prussic acid in her hand. Goldsmith said
that his life was a wretched being, and that
all that want and contempt could bring to it
had been brought, and cries out: "What,
, then, is there formidable in a jail?" Correggio's
fine painting is hung up for a tavern
sign. Hogarth cannot s.'ll his best paintings
except through a raffle. Andrew Delsart
makes the great frescos in the Church of the
Annunciate, at Florence, and gets for pay a
sack of corn; and there are annoyances and j
vexations in high places as well as in low I
places, showing that in a great many lives
the sours are greater than the.sweets. "When j
Jesus therefore had received the vinegar." j
It is absurd to suppose that a man who has
always been well can sympathize with those ,
who are sick; or that one who has always
been honored can appreciate the sorrow of
those who are despised; or that one who has
been born to a goeat fortune can understand
the distress and the straits of those who are
destitute. The fact that Christ Himself, j
took the vinegar, makes Him able to sym- i
pwthize to-day and forever with all those
whose_cup 13 tilled with sharp acids of this
life. Me tooK cne vinegar.
In the first place, there is the sourness of
betrayal. The treachery of Judas hurt
Christ'* feelings more than all the friendship j
of His discip'.ss did Him good. You have I
had many friends; but there was one friend ;
upon whom yon put especial stress. You ;
feasted him. You loaned him money. You j
befriended him in the dark passes of life, when !
he especially needed a friand. Afterward,he ,
turned upon you, and he took advantage of
your former intimacies. He wrote against I
you. He talked against you. He microsco- j
pized your faults. He flung contempt at you '
when you ought to have received nothing but j
gratitude. At first, you could not sleep at
nights. Then you went about with a sense of ;
having been stung. That difficulty will I
never De healed, for though mutual friends j
mav arbitrate in the matter until you shall
shake hands, the old cordiality will never |
come back. Now, 1 commend to all such the j
sympathy of a betrayed Christ Why, they
sold Him for less than our twenty dollars!
They all forsook Him, and fled. They cut
Him to the quick. He drank that cup of betrayal
to the dregs. He took the vinegar.
There is also the sournes3 of pain. There
are some of you who have not seen a well
day for many years. By keeping out of
draughts,and by carefully studying dietetics,
you continue to this time; but, 0, the headaches,
and the sideaches, and the backaches,
and the heartaches which have been your
nooomnaniment all the wav through! You
have strugg ei under a heavy mort- I
gage of physical disal ilities, and in
' stead of* the placidity that once char- !
acterized you, it is now only with great;
effort that you keep away from irritability
and sharp retort Dificulties of respiratio.i,
of digestion, of locomotion, make up the
great obstacle in your life, and you tug and
sweat along the pathway, and wonder
when the exhaustion will end. My
friends, the brightest crowns in heaven wiil
not be given to those who, in stirrups,
dashed to the cavalry charge, while the
general applaudeJ, and the sound of clashing
sabres rang through the land; but the
brightest crown3 in heaven, I believe,
will be given to those who trudged on
Amid chronic ailments which unnerved
their strength, yet all the tim9 maintaining
their faith in God. It is !
comparatively easy to fight in a regiment of j
a thousand men, charging upon the parapets |
to the sound of martial music; but it is not so j
easy to endure when no one but the nurse ;
and the doctor aro the witnesses of the j
Christian fortitude. Besides that you never
oad any pains worse than Christ's. The
sharpnesses that stung through Hi3 brain,
through His hands, through His feet, through
His heart, were as great as yours certainly.
He was as sick and as weary. Not a nerve,
' 8r muscle, or ligament escaped. All the
pangs of all the nations of all the ages compressed
into one sour cup. He took the vineajar!
There is also the sourness of poverty. Your
Income doe3 not meet your outgoings, and
that always gives an honest man anxiety, j
Thorn is no sicn of destitution about VOU?
pleasant appearance, and a cheerful home
for you: but God only knows what a time
you have had to manage your private
3nance3. Just as the bills run up,
the wazes seem to run down. But
fou are not the only one who has
not been paid for hard work. The great
Wilkie sold his celebrated piece, "The Blind
Fiddler," for fifty guineas, although afterward
it brought its thousands. The world
- uanps in admiration over the sketch of
Gainsborough, yet that very sketch hung for
years in the shop window because
there was not any purchaser. Oliver !
Goldsmith sold hi3 "Vicar of Wakefleld"
for a few pounds in order to
keep the bailiff out of the door; and the vast
majority of men in all occupations and professions
are not fuily paid for their work.
You may say nothing, but life to you is a
hard push; and when you sit down with your
wife and talk over the expenses, you both rise
up discouraged You abridge here, and
you abridge there, and you get things
mug for smooth sailings, and lol suddenly
there is a large doctor's bill to pay, or you
have lost your pocket-book, or some creditor
ha3 failed, and you are thrown a-beam end.
Well, brother, you are in glorious company.
Christ owned not the house in which he
stopped, or the colt on which He rode, or the
boat in which he sailed. He lived in a
borrowed house; He was buried in a borrowed
grave. Exposed to all kinds of
weather, yet He had only one suit of clothes.
He breakfasted in the morning, and no one
oould possibiy tell where He could get anything
to eat before night. He would
have been pronounced a financial failure.
He had to perform a miracle
to get money to pay a tax-bill.
Not a dollar did He own. Privation of
domesticity; privation of nutritious food;
privation of a comfortable couch on which
to sleep; privation of all worldly resources.
The kings of the earth had chased chalices
out of which to drink; but Christ had nothing
but a plain cup set before Him, and it
was very styirp, and it was very sour. He '
took the vinegar. I I
There also is the sourness of bereavement. !
There were years that passed along before j
your family circle was invaded by death;;
I but the moment the charmed circle was j
| broken, everything seemed to dissolve. Hard- j
ly have you put the black apparel in the j ,
j wardrobe, before you have again to take it ' J
I out. Great and rapid changes in your j ;
j family record. You got the house i
| and rejoiced in it, but the charm ! e
J was gone as soon as the crape hung on the j
door-bell. The one upon whom you most de- | t
pended was taken away from you. A cold
I marble slab lies on your heart to-dav. Once, E
i as the children romped through tne house, t
you put your hand over your aching head, s
! and said: "Oh. if I could only have it still." i
Oh, it is too still now. You lost your t
I patience when the tops, and the strings, and
j the shells were left amid floor; but oh, you t
would be willing to have the trinkets scat- *
; oil rvror fna flnnr o era in if thftr wuro i
| scattered by the same hands With what a
; ruthless ploughshare bereavement rips upthe
heart. But Jesus knows all about that. You
cannot tell him anything new in regard
i to bereavement. He had only a few friends, c
and when He lost one it brought tears to His i
I eyes. Lazarus had often entertained Him at a
j bis house. Now Lazarus is dead and buried,
I and Christ breaks down with emotion?the c
: convulsion of grief shuddering through all I
| the ages of bereavement. Christ knows what fc
i it is to go tbroughjthe house missing a familiar
1 inmate. Christ knows what it ts to see an a
unoccupied place at the table. Were there .
not four or them?Mary and Martha, and 1
Christ and Lazarus? Lonely and afflicted c
Christ, His great loving eyes filled with t
tears, which drop from eye to cheek, and h
from cheek to beard, and from beard to
robe, and from robe to floor. Oh, yes, yes, _
He knows all about the loneliness and the J
heartbreak. He took the vinegar! a
Then there is the sourness of the death- v
hour. Whatever else we may escape, that tl
acid-sponge will be pressed to our lips. I j
sometimes have a curiosity to know how I
will behave when I come to die. Whether I
will be calm or excited?whether I will bo 81
filled with reminiscence or anticipation. 11
cannot say. But oome to the point, I ] A
must and you must. In the six thousand
years that have passed, only two persons have
got into the eternal world without death, and j P
I do not suppose that Gk>d is going to send a j Q
carriage for us with horses of flame, to draw n
us up the steeps of heaven; but 1 suppose we a
will have to go like the preceding genera- ,
tions. An officer from tne future world ji
will knock at the door of our heart and "
serve on us the writ of ejectment, and we ai
will have to surrender. And we will wake r<
up after these autumnal, and wintry, and <3
vernal, and summery glories have vanished g
11 will UU1 T 101V/11 ??\J ? la nunc 4UWV ?? ^
realm which has only one season, and ,
that the seasou of everlasting love. D
Bat you say: "I don't want to break w
oat from my present associations. It i3 tl
so chilly and so damp to go down C(
the stairs of that vault I don't want any- i
thing drawn so tightly over my eyes, if r"
there were only some way of breaking &
through the partition between worlds with- 8f
out tearing this body all to shreds. I v;
wonder if the surgeons and the doctors can- ^
not compound a mixture by which this body .
and soul can all the time be kept to- .
gether? Is there no escape from
this separation?" None; absolutely at
none. So I look over thi3 audience to-day? cl
the vast majority of you seeming in good |
health and spirits?and yet I realise that In a i
Bbcrt time all of us will bo gone?gone from
earth, and gone for ever. A great many men |
tumble through the gates of the future, as it n]
were, and we do not know where g
they have gone, and they only add .
gloom and mystery to the passage: J"
But Jesus Christ so mightily stormed ?
the gates of that future world,that they have a
never since been closely shut. Christ knows hi
what it is to leave this world, of the beauty
of which He was more appreciative than we .'
ever could be. He knows the exquisiteness 1S
r*Vi/\crkV?r*rziConr?a nf t.ViA ftAft* Hfl tl*od lfc_ V7
He knows the glories of the midnight heav- w
ens: for they were the spangled canopy of m
His wilderness pillow. He knows about
the lilies. He twisted them into His sermon.
He knows about the fowls of the air; they 81
whirred their way through his discourse, it
He knows about the sorrows of leaving this it
beautiful world. Not a taper was kindled in j
the darkness. He died physicianless. He ,
died in cold sweat, and dizziness, and hemor- | D<
rhage, and agony that have put Him in sym- 11
pathy with all the dying. He goes through it
Christendom, and He gathers up the stings J]
out of all the death pillows, and He puts _
them under his own neck and head. He "
gathers on His own tongue the burning 03
thirsts of many generations, The sponge is T
soaked in the sorrows of all those who per- a
ished in icy or fiery martyrdom. While 01
heaven was pitying, and earth was mocking, j
and hell was deriding, He took the vinegar! ?
To all those in this audience to whom life
has been an acerbity?a dose they could not C<
swallow, a draught that set their teeth on it
edge and a-rasping?I preach the omnipotent
sympathy of Jesus Christ. The sister ,
of Herschel, the astronomer, used to jc
help him in his work. He go? all the hi
credit; she got none. She used to hi
spend much of her time polishing the is
telescopes through which he brought
the distant worlds nigh, and it is my am- v
bition now, this hour, to c'ear the lens of
your spiritual vision, so that looking through
the dark night of your earthly troubles you
may behold .the glorious constellation of a
Saviour's mercy and a Saviour's love. O, my
friends, do not try to carry all your ills r"
alone. Do not put your poor shoulder under h
the Apennines when the Almightv Christ is h
ready to lift up all your burdens. When you fo
V.oTrft o nf onr Irinrl mil mieV* thia ?
UO.VU ? uui uvu v*. J Q
way and that way; and you wonder what
this man will say about it, and what that ~
man will say about it; and you try this pre- fi
scription, and that prescription, and the
other prescription 0, why do you not go n
straight to the heart of Christ, knowing that ^
for our own sinning and suffering race, He y
took the vinegar.
There was a vessel that had been tossed on sj
the seas for a great many weeks, and been si
disabled, and the supply of water gave out, s]
and the crew were dying of thirst. After a
many days, they saw a sail against the sky.
They signaled it. When the vessel came
nearer, the people on the suffering ship cried b
to the captain of the other vessel: "Send t
u> some water. We are dying for lack of jj
water." And the captain on the vessel that j
was hailed responded: "Dip your buckets ,
where vou are. You are in the mouth of the "
Amazon, and there are scores of miles of fresh a
water all around about you, and hundreds G
of feet deep.'' And then they dropped their 0
buckets over the side of the vessel, and
brought up the clear, bright, fresh water,
aud put out the fire of their thirst. So I hail g
you to-day, after a long and perilous voyage, c
thirsting as you are for pardon, g
and thirsting for comfort, and thirsting j(
for eternal life; and I ask vou what is the usa ,
of your going in that death-struck state. n
while all around you is the deep, clear, wide, &
sparkling flood of God's sympathetic mercy, h
O, dip your buckets, and drink, and live for s
ever. "Whosoever will, let him come and r
take of the water of life freely."
Yet my utterance is almost choked at the a
thought that there are people here who will u
refuse this divine sympathy: and they will a
trv to fisht their own battles, and drink v,
their own vinegar, and carry their own
burdens; and their life, instead of being ~
a triumphal march from victory to victory
will be a hobbling-on from defeat to defeat,
until they make final surrender to retributive
disaster. O, I wish I could to-day gather up -i
my arms all the woes of men and women?
all their ueart-aclies?all their disappoint- 8
ments?all their chagrins?and just tako v
them right to the feet of a sympathizing q
Jesus. He took the vinegar.
Nana Sahib, after he had lost his last battle
in India, fell back into the jungles of Iheri 0
?jungles so full of malaria that no mortal d
can live there. He carried with him also t
a ruby of great lustre and of great ;
value. He died in those jungles; ?
his body was never found, and the ruby *]
has never yet been recovered. And I fear f
that to day there are some who will fall f
back from this subject into the sickening, v
killing jungles of their sin, carrying s cem of *
infinite value?a priceless soul?to bo lost
forever. O, that that ruby might flash
in the eternal coronation. But no. t
There are some, I fear, in this andience who e
turn away from this offered mercy, and com- }
fort, and Divine sympathy; notwithstanding j
that Christ, for all who would accept His '
grace, trudged the long way, and suffered
the lacerating thongs, and received in His (
[ace the expectorations of the filthy 1
mob, and for the guilty, and the discour- j
aged, and the discomforted of the race, took .
the vinegar. May God Almighty break the
infatuation, and lead yon out into the strong 1
hope, and the good cheer, and the glorious f
ranshine of this triumphant Uospel i
j "Very undesirable garment??Law '
! suits. 1
' ' ' ' - *? : '
A Dressmaker's Tack.
A smart dressmaker not only learns to
ound a bust, but she can so deftly pad
he sleeves that when the wrist is seen
t seems only the slender termination of
i plump arm. The gown of a thin girl
n New York, one who has the reputaion
of being a singularly good figure,
iuggests a quilt heavily wadded more
ban anything else. Back, hips, sleeves
ind bust are all the result of clever worknanship.
And it is so clever that tailornade
gowns are defiantly worn by this
firl, aud the most critical clubmen find
10 flaw in the outlines of her figure.?
Philadelphia Times.
Mustard Plasters for Truants.
The Ladies' Protection and Relief So:iety,
of San Francisco, has just issued
ts report for 1887. There are 2000 boys
ind girls in the institution, while 302
hildren have bc:en cared for during the
>ast year. Considerable difficulty has
j _ e i.i. ?!i.L il.A
>een experienced in iatc wuu mo jrv/uug
>oys who play truant from the instituion,
climbing fences and going bathing
n North Beach or running around the
teighborhood. Various remedies have
leen tried, among them the dressing of
>oys in girls'clothes, but the latest device
ias proved effective. Half a dozen
oungsters played truant the other day,
nd on returning they received a warm
welcome. The matron quietly ordered
be boys to take off their jackets and
hen she applied a mustard plaster to
ach of the boys' backs, and now they
top at home.?New York Graphic.
L Pretty Girl and Her Pretty Pets.
The humming birds belonging to a
retty New York society girl build their
ests iu the lace curtains and have
lised little families in the parlor. There
re plants for them to fly about in, and
very day the florist sends a basket of
owers to extract the honey from. They
re like little rainbows flying about the
)om, and they light on the head of their
ainty mistress with perfect freedom,
he seems to have an affinity for the
:athered tribe. Outside her chamer
window is a box for a dove who alays
sleeps there at night and pecks at
le window pane when he wants to
sme in. He has perfect freedom, but
tioose3 to remain in the house many
ours in the course of the day. This;
ime young lady comes in 10 greet a
isitor with a canary poised lightly on j
er head and a fluffy bullfinch hopping
.oug after her. The latter is very
salous of the canary, and will peck him ;
id persecute him whenever he gets a
lance..?Ne,o York Sun.
A Tear Handkerchief.
A beautiful and peculiar system still
revails in some parts of the Tyrol of
witzerland. When a girl is going to !
a married, before she leaves her home
) go to the church her mother gives her
handkerchief, which is called the "tear
indkerchief." It is made of newly-j
nin linen and has never been used. It
with this that she dries her tears
hen she leaves her father's house and
hen she stands at the altar. After the j
larriage is over and the bride has gone
ith her husband to their new home, 1
le folds up the handkerchief and places
unwashed in the linen closet, where i
remains untouched. Up to now it has 1
one only half its duty. Children are
Irn orrnwr 11 tv mflfrv. and CO aW8V to
leir uew homes, each daughter receiv- j
ig a tear handkerchief from the mother, j
!er own still remains where it was j
laced in the linen closet the day of her
larriagc. Generations come and go. j
he once young, rosy bride has become
wrinkled old woman. She may have
itlived her husband and all her chil- i
ren. All her old friends may have '
led off, and yet that last presont she re-!
sived from her mother has not fulfilled '
s objcct. It comes at last, though? ,
; last the weary eye-lids close for iheir i
>ng sleep, and the tired, wrinkled '
mds are folded over the pulselessj
eart. Aud then the tear-handkerchief:
taken from its long-resting place and
jread over the placid features of the
ead. ?Philadelphia l*ress.
Women of World-Wide Fame.
The Circassian beauty is a young wo- j
lan with dark, piercing eyes and kinky
air, standing out straight around her !
ead like an electrified mop. Such a
eauty may do very well for aside-show, |
ut she would soon drop down to the
rdinary were she to bang her hair in
ont and do it up in a pug behind.
Cleopatra's loveliness undoubtedly
iade a great impression upon both Marc
.nthony and Ca-sar, but if the Queen of '
gypt was like the rest of her race, as !
iown oa tablets, tomb and monolith,
tie was a lithe, brown creature, with
.its for eyes, a decidedly pendulous nose j
nd thick turned-out lips.
A I-a riovmon'a ^noifrnc !
e was a most conscientious student? i
felen of Troy had a long nose, ending
1 a good deal of a tip and running j
own in a straight line from her fore- |
cad. Yet by Mcnelaus and Paris, j
nd, iudeed, by the entire Trojan and
[reek nations, she was considered one
f the handsomest women of the age.
Queen Elizabeth had red hair?not the
orgeous Titian red, but an out an out
arrotv red; Catherine, of liussia, had
reeu eyes; Lady Jane Grey had a
Dug, thin neck, while Lucretia Borgia
ad scarcely any neck at all. Even such
u expert as burly King Harry seemed to
ave uo fixed standard. Look, for intance,
at his various choices. Anne
Joleyn was a simpering girl, while Cathrine
Parr was a mature, strongly featired
woman, and both Jane Seymour
nd Katharine of Aragon appear to have
ieen ladies of commonplace appcarance.
-lio&ele if.
The art of knitting ia more modern
han the kindred art of netting, though
till so ancicnt that no one knows just
rhere or when it had its origin. Antiuarians
are divided in their opinions on
his point, somo believing it to have
riginated in Scotland and thence introiuced
into France, while others affirm
hat this work is Spanish in origin. It
i probable, however, that we moderns
iave received our knowledge of tha art
rom the Spaniards, and they in turn
rotn me Araos, me cicvur ja;vjuc tu
vhoin the world o.ves so many invenioni.
It was first known in England during
he reign of Henry VIII, who wore wool:n
hose, according to history, and later
ind some silk ones sent him from Spain.
]n a rareoollection of the acts of Edward
VI, is one which, among other articles
>f wearing apparel, are specified "knitte
K>sc, knitte peticoats, knitte gloves and
cnitto sleeves." In 1561 Queen Elizajeth
was greatly pleased, it is said, with
t gift ot a pair of black eilk stockings,
ind declared that hereafter she would
nrear no other kind. Meanwhile, the
irt must have been making great
advances in other lands, for in
,n 1527 the French knitters
formed themselves into a corporation
' ' X'-.' r ' 'x J .
. ' ' " . ..
' . * ' > V "j .> s ' "
^ ' .I '
styled the " Communante dea maitre*
Bonnelier8 oa Tricot," and chose St.;
Fiacre for their patron saint. To-day
knitting is a well-nigh universal art.The
Germans, who a.e the best knitters
on the continent, make every possible
variety of garment with their own industrious
A German girl or woman is never seen,
in waking hours, without her knitting,
and the Russian, Breton, and some other
European peasantry, are not far behind
in this respect. The Turkish women are
also well versed in the art, as may be
seen by the gay fezzes worn by the men
and boys of that country, which headgear
is first knitted, then dyed and
blocked into shape. No knitting in
beauty of texture exceeds that done by
the peasantry of the Shetland Islands.
English and German women have
never neglccted this branch of industry,
but with our people a generation ago
everything ran into machine work,
which in knitting can never be compared
with hand work, neither in strength nor
In the colonial days, Martha Washington
always received her callers, holding
a piece of knitting in her hands, and
when seated conversing with them, kept
time to her talking with the needles.?
Yankee Blade.
Fashion Notes.
Black lace toilets are as popular as
Red is the color of the passing moment.
Rubies are among the most stylish
'Hie drawn mull hats are very pretty
for young girls.
Both high and low dress collars are
fashionably worn.
Striped cashmeres are decidedly popular
for morning wrappers. . 1
Black and gold is seen in same elegant
combinations on bonnets and hats this
Bandanna dresses are for the seaside; ,
skirts of the Bandanna silk and the overdress
is of plain fabric.
No heavy trimmings ot any sort are ,
used. Velvets and plushes have no place ,
on this season's bonnets.
A pleasing hat for a young lady is ]
trimmed with a mass of dotted white i
tulle and heliotrope blossoms.
The fashionable parasol is almost in- J
variably striped. Some very pretty ones
are covered with expensive lace. <
Roman sash ribbons are used in trimming
hats for young girls, this season, 1
with a full bow made on the side.
Velvet cuffs, collars, revers and sashe3 ;
of velvet are used in the cotton satteens ]
and gingham costumes this season. (
Smocked or tucked blouses of light |
surah or China silk and of wash fabrics i
are popular and pretty for house wear. i
Gowns of Turkey red cotton, trimmed '
with ficelle gray or ecru laces, make <
pretty country suits for morning wear. I
Lace nets in all sorts of colors, dotted '
with gold and silver, are very stylish for '
bonnets, and have a* very light, cool ]
Some light summer dresses have elbow (
sleeves edged with embroidery, and intended
to be worn with very long |
sleeves. ,
The stylish blossom for a polonaise has ]
the ends falling from the hip3 on the f
sides, thus necessitating separate front f
and back draperies. I
Street costumes in dark-colored ma- <
terials are frequently neea with vests of I
creamy cashmere or veiling. The vest <
is shirred at neck and waist, and is laid i
in full plaits between. i
A lovely summer festival gowu for a 1
lady, no longer young but still with pre- 1
tensions to beauty, is of black Chantilly <
lace over white satin, with a corsage bou- 1
onnf nf innntlils. '
" "?J-~1? .
Oatmeal cloth, trimmed with velveteen
or corduroy orcorderine makes a pretty
mountain, seaside or traveliug suit. It 1
should be made in severely plain style ^
with no ribbon or lace thereon.
Where and How Hammocks are Made, j
There are not many changes in the j
style or structure of the hammock this j
year. Woven Mexican grass, so called,
is still the favorite material. The grass
does not grow in Mexico, however. It (
is found ouly in the Central American
States, chiefly in the vicinity of Yuca- j
tan. Nearly all the laborers in that
province are engaged just now in cutting ;
the grass, bleaching it and weaviug it |
into hammocks. They are the only peo- j
pie in the"world who can make a tnor- ,
oughly comfortable hammock. With .
them the Construction of this article of j
summer comfort is an art. Thev arrange |
the strands so as to secure the greatest (
amount of comfort to the human body,
and they alone know how to cultivate
the grass used.
Kearly all the better class of ham- ,
mocks come from Yucatan. The natives 1
not only weave them, but use some sort j
of vegetable matter in coloring them.
They are sold to commission merchants ;
for S4 to |5 a dozen. The merchants
afterward retail them for three or four
times as much.
A Yucatanian who works very hard in i
making hammocks, clears about fifty
cents a day. The profits of the mer- I
chants cau be easily calculated from these
figures. But fifty cents a day is considered
good wages for a Yucatan man, for
he lives on vegetables and sleep3 in hammocks
of his own construction!
The highest-priced hammocks in the
market to-day cost about $6. They are
made of the finest kind of grass and arc 1
gorgeously colored. The lowest priced
cost seventy-five cents. These arc made
of cottou and are manufactured in this !
country. Linen hammocks cost from
$2 to $5. ;
Most of the cheap hammocks are manufactured
by the sailors at Snug Harbor, j
Staten Island. These veterans of the .
sea have a great deal of time at their disposal,
and as they arc dexterous with
their fingers they manage to turn out;
many thousands of hammocks every '
summer. The work not only employs 1
their idle fingers but gives them au op- j
portunity to cam a little extra money
for pipes and cigars.?New York Corn- 1
mercial Advertiser.
Miles of liurning Lita.
The most disastrous of all the erup
tions which have taken place in Iceland
during the human period, occurred in
June, 178:i at Skaptar. The lava in '
9orae places was OOu feet deep and 200 j
feet wide, which flowed like a great
river toward the sea. One stream actually
reached the ocean. It was in full activity
for ten weeks, and continued
gradually diminishing for six months
moro. The lava was over two years in
cooling. One of the lava streams was
fifty miles long, twelve to fifteen miles
wide and 000 feet deep. Most' of the
country for 100 miles from the crater in
every direction was covered by lava,
pumice, sand or ashes. The ejected
matter is estimated to have beee greater
than the entire bulk of Mont Blanc.?
The rate of mortality among the Indians
increases about ten per cent, a
" * r" ' '
A Party of Men Digging in a Connecticut
Cave?Ploughing up
New Jersey Ground in the
Fruitless Search.
A party of men have been digging for
gold in k small cave near Greenfield,
Conn. It is not known there is any gold
in the cave. Some years ago, a report
was started that gold was hidden in the
cave?probably a part of the mysterious
wealth that Captain Kidd buried?and
on several occasions spades and pickaxes
have been brought into play, the
work s'enerallv beinc done in the nifrht
, o ? o t o?^
time. A year or so ago a number of men
visited this cave night after night, excavating
dirt, which they drew up -in
baskets and threw out of the mouth of
the cave. They finally withdrew, leaving
their tools behind them, but whether
(hey carried away any treasure is not
known. The membets of the party just
formed evidently think their preaecestors
did not take it alL
Over in New Jersey there is a rise of
{round called Money Hill, on the bank
>f the Shark river. Money Hill got its
tame from an early belief that Captain
(udd made it a bank of deposit. In
act, it is quite certain that he did. A
rood many people have dug into Money
[[ill; a few years ago two sailors came
jhere, dug a hole, and went away again.
"It is said" they left a rusty iron box by
the side of the hole, and that some
indent coins were found near the water
tide, where they re-entered their boat,
rhat was a fever flesh and blood could
aot resist. The entire neighborhood was
iroased, and Money Hill and the whole
aorth bank of the Shark river was prodded
with snades. But no more iron
boxes filled with ancient coin were
found. But did that settle the matter?
Not at all. Last month the disease
!>rokc out again, as virulent a3 ever, and
i number of men went to work to un?artli
treasure from the side of Money
Hill. If they discovered any chests of
rpanish dollars they kept the matter
A search is now goiBg on for an immense
lot of private treasure buried on
Turneffe Cays, off British Honduras.
John B. Peck, a former journalist of
Washington,is the man who leads in the
jnterprise. A few years ago he came into
possession of information that pointed
to the sinking of a small pirate vessel,
just filled with gold, on Turnefl'e, which
is_a coral key. Peck obtained a concession
to dig for the millions, agreeing to
pay the government ten per cent, of all
;he treasure he found. Since then he has
nude two expeditions to the spot, on
>ne of which his ship was wrecked, and
)n the other he broke his tools and re;urned
to this country for more. He
jas succeeded in getting people to put
ip money for the expenses of these adventures,
they to be repaid out of the
juried gold?when it is got. This Peck
eft New York for the trip early last
Two years ago a resident of Nan:ucket
was digging in his cellar for
' * J J!J T> ?
ivater, dui ne misscu mat, as uiu ww ui
Dow's Flat, and struck gold instead, or
>aid that he did. It was an iron chest
illed with Spanish doubloons. The en;iro
island was in a blaze of
incitement, and many, if not all
;he cellars in the place were
Jug over, though no more iron chests
were upheaved, nor did any more Spansh
doubloons clink on the laborers' steel
abides. About the same time a digger
ivas industriously upheaving the soil
>n a point off Mount Desert in the belief
:hat Captain Kidd had strayed that far
sorth to hide the vast accumulation of
jold and silver that he had taken from
:he treasure ships of all nations?that is,
ill nations that had treasure ships.
a1/1 niKafinoi T?nrrlicVimnn
JL i!19 U1UUUJ W1U
who was filially legally put to death for
lis crimes, has led many men on a fool's
irrand. For a hundred years people
lave been digging at different points b3;ween
Delaware Bay and Rhode Island,
n search of buried treasure. The labor
jxpended in this direction would, at a
lollar a day, buy all the gold and silver
ind goods and ships that Captain Kidd
iver stole. It is a mere superstition that
le ever buried anything. The $20,000
jold and silver he carricd into Boston
was probably all he could command, for
;he hangman's noose was already dangingjust
above his head, and he would
laturally do whatever he could to pro-1
aitiate the Government?the English (
mthoritics intho3e days not being averse
;o taking money from any source.?Roch iter
{N. 7.) Union.
The Veer-Huutiug Cheetah.
A cheetah, a large species of leopard,
is utilized by man for dear-hunting, just
is hounds are in Europe and America,
rhe natives catch the cheetahs when
kittens and tame them to hunt game.
They bccomc very tractaoie, tneir natural
intelligence being sharpened by the
training they receive. Every Burmese
gentleman keeps several of these ani-1
raals. They are, on the occasion of a
giand hunt, brought with the sporting
party in bandies, hood-winked and
held in leashes. When a herd of deer
is found the bandy is driven as near it
as possible on the leeward side, then one
of the cheetahs has his blinkers removed
and is "slipped" at the game.
He generally succeeds in killing a deer
after a sharp run, being followed by all
the hunt. The intelligent animal does
not mangle the body of the deer; he
3imply kills by seizing the throat with
his powerful teeth, which soon cause3
death. He then waits by the body until
the hunt arrives. After the chief
personage present has cut the deer's
throat the keepers permit the cheetah to
lap the blood as a reward for his services
in capturing it, and he is then led
back to the bandy to be secured. If
thore is a second herd of deer sighted
mother cheetah is slipped, with generally
the same result. They occasionally,
l>ut not often, fail to run down the
3cer, in which case they are recalled by
i whistle from tho keepers, which call
they obey with much docility.?San
Frunci*co Chronicle.
racking1 Grapes.
A correspondent of rici's Magazine describes
the careful manner in which
grapes arc picked and packed at an establishment
in Chautauqua county, N.
Y. The work is done by careful girls,
ten in number. The pickers arc not allowed
to touch the bunches with the
hands, but to handle them by tho stem.
In packing the cluster is lifted with the
thumb and finger of one hand, and with
the sharp-pointed grape-scissors in the
other, all green, imperfect and bruised
berries are deftly and rapidly removed.
The bloom of the grapes is thus perfectly
preserved. Of 10,000 baskets sold last
season the average weight was 8 7-10
lbs. per basket. The packers soon learn
to place in the clusters so as to fill the
baskets even and level. The Concord is
never fit for shipping long distantes
without being carefully pickcd aud then
wilted beforo packing.
j .4 ' ' ... - 4 . ,"*.*> v.v-. ; Z :
^ ~ ^ V
'TZ '
The band of the Lord is gone oat against
ma?Ruth 1:13.
The hand of God against thee? No;
Oh, say not, Christian this is so.
To stay thy doubts when winds are rough,
The past survey, 'tis sure enough;
'Tis He who lei tbee all along,
'Tis He who filled thy mouth with song,
His kindness gleams in all thy way;
The hand of God against thee? Nay.
Because the hour is dark with gloom,
Is that fair reason to assume
That He in anger turns away
From thee He loved but yesterday?
The treasure thou mayst not obtain
Doth He withhold for greater gain;
His love is just as strong in woe
A.s when the fount of joy doth flow.
If thou couldst only understand,
Against thee never is His hand;
The winds and storms, He gives them [forc?
To drive thee homeward in their course;
If sun and mildness blend all day
They might becalm thee on thy way,
xoy ve.-sei tossea upon me uae,
Has still a pilot, port and guide.
His chastisements are sure no sign
That He's forgot His love divine;
Thine eyes with sorrow He makes dim,
That thou mayst grope thy way to Him;
In all His dealings thou mayst trace
His love, His mercy and His grace;
If thou canst only understand.
Against thee never is His hand.
?[Anna D. Walker.
IIm Blotted Oat.
"I connot think what becomes of all the
sins God forgives, mother," said a little fellow
one day, as he took his favorite seat on
his mamma's knee.
"Why, Charlie, can you tell me where are
all the tignres you wrote on your slate yesday?"
''I washed them all out, mother."
"And where are they then?"
"Why, they are nowhere; they are gone,"
said Charlie.
"Just so it is with our sins, if we believe In
the Ltrd Jesus Christ; they are goneblotted
out?to be remembered no more. 'As
far as the east is from the west, so far hath
He removed our transgressions from us,' "
Try to be Young.
Don't grow old and rusty and cross, afraid
of nonsense and fun. Tolerate the folliea
and crudities of youth. Gray haira.you cannot
escape but you need not grow old in
feeling nnless you fhocse. And so long as
vnnr nffl is onlv on the outside vou will win
confidence from the young and "find your life
all the brighter for contact with theirs. But
you have too many great thoughts,too many
weighty anxieties and duties, too much to do
to make this trifling possible, you say. The
very reason, my mend, why you should cultivate
fun, nonsense, lightn?ss of heart?because
you need them so much, because you
are "weary with thinking." Then do try to
be young, even if you have to be fool.sh in
so doing. One cannot be wise all the time.
"Yea, Et Xi All Trnp!"
A farmer wbo had recently listened to an
exposition of the text from Isaiah I, "The
ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master'8
crib* but Israel doth not know, My
people doth not consider," wai giving fooa
to his stock, when one of his oxen, evidently
grateful for his care, fell to licking hia bare
arm. Instantly, with this simple incident,
the Holy Spirit flashed conviction on the
farmer's mind. He burst into tears, and
exclaimed: "Yes, it is all true. How wonderful
is God's Word! This poor dumb brute
is really more grateful to me than I am to
Uod, and yet I am iu debt to him for everything.
What a sinner I am 1" The lesson
had found its way to his heart, and wrought
there effectually to lead him to Christ.
Words of Wltdom.
Prosperity Is a great teacher; adversity is
a greater. Possession pampers the mind;
privation trains and strengthens It.
Temperance and labor are the two best
physicians of man; labor sharpens the appetite,
and temperance prevents him from
indulging to excess.
Kit is only in that freshness of our youth
that the choice is possible which gives unity
to life, and makes the memory a temple
where all relics and all votive offerings,
worship and joy, are an unbroken history,
sanctified by one religion.
We all love pleasure and abhor sorrow.
No one will choose a cloudy sky and a rough
path; but these evils have their good parts,
and those who really long for peace and happiness
will try to find out and extract them,
instead of hurrying along resentfully or with
forced gayety.
Our habitual life is like a wall hung with
pictures, which has been shone on by the
suns of many years; take one of the pictures
away and it leaves a definite blank space to
which our eyes can never turn without a sensation
of discomfort. Nay, the Involuntary
loss of any raminar oojecc aimosc uiwuya
brings a chill as if from an evil omen; it
Beems to be the first finger shadow of approaching
The Slffht of God.
Do we not sometimes occupy so low a plane
of spiritual living that a view of Go 1 is absolutely
impossible? We look intellectually
unto the hills "whence cometh our help,"
but all in vain. How are we to make the discovery
of God? for it can not be that we are
destined always to live without this sight
Jesus has shown us how God may be seea
"Blessed," he says, "are the pure iti heart,
for they shall see God." He does not make
reasoning about God a condition of seeing.
He does not tell us that it depends upon some
" ? nn?? nnAn
great wurn uu vui pm uw?
any remarkable strength of intellect,
but upon one single attainment?heart
purity. How important that this power to
see shall not be impaired If the smallest
dust of human passion or prejudice is permitted
to remain how quickly wili the interior
eye grow dim. Anything that tends to
evil?the love of the world, the pride of life,
sinful anxiety about temporal things, the
irritating particles of envy or ill-will, selfease
and sloth, all these wiil bring the soul
into a moral eclipse. Happy indeed is every
one who realJy enjoys this experience. Let
all such remember that it-is only retained by
humble I rust in the merits of Christ and a
corresponding life of obedience to His wiiL?
Iteacb ibe Xon-Cbnrcb Goer*.
Dr. Josiah Strong, secretary of the Alliance,
and author of that powerful book,
"Our Country," makes a practical suggestion
concerning co operation:
"Let the leading Christian men of each
community meet statedly to study and plan
practical work; such for example as securing
the select on and circulation of the right
sort of reading, to take the place of that
which is mis eiding, and also canvassing
definite districts to take account of stock.
We have much unutilized power in our membership,
idlors in the marketplace whom no
man has hired. There are enough to reach
all those who do not go to church. Our accounts
of stock should also include the men,
women anl children who are to be
labored with, and should show denominational
preferences. Assign
about ten families to each visitor on an
average, holding preliminary meetings of
the workers for both stimulus and direction.
The canvass will bring to light many former
church members who have not joined and do
not attend any church. Such a method will
probably work better in towns of not more
than 50,000 inhabitants, though in Philadelphia
something similar has been very successful.
If one in ten of our members wi:l
give a half day once a month to such work,
the gospel can be carried into the home of
every non-church goer twelve times a year.
If people of culture have the spirit of Christ,
they can be led into such work, and if the/
have not they are not wanted."
Intoxicants in England's Colonics.
A resolution has been adopted by the English
House of Commons cal ing upon the
Government to suppress tho sale of intoxicants
among native races in the Colonies. It
was also resolved to implore the aid of foreign
governments to the same end. Speaking
of these resolutions the London Spectator
says: "There is 110 question of liberty involved,
for all evidence shows that dark men
do not drink to bo exhilarated, but to be rid
of cousciousness, and that alcohol is to them
as direct a poison as opium or hemp. Its sale
ought to be prohibited throughout Africa,
and taxed in India up to the point at which
i licit distillation coul l be put down."?New
York Obsn'K V.
Arm for the Battle.
Arm for the battle of glorr;
Strike for the cause of Truth;
Fathers with locks so hoary, .
Sons in the vigor of youth,
Mothers and sisters and daughters,
With prayers and blessings comet
Death! death! wherever he Iurketh ;
To the serpent whose name is Rum I
Death! death 1 to the crested serpent 1 War!
war! on the curse of rum!
From mountain to valley the watchword >
Repeat, while our heroes come.
Follow the trail of th6 monsterTrail
him through forest and glen,
Hunt him wherever he hideth?
Stab him to death in his den!
Hath he not murdered oar mothersBrought
their gray locks to the tomb? } v..
Hath be not murdered our brothers,
Yet in their manhood's bloom?'
Hath be not coiled on oar hearthstones,
Hissing with Upas breath?
Then on to the warfare, brothers!
Nor cease till he writhes in death!
?Temperance Advocate.
The Place of Alcohol and Som* Ban
cent Utterances mm to It. |
It is seldom, nowadays, that we hare any*
new investigatioca as to alcohol. No subjeefj
has more elicted the attention of those who!
mast rank as able inveetigators. In the dew
main of medicine especially the method* oft
physiological and pathological research apl
applied to therapeutics in general has been]
fully applied to this article. Besides no oa*
medicine has been subjected to more careful
observations of clinical experience. While
the result has not been to settle the question
as to the breadth of its application, it cern
tainly has been to retain it as an article of
materia medica, bat greatly to restrict it in
the extent of its application. The testimonies
of Sir James Clark as well as ot\
hundreds of others might be adduced in this
direction. I
There has recently been a congress of German
physicians held at Wiesbaden, rein-,
forced by investigators and special prao-'
titioners from all parts of the Empire. A .
recent notice thereof, in the London Lancet,
says that the feature of the congress was the'
paper of Dr. Binz, of Bonn, and the debate'
that ensued on alcohol as a remedial agent I
It will be remembered that Binz is the
most recent authority and most frequently (
* ?1 ?valna ?1aa.I
4UOM3U OS V/'UliliCUUiU^ iVi uud timuw v* w.w.
hoi as a food. It is refreshing to hear from1
bis own lips a precise expression of his views'
on this subject. It is not to be concealed,
that he clings with great tenacity to his,
iew of the medicinal value of alcohol. In'
which no doubt most physicians in varying!
degrees are in accord with him. Bot[
physicians are not the class by whom he is
chiefly quoted, but rather by those who believe
in wine for dinner, in an occasional
dram when you feel like it, and in beer very,
We therefore give the following eztractj
and call special attention to his use of the word
"sick-bed" as denoting the kind of
invalids that may need it:
"Dr. Binz set himself to prove: (1) that
alcohol has a value, n*)t represented by any,
other agent, in heart failure and lung disease;
(2; that it is a Sparmittel (economic factor)
in the organism, because it is consumed
therein; and (3) that it operates as a controller
of pyrexia and fever. On the sickbed
its virtues are invaluable; but in the
healthy subject it is difficult to define where
its abuse is not felt. For the man in good
health needs no stimulation, no artificial
economizer of energy,or replaeer of a bumen,
no depressant of temperament. All that can
be proved in favor of alcohol in such a case]
is its power of renewing cerebral energy|
when lowered by mental work. Even here
moderation in well-watered alcohol is imperative.
Dr. Binz farther contended that
alcohol consumption between meals,espedaDjr . " in
the form of beer, is a great, and, in Germany,
a national evil, practiced as it is in
the stuffy atmosphere of cellars, and that]
too, for hours. Wot only do the secondary
products of beer exhaust the system and in*
duce an adipose habit, but the habitual beerdrinker
is as much an alcoholist as the
drinker of drams, with this difference, that!
he has not the excuse of the latter in that
moral wretchedness for which spirits are an]
immediate, though in the long run a fatal
remedy." '
It will thus be seen that Binz is the last
man to be quoted in favor "of any ordinary,
use of fermented or malt liquors, or even in
favor of loose prescription in daily use. Hq
defines closely the class of cases in which it
may be neeied as a medicine. He agrees
with the view that it reduces temperature, a1
fact supported by the recent close investiga-'
tions of Zunz. This removes entirely the old
defense for alcohol that it keep3 out cold and'
makes up for defective animal heat. Wo
have another recent utterance of much importance
because it states the growing sentiment
of medical practitioners who have been
close clinical observers of this substance. In
1871 many of the most distinguished medical
men of London expressed their views as to
the Heedlessness of alcohol as a beverage and
as to its overuse in medical prescriptions,1
Dr. J. J. Ridge, of Enfield, near London,
has recently collected similar testimonies.'
A recent eminent authority speaks thus: ^
"The medical man that does not see that
" - J J * 1 ka IrJ*
aiconoi is a very iwu-eugeu iwi mum w
norant of the literature of bis profession and
destitute of the lowest powers of observation.
He must also be uninformed of tb*
best practice of the leading physicians of hi4
time, which we may without immodesty supjj
pose to be a better time than any anterior
period. When men like Dr. Hughes Ben- _
nettbave treated 150 cases of pneumonia
with scarcely any mortality and a very *
small amount of alcohol; when men like Df J
Gairdner tell us that fever, especially in the
young, does better without alcohol; whsQ
men like Dr. Wilks tell us that in bronchitis
he has repeatedly seen improvement where A
stimulant hu .been let off. and that he if
'convinced that the mischief done by stimulants
in heart disease is immense1 {ThQ
Lancet, Vol. I, 1867; p. 506)?those ars
without excuse who think its indiai
criminate prescription in undefined ana
large quantities a light matter. One
other great improvement in our estimate of
the uses of alcohol is to view it in regard to
the state of the glands and blood-vessels of
the patient. If these are blocked, and if the
powers of elimination are impaired, it can
be easily understood that in more advanced
age, when alcohol is thought to be more admissible
or oven necessary, it must be given
with much judgment as to form and dose if
harm is not to be done." i
While we fully maintain the inestimablo
value of fermented liquors in certain cases of
disturbed circulation, of impairment of lung
tissue, we must strictly hold to the distinction
between medicine and beverage, and not
allow the physiological chemist or physician
to be quoted as authority in a direction
against which he fully protests. ?Indepen*
dent. '
A litquor Maker's Confession.
A manufacturer of liquors with an experience
of twenty years has declared in Kew
York that a man has about as good a chance
nf h*ine struck by lightning as he has to be
served with a pure brandy in that city. Rectified
whisky, he says, can be used as a base
of an imitation of any style of brandy.
And here are some more of his confessions
which are not altogether revelations sUce
the same or similar statements have been
made and published repeatedly. They have
importance, however, which justifies their
publication again and again. The liquor
manufacturer says:
"We make champagne which you buy for
the genuine articJa It costa to manufacture
a basket. We sell ii for $10 to dealers.
We make the stuff and put it into our
own bottles; make a fac simile label of the
genuine article; Spanish corks for the bottles
and French straw and baskets
to pack them in. When we
want to imitate a genuine imported wine we
buy a barrel or it. uur cooper wises wo ven rel
as a pattern and makes one by it. They
are new and bright We put them through
a steaming process, and they come out old
and musty and worn just like the genuine
importation. Thirty-two deadly poisons are
used in the manufacture of wine. Not one
gallon in fifty sold here ever saw Franca.
We send thousands of gallons of whiskey to
France to have them come back something
else. Of all the poisonous liquors in the
world Bourbon whisky is the deadliest.
Strychnine is only one of the poisons in it'
A certain oil is used in its manufacture eight
drops of which will kill a cat in eight minutes,
and a dog in nine minutes. The most
temperate men in New York are the wholesale
dealera They dare not drink the stuff
they sell."
The public school, the church and the horn?
are the conservators and generators of intel*
ligence and virtae. Whatever neutralizes op
destroys their influences is hostile to our fon&
of government . . r*v J

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